Word Count:
7,738
Rating:
PG13
Category:
Angst. Crossover
with SG1.
Story Status:
Complete
Summary:
Rodney is kidnapped and ends up in the hands of
Anubis… Set
mainly pre-Atlantis (McKay), a crossover with SG1 (mainly Sam and
Jack), set during SG1’s season 7 (sometime before
‘Heroes’).
WARNING:
Some torture scenes. Mainly use of Goa’uld torture
sticks, but also one scene of a character being whipped.
Thanks:
Thank you to Jayne Perry for the beta-reading and to alyjude for the wonderful cover art.
Chapter
One – Consolation Prize
Waking up on a Goa’uld spaceship with a zat induced headache
was
not on his list of things to do today. Shout at the
incompetent
so-called lab assistants he’d been assigned after he had
finally,
thankfully, returned from Russia to work again at Area 51,
yes.
Email a certain hot blonde astrophysicist and annoy the hell out of her
just for fun, yes. Go home and watch endless re-runs of Outer
Limits, yes, most definitely. Wake up on a Goa’uld
spaceship, no, not in his plans.
Damn.
Why him? Why not Carter, who was at least used to this sort
of
thing, and was a higher profile target? Sure, his genius was
probably more enticing, but this was the Goa’uld, who thought
all
humans were intellectually inferior to them.
Not that he was seriously wishing harm on Sam, but…it just
made
more sense for some pissed off Goa’uld to go after a member
of
SG1, the veritable thorn in the side of all snake-like
parasites.
Come to think of it, how had they even heard of him?
Maybe it wasn’t the Goa’uld, maybe it was someone
else who
had taken control of one of their ships. Though
‘why’
was still a big problem, along with ‘who’.
This wasn’t fair. He wasn’t trained for
this.
He wasn’t a soldier, wasn’t even a gun toting
pseudo-scientist like Jackson, newly returned from a higher plane
existence.
He tried to sit up, but the floor seemed quite nice actually.
Or
at least, his body seemed to think the floor was too nice to leave.
His head pounded, and the manacles on his wrists and ankles were
chaffing. Hmm, he’d only just noticed those; at
least his
hands had been chained in front of him, not behind his back, which he
imagined would have been painful. There was a chain leading
from
the hand manacles to the wall of his cell, so even if he did get up, he
wouldn’t be moving very far.
What he’d give for SG1 to burst in the door and rescue him
right now. Or any other SG team, come to that.
He closed his eyes and waited. No, no rescue yet.
He opened one eye. Still no rescue.
He opened both eyes and sighed. Okay, no rescue, not
yet.
And then a nasty little thought entered his head.
Even if the Air Force knew he was missing by now, did they know
he’d been taken by… whoever had taken
him? Because
there was a good chance they didn’t, a good chance that it
wouldn’t occur to them to look for him off world.
After
all, he’d already gone through all the reasons why he
shouldn’t be a target, hadn’t he?
Oh crap, there was a more than likely chance that rescue
wasn’t
coming, at all. That his disappearance would be just one more
unexplained occurrence. That he was completely and totally on
his
own, more so than ever before in his life.
He was screwed.
Severely so.
Oh shit.
----------------
He wasn’t sure how much time passed, it was hard to tell
without
his watch. Hours certainly, by the grumbling of his stomach
and
the thirstiness of his throat. And no one came, which was
good in
that no one had come to hurt or threaten him, but not so good in that
he was hungry, thirsty and no closer to working out the who or why he
was captured.
The ship shuddered, and from reports he’d read he assumed
this
meant it had left hyperspace. Or entered it; though he
suspected
it to be the former.
It wasn’t much later that the door to his cell opened and two
Jaffa entered, followed by a Goa’uld, judging by the clothes
and
the air of authority. Oh crap.
“Who are you?” he demanded, taking a step back, but
trying to hide his fear behind anger and annoyance.
“That is not your concern,” the Goa’uld
replied, the voice confirming what he had already determined.
“No? Oh well, how about; what do you want with
me?”
“You are an offering to my lord, Anubis.”
Terror stole his breath; Anubis. Top dog and total
evil.
“Why…why me?” he managed to get out, not
proud of the squeak in his voice.
“A poor second choice, but I am hoping my lord will be
appeased
with you. SG1 proved more difficult to capture than expected,
but
I learned of you from reports I was able to access during my short time
on your miserable planet. You helped defeat Anubis’
plan to
destroy Earth by overloading the stargate; I believe that will be of
interest to him.”
“I didn’t have that much to do with it, not
really,”
he exclaimed, deciding that, at this point in time, downplaying his
part would be a very, very good idea. “Really,
hardly
anything at all!”
“I have read the reports.”
