"I've got his transponder!"
Teyla closed her eyes, sharing in the relief that also saturated Rodney's voice. The hum of the jumper's engines whined louder as they leaped out of the stargate, surrounding her with its comforting power, a power that could now, finally, be put to advantage. In the seat next to her, she heard Ronon's soft grunt of approval.
She'd lost track of how many worlds they'd searched in the last two days, each one met with radio silence and absent the hopeful beacon of John's signal. Rodney was sitting in the co-pilot chair, his fingers flying over the control panel. A grid of the terrain below appeared on the HUD, situated neatly around a glowing green dot. "He's a klik from the gate. Follow that main street, due north."
"Got it," the young lieutenant piloting the jumper replied, and swung the craft above the roofs of the stately buildings of this world's abandoned (usually abandoned) city.
"There's also about four hundred people down there, too," Rodney added as the HUD display filled out with detail.
"Where is Sheppard?" Ronon snapped and for once, Rodney didn't pick on the Satedan's semantics and just answered the question he knew was being asked.
"He's smack in the middle of them. Of course. If he's being held captive for 'entertainment', as our sources suggest, then he's managed to make himself the main attraction."
Teyla shuddered. The rumors and whispers they'd heard in the last two days as they pieced together the tale of John's kidnapping had sounded too horrible to get her mind around. That John was in danger had been the only certainty she'd been able to grasp. She leaned forward for a better look through the jumper's window, preferring the interpretation of her own eyes over the HUD. Roofs and paved streets flashed by below. The sun had set, but still cast enough of a glow in the western sky to illuminate the shapes of individual buildings and overgrown gardens.
The lieutenant spoke into the radio and crisply ordered ground troops to begin making their way to John's coordinates. Ronon grunted again in agreement. The squad of six marines in the back of the jumper were heavily armed and prepared to extract their CO at any cost, but ten against 400 was...optimistic. (Nine if you counted Rodney)
Rodney pointed to the HUD. Teyla tensed, feeling anxiety quicken her pulse. John's dot was nearing the center of the screen. "There. He's there. In a big open area. Can you see him?"
The jumper coasted over the final roofs and over a large square courtyard boxed on each side by more of the beautiful buildings. In the middle of the space, a large crowd was clustered around a tall pole of some sort. The lieutenant slowed the jumper and glided towards the throng. It was hard to make out individuals in the group, the courtyard was completely in shadow, and the only torches that had been lit were scattered randomly through the crowd. Most people were standing still, but one torch seemed to be moving towards the center, pushing its way through the closely packed people.
"Oh, no. No, no, no, no, no!"
"What!" Teyla snapped, alarmed by the panic in Rodney's tone.
"It's a stake, they're tying him to a stake. You've got to stop them! We've got to get down there!"
"Marines!" The lieutenant barked, even as he shoved the controls forward and shot the jumper towards the pole. "I'm going to get as close to the target as possible and open the hatch. I want you out the door the second we touchdown. Secure the Colonel and watch for firebugs."
A chorus of replies and a scuffling of men readying their gear drifted from the rear, but Teyla's eyes were locked on the ground below. A few people had finally noticed the jumper bearing down on them and had started to point. The lieutenant brought the craft down to within a few meters of the tops of their heads and then cruised the entire circle of onlookers, circling and inching lower until they began to wave their arms in fright and scatter. A single drone zipped away from the extended drive pods and arced away to smash into an unpopulated building on the north side of the courtyard with what would sound like an ominous boom on the ground.
"That'll give them something to think about," he muttered, sounding vindictive.
All the time, Teyla was searching for John. When she finally puzzled out the scene, she gasped in horror. A pale limp figure was sprawled on top of the pile of firewood by the bottom of the pole. As the jumper circled closer, she saw the rope stretching John's arms towards the pole, being held by two gaping men at the other end. John wasn't dangling, yet, but the intent was clear. They had interrupted these people in the act of hanging John over the bonfire. Had they been even minutes later...!
