STRANGE DOINGS - by NotTasha
PART 2: STRANGE JOURNEY
Beckett moved to grab his 9mm, even as McKay held up his hands, palms open toward the two men in the doorway. The strangers, dressed in the garb of the local people, blocked the egress as they aimed Wraith stunners into the room.
"Put it down!" the taller one ordered, glaring at Carson's partially un-holstered weapon. Then, turning to McKay, continued, "You too. Now!"
"Sure, sure," McKay responded, not moving, his hand still up like some sort of pantomime, "anything you want!"
"Now!" the other man, shorter and dark-haired, demanded.
Beckett felt almost disappointed, seeing how quickly McKay surrendered. Rodney had removed his gun from its holster, making the procedure both clumsy and quick. The Canadian had his gun in hand and was setting it on the ground even before Beckett had managed to disarm himself.
The two men watched them carefully, stunners raised to counter any ill-advised moves.
"You're doctors," the taller man stated – it wasn't a question.
"Doctors? Well, yes," McKay responded quickly. "Although we're not exactly on the same level," and he gave Beckett a glance. "or in the same league."
"Doctors. Yes, man, we're doctors," Beckett cut in. The response seemed to ease something in the two.
"We need you to come with us," the taller man continued. "Now." And he made a brisk gesture, directing them into the street.
"Shouldn't we just…" McKay tried.
"Move," the other man cut him off, grasping Rodney's arm and hauling him through the doorway. Beckett hurried to catch up.
As they returned to the frosted road, Beckett hissed to McKay, "Major Lorne… where is he?"
Rodney's gaze was trained at a spot a short distance from them. Two heaps were splayed out in the road.
Oh no!
Exhaling despairingly, Beckett moved, edging around their guards, escaping them. He ran, in spite of the angry shouts that followed. He knew they might shoot him for his action, but the men held only stunners. He had to believe that they wouldn't kill him, but Lord, he didn't want to suffer through another 'stunning'.
Pins and needles, right? Not so bad.
Behind him, he heard the shuffle of feet as they tried to get around McKay. There was some sort of scuffle, but by then he'd reached Acworth and Lorne.
They were stretched out, immobile, on the road. Quickly, he assessed them, seeing that their color was good, noting automatically that they still breathed.
Thank God. Thank God.
Acworth was half on his side and out like a light. Lorne was flat on his back and blinked up at Beckett languidly.
The doctor checked Acworth first. He felt for a pulse and found it strong, then moved to Lorne. "Major," he called. "You all right? Can you hear me, son? Can you speak?"
Lorne's gaze tracked, finding Carson's, but the eyes didn't seem to focus. His lips parted as if he meant to speak, but the major managed only to drool a little.
"Major," Beckett called again, but by then a heavy hand clamped down on his shoulder, pulling him back as another hand pulled the radio from his ear.
The shorter man explained, "They'll be fine. Just stunned."
"Come on," the first man ordered, tugging on Beckett's arm and pulling him to his feet.
Yes -- stunned. Just stunned. Beckett had seen it often enough to recognize the symptoms right off. They'd be fine.
The first man stated, "Move it. Now. We don't have time for this."
Yes, right. They were being kidnapped, weren't they? But how could they abandon their people in the street?
"There may be complications," Beckett tried, even though he had never seen such before. He hovered over Lorne who watched him sleepily, his gaze imparting only a sad embarrassment at the situation.
"Now!" the man barked, making Beckett flinch. He continued to keep an eye on Lorne and Acworth.
"Great," McKay snapped from behind him. "And where, exactly, are you planning to take us? I mean, you sneak in here with your Wraith weapons, acting all belligerent and superior, and you shoot a couple of our guys, and order us to leave with you. Why should we?"
Carson finally looked away from their stunned people to find Rodney, held tightly by two new men. He swallowed in surprise, finding four more men had arrived at some point.
"We need doctors," the first man said again. "And you're coming with us."
The statement awoke something in Carson. "Someone's hurt?"