Oh crap, oh no, this…this was so unfair. He was
some sort
of damn consolation prize, a way for this Goa’uld to try and
save
himself from Anubis’ displeasure at his failed mission.
“No, no, the reports are wrong, and it was over a year ago
anyway, why should he still care?”
But his protests were ignored, and after one of the Jaffa removed the
wall chain, he was grabbed by both of them and forced to move out of
the cell. His ankles were still manacled, but he found there
was
enough chain between them for him to walk, well, half strides, so more
of a shuffle really.
There was no hope of escape, not with those two behemoths holding him,
not to mention the Goa’uld-With-No-Name.
This so sucked.
----------------
They left the Al’kesh and he noted that they were inside
another
ship, presumably a mothership: Anubis’ mothership.
Fear, a
constant companion since waking up in the cell, intensified at that
thought. Terror gripped him hard, as he was half dragged
through
the corridors, clenching his heart and making him shake, though that
could be hypoglycaemia; he had no idea how long it had been since
he’d eaten.
Despite the terror, a small part of him couldn’t help feeling
some wonder at being on a spaceship,
but it was quickly squashed by the horror and fear of just which spaceship he
was on and who he was about to meet, face to, well, not so much face.
The journey through the ship didn’t take long, certainly not
long
enough for his liking. Crap, why couldn’t it take a
lot
longer? Like a few days, weeks, years…Okay, okay,
so
hysteria was beginning to creep in; not good.
He was brought to a stop outside a room, whilst the Goa’uld
entered. He heard voices, though not the words. The
tone,
however, suggested that Anubis was displeased with his minion, who was
obviously defending his lack of success, and no doubt offering him up
as that aforementioned consolation prize.
Sounded like Anubis wasn’t buying it, and… yeah,
that was a staff weapon firing.
A minute later, and the Goa’uld’s body was dragged
out - so
much for that plan. It seemed Anubis wasn’t in the
mood to
be forgiving… which was not a comforting thought as he was
dragged into the chamber and before Anubis’ throne.
He didn’t think he could get anymore terrified, but it seemed
he
was wrong about that. This wasn’t some hologram
beamed
through the gate, this was the man, creature, whatever, himself
and… he was sure his heart was going to stop anytime soon.
“A poor substitution,” Anubis said.
“Uh, yeah,” he managed to stammer out.
“Maybe you should, uh, just let me go…”
“No. I think you will make a suitable example of
what happens to those who oppose me.”
No, no, no, no, he screamed in his head, his voice deserting him as
absolute horror paralyzed his vocal chords.
He was dragged back a little way and his manacles were attached to a
chain hanging from the ceiling that, he noted somewhat hysterically,
looked like a permanent feature in this room, and just what did that
say about this race? One of the Jaffa then pulled the chain
so
that he was hanging by his hands, his feet barely grazing the ground.
That hurt. Pulled taut he was unable to find a comfortable
position or take his weight fully off his arms, and he could feel that
his blood circulation was being severely restricted.
Another Jaffa approached him with a knife.
“No,” he voice returned as he tried to pull back; a
futile gesture.
His t-shirt was cut and removed, and then the knife was exchanged for a
whip.
“Fifteen lashes,” Anubis ordered.
No, oh no, please…he wasn’t sure if he had spoken
or
not. The first strike was hard and fast, and he
screamed.
Burning pain spread across his back, and the first strike was followed
quickly by another and another and… He screamed again and
again,
losing count of the lashes. Losing track of time.
There was
nothing but the pain, over and over and over…
When the final lash had been given, he was still conscious, though only
just. He desperately wanted to pass out. Forget
being
macho, he wanted oblivion and he wanted it now.
Please.
It wasn’t to be.
He heard Anubis, but his voice seemed a long way away and he
didn’t catch the order, which really should have worried him
more
than it did. His eyes opened in time to see a
Goa’uld
torture stick placed against his arm, and then all was pain again.
Pain, followed by a few seconds of ragged breathing, followed by
pain…the cycle went around and around, and his voice grew
hoarse
from his screams.
But he didn’t pass out. Why? Why did his
body have to
be so strong about this? Why couldn’t it just let
go?
The thoughts came in the brief, all too brief, moments between the
all-consuming pain.
He didn’t know two hours had passed since they’d
started on
him. Didn’t know anything but pain, followed by
pain,
followed by more pain.
And then his body finally had enough and let go.
Anubis ordered for him to be taken to a cell and for his injuries to be
tended, and for food and water to be provided when he awoke.
He
wanted this prisoner to last for a long time. A very long
time.
----------------
Over the next several days a pattern was established. Two or
three hours of torture followed by two or three hours of
rest.
The preferred weapon was the torture stick, or sticks as they sometimes
used more than one on him at a time. Sometimes they would
vary it
by beating him, being careful not to cause life threatening
injuries. Anubis wanted this to last, wanted him to last, to
survive for days, weeks…months even. He wondered
if Anubis
was getting some kind of sick enjoyment from it all.
