Chapter 2: Cop and Blow

"How long has he been gone?" I hadn't really expected an answer when I mumbled the question into the dim light of the cellar where we were being held, but I received one anyway.

"Forty-three minutes." I looked back from where I stood by the bars of our prison to where Rodney sat with his back against the earthen wall. He may have been sitting, but he wasn't still. Honestly, Rodney was never still unless he was anesthetized. But he had given up the pacing a good twenty minutes before in exchange for a foot that never stopped fidgeting and thumbs that never stopped tapping against his bent knees. With a scowl, he looked again to his watch. "Make that forty-four minutes."

"You don't think…" I couldn't finish my inquiry. The implications of what they could be doing to Colonel Sheppard while we sat here in a damnable cage caused my stomach to flip-flop nauseatingly. "They were looking for me, after all, not him."

"Yes, Carson, you are the one they want," my cellmate agreed bitterly. "Which means Sheppard and I no longer serve any purpose, doesn't it? Except to make your stay here all the more unenjoyable."

Turning away from the anger that I knew he was only directing at me because none of the Hollorans were around to receive it in my stead, I rested my forehead against the metal bars. "Then they should have taken me instead of the Colonel."

"Of course they should have. But you know Sheppard wouldn't let them do that. I swear to God the man takes martyr supplements along with his multivitamins every morning."

I'll admit my knees had turned to rubber when the two large guards had arrived a little over forty-four minutes before and informed us that Fornus wished to speak to me. Because, let's face fact, when a religious zealot who blames you for the destruction of his entire race requests your presence, chances are it's not going to be to discuss Proust over Earl Grey and crumpets.

And that's when Colonel Sheppard had stepped between me and door. "If Fornus is talking to anyone, it's going to be me."

"He doesn't want to talk with you," came the succinct answer.

"I'm the leader of this team. I'm the one with the authority to speak on behalf of our people."

"Fornus isn't interested in what your people have to say. He wants to speak with Beckett."

The Colonel shifted his weight slightly, standing a bit straighter and taller. "Well, you can tell Fornus that Beckett isn't available, but I am."

Even I could see that the man was going to take a punch, and Sheppard, who trained regularly, easily pivoted out of the way and countered the wide swing with an openhanded fist to the man's face. The guard reeled back, blood already spurting from his broken nose, as the Colonel turned his attention to the other guard. The man moved in with a stubby metal club and Sheppard shifted again to plant an elbow in the man's ribs and in a few seconds had the club in his own hand, twirling it menacingly like one of the sticks he used to spar with Teyla.

Rodney pushed me forward toward the open door. "Move! Go!" And I scrambled past the scuffle and out into the room beyond. We were going to escape! The Colonel would secure the guards in the cell, we would sneak out through the settlement, and be through the gate in a matter of minutes. My prayers had been answered and we were going to be back in Atlantis by suppertime.

That's when I heard a rather nasal voice behind me. "That'll be enough of that." The guard with the busted nose was standing with a gun to Rodney's head, his opposite arm wrapped tightly around the physicist's neck causing Rodney's face to turn a deep red.

Sheppard dropped the club when he saw the disturbing sight, holding up his hands in surrender. "Okay, you can let him go, now." The guard just glared and seemed to squeeze a little harder. "Goddamn it, I'm unarmed and so is he. Just let him go!"

Rodney, who was fighting to remain still against the gun to his temple while his body was fighting to draw breath, twitched in the man's clutches. "How does it feel?" The guard gnashed menacingly. "Watching one of your people die and not being able to do anything about it? My entire family died from the plague and I could do nothing more than watch them waste away."

Evidently his need for oxygen won out, because Rodney's hands started scrabbling at the muscular arm around his throat, his face shifting from crimson into purple. "We didn't do that to your family," Sheppard reasoned. "And killing him isn't going to bring them back."

"No, it won't," he agreed but showed no signs of releasing his hold on Rodney.

"What the fuck do you want from us?" The Colonel demanded in frustration as Rodney's fighting weakened and his eyes started to roll back. "Let him go!"

"Me," I interjected desperately. "You wanted me, you have me. These men did nothing. I was the one that developed the virus. I'm the one that should face the consequences. Let him go and take me to Fornus."

The guard studied me for a few seconds. "Yes, you definitely need to face the consequences." His eyes narrowed and I saw his finger tighten on the trigger. And I thought, 'This is it. He's going to blow Rodney's brains out in front of me as punishment and there isn't a damn thing I can do about it.' And for a split second I hoped that I was still back on that planet with the Wraith device that caused the hallucinations because that would mean that this wasn't real and I wasn't going to stand helplessly by and watch another man die.

Sheppard evidently saw the same thing I did because he let out a ragged, "Stop!" while I was fighting to find my voice to do the same.

Not that our words had any impact on the man, except maybe to spur him on, but the door opening at the top of the stairs and Fornus yelling down, "What is the delay down here?" evidently did.

The man released his hold at the sound of his superior's voice and Rodney folded down onto his hands and knees with a jagged inhalation of air. Sheppard dropped in front of him on his own knees, a hand on Rodney's back and eyes watching intently as our friend fought to cough and breathe at the same time. Afraid to move from my spot seeing as the guard still held the gun and stood between me and the other two, I listened closely for any rasp or gurgle that might indicate a crushed windpipe.

Fornus reached the bottom of the steps and surveyed the scene before him. "What is going on down here?"

With an angry glower, Colonel Sheppard stood and pointed a finger at the guard with the bleeding nose. "He tried to kill one of my men. Is this how you remember your dead, by killing unarmed prisoner?"