When enough people were moving in the right direction, the pilot brought the jumper to hover directly next to the pole and inched it relentlessly down towards the ground. Those who hadn't decided to run, yet, got the hint and the pavement cleared with startling speed. The pilot popped the hatch even before they'd touched down.
Teyla leaped out of her seat and was out the back on the heels of the sixth marine, her own P-90 at the ready. The squad shoved its way through the last of the stunned people by the pile of wood, shouting and shoving them away. The humid evening air was thick with the stench of lantern oil.
"Ronon! The wood is soaked in kerosene. Any spark will ignite the entire pile," she called. Ronon snarled in answer.
"You!" he bellowed, aiming his blaster at the men with the rope. "Let go. Let him down." The men did so to skitter back into the edges of the crowd that was hovering at a safe distance from the jumper. Teyla watched John's arms flop onto his bare stomach, still tied together, still lying across the top of the pile. It was tall, over her head and looked precarious, obviously not meant to be structural.
"We have to get him down," she cried, hearing the anguish in her voice. He was so limp. So...lifeless.
The marines formed a tight circle around the pile, weapons bristling outwards, their eyes scanning the crowd for motion, missing nothing. The onlookers that remained nearby were murmuring, huddled together.
"Think it'll hold if I climb up there?" Ronon asked. He and Rodney joined her in her focus on John. Rodney was scanning as they talked and began walking around the pile. She was shaking her head when they were distracted by a bellow.
"You don't belong here!"
Teyla whirled to see two Marines step together and lower their weapons at the chest of a tall, supremely ugly man with a black beard. He was holding a torch and glaring at all of them. There were a few men dressed in uniforms, guards probably, standing around him which told Teyla he was someone of importance to these people.
"Did you do this?" Ronon snarled and pointed his own weapon towards the man who'd spoken so...unwisely. "Did you hang my friend up there like a stangustia!" He spat the words with such venom that Teyla put a hand on his arm to restrain him even though her own fury was no less potent.
"How dare you interrupt our festival!"
Apparently, wisdom was not among this man's gifts! Teyla thrust her fist at the man. "How dare you! Have we not enough enemies to resist preying on one another? Have we all not enough hardships to endure that you must conjure up more to wallow in?"
"You know nothing of hardship," the man sneered, looking her up and down with an expression that made her skin crawl. There was no answer. Were he of her people, Teyla would show him her displeasure with her sticks. Here...there was work to be done. She turned her back on the buffoon and stepped back to Rodney who'd finished his walk around the pile and was slapping at his scanner in that way that meant he was unhappy with what it was displaying.
"Damn you, pretties!"
The sharp cry spun her around in time to see the angry leader raising his torch, preparing to throw it towards the oil soaked kindling. She had only sucked in a breath for a cry of her own before a series of three quick pops shattered the muggy night. The black-bearded man shuddered, stumbled backwards and crumpled. The three marines who'd fired never even so much as paused in their continual sweeping of the crowd, reinforcing their message with deadly calm: you move, you die. The crowd cried out in fear and random shouts of dismay. A few more ran away towards the buildings, the rest pressed together, even further away from the bonfire to murmur in a frightened huddle.
Teyla sighed, overwhelmed and desperate to get to John...and get out of there.
"It's just a big pile of logs," Rodney told her once she returned her attention to him. "We dislodge any that are load-bearing and the pile will shift."
"What about the ropes. Can we use those to swing him down?"
"We could lift him off the pile, yes, but we'd have the same problem climbing up far enough to catch him when we let it down again."
"What about the jumper. Can it hover close enough to reach him?"
Rodney looked nervously over at the lieutenant who'd joined Ronon in circling and inspecting the pile, then leaned close and whispered, "Sheppard could pull that off, but I'm not sure about that guy. No disrespect!" he added hastily at her frustrated glare, "But I know I couldn't do it. He gets it wrong, Sheppard gets crushed by the hatch." Teyla sighed.
"Then lets disassemble the pile. Remove enough logs until we can stand upon them to lower John down to us."
"Yes, yes. I think that's the best we've got."