The first man said nothing. His shorter cohort nodded, looking anxious, concerned. Beckett could see it clearly in their expressions. Something was wrong. They were desperate. Someone needed his help.
"How bad?" Beckett gasped.
"Carson!" Rodney responded, his voice sharp. He gave Beckett an incredulous look. "We're not leaving with them!"
"How bad?" Beckett asked again.
"It's bad," the second man responded. He was similar enough to the first to be a brother. "She'll …" and he paused, looking about at the ruined frozen town. "… she won't live through this without help. Neither of them."
Beckett set his jaw at this thought. He didn't know what the situation was, but he would not let someone, some people, die – not if he could help it. Too many bodies littered the town – too many who were beyond his help. If he could save only one, if he could save both, maybe this trip would be proved worthwhile.
"Carson, you can't be considering…" McKay started, sputtering. "We're not leaving our guys," and he gestured toward the stricken men at their feet. "And we definitely aren't leaving them behind for someone you don't even know."
"They'll be fine, Rodney," Beckett said softly.
"You'd rather go with these thugs?" McKay's voice was sharp with anger. "They've probably been watching us for hours, waiting for the moment when they could attack our own people and kidnap us!"
Ah yes, Beckett surmised. That was why he felt those eyes upon him earlier. Of course – they'd been under observation. That fact, strangely, made him relax a little. He gave Lorne one last glance, and patted him softly on the shoulder. "You'll be all right, lad," he soothed. "Pins and needles, remember? Just pins and needles."
Rodney made a disgusted sound as he struggled his arms free. The men released him, apparently realizing he wasn't going anywhere. McKay spun on them, wringing his arms and looking thoroughly disgusted. "We're not leaving," he told the captors. "We're not going."
"We need you," was the response. And the man looked toward Beckett, eyes filled with hope.
Carson knew what he had to do. "You don't have to come," he told Rodney. When their captors started to speak, he went on, telling to the men in an almost kind manner, "If you just leave him here to look after these men, I'll give you no trouble."
"I don't know if that's wise," one of the men in the group muttered. "She's going to..."
"That's not going to happen!" McKay cut in. "Carson, have you gone totally insane?"
"It'll be for the best," Beckett went on.
"Oh, you've definitely gone 'round the bend, haven't you?" Rodney grumbled. "We're both staying put, and that's final!"
Ignoring Rodney's outraged expression, Beckett said calmly, "You got his radio so there's nothin' he can do. Leave him here. Someone needs my help? Take me. He's not going to cause any trouble."
"Now wait a minute!" McKay fought back.
"And he's not very fast on a hike. If you've been watchin' for long enough, you would've heard as much," Beckett tried, hoping they'd heard the early exchange with Lorne, hoping they believed it.
"No! Come on, that's not true!" McKay defended. "I mean, just because I'm not as fast as Teyla and Ronon doesn't mean I can't move when I have to. I mean, Teyla is freakishly fast. There's something strange about both of them. Just because I don't like going farther than is necessary doesn't mean…"
Beckett plowed on, "You want a doctor. He'll stay with them and I'll go with you." The Scot gazed to Lorne, but found the major wasn't looking at him. Instead, the soldier was watching McKay.
Of course, neither Beckett nor McKay had any say in the matter. Their captors gave no response to Beckett's bargaining, except to shove him toward McKay and get them both moving into the woods.
McKay went without much ado, letting himself be maneuvered, just muttering that he was able to go on a decent walk and didn't understand why everyone thought he was incapable of it.
They moved, crunching the frozen earth beneath their feet, falling into a loose single-file formation, and they entered into the cold wood.
Beckett watched as Rodney, ahead of him, looked over his shoulder. The Canadian met his gaze, and then looked beyond, back to where Lorne and Acworth sprawled across the road, and maybe further – searching out Sheppard and the others.
No one came and they kept moving.
Rodney faced forward and clutched his arms close to him, blowing out plumes in the cold.
They'd taken McKay's pack. A man with a bit of a mustache had tucked Carson's medical bag under his arm. They moved quickly. The tall man led, followed by the dark-haired one, then McKay. Next was man with the mustache, then Beckett. The rest were behind. Beckett kept his eyes on Rodney because he had nowhere else to look – except at this group of men that looked too much alike.