The man behind the Colonel had retrieved his club and used it to whack Sheppard across the lower back. He was back on his knees again in a heartbeat and Fornus was standing over him. "How we honor their memory is none of your concern."

"Well, if it involves beating and strangling us, then I think it just might be." The Colonel's comeback was met with a boot to his ribs.

"Stop it!" I yelled as another foot was raised to deliver another blow. "Just stop it!" Watching my two friends as they lay injured on the floor, I took a deep breath of my own and continued. "You wanted me, not them. They had nothing to do with any of this. Just let them go and I'll do anything you want."

Fornus fixed me with that comfortable smile. "I don't think you're in any position to bargain, Dr. Beckett."

"Perhaps not, but that doesn't change the fact that these two men weren't involved with what happened on Hoff. And if you just let me check them out, I'll go with you willingly."

"Doc," Sheppard groaned from the floor, "shut the hell up."

"Sorry, Colonel, I can't do that. I can't stand by and let you and Rodney take the punishment that was meant for me."

Glancing between the men on the ground and me, Fornus suddenly developed a dangerous glimmer in his eyes. "No, I don't think that you can, can you?" With a flick of his head toward Sheppard, he told the guard, "Bring him."

The men moved to haul the Colonel to his feet and Rodney croaked out, "Wait…" before he descended into another coughing fit.

"Don't worry, McKay, I'm going to get you out of here," he assured as he was dragged through the door and past me where he told me simply, "Make sure he's all right."

Darting into the cell to squat beside Rodney, I demanded of Fornus, "Where's my medical kit?"

"Upstairs." The answer was simple and matter of fact, exactly the same way he shut and relocked the door.

"Well, a bloody lot of good it does me up there."

The former Hoffan didn't even look back as he responded, "Yes, I know." And then he was up the stairs and the trap door shut, leaving Rodney and I alone in the cellar.

"They're going…to beat…the living shit…out of him," Rodney informed me needlessly. Because why else would they have taken him and not me? Fornus was one right smart bastard. Evil and probably driven mad by what he had witnessed on Hoff, but there was no denying his intelligence. He had concluded that the only thing worse than them taking and beating me would be to do it to someone I was responsible for as a physician…and then deny me the tools to help him. He was absolutely right.

And some fifty-three minutes after they had disappeared to the world above with Colonel Sheppard, Rodney's assessment was proven correct. Rodney had been fortunate…no real damage had been done other than a nasty bruise on his neck. But John obviously had not been so lucky. And the way they dragged him down the stairs and dumped him unceremoniously on the floor of the cell in an unmoving heap, I feared that they had taken it further than just a sound beating.

"You sick, disgusting sons of bitches!" Rodney spat out between the bars as I checked and thankfully found a pulse. "Oh, you're such big, bad men," he mocked, "beating up defenseless hostages."

"He was hardly defenseless," the one man responded, pointing to his swollen nose.

"Yeah, I'm sure it was a real fair fight." Rodney's biting words were in sharp contrast to the worried look in his eyes when he turned back to us.

"He's alive, Rodney," I reassured. "A bloody mess, to be sure, but alive." Rolling him over gently to his back, I took in the multitude of lacerations and darkening bruises even as I checked for signs of internal bleeding and broken bones.

Sheppard's eyes slivered open as I pressed gently into his abdomen. "Carson, you sure know how to make a lasting impression on folks." His voice was little more than a murmur and the smile he tried to give was stained red.

"And you're the poster boy for how to win friends and influence people," Rodney snipped as he shrugged out of his jacket and put it under the Colonel's head.

"Don't get too comfortable, Rodney. You're going home."

Stopping my examination, I looked to Rodney and then to Sheppard, but it was Rodney who spoke. "What the hell did you do?"

"I let some intelligence slip," he mumbled weakly as the door swung open again and the guards brought in a bucket of water and a wad of handmade bandages.

"What are these for?" I tossed the fabric aside in contempt.

Fornus leaned casually in the door. "These are for you to treat Colonel Sheppard's injuries. We're a little worried about a few of them."

"Worried?" Rodney challenged. "You just about worried him to death."

"Well, if that's the case, Dr. McKay, I suggest you impress upon your leader, Dr. Weir, that we are set in our resolve. Our terms are simple: Chancellor Druhin for the life of Colonel Sheppard."

"Druhin? We don't know where the Hoffan chancellor is?"

At my protest, Fornus just smiled. "There is no need to maintain the lie. We had always assumed Druhin was killed in the final culling, but Colonel Sheppard told us how you provided him asylum after the Wraith attack."

"Tell Weir I'm sorry for being so weak under torture. I don't deserve to command a jumper full of Marines." He patted feebly at Rodney's hand. "Ronon would do a better job. He should wear the cloak of command."

Ignoring the coded message he was being given, Rodney protested, "But why am I the one going back? You should go, Sheppard. You need medical attention..."

"No!" Fornus cut off Rodney's reasoning. "Sheppard stays. Beckett is a physician, isn't he? He can care for him."

"With drinking water and a few scraps of material?" I snapped back. "It's not only ludicrous; it's absolutely barbaric, especially when I have a full medical kit just upstairs."

"What's barbaric, Dr. Beckett, is inoculating an entire population with a drug that killed as many as it was supposed to saved."

Unable to take the sneer on Fornus's face, I yelled back. "I did not approve of that plan anymore than you did! Now, I'm sorry that your people died from their own ignorance and lust for victory over the Wraith regardless of the costs, but I will not stand by and let good people suffer for the mistakes of others!"