He sank into a world of pain and fear and despair. There was
no
hope of escape, and all hope of rescue had left him early on.
He
had no idea how long he’d been here, but it felt like forever.
Sometimes he’d dream about before; before the pain, when he
was
on Earth. When the only pain he had to deal with was
emotional,
and that could be pushed away, ignored, even forgotten at times.
He dreamt of his sister; wishing he could see her one more time and
apologise for cutting her out of his life. So stupid,
short-sighted. So unfair of him.
He dreamt of Carter; wishing he’d been less of a jerk around
her,
so that maybe she would like him, even want him as a friend.
Or
more.
He dreamt of his old life; wishing he’d found someone to
trust,
to call a friend, instead of pushing everyone away. Afraid of
being hurt. Afraid of hurting, of being a
disappointment.
He dreamt of a life without pain, but it was just a dream
now. A
glorious dream, that teased and tormented him. He’d
rather
have the nightmares. At least they didn’t taunt him
so.
Chapter
Two – Capture and Escape
It wasn’t their most glorious moment, Sam thought, tricked
and
trapped by another bounty hunter, this one not willing to let them
go. The only good thing about all of this was that
Teal’c
and Daniel had managed to get away, though help was too late for Jack
and herself.
The others knew the bounty hunter would turn them over to Anubis, so
maybe rescue would come, but that seemed unlikely.
Anubis’
fleet was formidable, and Earth wouldn’t be able to fight it
alone. Infiltration might work, possibly the Tok’ra
could
help, though again, there was a good chance they wouldn’t,
not if
it meant being uncovered.
Escape was the better option, and they had escaped from bad situations
before. It was just a case of waiting for the right
opportunity,
one that so far hadn’t shown itself, but there was hope,
always
hope.
They were marched into a chamber, to face Anubis, but she found herself
distracted. At the foot of his throne there was a human,
hands
chained together and chained to the throne.
A very familiar human, she realised with a start.
Oh hell, they had never considered that McKay’s disappearance
could have been linked to the Goa’uld who had attempted to
infiltrate the SGC. It was just over a week since his
disappearance, and even allowing for the time it would take an
Al’kesh to reach here… McKay had been here for
about seven
days.
Jack had spotted him as well, and they exchanged a shocked
look.
What the hell had Anubis done to him; he was pale, shaking
and…
cowed. Broken. He didn’t look up at them,
his eyes
firmly fixed on the floor. He was chained in such a way that
he
had to kneel, or else lie with his arms held above him.
Neither
option looked in any way comfortable.
Anubis was making some gloating speech, she wasn’t really
paying
that much attention to him, which she knew was bad. But she
couldn’t get over seeing McKay, here, like that.
She felt
ill, thinking of the horrors that might have been done to him,
wondering which ones he had suffered. He wasn’t
trained to
handle this sort of thing; not that anyone was ever really trained, but
McKay was a lab guy, not someone who went off world. Not
someone
who might expect to get into trouble with an alien enemy.
Not someone who might end up in the hands of Anubis.
----------------
He felt someone staring at him, but couldn’t be bothered to
respond. Let whoever it was stare, what did it matter?
Anubis seemed happy with his new prisoners…oh, well that
made
sense. Carter and O’Neill. They should
have been too
good to end up here. He wondered if this meant Anubis would
leave
him alone now whilst he concentrated on them. Maybe
he’d be
killed now that Anubis had a better prize to play with.
Death….he still didn’t want that, even now, after
who knew
how much time had passed or how much pain he’d
endured.
Not like he would have any say in it, though.
He hoped they got away, or they got themselves killed; he
wouldn’t wish this on them, especially not Carter; even if it
meant that Anubis left him alone for a while.
Humiliation, that was what this was about. Humiliation, and a
show of power. He was an example of what happened when the
Tauri
stood against him. An example of what would happen to them
too,
so this was about fear as well. Instilling fear in them.
Did they feel fear? They were soldiers, though Sam was more
than
just that. Did they feel fear or just push it to one
side?
He bet they wouldn’t beg or plead like he had at first,
before
he’d realised it was useless. Before he’d
started to
forget what it was like to live without pain.
Looking up, he met Carter’s eyes for a moment, before
returning
his gaze to the floor. She seemed upset, appalled, but then
she
would be. This was her future, O’Neill’s
as well,
unless they escaped.
He hoped they escaped. They didn’t deserve this.
Maybe they’d take him with them.
Probably not. He’d only slow them down.
He hoped they escaped.
----------------
His eyes.
There was no hope, just despair.
No anger, no arrogance, no… no McKay.