Brothers, Carson reasoned. Brothers or cousins. Definitely a family. Maybe even a clan.
The trail turned sharply, and McKay slid on a bit of ice, catching a handful of branches as he fought to keep his balance. "Are we slowing down any time soon?" he griped, getting a thunk by the man with the mustache for his complaints.
They kept going. The trail twisted and turned. Beckett blew on his hands, wishing again for wool gloves. His hands were getting awfully cold.
Apparently, Rodney had the same thought. "Maybe we could stop somewhere and get a nice fire going." He held up his hands as if to a hearth. "Warm up a bit?" No one answered, and Rodney dropped his hands, idling running them through the brush.
Beckett jammed his into his pockets. "You'll be all right, Rodney," he tried to soothe.
"Speak for yourself!" McKay shot back.
The men didn't slow, and they moved further into the woods, going one way, and then another, following well worn, frozen paths. People had moved along these byways for generations, Carson figured. And these men knew the labyrinth well.
McKay stumbled and caught himself, but Beckett kept the pace easily, wanting to get to their destination. Someone was hurt. Someone would die if they didn't get there in time.
He could help someone.
"It'd be good if I knew what I was gonna be facing," he attempted. "What's happened to her? What will I need to be doin'?"
"You'll see soon enough," someone told him.
"It's serious though?" Beckett tried.
"Deadly," was the response.
There was an alarm in their pace, a desperation. Beckett didn't care for their tactics, didn't care for them at all, but he drove himself onward, eager to help, to offer aid. They'd come specifically for a doctor. He would not deny them his help.
McKay had simply been swept up. It didn't matter to them that a doctor's title could be held by any number of vocations. They thought Rodney was a physician, and so far, Rodney had done nothing to dissuade them from their misconception.
Beckett frowned at this realization, wishing that McKay had fought to stay behind with Lorne and Acworth. Someone needed to look after those poor souls. With a little coaxing, he might have been able to convince their captors of that fact. The Marines were alone and helpless. Why didn't McKay stay with them? Was he that afraid of being left behind?
Beckett's forehead furrowed at that thought and figured that there must have been some other logic to Rodney's actions. He hustled to keep up.
"This woman who's hurt," he asked, "is she suffering from a broken bone? An animal attack? A fall?" He paused a moment, waiting for response. Not getting one, he went on, "Is it an injury? A sickness? Do you know if she has a fever or…"
"You'll see," someone assured him. "Keep it quiet."
To that, McKay let out a groan. "Quiet? Yeah, right! They want us quiet and moving fast. You watch, one of us is going to fall and break our skulls open. Oh, and you just know it's going to be me. I don't heal well, you know that? You want that on your conscience?" he asked the men surrounding them. They gave no response, so he asked, "What's in it for us, huh?"
"You get to stay alive," the tall one said darkly.
"Great…" McKay grumbled, nearly losing his footing on a stretch of ice. "But you don't want us dead, do you? You'd be using guns or spears or whatever if you wanted us dead. Oh no, we're much more useful to you alive, aren't we?" McKay looked over his shoulder, nodding to Beckett. "They don't want us dead." But even as he turned toward Beckett, his gaze reached further, searching out the trail behind them.
"Rodney, turn around," Beckett said tiredly.
Frowning, Rodney turned about, and his toe caught a root. For a second, he fought for his balance, and lost it. He flung out his arms, trying to keep himself from smashing his head into the frozen ground. He gave a tremendous shout as he fell spectacularly.
Their captors halted, looking in disbelief at what had just transpired, as McKay panted, moaning unhappily on his hands and knees.
"Get up," the man with the mustache ordered.
"For the… ow! Ow!" Rodney rolled to his butt and clutched at his knee. "I… I…" His face scrunched up in misery. "It's broken! I… ow!"
Beckett pressed past the guard and squatted down beside his friend. "Rodney? Let me see it."