"Take him."

At Fornus's quiet orders, the guards pulled Colonel Sheppard back to his feet. "Hey. No, no, no, no, no." Rodney trailed behind them until he was pushed back behind the bars when they entered the small holding area outside. "Carson, apologize. Take it back. Something."

"I'm sorry, I won't say another word about the Hoffans, I swear." But my pleading evidently fell on deaf ears as they took the Colonel's arm and extended it on the small wooden table.

"He's excitable," Rodney rationalized with them frantically. "He didn't mean it, really. Tell them, Carson. You didn't mean it. He didn't mean it."

"I didn't mean it," I repeated as ordered, but it was halfhearted because they were obviously not paying a bit of attention to my apology and it became clear what Fornus had in mind when he himself lifted the club over Sheppard's arm.

"See? It was all just a misunderstanding. So, there's no reason for you to do anything rash here. Just…don't!" But Rodney's last request was drowned out by John's strangled scream when the metal bar came crashing down with a sickening crack on his arm. "What the fuck? Why the hell did you have to do that? You evil pieces of malicious…"

Pulling the irate scientist back against the far wall, I forced back my own insults and I hissed at him, "Colonel Sheppard has given you a way to go back to Atlantis and bring help. Don't anger them anymore or you won't have anyone to bring help for."

He sucked in a heavy breath and nodded his head, snapping his mouth shut. Behind us, Fornus told me, "You will take responsibility for your actions, Dr. Beckett. And one way or another, you will atone."

Rodney shoved past me and caught Sheppard before he could drop once more to the floor. "Bastards. No-good, ignorant, lying bastards. No ZedPM is worth this."

"You do realize," Sheppard managed to say between a jaw clenched in pain, "there is no ZPM, don't you?"

"You do realize your arm is broken, don't you?" Rodney countered back.

"If the two of you are finished stating the obvious, we need to do something about the only one I can do anything about." I examined the broken limb, not the least bit pleased with what I found.

"Dr. McKay, it's time for you to take our offer to Dr. Weir."

Fornus stood with a patient expression on his face as Rodney provided a backrest for the Colonel during my exam. "I'm going to need him to help me set the bone, then he can go." Softening my tone slightly, I added. "If that's okay with you."

He quirked his lips in amused pleasure. "That will be fine."

"I don't suppose it's a clean break?" John asked hopefully, his skin damp and ashen even in the cool temperature of the cellar.

"No, lad, I'm afraid it's not." Rodney paled visibly at my conclusion but Sheppard just nodded in understanding.

"Neither was the one I had in third grade." Steeling himself against the inevitable, he ordered tersely, "Let's get this over with."

"Rodney, I need you to brace his upper arm. Don't pull, just hold it tight and let me do all the work. Do you understand?"

Wide blue eyes widened even further and he simply nodded as he reached an arm around Sheppard's chest and gripped the arm tightly in both hands.

"McKay, in case I'm not… awake when you leave, you know what you have to do, right?"

Rodney nodded again and swallowed down his concern. "Don't worry; I'll take care of it," he confided. "I'll see you when I get back, Sheppard."

"Yeah, see you when you get back."

"Ready, lad?" I asked the Colonel in preparation.

"Hell, no," he choked on a small laugh, his fist white knuckling the arm that braced him against the inevitable pain that was to come.

"On three, then. One. Two. Three."

John was slumped unmoving against Rodney's chest before it was all said and done. And honestly, I was almost thankful for the reprieve the faint allowed him from the pain. If possible, Rodney was paler than my patient when he was led from the cell shaking and looking back to where I sat monitoring the Colonel. And I knew that it was only partially a result of setting the broken arm. Thank God he was going back to Atlantis. We had been given no food since I had come and the bucket of water was our first fluids. The last thing I needed to deal with was Rodney's hypoglycemia acting up on top of everything else. "You did well, Rodney. The arm should heal fine." If given the chance, I added silently with a glare at the men at the door.

"Just…take care of yourselves until I get back."

I forced an encouraging smile. "Aye, lad. That we will."

I watched as he was led up the stairs and the outside light shone down through the opening. I had no idea how long we had been here. A day at least since I had arrived. A lifetime it felt like. When Rodney was gone and the trapdoor shut again, I turned back to Sheppard and began cleaning his wounds. Eight days until the Daedalus arrived I figured. If Rodney couldn't bring help, then that was how long we had to wait until they could scan for our location. But eight more days like the one we had just had and there wouldn't be anyone left to find.

xxxx

"Unscheduled offworld activation!"

At the announcement, I perked from where I was finishing the analysis of the last scan I had run looking for Dr. Beckett's transmitter…once again unsuccessful. Ah, well. I was not one to give up. If living a childhood under communist rule had taught me anything, it was patience and persistence. Elizabeth was out of her office the moment the first chevron locked and we, along with everyone else in the room, looked anxiously to the gate tech when the wormhole established behind the shield. "It's Dr. McKay's IDC."

Elizabeth did her best to maintain decorum and keep from beaming happily at the news. "Lower the shield," she ordered even as she started down the stairs with me close on her heels. Our smiles faltered, however, when Rodney, looking worse for wear, walked through the gate alone.

He stalked straight past Marines on guard duty and demanded immediately. "Where are Teyla and Ronon?" Fingers snapped impatiently as he frowned in thought. "And Lorne. We need to put together a team and figure out a way to find the planet we were being held on. Maybe a cloaked jumper…"

"Rodney, slow down."