He’d given up, and even when he’d looked at her,
there was no spark, just… apathy.
She was sure he recognised her, them, but that was all.
Anubis had finished his gloat, and turned his attention to McKay.
“Look at your future.”
Okay, still some gloating.
A Jaffa unchained McKay’s hands from the throne, and dragged
him
over to where a chain was set into the ceiling, fastening him there so
that his feet only just touched the ground. McKay
didn’t
resist, didn’t speak; he seemed resigned to his fate.
“No,” she couldn’t help the protest that
slipped out when the Jaffa picked up a torture stick.
“Carter,” O’Neill warned. She
knew showing weakness to the enemy was a bad idea.
“Sorry, sir,” she replied quietly.
Jack’s face showed no emotions, but she could tell by his
stance
that he was tense. Jack had never felt inclined to forgive
McKay
for the ‘Teal’c incident’, as he called
it, but even
he was unhappy about this, she was sure. McKay was a
civilian,
and therefore should have been protected from something like
this.
Jack might hide his reactions from Anubis, but she knew him too
well. The colonel wanted to fight back, to kick ass; to save
McKay as well as themselves.
McKay’s screams were hoarse and broken. They tore
at
her. Seeing anyone go through this would be hard to bear, let
alone someone she knew, even if she didn’t particularly like
him.
He didn’t deserve this.
It lasted maybe a few minutes, but seemed longer. McKay
tensed,
waiting for more, expecting more… and he wasn’t
disappointed. She wished he had been.
She knew Jack or herself were next, and almost wished it for herself
right now. To stop McKay’s pain. And,
selfishly, so
that she would hopefully be unconscious and not have to see
Jack’s pain too.
Ten minutes passed before Anubis signalled the Jaffa to unchain McKay,
and re-chain him to his throne.
So, who was next?
A question that remained unanswered as an explosion shook the ship,
followed by another, and suddenly they were no longer of such
import. Anubis ordered three of his Jaffa to escort Jack and
herself to a cell, and they were roughly hauled from the
room.
Further explosions vibrated throughout the ship as they were led away.
Rescue?
It seemed unlikely. Too soon.
Another explosion was too close for comfort, and two of the Jaffa were
knocked to the ground. Seizing the opportunity presented,
they
moved into action, taking out the third Jaffa with his staff weapon, as
well as the two on the floor before they could recover.
They turned around, quickly moving back to the throne room, hiding
outside until an opportunity presented itself. It was a tense
wait, but fortunately only lasted a few minutes before Anubis and his
guards left, presumably for the command bridge.
As soon as the coast was clear, they warily entered the room.
McKay was still chained to the throne, though he was lying rather than
kneeling, his arms taking his weight. He appeared to be
unconscious.
Jack took watch whilst she moved over to check on McKay, who was as
unconscious as he looked. Searching, there was no sign of a
key
to release him. There was little choice but to use the staff
weapon to sever the chain holding him to the throne, despite the noise
it would make.
Hoping that the alarms and general confusion would cover the noise, she
aimed carefully and took the shot.
McKay woke up at the noise, and turned confused eyes to her.
“Hey, it’s okay,” she reassured
him. “Can
you stand? We really need to get out of here.”
“Out of here?”
“Yes, McKay, this is what is generally known as an escape
attempt. You coming?”
Still clearly confused, he nevertheless staggered to his feet with her
help. She was glad to see that only his hands were chained,
not
his feet as well.
“We need to go, now,” Jack called, moving over to
grab one
of McKay’s arms and towing him out of the chamber and along
the
corridor towards where they believed the hangar deck was
located.
She followed, taking their six.
The journey was tense, and they had to hide several times.
McKay
collapsed on them at one point, but recovered enough to continue,
though they were taking most of his weight now. Fortunately
the
chaos caused by the explosions worked in their favour, and they managed
to reach the hangar deck unnoticed.
“Okay,” Jack said, lowering McKay down to the
ground.
“You stay here and stay quiet, Carter and I will take out the
guards and come back for you.”
“Why?” It was quiet, and full of
confusion, his eyes closed.
“Because we don’t leave people behind,
McKay,” Jack answered.
“Not even annoying astrophysicists,” she added
dryly.
He looked at her, confused, and then she saw it; a spark of the McKay
she knew. Irritation flared for an instant, and then was gone.
“Take this, anyone who isn’t us, shoot
first,” Jack
said, placing a zat into McKay’s hand, hoping he was coherent
enough not to shoot them. “You
understand?”
“Yes, shoot first. Unless it’s you or
Carter. I’m not stupid, just...” he
trailed off.
“Just a little out of sorts,” Carter finished for
him,
patting his arm gently. “We’ll be
quick.”
“Good.”
----------------
There were only a handful of guards, and they were
distracted. It
wasn’t as hard as it could have been to take them
out.
