Tegan's Point of View:

How long had I been here? The seconds had dragged into minutes, the minutes into hours and the hours...had they become days yet? It was hard to keep any sense of time in this prison cell. There was no natural light, no fresh air, no way out. It was difficult to breathe in here with the stench of sweat and blood and the weight of stress and grief on my chest. It was freezing cold now and I was no longer grateful for the cool relief that my shorts and tanktop provided. I'd managed to sleep for a few hours, at least I thought I had, it was hard to tell since the bright fluroscent lighting was too bright to sleep for long and it was uncomfortable to sleep in a hard chair. It'd been hours since I had had any feeling in my hands and feet and I doubted the feeling in my arse would ever return, everything was numb but it did nothing to stop the ache drilling through my body. Gary hadn't bothered coming in again, but he had set up a brilliant new method of torture. Nobody was tending to me anymore at all and I was left to suffer alone, just like he wanted me too. My hoarse, dry throat was crying out for water, my stomach growling hungrily but I wouldn't be getting anything to eat or drink anytime soon.

Instead, Gary had been busy setting up his new theatre. The observation window and all the walls had been covered by screens, those pull down ones projectors usually shine on and a funny looking clunky projetor had been lowered down into the room with me. I didn't remember the room receiving a make over and guessed it had happened while I was in my half asleep state. My room had been turned dark and for the last hour I had been watching images, sometimes still sometimes moving, of my life, of Gary's life, of people I'd loved and lost. It was tormenting to say the least. I'd done rather well for the first few hours, blocking out the images of Gary's innocent little children playing in their home, blocking out the images the press had managed to take of me when I was still the ambassadors little girl, but I was tired and hungry, in pain, and it was getting harder and harder now to block them out. The videos were the worst, I could hear the laughter, hear the voices and see the people they belonged to. Some of them I knew, some I didn't, but the ones I did know stirred up memories I would rather keep away. But this was his game! This was what he wanted! He wanted me to torture myself, he wanted me to break, but I wouldn't give him the satisfaction. A gunshot echoed through the room and I closed my eyes, focusing on my breathing; my mother was screaming in my ears. Hands trembling, I desperately tried to force my mind to think of something else, but the lack of food and water had left my mind scattered.

There was a voice I recognised all to well then, one I loved to listen to and would follow anywhere without question.
"They were my friends, I wasn't going to leave them to die." Sheppard spat angrily. My head turned slowly in all directions until I spotted him on the screen to the right. He was dressed in kahki, hands clasped on a table infront of him. It was some sort of interrogation with a General I didn't know.
"You went on an unauthroised mission, you disobeyed a direct order!" the General retorted. Sheppard got to his feet, glaring down at the man I didn't know with furious hazel eyes,
"Oops." he said simply, and with that John Sheppard walked out, not even bothering to hear his punishment. When had that happened? The image changed to John and me next, just outside the hut in Afghanistan before...before they had died. Swallowing thickly I found myself unable to look away from the image, his hand touching mine as he looked down at me, even from a distance we looked like a good couple...I couldn't deny that. Suddenly, there was a loud boom that made me flinch, and I watched the SUV go up in flames. Where had Gary got all this footage from? My friends were burning before me, trapped in that car while I uselessly sat back and did nothing. Tears pricked at my eyes again but I couldn't cry, I was too dehydrated. A raspy sob escaped my lips and I hung my head in shame, hearing the flames crackle and burn before they stopped completely and the gunfire started again. Closing my eyes, I struggled to clear my mind and rid myself of the horrid images creeping up on me, but I couldn't escape the sights and the sounds, I couldn't escape from The Ghost.

John's Point of View:

We were sat in the lab in our own little corner ignoring the other technicians and scientists working around us with the Asgard control crystals. It had been fifty three hours and counting since Murdale took her...and I still couldn't say her name. I'd barely eaten and barely slept, unable to do much of either until Teyla forced me to. My anxiety was eating at me and I was feeling nauseous and jumpy, though the nausea might be from the lack of food but I just couldn't eat, not while I still felt no closer to finding her than I did before. It had taken a day for Rodney to break through the heavy encryption on Pierce's laptop and hack in, a day that had had me on tenterhooks and had found me asking him every hour if he was in yet. Rodney looked just as worn down as me and he looked so pale; he barely touched his food either and that wasn't like him at all, not that I could talk. Speaking of food, Teyla bought two trays in piled high with enough food for all of us. Ronon grabbed a sandwhich and tucked in, glancing at me and pushing something towards me with his free hand. With a sigh, I grabbed the chicken-mayo sandwhich and unwrapped it, taking a bite. It was bland, flavourless and stodgy and it took a lot to swallow it, even with a sip of water. I tried to push the other half away but Ronon pushed it back - nobody said a word to each other. Forcing down the other half of my sandwhich, I rubbed my tired eyes with the heels of my hands.