Ignoring Elizabeth's request, he started for the stairs himself. "We don't have time. I have twenty-nine hours to bring you back with Chancellor Druhin. But, of course, I can't bring you back and we don't have Druhin, so we need to come up with something else."

"Chancellor Druhin of Hoff?"

At Elizabeth's inquiry he snorted. "Well, how many Chancellor Druhins do you know?"

"Rodney, what is going on? What happened? Where are Carson and Colonel Sheppard?"

Blinking as though he realized for the first time that we had no clue what had been happening for the past day and a half that he had been gone, he stopped and regarded us earnestly. "The traders are Hoffans."

"What?" I echoed Elizabeth's shock with an astonished exclamation of my own.

"They're Hoffans, or what's left of the Hoffans, and they used the ZedPM and us to lure Carson right to them. They blame him for everything…the failed virus, the deaths, the Wraith attacks, everything. And they've figured out the best way to torture Carson is to torture someone else, namely Sheppard." Rodney swallowed thickly with a shake of his head as if trying to clear away a bad dream. "They broke his goddamn arm right in front of us, Elizabeth. Just took a club and whack! And we had to set it and I had to hold it still and he just went limp while we were doing it and…"

Taking his own arm that he had extended in a form of example as he rambled on, Elizabeth started leading him herself. "Rodney, we'll come up with some way to get them back. Let's just get you to the infirmary first and checked out. We'll get everyone together, and you can tell us all what happened."

Rodney let her guide him along dazedly as he continued to talk. "They won't let Carson have his medical kit. They tried to strangle me and threatened to shoot me. We almost escaped but the big guy with the broken nose… oh that was great! Sheppard just, pow! Right in the face!" His legs wobbled near the top step and I moved in to take his other arm. As if noticing me for the first time, his face darkened angrily beneath darkening angry bruises. "That bastard had one hell of a grip. He could have killed me. He almost did kill me." Shaky knees buckled and we did our best to break his drop to the floor.

Concerned with how he suddenly paled, Elizabeth pushed his head down between his bent knees and called for a medical team. Rodney's muffled voice drifted toward us as he continued to tell us about Carson trying to bargain for their freedom and complained that Colonel's self-sacrificing nature just made more work for him in the end. Turning to address me while Rodney continued his disjointed story, she directed, "Radek, keep scanning the planets. We need to find where they're being held."

Rodney's head snapped up then. "Whoa, whoa, whoa. What do you mean scanning the planets? How are you scanning the planets without the Daedalus? We don't have the power to scan…"

Cutting him off, I explained quickly what we had been doing trying to locate them and Rodney's eyes widened in alarm. "Stop scanning. They have guards stationed by the gate. If you dial in to where Sheppard and Carson are being held, they'll think it's suspicious and they'll kill them. They're that nuts."

"Rodney." Teyla's voice held a combination of worry and relief as she saw her teammate on the floor as she and Ronon entered the room.

Waving a distracted hand he offered a feeble, "Hey, guys," before dropping his head back between his knees then, as if remembering that they were the first people he was looking for when he came through the gate, looked up again. "Oh, good, you're here."

"Where're Sheppard and Beckett?" Ronon demanded after a quick scan of the room.

"Doesn't anyone ever listen to anything I say? The Hoffans have them."

At their confused expressions, Elizabeth explained what we had learned. The crinkle above Teyla's brow turned into a furrow of concern as she squatted down, as well. "Rodney, when did you last eat?"

"Eat? I don't know…when we all had lunch before Sheppard and I left to negotiate for the ZedPM."

"That was over a day and a half ago," she told him with a deeper frown.

"Really? Has it been that long? They didn't give us any food."

"His blood sugar has dropped. He tends to get a little…distractible when that happens. Elizabeth, do you have anything to eat in your office?" Teyla simply took control of the situation, sending me to fetch a power bar from the top drawer of our expedition leader's desk. When I returned, Rodney was telling them once again about giant hoodlum with broken nose as the medical team starting hooking him to a blood pressure cuff.

"So, what happened to your nose, McKay?" Ronon asked as I handed over the snack.

"They punched me. Why? Does it look bad? Sheppard swore it didn't look that bad and Carson said it wasn't broken." Touching it delicately, he whined, "Oh man, it looks bad doesn't it? I probably look like Karl Malden."

Teyla and Ronon seemed puzzled and Elizabeth explained simply, "An actor back on Earth…with a large nose."

"Streets of San Francisco, Detective Lt. Mike Stone." At my further clarification, they all looked to me. "Was good cop show." So sue me, I like American detective dramas. "Act Three: The Alibi." Even my dramatic flash of hands did little to impress them. Shifting my glasses up, I mumbled, "But is neither here or nor there right now."

Dismissing me with little more than a raised eyebrow, Ronon assured Rodney, "I'll make sure the guys who did it looks worse. Now, eat up so you can get to work on how to find them."

"Unbelievable," Rodney bitched around a mouthful of powerbar. "I really do have to do everything."

"Do you not always tell us that you are the only one that can do everything?"

Teyla's comment had him shrugging in contemplation. "True." And a second power bar had him shaking a little less.

We accompanied him to the infirmary and, even with Elizabeth and I there, the absence of the other two people that would normally be present during similar situations was more than conspicuous. Like nine-hundred pound gorilla in room that no one was mentioning…only not there. So, I guess correct phrase would be like nine-hundred pound gorilla not in room and no one mentioning. Which would be like every other normal day, only was not normal, only… Who comes up with such ridiculous expressions anyway?