"Definitely broke something here," McKay gasped through gritted teeth as he grasped his leg close to him. "The patella… it has to be the patella. Or, I might have dislocated something… Ow… oh… It's agony, pure agony!"
"Quiet!" the tall one ordered, then gave Beckett an enraged look. "Quiet him down!"
"Ow! Ow! Ow!" McKay didn't lower his voice or release his grasp.
"Come on, Rodney," Beckett said with a sigh. "Let me have a look." He managed to peel back the tightly grasped fingers, revealing torn cloth, raspberry flesh and oozing blood.
"Might be a sublux," McKay hissed. "I heard about someone who had their kneecap travel halfway down their shin. Oh God! What if that happens to me?"
"It's not going to happen, Rodney," Carson tried to soothe.
"Could be Anterior Chondromalacia." Rodney groaned, sitting back a bit to give Beckett room. "Definitely a biomechanical abnormality. Something is off between the patella and the trochlear groove of the femur. Oh, that kneecap is breaking loose right now! I can feel it."
Carson sighed. "Well, let me have a look-see and I'll give my opinion of the matter."
He carefully rolled up the pant leg and examined the unpleasant looking abrasion. He gently felt around the area, and moved the knee joint carefully, while Rodney made little mewling noises deep in his throat. With a grimace, Carson told the physicist, "I think you skinned your knee."
McKay's hands flew towards Beckett's, trying to stop his ministrations. "OW! OW! Broken. There's something broken in there, Carson. OW!"
Carson sighed, watching his friend's face. The man certainly looked as if he was in pain. He called for his bag and was allowed access to it.
Squatting on the frozen ground, Beckett felt the chill seep further into him as he cleaned the broken skin and applied an antibiotic cream to the area.
"Aren't you going to bandage it?" Rodney asked, a tremble in his voice. "I'll get an infection like that." And he snapped his fingers.
"It'll be fine like that for now," Carson told him. Finished, he lifted his head to see the others. He was met with a sea of disapproval. "He should take it easy," Beckett commented. "Better if we rest a bit, eh?"
In response, two of the men dragged Rodney to his feet. Another pulled Beckett up as well. McKay stumbled, moaning and grumbling, but in spite of a limp, Rodney seemed to be holding up his weight without any difficulty, but he was shivering now with the cold. With a fuss, he rolled his pant leg down over the wound.
Someone gave Rodney a shove and they were moving again, albeit at a slower pace as Rodney hobbled. "Great," the Canadian muttered under his breath. "Going to walk me to death. Fine. Watch, the knee is going to completely dislocate and then you'll be sorry. Did you know I'm freezing? My hands are like ice!" He reached out one of those frozen hands, grabbing a handful of branches to catch his balance as he clumsily moved along.
"If you get moving, you won't be cold," one of the group taunted.
Beckett tried to get closer to Rodney, but was countered by the man with the mustache. Carson gave the man a glare, and shoved his way forward. Whether he won the argument by force, or if the man simply figured he'd do no harm, Beckett was allowed to come alongside Rodney, and they kept moving.
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Their pace had slowed. Oh, not that the men didn't do their best to hurry them. There were moments of frantic movement, but Rodney's limp would increase and much moaning would ensue, and slowly but surely, the pace would slow again to a walk.
It would take a little while for the men to realize what had happened. They'd be forced to hustle again – for a while. But the power of McKay's obstinacy would eventually bring them back to a snail's pace.
They turned this way and that, following a path that Carson couldn't even begin to retrace. They passed orchards of trees. Fruit and nuts hung from branches, silvered and looking like strange ornaments -- ruined in the frost. Damaged berries clung to the hunkered bushes. He glanced out at fields, just beyond the woods, seeing the grain lain down under a layer of freeze.
And as he looked out, into the bleakness of the forest, Carson still had the feeling that eyes were upon him, watching from behind the frozen trees, observing from someplace just out of sight. He'd turn, hoping to find Sheppard and the others charging out of the frost, but no one came.
The cold sunk further into his bones as he walked alongside McKay who continued to stumble and reach out to catch his balance on whatever branch or bush was on his left, instead of letting Beckett steady him from the right. Carson could only sigh at the man's pigheadedness.