Teyla gave me an approving smile and offered some of her fruit salad to me, she didn't let me decline either and I noticed she had Rodney absent mindedly picking at something to eat too; she was ever the mother hen of our team. Pierce had buried his emails under so much crap and data that it was taking time to retrieve it. Leaning back in my chair, I took a long drag on my water bottle, trying to rid myself of the foul taste in my mouth that hadn't left since the day we lost her. The only sounds to be heard was the hum of the ship and Rodney tapping on his laptop keys, but for once the silence wasn't bothering me, after all what could we say? Turning my head I looked out of the wide window, staring at the stars I'd stared at as a child. The silver speckles shone brightly and I wondered if she could see them too, wherever she was. I was reminded suddenly of the first time she'd seen the view from the Daedalus, the sheer wonder in her grey eyes had amused me. Rodney hummed thoughtfully before grinning triumphantly, drumming on the table as he sat back with a nod,
"I've done it, I'm in." he declared. Sitting forward I felt my focus shift entirely back to him, my eyes not leaving the screen while I clapped his shoulder in a silent congratulations. "Alright, just seperate out the right emails..."he murmered, hunching back over the table and tapping away.

The tension increased ten fold, my muscles locking into place and refusing to move while my mouth went dry. There had to be something here, there had to be a clue leading us to her. My eyes flickered over the screen, seeing Murdale's name everywhere, Pierce was a dedicated email hoarder I'd give him that.
"Nice job Rodney." I complimented him. Teyla and Ronon peered around the side and Rodney turned the laptop so they could see. Together, we skimmed the emails for any information we could find. The times and dates of when we were going to arrive in Khewa, a detailed description of Tegan and shorter ones of all of us, pictures, payment agreements; it was all evidence that Murdale had been watching this from the start. She had been right, he was very very clever and had been two steps ahead of us this whole time. The whole thing had been a well thought out plan and we'd played the parts he had wanted us to play. There was nothing useful to tell us where he was going next though; there was a description of the car he'd pick her up in but no number plates to trace. Sitting back I let out a heavy sigh, feeling deflated and disappointed. Rodney looked just as frustrated as he had every other day but I was past that by now, instead I just felt beaten down, weathered. Ronon's large hand clapped my shoulder and I shrugged it off, unable to take the pity anymore. "There's got to be something else you can try Rodney." I insisted, rubbing the back of my neck. Rodney scoffed,
"Like what? Trace back the emails and IP addresses?" he questioned me like he was mocking a child and I narrowed my eyes at him irritatedly. "He's too smart to leave something as stupid as that for us to follow."

Ronon huffed slightly, crossing his arms over his chest behind me and saying what was possibly the first sensible thing I'd heard all day,
"He thinks we're dead remember?" my heart skipped a beat and I nodded slowly, eyes tracking over the rest of my team. We were all dead to him, we were no longer in the equation.
"That gives us the element of suprise." I realised. "He won't be expecting us to track him, we're loose ends he thinks he's tied up." Rodney frowned a bit and I made a split second decision that I hoped would work.
"Do it, track those emails and addresses or whatever." I ordered. Rodney looked dubious but after giving him one of my authoritive looks he relented. Climbing to my feet I began to pace back and forth impatiently, running a hand through my hair as my stomach twisted and flipped. Rodney laughed incredulously ten minutes later,
"I take it all back, he is that stupid." he remarked. Swooping down on him I stared at the laptop, seeing the location of Murdale's laptop glaring back at me. "It makes sense, he's originally from Scandinavia right?" Rodney pressed. Nodding my head I glanced at my teammates and then my watch,
"Alright, how many hours ahead of my watch is Sweden?" I asked. Rodney tilted his head before answering,
"What time zone are you running on?"

My eyebrows furrowed and I jerked my head back, confusion colouring my face,
"What do you mean?" I wondered.
"Well the USA has nine different time zones." Rodney said, defending himself with a stubborn glare.
"I don't know! I got it from the SGC!" I retorted, throwing my hands up exaspertedly.
"So it's running on Denver's timezone, okay so..."he started drawing figures in the air with his finger and I sighed, pinching the bridge of my nose to fight off the headache I could feel coming. "Swedens eight hours ahead." he answered finally. Nodding once I looked down at my watch.
"It's half three in the afternoon so that makes it half eleven over there...that gives us three hours to catch some sleep before we leave." I informed them. Seeing they're confused faces I quickly explained my plan, "If we leave in three hours then in Sweden it's half two in the morning. Nobody expects dead people to come knocking on there door at half two in the morning, so we bust into this address and take advantage of the late hour to strengthen our element of suprise." Ronon's eyes were gleaming with a murderous delight and I knew he was just as eager to get her back as we were - and was apparently as willing to hurt the bastard that took her. But that was my job, I'd promised to put a bullet in him and I would carry through that promise if it killed me. All I had to do is wait three more hours.