The other physicians were covering the absence of their chief medical officer, much like I and the other scientists had been covering when Rodney was gone. Dr. Biro was on shift when we arrived and she examined Rodney with a brusque efficiency, making notes into her recorder much as she would during an autopsy.

"Subject, Meredith R. McKay…"

"It's M. Rodney McKay." Poor Rodney had received more than his fair share of teasing over the revelation of his first name so that it was no wonder he bristled. So unfortunate for him that mother's maiden name couldn't have been more manly name like Steele or even more mundane like Jefferson. Although he should consider himself lucky it was not something worse such as Woodcock. No, Rodney's bad luck was enough to cause grown man to weep. I know it brought tear to my eye every time I called him Merry in the lab. Childish of me, perhaps. But proof positive that there is such a thing as cruel irony in the universe.

Dr. Biro simply ignored his modification. "Caucasian, Earth-born, male, age forty-two…"

"Thirty-eight," came Rodney's snippy correction.

"Really?" Eyes that had spent more time perusing his file than his person stared down her nose at him in skepticism.

"Yes, really. Doesn't it say so in my records?"

"It does, but I just assumed it was a typo."

"Well, it's not."

Angry blue eyes glared back at the wire-rimmed ones but all he received in response was a simple, "Hmm."

"What the hell does that mean?"

"It means, Dr. M. Rodney McKay, that I may not have you on my slab today, but, despite your propensity for ending up here in the infirmary under irregular circumstances, I will probably get you under my bone saw much sooner due to very natural ones."

"Well, you don't have to seem so please about the prospect, Dr. Mengele. Christ. Take two cyanide tablets and call me in the morning," Rodney mimicked before turning to fix Elizabeth with a desperate look. "We have to get Carson back. I'll take Little Bo Peep over 'Little Shop of Horrors' any day."

Elizabeth rested a sympathetic hand on his arm as she asked, "Is Dr. McKay well enough to be released?"

Dr. Biro made a few notations in her patient's file without looking up. "Aside from borderline dehydration, a precariously low blood sugar level, and a systolic blood pressure level that reads higher than his self-proclaimed I.Q., he should be fine. Drink at least a gallon of water over the next day…coffee doesn't count… and eat a good solid meal as soon as you leave here," she ordered briskly. "No sweets… your blood glucose levels are less stable than a teeter-totter right now, plus you have more than enough of a blubber layer to keep you warm this winter. Besides," she added in a droll afterthought, "fat tends to bind up my blades."

Teyla bit her upper lip to keep from grinning, whereas Ronon and I both let snickers escape. We were rewarded by glares all our own before it was returned to Dr. Biro. "Where did you learn your charming bedside manner, at the knee of Don Rickles?"

"Never saw any reason to sugarcoat these things, McKay. Carson's too much of a mother hen with you lot, in my opinion." Her gruff tone softened slightly. "But we're all a bunch of baby chicks running around here without him, so I expect you to bring him home." Clearing her throat, she continued, "Water, food, and some sleep wouldn't kill you…just the opposite actually. We'll see you when you come back with Dr. Beckett and Colonel Sheppard."

With that final reminder, she was gone without so much as a goodbye and on to the adjacent curtained area and her next victim. "Lt. Robbins, another casualty of the free weights, I see. Well, let's get this puppy x-rayed and see if I get to use my new bone nibbler on it…double action, seven and a half inches…it is a thing of beauty to see in action. I'll even just use a local so you can watch."

Walking by the sectioned-off exam room, I could see young lieutenant's freckled face pale to the point he looked like redheaded Dalmatian. "Christ," Rodney mumbled as we made our way out the door, "since when does Sweeney Todd pass the psych evals around here? And what the hell is a bone nibbler anyway?"

"Just one more reason to be glad mother's maiden name wasn't Woodcock," I offered under my breath.

Rodney may not have agreed with Dr. Biro's rapport, but he did follow her medical advice, for most part. With pudding cup firmly in hand and empty lunch tray in front of him, he finished his story of what he and the others had experienced at hands of their captors. "So, Sheppard told them we had the Hoffan Chancellor and that you might be willing to trade Druhin for his release."

"What about Carson's release?"

Rodney shook his head at Elizabeth's question. "We could offer them an entire Hive Ship of Wraith to torture as they see fit and it wouldn't get us Carson." Scraping last of his dessert from its plastic container, he informed us, "The only way we're getting him out is by force, which is just one more reason why you can't go."

"But I thought you said they won't negotiate with anyone except me?"

He raised the spoon he had just licked spotless to accentuate his point. "I said they will only negotiate with Dr. Weir. I didn't say it had to be you."

"You are suggesting we send in someone other than Elizabeth to pretend to be Dr. Weir?"

"Give the Athosian in the front row a prize," Rodney beamed as he abandoned the spoon and used his finger to scrape out dregs of chocolate clinging to container in his hand.

"Since you seem to have this all worked out in your head, just exactly who are you suggesting go in my stead?"

Ignoring the raised eyebrows of our expedition leader, he tilted his cup in the light to better discern if more pudding was hiding in corners as he pointed his newly sucked-clean index finger in my direction. "Radek."

I was pleased to see that I was not only one shocked by his suggestion. "Are you serious?" Major Lorne demanded. "We could be going into a firefight here and, no offense to Dr. Zelenka, but that's the last place we need an inexperienced man."

"No, no." I shook my head in total concurrence. "No offense taken. In fact, could not agree with you more. Rodney, I cannot negotiate for Colonel and Carson's freedom."