Carter boarded the Al’kesh that was in the hangar, whilst
Jack
went to retrieve McKay.
A few minutes later, and they were all onboard, Jack muttering about
the ‘damn untrained civilian’ nearly stunning him,
and
McKay collapsing into a chair, passing out shortly after and missing
the rest of the escape.
A few shots to the hangar doors later, and they were out.
They
noticed that Anubis was under attack by another Goa’uld
fleet, at
least that’s how it looked to them. They entered
hyperspace, the confusion of the battle covering their
escape.
McKay slept all the way home and they let him, figuring he deserved the
rest.
----------------
He hurt. That wasn’t new. It was dulled
though, and that was
new. He opened his eyes slowly, and also new; no manacles, no
chains.
Okay, he was…lying on a bed. There were noises;
beeping, clicking…an IV in his arm…
Home. Earth. SGC’s infirmary, at a guess.
Safe.
There were people talking in low tones close by. He was lying
on his side, but he could see them, over in the corner.
Carter. O’Neill. That SGC doctor, hmm, he
couldn’t remember her name off hand.
So, they escaped. And rescued him.
Why?
Oh, right, they didn’t leave people behind.
That was something else new; for him, anyway. People were
usually
happy to leave him behind; ecstatic if he was the one doing the leaving.
Had they rejoiced at the labs when he went missing?
He was sure there had been much rejoicing when he’d finally
left Russia; not just from him either.
Safe. He was safe here, wasn’t he?
His eyes closed against his wishes, and sleep stole over him.
His last thought; safe. He was safe.
----------------
The next time he awoke, he was still lying on his side, a pillow tucked
into his chest, and one tucked behind him to stop him rolling over onto
his damaged back.
Someone was sitting near to his bed, writing on a pad. He
blinked a few times to focus his eyes.
Jackson.
Why was he sitting with him?
He moved, letting out a small groan. The pain was dulled, but
still there.
“Hi,” Jackson said, putting his pen and pad to one
side. “You in pain? I could get Janet,
uh, Dr
Fraiser.”
Oh, that was the doctor’s name. Okay.
Hmm, maybe he should say something, Jackson was looking rather worried
by his silence.
“Why,” he started, then coughed, his throat dry.
“Oh.” Jackson grabbed a glass of water with a
straw,
helping him to take careful sips. Not easy when lying on your
side, but he felt too weak to sit up.
“Why,” he started again, waving a hand vaguely at
the man. “Here.”
“Why am I here?”
He nodded.
“Well, Sam needed to get some rest, Jack too, and we thought
someone should stay with you. Didn’t want you to
wake up
alone, so we’re taking it in turns. You just missed
Teal’c.”
“Oh.”
He tried to assimilate the information. It took a few moments
for
it to sink in, which was not like him. It felt like his
thinking
was slowed, damaged. “Not pity.”
“Huh? No, not pity, McKay. Compassion,
which is
different. And maybe a little guilt. We should have
put the
pieces together earlier and realised you’d been taken by that
Goa’uld infiltrator. Should have been
looking for you
off world.”
“Hmm.” Slow, thinking was too
slow. Compassion. Guilt. “Not your
fault.”
“Maybe, maybe not,” Daniel said with a
shrug. “It’s certainly wasn’t
yours.”
“Carter? O’Neill? Okay?”
“Yeah, Sam and Jack are fine.”
“Good. Think I’m not,” he said
tiredly. “Think I’m broken.
Slow.”
“Well, some of that could be due to the drugs;
you’re on
some pretty good painkillers there. As for the rest, well,
everyone breaks in the end. And there are degrees of
broken. Either way, we’re going to help
you.”
“You. Not break. SG1. Never
break.”
“Oh, I’ve broken.” Daniel
thought of the time
he became addicted to the sarcophagus; the way he had treated his
friends; his need to return. “Teal’c
broke once and
Apophis was able to brainwash him. We were fortunate to break
him
free of that.”
“How…do you recover?”
“With help from friends. Talking to a psychiatrist
helps too.”
“No friends. Don’t trust
shrinks.”
And he didn’t trust them. Too ready to talk about
his
childhood, to pry into his life, to label him as a loner or misfit or,
even worse, someone who just ‘needed to be
loved’.
He’d heard it all before.
“Yeah, maybe you need to open up a bit.
Sam’s decided
she wants to help you, the rest of the team are happy to try as
well.”
“Should hate me… Teal’c
especially.”
“I guess,” Daniel said with a sigh.
“But no
matter how arrogant or obnoxious you might be, you don’t
deserve
what happened to you. Besides, I think there’s a
decent guy
underneath.”
“Don’t do friends. Leave me be.”
He didn’t want any of them trying to befriend him; not even
Sam.
