Warning: Dark.

Whole Again

To cross paths with a terex was the hope of every Athosian. Swift and surefooted, the animal could look a man in the eye, had antlers that could shred skin from bone, and was as strong as it was graceful. Teyla had first seen one up close on the seventh day of Puvelosh, the rite of passage that would finally pronounce her an adult, when the sleek blur of brown and black had leaped over her during dinner preparations. Halling gasped, wide-eyed, and pronounced her blessed. Teyla barely noticed, staring into the forest after the most wonderful creature she'd ever seen and wishing with all of her ten-year-old heart that she could run like that.

Two years passed before her next encounter. While terex meat was a delicacy on at least thirty-seven worlds, her people hunted them only out of necessity and gave honor to the animal's sacrifice by not wasting any bit of it. But to cage one as an exhibit at a market, to rob an animal as regal as a terex of its freedom by locking it a tiny room made of bars, was obscene. She threw herself at the cage, kicking and screaming, trying to pull the bars far enough apart for the animal to escape, but the rods of iron were too much for her arms to defeat. The terex regarded her with dull eyes and did not join her fight. Her father had to bodily remove her from the Lagerian market, whispering words of comfort and pride as he carried her, sobbing, to the ring of the Ancestors and home.

Teyla learned two valuable lessons that day: 1) patience and stealth can be more valuable than strength, and 2) cages can break even the most spirited creature.

As outraged as she'd been that day, it paled in comparison to the molten lava blasting through her at this moment. Her stomach clenched and rolled, and she had to swallow several times to keep the bile at bay. She bowed her head and took a deep breath, searching for the calm she needed to slip silently through the thick underbrush of the forest to the clearing below. She'd searched too far and for too long to act foolishly now.

Teyla glanced toward the darkening sky. Soon. The steady stream of patrons heading to the Ancestral ring had slowed to a trickle, leaving a handful still gawking at the traveling zoo. For fourteen weeks, she'd scoured the galaxy for scraps of information about the lorqel who trafficked in humans. She'd followed every lead no matter how ridiculous, sometimes arriving less than an hour after they'd moved on to a new location.

She squinted at the cages glinting in the firelight. The closest one was covered in filth, its fetid smell burning her nostrils. Bits of rotten fruit tossed by the patrons dribbled down the bars. The occupant, too haggard to determine gender, lay curled in the center of the cage, unmoving, the only indication of life a slight twitch of the shoulders when another piece of fruit slapped flesh.

"I will send someone for you," Teyla whispered, "and the full wrath of my people will be brought on this place. No one will suffer such indignity at the hands of these lorqel again. I swear it."

The dark form made no response.

As twilight deepened to evening, Teyla closed her eyes and centered herself, focusing her white-hot rage to a pinpoint at her core that electrified her nerves and heightened her senses. She moved with the wind, allowing the rustle of leaves and chirping of insects to mask her steps as she crept into the make-shift bazaar. Ragged tents flapped in the slight breeze that carried the stench of unwashed bodies and human waste.

When Halling had brought her the rumor of a group who put humans on display, she had laughed at the sheer lunacy of the idea. Who would want to stare at a person in a cage? But the rumors persisted and people went missing from every world with which she was acquainted.

Then her team had been attacked.

She tiptoed past cage after cage, seeking one specific face. Haunted eyes followed her, but no one raised an alarm. A woman in a tattered robe lay in a heap, weeping quietly. A teenage boy sat against the far side of his cage, slowly banging his head against the bars. A small man rocked in a corner to a song only he could hear. Each person had cuts and bruises in various stages of healing.

Even seeing it, Teyla still couldn't comprehend it – the callousness, the depravity. She wanted to scream as she had that day in the Langerian market, to demand to know how someone could treat another human being in such a way. Why?

But she swallowed the questions and continued forward, knowing there was no answer. She had called the Wraith evil once. She might owe them an apology.

A sob caught in her throat when she finally spotted what she had been seeking, the form so familiar to her that no amount of injuries or chains could disguise it. Shackled to the front set of bars, he was in easy reach of anyone's hands, and from the bruises and scratches covering his body, untold numbers had.

Teyla moved with the shadows until she stood in front of him. He tensed but didn't raise his head.

"Ronon?"

He flinched at her whisper and his shoulders sagged. She reached through the bars to tilt his chin upward, and bit back a curse when he didn't resist. His dreads had been chopped away from his face, probably taken as souvenirs, leaving scraggly tufts of hair among scabbed-over cuts. The collar around his neck dug into his flesh and his hands had been bound to the bars, fingers wrapped together.