"Ah, see, there's the beauty of my plan. You won't have to. You just prattle on in Czech and I'll translate for you." At mirrored confused looks around the table, Rodney continued as if speaking to dense children. "They may not even let me go back to the planet. They could do just what they did with Lorne and his men when they took Carson and leave me at the rendezvous location. But Radek gives me the advantage in two ways. First, they will need me to translate for him, thus making it necessary for me to go back. And second I need another scientist capable of operating the autodialer while I try to negotiate the release."

"Autodialer? What autodialer?" I demanded.

"The one we're going to make," he answered simply. "The DHDs from the jumpers dials the gate remotely. The consol itself is rather large for convenience of dialing but the transmitter is actually quite small and can easily fit in your hand. We preprogram the transmitter with the address to Atlantis and activate it once we are back on the planet, thus dialing back here."

Quickly catching on to where he was going, I chimed in. "Then they scan for Carson's transponder through the open wormhole, determine spatial coordinates of the planet like we do with MALP, and cross reference with Ancient database for actual gate address."

Nodding in approval he continued. "Then it's just a matter of Major Lorne and his rescue team swooping in and saving the day… as a follow on to my having already saved the day through my technical brilliance."

"But I thought you were afraid they would kill them if the gate activated?" Dr. Weir challenged.

"Well, that's why we're going to be there, to stall until the jumper can arrive, which shouldn't take more than a few minutes. Although seeing as I won't be here to actually find the correct address, I'll give them five, seven tops. We won't activate the dialer until we have them both in sight and hopefully in our possession. And of course, Dr. Weir, being an incredibly important dignitary, would never travel without, say his personal body guard," Rodney inclined his head toward Ronon, "and his alluring female companion." He smiled happily at Teyla who returned his grin at promise of being able to accompany us on the mission. "And in a perfect world, a platoon of Marines, but I doubt we'll be that lucky to smuggle them through with us."

Elizabeth's brow creased in consideration and she turned to Major Lorne, "Do you have any opinions about this plan?"

"Yeah, it sucks." When Rodney opened his mouth to protest, he spoke a little louder to override him. "But it may be the only choice we have."

"Unfortunately, I agree," Elizabeth sighed as she pushed to a stand. "You have a go to build your autodialer, but I want it tested from the Alpha Site before I approve the mission in its entirety."

A few hours later, Rodney joined me as I was disassembling the DHD in one of the jumpers. He was newly showered if not rested and I was sure the dark circles under his eyes had just as much to do with lack of sleep as the punch he had received to his nose. "Where is water bottle to keep Dr. Biro at bay?"

Squatting beside my knees as I lay on my back under the consol, he snorted. "The only water that could possibly do that is Holy Water."

"I think I have decided Halloween costume for this year. If only can get my hands on bone nibbler." The transmitter came loose in my hands and I wiggled out. Michelangelo spent four years lying on his back on scaffolding painting frescos on ceilings of the Sistine Chapel. I have feeling that by the time I leave Atlantis, I will have at least doubled that time on my back with feet sticking out from under equipment. "Still, should drink water. I fear dehydration has caused you to lose mind completely with suggestion that I pretend to be Dr. Weir."

"Radek, you do realize that anyone could have gone on this mission and pretended to be Weir, right? I mean we're building an autodialer… push a button and it dials the gate. And Lorne could have babbled on in Pig Latin and gotten me through the gate as an interpreter."

"Then why…"

"Because I need a backup. You want to know why I say I'm the only one that can do anything, it's because in the field, I'm the only one that can do anything." He shook his head with a roll of his eyes. "The other three on the team… if one goes down, then the other two can step in and do pretty much the same thing. Hell, I can even step in and fire a gun. Never mind that Sheppard claims my aim is only good on every other Tuesday and during full moons, a random spray of P90 fire is usually enough to scare most of the less technologically advanced races we come across."

"But, Rodney, that is more than I can do." For all my love of Bruce Willis movies, my experience with a gun was limited to surreptitiously firing acid at Kavanagh's belongings from across the lab with a squirt gun.

"I don't need you for the gun, Radek. We'll have Teyla and Ronon and a butt load of Marines eventually to cover that. What I need is someone I can trust to step in and do what I do… if…I … go down."

Rodney suddenly found his boots very interesting. Blinking in surprise at his admission that he put so much trust in me, I started, "Rodney, I don't know what to…"

"Don't let it go to your head," he blustered with false heat. "My first choice would have been Miko if not for that whole dislike of women in power that these crackpots have. I mean, I've seen her on the shooting range; it's like she's channeling the ghost of Wild Bill Hickok out there. My second choice would have been Kavanagh, seeing as I can't understand half of what he says anyway, and it is supposedly in my native tongue, so they would still need me to translate. But then we run into that same pesky restriction of presenting a woman in a leadership role, so that idea went out the window. And that left me with you."

"So happy that I ranked in your top three," I responded blandly before confessing, "Still, I don't know if I can do this."

"You'll have Teyla right beside you the entire time. That's why I suggested she go as you hoochie mama… just don't tell her that's what I called her," he confided. "But it will give her the perfect excuse to be within arm's reach of you at all times."

The prospect of beautiful woman hanging on my arm that was also a deadly killer, I had to admit, brought back many adolescent fantasies. Shaking my head to clear away thoughts of whether or not she might wear costume of leather straps like Aeon Flux did in MTV cartoons, I clarified my reservations. "I do not know if I can pretend to be powerful leader in front of these people."