On the ship, he’d wished things were different, but
now…now he wanted things to go back to normal. He
didn’t want people to be worried about him, or upset if
something
bad happened to him, and he certainly didn’t want anyone to
be
let down when he messed things up, as always happened, turning them
away from him; disappointing them.
He wanted to be alone.
But they weren’t going to let him be, he could tell, even
before
Jackson confirmed it with a gentle, “let us help”.
Closing his eyes, he tuned out his surroundings, only vaguely aware of
Jackson’s sigh as he picked up his pen and pad and went back
to
his work.
Sleep approached him again, and he welcomed it.
Chapter
Three – Not Safe
Three days had passed and McKay seemed to be pulling away from
them. He wasn’t talking much now, only answering
the
briefest of questions. Withdrawing.
Daniel had reported his conversation and how McKay had shut him
out. She should be enjoying the silence, the opportunity to
talk
to him about science without him pulling her theories to pieces, or
ridiculing her experiments. The fact was, it wasn’t
pleasant to see him like this.
She’d tried to draw him out, expounding on theories she knew
would normally have him frothing at the mouth; nothing. Well,
the
occasional snort, but even those were rare.
Physically, he was healing well. He would have scars on his
back,
but he was gaining strength, and Janet had released him to guest
quarters on base a few hours ago.
He refused to talk to Dr MacKenzie, a psychiatrist from the local area
hospital they had used before. That hadn’t been a
surprise
though, considering the conversation with Daniel, but she knew the
doctor was worried about his reactions. Warning of a
breakdown in
his future if he didn’t open up to someone, and probably
sooner
rather than later.
She hadn’t realised just how stubborn McKay could be when he
set
his mind to something. It was just a pity he chose to be
stubborn
about this.
The team had taken turns sitting with him, even Jack seemed committed
to trying to help McKay. She knew that although Jack disliked
the
annoying Canadian, watching him being tortured had shaken them both
more than expected. Especially as he should have been safe,
being
such an unlikely target. It had brought home to a lot of
people
just how unsafe anyone
associated with the program could be. She knew that new
security
measures were being brought in, to offer better protection to
scientists wherever they were based, not just at the SGC.
She was about to enter the control area above the gateroom when she
heard the sound of a zat being fired from inside, three
times.
The alarms started soon after and the control room doors started to
close. Instinctively, she slipped inside before the doors
shut
her out. She wasn’t noticed fortunately, though she
doubted
that would last for long.
Two gate techs and a soldier were down, hopefully just stunned, and the
blast shield had been raised. At the computer was…
McKay. What the hell was he up to, and how the hell did she
stop
him? She didn’t have a weapon, and she doubted
she’d
be able to make it to the fallen soldier without being
zatted.
Not to mention that she really didn’t want to have to shoot
him.
As she watched, he started the dialling sequence on the gate.
She
had a really bad feeling about this. Who could he be dialling
and
why? With him in control of the gate and the iris…
oh
crap. Had Anubis brainwashed him? Was their escape
a
sham? Or was there something else going on?
Whatever the case, she had no choice but to stop him.
She moved towards him slowly, keeping her hands up and to the sides,
showing that she was unarmed. The movement caught his
attention,
and he watched her warily, the zat gun aimed and ready to
use.
She was rather surprised he hadn’t shot her as soon as
he’d
realised she was there.
“Hey, what are you doing?” she asked, keeping her
voice calm and level.
“Stay back,” he said, eyes narrowing in suspicion.
“Okay, I’ll just stay here,” she soothed,
waiting for
an opportunity to show itself. She was sure she could take
him in
a hand to hand fight, though the zat was a potential problem.
“So, what are you up to?”
“Letting him know he can send the bomb through.
That the iris is disabled.”
The matter of fact nature of the statement was every bit as chilling as
the statement itself.
“Letting who know, and what bomb?” she pushed.
“Anubis. The bomb will destroy this
facility.”
“I see.”
And she did. They had been played for idiots, and they were idiots; they
should have checked for this. They had checked to make
sure he hadn’t become a host, but hadn’t thought to
check for brainwashing.
They really were idiots at times.
The gate was open by now, and he moved towards the radio. As
he
did so, though, one of the gate techs groaned, distracting him further.
She made her move, running into him before he could respond and
knocking him to the ground, making sure he landed on his
back. It
was cruel, but necessary. Sure enough, he gave a yell of pain
as
his back, still healing and sore, hit the floor and she was able to
knock the zat out of his hand. It flew away from both of them.
He came back with a clumsily aimed punch to her jaw which she was able
to block easily with her arm, and then she slammed her own punch to the
jaw home. It wasn’t enough to knock him unconscious
but it
brought her the time she needed to jump up and go for the fallen zat.