And suddenly, as the day started to darken into an evening, they stopped. The tallest of the group held out a hand, to quiet the group.
"What?" McKay cried. "What's happening?"
"Silence!" the call went up. They made another turn, down a narrow pathway where they were forced to move single file. Rodney continued to limp pathetically, seeming hardly able to keep himself on his feet. Beckett sighed again, realizing he'd have to give McKay a better examination. He'd kick himself if he found out that Rodney had been more seriously injured than he'd first conjectured.
And then the trail opened up and they came out in a little clearing, filled with hovels made of wattles and branches. The place looked temporary, quickly and rudely constructed, but strange homey touches decorated the area – a flower box, a painted sill, a nicely carved bench.
"Ma," one of the men called out in a hoarse whisper. "Ma, we're here. We brought the doctors, like you told us."
Out of the dim recesses of one of the hovels, a form shuffled. A shape emerged. Beckett narrowed his eyes, wishing that he could reach for a torch to better illuminate the dimming scene.
Other forms appeared from the humble abodes – women and children, babes in arms. They moved out of the shadowy spaces and into the last bit of light that came in through the trees.
One moved with a definite regality. She was a large woman, formidable, with dark hair that had silvered like the trees around them. Her face had a softness to it, as if she were used to sitting in her favorite chair, beside a warm hearth instead of squatting beneath a bunch of branches in the woods. But, her eyes were sharp and seemed to stare right into one's soul.
She came to them, her chin raised. She stared first at McKay and seemed to discount him before she found Beckett and held his gaze.
"You are doctors?" she said at last.
"Yes," McKay responded immediately. "Yes, yes, doctors. You got us." And he gave Beckett a look. "So what do you want with us?"
She didn't seem to like Rodney's tone, making a little grimace of distain. She kept her gaze on Carson. "I am Kennesaw," she said imperiously as she held her hands gripped tightly before her. "You stand before me, my family and all our ancestors," she inclined her head toward their captors. "These are my sons, my boys. Austell is my oldest." The tall one nodded at his name. "And that is Norcross and Lennox and Collan. The others are nephews, they are named…"
McKay grumbled, cutting her off most rudely, "Yeah, this is all well and good, but honestly, I don't care. We have been held against our will. We have been kidnapped. Members of our party were assaulted and left at the mercy of whatever creatures might be out there…"
At this pronouncement, Kennesaw gave the men a startled look. "Austell? Norcross? I told you that no one should get hurt!" She was angry.
The dark-haired one, Norcross, held up his hands placating. "Ma! We only stunned those guys. Just stunned 'em." Brothers and cousins murmured and nodded.
She still didn't look pleased.
McKay went on. "Stunned them, and forced us to leave them alone out there. They've probably been eaten by wolves by now – or mutant pigs, or whatever you have out here." There was a slight quaver to his voice as he considered this. "Then these 'boys' put us on a death march." With a gesture, he indicated his knee where blood spotted through his pant leg, "I was grievously injured and forced to continued onward with my near maiming. I might be crippled for life."
At this comment, Kennesaw looked less impressed and gave Rodney a blank look.
"We have been imprisoned by your boys," McKay concluded. "This is unconscionable. We demand release!"
"You are doctors?" Kennesaw repeated, her hands still held before herself.
"Yes," Beckett finally got in, managing to get a little in front of McKay and hopefully shut him up. "I'm a physician. Is someone hurt?"
She seemed to draw in on herself. "You are men of science and reason?" she asked.
"Well, I am," McKay returned bluntly.
"Yes," Beckett responded, giving McKay a glare. "We are both schooled in science. And both are reasonably reasonable."
She glanced from Beckett to McKay and then to her boys, who moved in, surrounding the captives. She seemed to be weighing the Atlanteans, regarding them, as her boys brought the stunners about, ready to use them if necessary.
McKay groaned and uttered, "Really, is there a need for that? What could we possibly do?"