Teyla cupped his face in her hands. "Ronon, can you hear me?"

He lifted his eyes – flat, lifeless eyes. Gone was the sparkle of humor that had always danced there. The fire that had driven him for so long was also missing. He looked at her with no hint of recognition.

"Please, Ronon." She stroked his shorn head like she did Torren's after he awoke screaming from a nightmare. "Do you not know me?"

He blinked languidly. "Teyla," he said, his voice raspy from disuse.

"Yes, Ronon, it's Teyla. I have come to take you home."

"You always say that." Ronon closed his eyes and pressed his forehead against the bars. "Then I wake up."

Teyla gripped his face. "Open your eyes and look at me."

Ronon obeyed instantly.

"This is not a dream. I am here."

He didn't seem convinced. Teyla released him and pulled her canteen from her belt, dribbling a little in her palm and wiping the bits of rotting fruit from his face. He didn't react, not even when she held the canteen to his lips. Water spilled through his beard and down his chin, carving rivulets in the filth covering his chest.

"Oh, Ronon." The sob broke through this time, and she let the tears course down her cheeks unhindered. "I should have been with you. I should have—"

"No!" Ronon's eyes sparked. "No. What they do to the women here… " The spark died as someone stirred nearby and voices from the main tent carried toward them. "Go, before they find you."

When Teyla reached for him, his breath hitched and his eyes flickered up to meet hers then dropped immediately. Wondering when he had last been touched in kindness, she pulled his head gently against the bars then stretched until her forehead met his. "I will not leave without you," she whispered, stroking his cheeks with her thumbs. "I cannot. My life is knitted with yours."

Ronon shook so hard his chains rattled, and a low moan sounded deep in his throat. "They're dead. I saw them… McKay, Sheppard. I tried…"

She pressed her fingers to his lips. "They are not dead. Their wounds were grave, but they survived."

"You're sure?"

Teyla unrolled a selection of knives from a pouch on her belt. She sliced the wraps on his fingers then turned her attention to the shackles on his wrists. One cuff fell away. When he didn't accept the knife she offered, she unlocked the other then worked on the master lock for the chains that clamped his body to the bars.

"John's internal injuries have healed, but his leg will remain in a cast for another month. Rodney was sent to Earth for a special treatment for his burns. He is scheduled to return on the Daedalus in a day or two." The lock snapped open and the chains rattled to the ground. "Seeing you will speed their recovery." Teyla quickly picked the lock on the cage and eased the door open. "Are you ready to go home?"

Ronon's breath came in ragged gasps. "Home?"

Teyla clutched his hands, ignoring the filth and his long, jagged fingernails, and pulled him toward to the forest. "Come. We cannot risk rousing the lorqel who run this place. We must get to Atlantis and bring back assistance." She glanced at him – no shirt, no shoes, soiled trousers shredded to little more than strings. "Can you make it?"

He looked down at his chest where bruises peeked out under layers of dirt, mucus, blood and rotten fruit. Infected sores from blisters and insect bites dotted his legs and feet. He lifted vacant eyes to hers before glancing over his shoulder at his cage, as if considering going back inside.

Her hatred for the vile creatures, too cruel to be labeled humans, doubled then doubled again. How many beatings had he taken? How many people had he seen tortured while he was lashed to the bars, unable to help? How many humiliations had he suffered under the gawking gaze or at the hand of strangers? Was it a single act that broke his spirit or the culmination of three and a half months of abuse plus the guilt and grief of thinking John and Rodney dead?

Pushing back the rage, Teyla smiled gently and slid her hand in his. Ronon stared down at their hands then slowly curled his fingers, enveloping her palm. She held her finger to her lips and moved toward the forest's edge. When he followed her so silently she had to squeeze his hand to make sure he was still there, she breathed a sigh of relief. Not all of his personality had been subdued. They had brought him back from Wraith brainwashing; they could bring him back from this.

The trek to the gate was quick and uneventful. Teyla dialed Atlantis and whispered quick instructions before grasping Ronon's hand and leading him home. As she had requested, the gate room was empty except for Major Lorne who waited, unarmed, near the base of the stairs. She felt the tremor run through Ronon and glanced up at Operations to see only Mr. Woolsey gazing down at them.

Evan approached slowly, hands dangling at his sides. "Welcome home." He nodded at Ronon then arched a brow at Teyla.