McKay climbed to his feet unsteadily, tackling her awkwardly, but he
was too late and fell to the floor, stunned.
Taking the time to make sure he was out of it, she then closed down the
gate and unlocked the doors, retracting the blast shield as well.
And then she slumped down next to McKay, checking his pulse again,
reassuring herself that he was alive. Alive, but compromised.
Damn.
It felt like they’d failed him again.
----------------
The Goa’uld were very good at brainwashing, she knew this
from
past experiences. She also knew that undoing it could be
problematic. The use of a zat had been enough to free
Rya’c
from the effects, but for Teal’c it had meant taking him to
the
edge of death, which most likely wouldn’t work on a human
anyway.
When McKay had woken up, he struggled to get free, and was very clearly
not cured. He cursed them soundly, demanding to be let free,
to
be returned to his ‘lord’.
Of course, his ‘lord’ would reward failure with
death, or
worse, but pointing that out was pointless. McKay was
convinced
otherwise. He wanted to go back.
That was out of the question, of course. Though she was
puzzled
why he wasn’t trying to act as though the zat had removed the
brainwashing so as to wait for another chance. Why had Anubis
not
considered the possibility of failure and programmed in another attempt
to fool them? And why would he want McKay to
return? To
kill him?
General Hammond had contacted the Tok’ra in the hopes that
they
might be able to help; they might know what technique was used and a
way to undo it. They had also contacted the Asgard.
So far,
neither ally had replied.
Janet was keeping McKay sedated for the time being. There
wasn’t much else they could do right now.
Suggestions had
been made as to how to deal with this, but all of them were based on
Earth techniques for brainwashing, not alien. If their allies
were unable to help, they would have to try these ideas and hope for
the best.
In the meantime, they just had to wait, and she hated waiting.
----------------
The reply from the Tok’ra was not encouraging. They
had
recently discovered that Anubis had a new form of brainwashing that
they couldn’t undo, involving nanites.
They did provide a specially designed scanner, which showed that
McKay’s nervous system and brain was infested with
them.
All attempts by the Tok’ra to counter the nanites had proven
useless, and they had tried many different means. The only
consolation was that the tiny robots were keyed into the
subject’s specific DNA and so couldn’t spread to
others.
It wasn’t much of a consolation to her, or her
team. And
certainly not to McKay, who was trapped under the nanites’
control.
---------------
A few hours later, Thor arrived, and much to her relief stated that the
Asgard had come across something similar before. Even so, it
was
another day before Thor was able to design a nanite-based virus that
would attack Anubis’ nanites, deactivating them.
The virus
nanites would then deactivate as well, and McKay’s body would
absorb and expel the robotic remains.
She watched as McKay was anaesthetised. Thor had warned the
procedure would be uncomfortable and possibly even painful, and it
would be better for McKay to remain unconscious throughout it.
And then the pseudo-virus was given, and it was back to one of her
least favourite past times.
Waiting.
----------------
It was the sound of the heart monitor that reached him first.
The
scent of antiseptic was next. The pain…
muted. He
felt… free. He frowned at that thought, confused
by it,
and then the memories assaulted him.
Pain. Fear. The seemingly endless cycle of pain and
rest
and pain… the rescue… the betrayal as something
took
control of him, made him… he’d stolen a
zat. At
least he hadn’t killed anyone… but he’d
hit
Sam. Not hard, she’d deflected his blow easily.
She’d hit him!
Damn, his jaw felt sore. Had she broken it?
Not that he didn’t deserve it if she had.
He’d nearly destroyed the SGC and a large area surrounding it.
The beeping of the heart monitor gave away his distress, and a hand
gripped his arm gently. He flinched, but the hand remained.
“Easy, McKay.”
Sam’s voice. He forced his eyes open.
“Hey,” Carter smiled at him.
“You in there?”
“Here,” he muttered quietly.
“That’s good. You’re going to
be okay now.”
“No… betray…”
“Not any more, we’ve fixed the problem.
Well, Thor did actually.”
Thor, the Asgard? Why would they ask the Asgards for help,
for him?
“What… happened?”
“You just concentrate on getting better, the rest can
wait.”
“No. Tell me…” he looked in
her eyes and saw
the doubt. Whatever it was, it wasn’t
good.
“Please.”
“McKay…” Sam looked away briefly, before
sighing and
looking him back in the eyes. “Anubis programmed
some
nanites to take control of you. Thor created a nanite-virus
to
deactivate the ones Anubis had infected you with. All the
nanites
are dead now, including the ones Thor made.”
Nanites? He’d had nanites running through his
body?
Oh crap, that didn’t sound good. Not good at all.
“Hey, calm down. They’re gone
now. You’re okay. It’s
okay.”
He concentrated on slowing his breathing down, embarrassed that Carter
felt the need to reassure him like some frightened child.