Kennesaw came to a decision and proffered a hand. Beckett hesitated, not knowing the greeting custom of the people. Extending his hand, Carson gently took Kennesaw's in his, and then he saw it.
He paused as he held her hand, not wanting to appear rude, but the doctor in him had quickly sighted a rather large wart on the side of one of her fingers. Embarrassed at his hesitation, he started to speak an apology, but Kennesaw cut him off.
"You will remove it?" she asked, her voice finally betraying something other than total control. "You will be able to do that and leave no trace?" She was nervous. Afraid.
Perplexed by the question, Beckett responded, "Certainly. It won't take but a moment."
She relaxed slightly. "And a blemish, from my granddaughter, Chamblee's arm?"
Carson furrowed his brow, wanting to get this nonsense out of the way and get to the 'real' patient. "I'll have to look at it before I can be certain, but I doubt that it'd be a problem."
"Good," Kennesaw said. She looked a little ashamed. "It is vitally important that it is done before the others return." With a curt nod she proclaimed, "You may proceed now."
For a moment, Beckett didn't speak, still holding the hand with the wart on one finger.
Kennesaw continued to watch Carson carefully, as if monitoring his responses. The men kept their weapons ready.
The realization hit Beckett and he didn't know what to do, what to say. In all honestly, he wanted to fume at the woman, to let loose all the anxiety that had been building since this began. Had they honestly been brought here to remove a ...
"A wart?" It was McKay who broke the quiet. "You've got to be kidding me!" he cried, his face growing a little red. "This is unbelievable. You dragged us out here so that Carson could do a nip-tuck up on your granddaughter and freeze off your wart?" He was incredulous. "You nearly killed us!"
Norcross responded with a grumbled, "We weren't going to kill you."
"Fine! But Lorne and Acworth might be dead by now." McKay pointedly responded. "All because you were so vain as to want a wart removed. We left two of our people stunned out of their minds and drooling in the dirt. Bet some horrible pig creatures gnawed them down to the bone by now, eaten them alive."
"Rodney!" Beckett exclaimed, horrified at the possibility.
"Not quite," a familiar drawl came from just behind the clan of men. The brothers and cousins spun about.
Beckett grinned from ear to ear as Ronon, Sheppard, Teyla , and a group of Marines materialized from the darkness of the trees.
"Oh, finally!" McKay moaned as Norcross, Austell and the others spun about in surprise. They put up a bit of a fight, but they were no match to the newcomers and were quickly disarmed. The women disappeared into the hovels with their children, but Kennesaw remained, withdrawing her hand from Beckett's grasp. She stood quietly before the homes as if guarding them.
Sheppard regarded his people quickly. His gaze taking in Beckett first, then lingering on McKay a moment longer, seeing his bloody knee, his torn pant leg and his surly disposition. Finding them both well, his tense expression relaxed into something more familiar.
"Dr. McKay, Dr. Beckett," Teyla called to them. "Are you both well?"
"Aye lass," Carson responded with a sigh. "That we are."
"Speak for yourself," McKay sniped, and pointedly indicated his knee. "Took you long enough to catch up."
Beckett sighed, shaking his head and moved toward the Canadian, ready to give the serious injury another look. "Lorne and Acworth," he stated the names quickly. "You found them, didn't you?"
"They are well," Teyla assured.
"Nothing's chewed on them, but they're not very peppy yet," Sheppard responded. "Lorne's still a bit drooly."
"Well, good," McKay responded as he limped toward one of the prettily carved benches. Beckett saw something relax in the physicist.
"How'd you find us?" Beckett asked. He glanced up to Kennesaw, who stood watching and waiting. "We made so many turns along those paths I didn't think we'd ever be found without a guide."
"Wasn't hard," Ronon responded with a shrug. "Tracking you was like following a herd of Smyrnas through a hedge." The Satedan glanced toward the American. "These people obviously are new to this whole kidnapping thing. They don't know what they're doing."
Sheppard just grinned, watching as Beckett tried to get another look at McKay's bloody knee. Rodney grimaced and winced. "Yeah," John said. "I think someone knows what he's doing.
TBC