Teyla and Rodney hastily appraised Ronon and the lieutenant of the plan. Rodney took up the rope and wrapped it around his waist to hold John from falling into the pile if it shifted. She and Ronon and the lieutenant immediately began attacking the logs, grabbing as high as they could reach and pulling them out one by one to toss aside. Teyla was near tears by the second time the pile shifted, sending logs down the slope to pile up in an even more unsteady and treacherous jumble.
"You there, no closer!" barked one of the Marines, and Teyla turned to see two men, dressed in the uniform of the guards standing near the circle of marines, their hands raised.
"We want to help," one of them said softly, but with a defiant tilt.
"We got it," Ronon growled, throwing a huge log aside in frustration.
"We know how the pile was built. We can help you take it down safely."
Ronon shot a look at Teyla who shrugged.
"Let them through."
The Marines stepped aside and the two guards joined her, looking nervous, but eager to prove themselves. "The pile is built from the inside out. If you remove the bottom logs on the outside edges, you can work your way in without them spilling." Teyla just nodded, and they started again, this time starting low.
Ten minutes after they'd started, twelve more marines jogged out of the darkening courtyard. The guard was shuffled, and eight more pairs of hands began to dig away at the pile. The two local guards put their backs into the work as eagerly as any of the marines, and once or twice called suggestions on which logs to pull next.
Perhaps twenty minutes after they'd begun, Ronon climbed over fairly stable logs and stretched upwards, just able to touch Sheppard's heel that hung over the topmost center.
"McKay, lift him up. I think I can pull him out now," Ronon bellowed, and Rodney added more weight to the rope, raising John's arms and then lifting him upright from the sprawl. Tears sprang again as John's pale body, illuminated by torches and flashlight beams, stretched bonelessly higher.
"Good, stop there." Ronon scrabbled for footing, then reached again, hooking both hands into John's now-dangling pantlegs. "Now, let him down."
Rodney moved forward and Ronon pulled at the same time, swinging John over the edge, then receiving him into his arms. When the rope was completely slack, Ronon carefully carried John, cradled like a child against his chest, to the eager circle of rescuers. Everyone was sweaty and smelled of kerosene. Teyla's hands felts oily and slick and she rubbed them on her pants before she shoved her way to Ronon's side, reaching for John's head, desperate to know if he...lived.
"He's alive," she said loudly when her fingers finally found the flutter of life at his neck. The words were joyful, but she heard the tremor in her voice. He was alive, but desperately ill. The odd, paper-dry quality of his skin and the shallow rasp of his breath frightened her. Ronon wasted no more time and once one of the marines had cut the ropes from John's hands, he turned towards the jumper. Teyla followed at his heels. The lieutenant barked a command and the marines began to regroup, planning to march back to the stargate together and leave the jumper free for Sheppard.
Ronon lay John on one of the back benches, then knelt beside him to begin a slow probing inspection. Teyla was wrestling the medical kit out of the overhead netting when the pilot rushed past, followed by the marine medic who would be accompanying them. Rodney was at the hatch, and Teyla paused as she overheard him speaking. A glance confirmed that he was talking to the two guards who'd helped them with the logs.
"So, why did you help us, after all? You people kidnapped him and brought him here? You had two days to help? Why now?"
Teyla flinched at the bluntness that only Rodney McKay could get away with, but she listened, curious about the answer.
"Letting him die that way wouldn't have helped me any," the guard answered, his voice soft but proud.
"O...Kay?"
"I hope he survives. He was the...bravest pretty I've ever seen. I'll work to see that the festival does not continue."
"That sounds like a smart idea." There was a pause. "Go away now, we're leaving."
Teyla chuckled, then returned her concentration to John as the hatch whined shut and the pilot lifted the jumper off the ground before it had latched. Ronon and the medic were tearing open bags of saline and John already had a mask over his face, hissing with oxygen. She sat on the bench at John's head, not wishing to interfere, but needing to make her own evaluation.
She stroked his hair and felt quiet dispair at each abuse revealed. His face was caked with dried blood from his swollen nose. His lips were dry, cracked and split. His side was cherry-red with the welts of fresh abuse, and his arms were bruised from the elbows up. When Ronon and the medic rolled him briefly to inspect his back, they all gasped in unison and cursed at the day-old at least, overlapping stripes of deep bruises.