With a sigh, he frowned in annoyance. "Radek, I've seen your DVD collection. You have every American-made action/adventure and crime movie ever made. Don't go through the gate as Radek Zelenka, go as James Bond or John McClane, or better yet, Don Corleone. You're going to negotiate, so make them an offer they can't refuse."

"Offer they cannot refuse," I pondered as he let out a loud yawn.

"Wake me when you've finished the programming. I have a liter of water and a bed waiting for me and a ghoul with a power saw fetish and medical degree hot on my heels if I don't take advantage of both."

"Oh, yes, yes, of course. Will call you when ready to test dialer."

Several hours later, after two successful tests from Alpha Site, we were still ten hours from designated meeting time. Rodney retreated once again to his quarters, claiming an overly full bladder and still sleep-deprived body. Although I wondered if he was really getting any sleep. I, myself, was much too anxious to sleep. Lying on my bed, staring at ceiling, trying to psyche myself up for my performance to come. What Rodney was wanting from me, it was definitely above and beyond the call of duty. But then, building nuclear bombs to destroy Wraith Hive ships would also qualify and I had not balked when asked to do that. Of course, I had much more self-confidence in the area of nuclear engineering than I did in pretending to be powerful leader. Finally out of desperation, I broke out my copy of 'The Godfather' and skipped to the scenes with Marlon Brando, watching his inflections, his confidence, his almost bored expression… his tuxedo.

Going to my closet, I pulled out the garment bag, lay it flat on my bed and slid down the zipper to reveal the tuxedo within. You never knew when you would need a dress suit. Anything could happen in another galaxy, I had reasoned, anything. Including having to pretend you were most ruthless mob boss in entire universe.

xxxx

No use crying over spilled milk, my mum used to always say. No use wasting time lamenting the loss of something as mundane as a cup of milk, especially when you can't unspill it. What's done is done. You can't undo the past. All you can do is sop it up and go on with the day. No, there's no use crying over spilled milk. But what about spilled blood?

Sheppard winced as I dabbed at the gash along his cheekbone. "Sorry, Colonel. Almost done here."

I dipped the rag back into the small cup of water that was stained pink by his blood that I had already cleaned away. Just sop it up and go on with the day.

"It's okay, Doc. Not your fault." He cradled his broken arm in the homemade sling I had fashioned out of the jacket Rodney had left behind. I may have learned the basics of health care in medical school, but I learned my practical inventiveness growing up in a family of seven. And the past couple of days had really put that to the test. When I didn't respond, didn't even make eye contact, his good hand gripped my forearm firmly. "It's not your fault, Carson."

I forced the best smile I could under the circumstances. "I appreciate you thinking that, lad. I really do." But appreciating it and believing it were too different things entirely.

I had pursued medicine to help people. Then again, didn't we all? Sure, some may have gone into the field for the money, the prestige, the rush of having someone's life in your hand, even. But, I've never known a physician that claimed he had obtained a medical degree so that he could hurt someone. Although that didn't mean, from time to time, it didn't happen. And sometimes… sometimes even the best intentions can't make up for bad execution.

I'd made mistakes over the last few years. I would be the first to admit it. I'd been blinded by a desire to help, I'd deafened my ears to the screams of another living being, and I'd hardened my heart to the grim facts of war. And I'd paid dearly as a result. All in the name of helping people, of helping my people. But eventually, the face of the enemy became nearly impossible to distinguish from the face of those I was trying to save and considering that, it wasn't hard to understand why the surviving Hoffans saw me the way they did. Because my first step down that slippery ethical slope had been my first step through the gate and onto Hoff. And as a result, I had watched Perna die, caused Sheppard to partially convert into a bug, and heard Michael accuse me of becoming something I had always hated.

After we had been forced to destroy the colony of humanized Wraith, Rodney had come to try to console me. "You know, when Oppenheimer saw the first atomic blast, saw the weapon he had created, he's credited with having said 'Now I have become death'." With Rodney, it's always important to keep in mind that it's the thought that counts. Ignoring my rather appalled expression, he continued. "Actually, the first thing he said was, 'It worked'. He made the 'I have become death' statement later in a press conference talking about a piece of Hindu scripture that came to mind at the time of the blast."

"Do you have a point to this little history lesson, Rodney, other than to compare my research to the destructive capabilities of the Manhattan Project?"

"Actually, I do have a point; two, in fact. And you'd do good to learn from both of them. First, he was proud of his accomplishment from a purely scientific standpoint. It worked. And for a researcher, as I'm sure you know, that's the greatest feeling in the world. And second, even if he did end up regretting what he had created, it didn't stop him from being an amazing physicist."

Ignoring the subtle compliment, I had instead told him quietly, "I never intended for this to happen," thinking that 'this' was too small a word to encompass everything I meant… from Hoff, to Colonel Sheppard's infection with the retrovirus, to Michael and the eventual destruction of the detention facility.

"And I never intended to blow up five-sixth of a solar system." He had patted me on the shoulder as he headed back out the door. "The road to hell is paved with good intentions, Carson, and there isn't a person around here that hasn't contributed a stone or two along the way."

Now, sitting on a stone floor, cleaning away the blood of yet another innocent bystander to my actions, I had to wonder if Fornus had been correct and this was the way I was meant to atone for my sins. That maybe this cell was my own little purgatory as I set yet another paving stone firmly in place.

"This is not your fault," Colonel Sheppard repeated.

Patting his hand on my arm, I assumed my most reassuring bedside manner and promptly changed the subject. "How's your arm feeling? Is the binding too tight? The color looks good, although it's hard to tell in this blasted dim light."