"The camp is approximately two kilometers from the stargate, at a thirty degree right angle," she reported. "Night has fallen. I saw nothing that would indicate they were preparing to leave. I would estimate they have twenty captives—"

"Twenty-seven," Ronon said, his head bowed low. "Eight guards."

Evan's face whitened and his lips pressed into a thin line as his gaze flicked over Ronon. "We'll take care of it."

"Thank you, Major. I have no doubts that you will." And Teyla didn't. John's people had been as outraged as she over the attack and Ronon's capture. From the look on Evan's face and the stiffness in his spine as he headed to the mission ready room, the guards would be lucky to survive.

Teyla breathed deeply and put on her best smile as she turned to Ronon. "Doctor Keller needs to examine you. Will you agree to that?"

He nodded, not meeting her eyes, and followed her docilely down the empty corridors to the infirmary where Jennifer was waiting in a curtained area, a cart of equipment and medicines at her side.

"Hello, Ronon," Jennifer said. "It's good to have you back." She patted the bed. "Can you hop up here for me?"

He complied without a word, folding his hands in his lap and keeping his eyes lowered. Jennifer looked at Teyla, her eyes wide with dismay, then schooled her features and turned to Ronon, explaining quietly what she was doing as she examined him.

Knowing they would need privacy to complete the exam, and needing to leave before she completely lost control, Teyla turned to go but stopped at Ronon's sharp inhale. His eyes were locked on her and filled with apprehension.

"I will return once Jennifer has finished her examination." Teyla stepped to his side, placing a shaking hand on his shoulder. "You are safe here. No one will harm you."

Ronon bobbed his head once and his gaze returned to the floor.

Teyla moved casually to the door and waited for it to close before she ran blindly down the hallway. The rage she had been smothering boiled over, setting her nerves on fire. Her heart slammed against her ribcage until she feared it would beat a hole through the bone. She skidded into the gym, grabbed a pair of bantos rods, and charged the practice dummy with a cry, no thought to form or control as she beat, sliced, and whipped at it. When she broke a stick separating the dummy's head from its shoulders, she flung the wood to the ground then kicked and punched at the training form until it lay in pieces around her. She slumped to her knees, choking on sobs.

"You know, I usually put Ronon on scientist babysitting duty when he destroys one of those."

Teyla wiped her face with the back of her hand and scooted to sit with her back against the wall, too spent to do anything else. "How long have you been here?"

John hobbled in, set his crutches down and sat, pulling his casted leg onto the bench. "Long enough."

"Have you seen him?"

The scar from the shrapnel that had almost severed John's carotid flamed a brilliant red. "Just for a minute. Keller was getting him to the shower." John ground his jaw. "He wouldn't look at me."

Teyla rested her head back. "If there were not innocents there, I would have signaled the Wraith and disabled the gate." She closed her eyes, seeking the calm that had eluded her since Ronon's capture. Meditation was still beyond her, but the desperation was gone. "How is your leg?"

"Healing but not healed, according to the scans." John shrugged. "Whatever magic they did seems to be working. Slowly."

Teyla met his eyes and smiled, knowing that although he'd never acknowledge exactly how close he'd come to dying, he was well aware of how fortunate he was to be breathing and to have both legs. When the rescue team had first brought him home, Jennifer had little hope of saving him, much less a leg that had been crushed. But superior medical skills and Ancestor technology had put John and Rodney back together. Again.

"Good thing Torren had a bellyache that day," John announced as he climbed slowly to his feet, "or Ronon would still be missing. And probably you as well."

"You would never stop looking."

"Not ever." His gaze was intense, piercing through her, and then a crooked grin appeared. "But I'm glad I don't have to." John moved toward the door. "You coming?"

Not willing to let Ronon see her so rattled, she shook her head. "I will be there shortly."

After he left, Teyla straightened the mess she had made, making a mental note to replace the bantos rod and to apologize to Sergeant Rimmer for destroying gym property. She hurried to her quarters for a shower, pondering how to undo the damage to Ronon's spirit.

What words would reach him? As she toweled off and donned a soft, flowing dress from fabric Ronon had given her, Teyla considered and discarded arguments about being a team, fighting the Wraith, uniting the galaxy, avenging Sateda. What would break through the mental fog that the abuse and humiliation and guilt had caused?

She sat down heavily. Perhaps this was his way of punishing himself. No, not entirely. Maybe he hadn't fought as hard as he could have at first, but once he saw the treatment the other captives were getting, he would have done everything possible to help them. But by then, it was too late. He was chained, caged, an animal to be viewed and abused by the masses.