But what disturbed her the most was John's utter stillness. He seemed thinner, shriveled almost, as if his body had aged rapidly. As if...no! She shoved the irrational thought aside. His chest showed no signs of wraith feeding prints, but she was saddened beyond words at the thought of what those people had taken from him.
"You are safe, John," she murmured and received a flick of approval from Ronon. "We have you, and we are taking you home. You are safe." It was at that moment that the jumper entered the stargate and Teyla felt the familiar tingling as they plunged into the event horizon. Warm sunlight streamed briefly through the jumper's front window when they reached the other side to be replaced by the cool grey paneling of the jumper bay.
John twitched, perhaps reacting to the gate travel and Teyla smiled, pleased by any movement at all.
"And now you're home," she said.
John groaned, flicked his eyes open ever so briefly and whispered a single breathy word that might have been "home."
She waited patiently through the inevitable bustle of the Atlantis medical team, threw an encouraging smile at Elizabeth who was also hovering just outside the jumper hatch. Once John was on a gurney and traveling towards the infirmary, Teyla found herself waiting at the bottom of the hatch for Rodney and Ronon.
"You found him," Elizabeth said at last, then pulled a face, realizing that the words were so obvious as to be nonsense. Teyla just sighed, part relief, part worry.
"It was a very close call. A few minutes later and he would have been burned, tied to a stake. We stopped the 'festival' just in time."
"Oh my...god," Elizabeth breathed. "How could anyone...do that?"
Teyla shook her head. She didn't know either. Anger did strange things to people.
"But you found him," Elizabeth repeated, more confident this time. "Thank you. And you, too Ronon, Rodney." The men just shrugged. Teyla understood, thanks were not necessary.
"I'm going to wait on John," she said.
"I'm going, too," Ronon rumbled and Rodney just gave a 'lead the way' wave.
It was several hours later that Teyla found herself sitting in the infirmary with Ronon, Rodney and Elizabeth again. They'd gathered outside the door to the critical care room where John was finally resting peacefully. Carson had just emerged, smiling with his relief to report that, though he would need rest and medication for several days, that John was stable and would recover. A relieved contentment had fallen upon them.
"Did you figure out, WHY those people kidnapped John? I mean, of all the people in all the markets in the Pegasus galaxy, why John?" Elizabeth asked at last, rubbing her eyes and looking relaxed for the first time since they had returned.
Teyla started to answer, but Rodney's snicker beat her to it. "What?" Elizabeth demanded. "What's so funny?" It was clear that she found very little about the situation funny and Teyla agreed with her. Rodney was waving his hand in the air.
"Well, we'll have to ask Sheppard for sure, but the scenario we pieced together is that this 'festival' was a bunch of disgruntled ugly people who ceremonially take out their frustrations on a special someone who is very...um..."
"Normal," Teyla supplied, firmly.
"I was going to say pretty," Rodney finished, snorting again. "One of the employees in the bar you three stayed at on 227 saw Sheppard and Ronon flirting, liked what she saw, and nominated him. She even helped pull off the kidnapping."
"So, John was targeted because he's...?"
"Normal!" Teyla insisted.
"Pretty," Rodney giggled. "The woman's words, not mine! That guard fellow called him pretty, too."
"You could stop sounding so happy about it, Rodney," Elizabeth scolded fiercely. "John was nearly killed by those people!"
"I know, I know. It's just that this is the first time I've ever seen Sheppard's good looks and lady-killer charisma backfire quite so spectacularly. I get to enjoy it a little!"
"Rodney!" Teyla snapped. She understood Rodney's tendency to tease, but in truth, she'd never seen the misogynist traits in John that Rodney frequently ascribed to him. At least, not anything more than typical male conceit.
"Oh, come on. It's not like he doesn't know it. All that 'fluffing' and primping, bi-weekly trips to the barber, daily...power workouts...in...the..gym..."
Rodney trailed off as Ronon edged closer, looming over the smaller, softer man, deliberately flexing his impressively muscular arms.