"Carson…"

Cutting him off with a sigh, I looked him straight in the eyes. "John, I understand what you're trying to do here. And I'm thankful for the thought, truly I am. But even with my limited capabilities here, I am still the caregiver. At least let me have that, all right?"

With an almost imperceptible nod of his head, he told me, "Binding's fine, Doc."

Touching the fingers, they were cool to the touch from the temperature of the cellar but still held a certain amount of warmth. "Can you feel when I squeeze?"

A grimace at the gentle pressure told me as much as his words. "Yeah, I can feel it."

"Good, that's very good news."

"For you, maybe," he grunted through a snort.

"And for you. It means there doesn't seem to be any nerve damage, then. When Rodney brings help and gets you back to Atlantis, they'll be able to fix you right up, I have no doubt."

"When we get back to Atlantis, you can fix me up."

Negotiating his release would be hard enough. Mine would take a bloody miracle. But my protest was never voiced because that's when a guard came down the stairs with a bucket of clean water in one hand and bottle in the other. The water sloshed about as sloppily as the man walked, which led me to believe the bottle contained alcohol, and that was something both the Colonel and I could use.

The door to the cell swung open and I stood, placing myself between Colonel Sheppard and the intoxicated man. They had just brought Sheppard back from another 'interrogation' session so they shouldn't have been coming for him again so soon. But someone drunk might have ideas to inflict even more unsanctioned harm. He placed the water on the floor and used his bottle to point to the injured man behind me. "Fornus thought you should have some clean water after our last chat with your friend."

"Thank you," I offered warily, afraid that he might try something and not sure what I would be able to do to stop it, but the man simply turned to leave. Convinced that he meant no additional mischief, I stepped toward the door he was relocking. "Is that klavak you're drinking there?"

The man regarded me with suspicion before asking, "How do you know of klavak?"

"I drank some once…when I was on Hoff." I conveniently left out the fact that Perna and I had used it to toast the success of the first test of the prototype inoculation. "It's very similar to a drink from my world called whiskey. Do you distill it yourself?"

"My woman's brother does." He took a swig and contemplated the bottle. "About the only thing he's good for."

"Aye, that's often the case with in-laws in my experience," I commiserated.

"So you have a woman, too?"

By the way his unfocused eyes narrowed in calculation, I thought it best not to tempt him with the prospect of a widow to leave behind. "Oh, no, no. Nothing serious. I'm a bachelor still, to my mum's dismay. Not that anyone could live up to her standards, God love her. But two sisters and one brother are married, so I know all about no-use brother-in-laws." Actually, both lads my sisters had wed were good blokes. I had even graduated college with one of them. The drunken roll of eyes that I received in understanding had me feeling a little braver. "I don't suppose… would you be willing to share a bit of your drink?" I reached a hand through the bars and he pulled the bottle closer to his body. "Just a nip to ward off the chill."

His eyes darted to my watch, then he quickly looked away. "The grain is hard to come by. Even the one he used isn't the same as we had back home. It makes a harsher drink."

And, therefore, stronger and even more antiseptic, I was hoping. When he glanced again to the timepiece on my wrist, I removed it and handed it forward. "I wouldn't dream of not offering payment for such a valuable commodity. It's a very good watch. Keeps perfect time. Although you probably don't have a day divided by twelve, do you?" I chuckled lamely but kept my arm extended hopefully.

Craning his neck slightly, he informed me, "My woman, she likes pretty things."

I pushed the button to illuminate the dial and a sloppy smile played at the corners of his mouth. "A bonnie bobble for a bonnie lass?"

He frowned instantly when he realized he might have given away too much. But that's how the confidence game is played, isn't it? Gain the marks trust, find a common ground, then steal it away out from under them. "It keeps her from complaining too loudly, is all. A man needs peace and quiet when he's at home."

"Of course, my mistake for being so presumptuous." I pushed another button and it chimed delicately as the alarm sounded. He reached for it then and I pulled it back. "The klavak?"

With a final look between the two, he took a long swallow, then handed the two-thirds-empty bottle over at the same time he snatched the watch from my fingers. "You would do well to keep that hidden," he warned me with a disgruntled expression, even as he proceeded to push the buttons some more.

"Aye," I agreed sagely, "as would you."

I watched as he nodded gruffly before staggering up the stairs once again. When the trapdoor closed above us, I turned back to my patient. It wasn't morphine, but after a small taste of my own, I was convinced it would at least take the edge off the pain. "Colonel, take a drink of this."

He drank deeply before I could caution him against it, then folded into a coughing fit as the alcohol burned its way down his throat. "What the hell is that?"

"The closest thing to a pain killer I can get you right now." Pouring a bit on a scrap of cloth, I returned to cleaning his wounds before pushing the bottle back at him. "Drink up, lad."

"Doc, if I didn't know better, I'd think you were trying to get me drunk." But he eagerly took another gulp of the liquor.

"Desperate times, desperate measures, Colonel." And it was with a touch of desperation that I grabbed the nearly empty bottle a bit later to keep it from tipping over when he sat it down with unsteady hands and his eyelids slid shut into as peaceful a sleep as he had had since I had arrived. Checking his vitals once again, I adjusted the jacket over him to keep the cool dampness at bay as best I could. Then I recorked the bottle and set it aside in a dark corner so it wouldn't be seen and would stay out of harms way before sitting myself down beside my responsibility and wrapping my own jacket tighter around me.

No, there was no use crying over spilled milk. But spilled alien whiskey? That would be another story entirely.

TBC