Teyla stood, grabbed a bag and hurried to Ronon's room to pick up a few of his belongings. When she reached the infirmary, she found Ronon in a private room, hooked up to several IVs and sound asleep. John was leaning against a wall, deep in conversation with Jennifer. As Teyla neared them, she heard words like infection, malnourished, electrolyte imbalance, and organ damage.

Keeping an ear to their conversation, Teyla drew a chair to Ronon's bedside and sat down, sliding her right hand in his and placing her left on top. His skin had been scrubbed so clean that the scabs had been ripped off, the wounds covered by light layers of gauze that did little to mask the bitter scent of antibiotic cream. She pulled out the hygiene items from the bag she'd brought and set to work, first trimming Ronon's fingernails to their normal short length then snipping off the scraggly remains of his dreadlocks.

"Lorne radioed earlier." John hobbled to a sofa someone had set between Ronon's bed and the wall, easing himself down with a sigh. "Bad guys have been taken care of. They're bringing back nineteen of the captives."

Teyla glanced at him in alarm. "Nineteen? Ronon said—"

"Yeah. Lorne only found nineteen still alive." The muscle in John's jaw jumped. "Bastards."

"And the guards?"

"Four survived the raid. We'll be hosting them until the coalition council is ready to begin the trial. What are you doing?"

"Something to help him feel normal again." She would let Ronon take care of grooming his beard when he was ready, deciding it would be a sign of him coming out of his shell. "This lotion is a mixture of herbs and spices from Sateda. Ronon makes it himself."

Teyla poured some in her palm then ran her hands over Ronon's scalp, gently massaging in the woodsy-scented cream that she associated with him. He always claimed it could heal anything so she spread it over his face and throat and down his arms, rubbing it into the contusions on his wrists and the burns on his fingertips.

Ronon's fingers twitched in hers then his entire body jerked as his face twisted in pain. He shuddered then sucked in a shaky breath and stilled. After a minute, Teyla started again while a soft snore told her John had drifted off to sleep. Teyla packed away the hygiene items and when she turned around, Ronon was awake and staring at John.

Teyla clasped Ronon's hand and perched on his bed. "How are you feeling?"

Ronon's eyes flicked to her then back to John. "I don't know. Tired."

Teyla studied his face for a minute then said, "You are not to blame for what happened to John and Rodney."

"I knew something was wrong. Our guide was too jumpy."

"You are not to blame."

Ronon closed his eyes. "If I had—"

"You are not to blame." Teyla gripped his hand tighter. "None of you knew the Hrinath were storing explosives in that building. It is a miracle that any of you survived."

Ronon opened his eyes to stare at John again. "When I saw that fire…"

"I know." Teyla avoided looking at the burn scars on his hands. "John was shielded from the flames, but Rodney…" She shuddered as the memory returned. "However, the medical technology acquired by the SGC can –"

"Oh, my God. What the hell happened to your hair?"

Ronon's hand tightened into an iron fist as Rodney's voice broke the quiet. Teyla whirled toward the door.

"Rodney!"

"McKay!" John struggled upright. "Did you convince Caldwell to let you soup up the engines or something?" His eyes darted over the smooth, pink skin of Rodney's face, arms, and fully functioning hands. "How'd you get here so fast?"

"Well, these super genius people called the Ancients made some stone rings we like to call stargates. Maybe you've heard of them?" Rodney's grin was wide as he shook John's hand. "I had Caldwell drop me off on the first habitable planet with a gate."

Teyla pressed her forehead to Rodney's then drew him into an embrace. "Welcome home, Rodney."

Rodney flushed as he stepped back. "Thanks." He turned to look at Ronon. "Seriously, what happened to your hair?"

Emotion flickered on Ronon's face as his gaze shifted between the three of them before landing on Rodney. Then a hint of humor glinted in his eyes. "Decided I wanted to try your hairstyle for a while."

Rodney rubbed a self-conscious hand over the slowly growing stubble on his head before winking at Ronon and looking at John. "Guess you're next, Sheppard."

John lifted a crutch and poked Rodney in the chest. "Don't even think about touching my hair."

Teyla hid a smile as she resumed her seat and slipped her hand into Ronon's. John and Rodney settled on the sofa, the continued sniping washing over her like a balm. The recovery for all of them would be long and difficult, but for the first time in almost four months, she felt calm. At peace.

Whole.

Written for the hcbingo prompt cages. Thanks to kristen999 for the beta.