"Jealous?"
"Of course not!" Ronon raised an eyebrow, leaned a little closer, but Rodney held his ground even though he'd started to sweat a little bit, "I'll take intellect and the ability to string a comprehensible sentence together any day over a, a pretty face and an overcompensating physique."
"Rodney!" shouted both Teyla and Elizabeth in unison. Rodney jumped, then rolled his eyes with an exaggerated shrug.
"It's not like I think of Sheppard that way," he snapped back, as if it were obvious. "He's got a decent brain inside that bony head of his - not nearly as advanced as mine of course, but for a military, flyboy, blow-everything-up type he's ahead of the usual - OK!" he yelped when Teyla raised a hand. "Just because he's a little too good-looking for his own good, doesn't mean I think he's superficial." Rodney paused, suddenly uncomfortable and Teyla exchanged a look with Ronon. Ronon grinned and thumped Rodney on the arm, sending him sideways and earning him another eye roll.
"I'll check in on Sheppard later. I want to take a shower...can't get the smell of the kerosene off my hands," Ronon rumbled, excusing himself. Elizabeth stretched and murmured a farewell as well, favoring Rodney with a final glare before she, too, left.
Rodney looked surprised to suddenly find himself standing alone with Teyla, but they were both soon looking contemplatively through the window at John, bundled in blankets, draped with tubes, but lying quietly.
"Carson said he'd lost just almost 10% of his body fluid mass. More than 11% is fatal," Rodney said softly and Teyla felt the shock numb her to her toes. Carson had told her John had been very close to serious dehydration, but Rodney always searched for the details within the facts to reveal the brutal truth. He went on, sounding as shocked as Teyla felt, "He's also down on body fat and muscle tone. Which means..." he blew out an angry breath, "that those people probably hadn't given him ANY food or water the entire 60 hours he was with them to lose so much, so fast."
"Their cruelty was...unfathomable," she answered softly, finding the words inadequate to the sentiment.
"I can't imagine not eating or drinking anything for more than two days."
Teyla had to supress a smirk at the horrified tone in Rodney's voice. For him, indeed, that would be particular torture. "It must have been very difficult," she agreed.
"I would have been dead, long before I found me," Rodney went on, still lost in his own musings.
"And yet, John survived," she interrupted before he could go on about his various medical conditions that would have contributed, no doubt, to his horrible demise. "He will be well again...if hungry!"
"No doubt." Rodney fell silent again for a few moments. "Those people got more than they bargained for when they kidnapped Sheppard. Anyone else would have died under that kind of treatment. They picked him because he's...you know." Rodney rolled his eyes and twirled his finger, trying to look unimpressed.
"Normal," Teyla answered.
"Pretty," Rodney quipped. They both grinned. "But Sheppard's tougher than he looks. It's strange, too, because it also works the other way. I usually can't stand the military types. They act like you're nobody if you can't pound someone's head into the ground, but Sheppard...John, isn't like that. He's willing to think things through, too. Sometimes he even talks like a damn engineer and it's creepy. I wonder where he grew up?"
Teyla shrugged. She'd never heard John talk about his childhood or family...only that he had none now, other than his friends on Atlantis.
"I do not know. But what I do know is this - John's beauty comes from within. He is far more than just a "pretty" face." She spoke the words with heartfelt sincerity, rather pleased with the phrase she'd coined.
Rodney froze and tensed as if she'd just announced she had three heads. Puzzled and a little alarmed, she watched his jaw work, saw him bite his lips, then take a deep breath. He turned stiffly to look at her, jutted his thumb towards the door, then - still holding his breath - he squeaked, "I've got some work to do I'll be back later to check on Sheppard see you later bye!" in a single breathless rush. And then he bolted out of the infirmary like a man pursued by wraith.
She watched him go, then rolled her eyes. She would never understand that man. She turned to look at John, satisfying herself one last time that he was comfortable.
"Rest, my friend. You are safe and among those who treasure your deepest 'you'," she said softly, using the Athosian word that meant something closer to "soul".
"Rest and heal."