“Sorry,” he muttered.
“It’s understandable.”
“Betrayed you, everyone. Sorry.”
“Not your fault.”
“I should have fought…”
“There was nothing you could have done, McKay. Let
it go.”
She seemed sincere, but he couldn’t let the guilt go that
easily;
maybe never. But he left it alone for now, he
didn’t want
her to keep reassuring him he wasn’t to blame. He
didn’t deserve absolution; didn’t want
it. He should
have found a way to fight it.
“Stunned people… okay?”
“Yeah, they’re fine.”
“Hit you.”
Carter laughed, making him scowl.
“I hate to break it to you, but you’re not a
fighter.
That has to be the lousiest punch anyone has tried to throw at
me,” she grinned at him. “No harm done
though.”
“Humph.”
Okay, so he wasn’t exactly Rambo or Rocky, but he still had
his pride.
He was glad he hadn’t hurt her though. And then his
scowl deepened.
“You hit me!” he accused, feigning
outrage. “Is it broken? It feels
broken…”
“If it was broken, you wouldn’t be talking half as
much,” she said lightly, and then looked contrite.
“I’m sorry I had to do that though.”
“Are you? Thought you’d love the chance
to slug me one.”
“No! Though the way you’re going I might
change my mind about that!”
He grinned, carefully because, ow, his jaw was sore.
“You love me really, you just don’t want to admit
it,” he said, the grin turning into a smug leer. He
wanted
to distract her from the things he really didn’t want to talk
about; annoy her so she left him alone.
“I can see you’re feeling more like your normal
self,” she said, removing her hand from his arm, and shaking
her
head in exasperation, but also wondering why she hadn’t
realised
that his lack of response whilst under the control of the nanites was
so out of character for him.
“Didn’t deny it,” he pointed out.
“Would you believe me if I did?”
“Nope.”
“Didn’t think so,” she rolled her
eyes. “You’re a real pain in the
neck.”
“I try to be.”
“Why doesn’t that surprise me?” she said,
and then
became more serious. “Look, I know this whole
ordeal must
have been bad for you, very bad, and you really need to talk about it
with someone.”
“I… know,” he admitted reluctantly.
“Good. Dr MacKenzie, a psychiatrist we use
sometimes, wants to talk to you.”
“Later.”
“But you’ll talk to him?”
“Yes, yes, I’ll talk to him,” he snapped,
though he
didn’t intend to say much to the guy. For some
reason his
reply made Sam smirk. “What?”
“You just sound more like your old self, that’s
all.”
“Right.”
Only he wasn’t back to his old self. The banter was
forced,
not natural, but he needed Carter to think he was mending.
Needed
them all to think it.
He didn’t want sympathy. Didn’t need it;
didn’t
deserve it. And he certainly didn’t want compassion
or pity
or… friendship. He felt broken inside, but he
pushed that
to one side, forcing out the banter, the sarcasm, the expected McKay
responses. Hiding behind his barriers, where he was
safe.
Alone, but safe.
Where people were safe from him.
He was relieved when Dr Fraiser came in to top up his pain
meds. It helped him to sleep and avoid further conversation.
----------------
It was several days later when he went to find Carter, tracking her
down to her lab. She was alone, which suited him just
fine.
The guilt wouldn’t leave him for what had happened, even
though
everyone was telling him he wasn’t to blame. He
knew that,
and yet deep down he couldn’t let go of the guilt; the belief
that he should have known, should have been able to fight it.
It
wasn’t rational, but then that was the nature of emotions.
Not sure why he was here exactly, but needing not to be alone, he
hovered in the doorway for a few moments. Dr MacKenzie said
it
would take him awhile to fully recover from all that had happened to
him, and although he would be returning to Nevada the next day, he
wouldn’t be allowed back to work for several days, maybe even
a
couple of weeks. Not until the Area 51 psychiatrist was
convinced
he was ready to go back.
At least this time, they weren’t interested in slapping
labels
onto him, or probing into his childhood, something he was grateful
for. It was hard enough talking about the... torture... the
nanites… He shook himself. This MacKenzie guy was
good and
had managed to pry more out of him than he’d wanted to share,
but
he knew the Area 51 shrink a little and he wasn’t so
skilled. It would be easy to ‘recover’
and get back
to work.
There was no way he was going to let Anubis win, so that meant getting
past this and getting on with his life. It might take time,
but
he’d do it. He had to. Even if it meant
pushing down
the guilt and fear, and ignoring it. He’d do what
he needed
to get back to work and on with his life. His intellect
wasn’t broken, even if he was.
Carter had spotted him hanging around the door, so he entered.
Fifteen minutes later, after an awkward thank you for sticking by him
whilst he was ‘not entirely himself’, followed by a
discourse on the absurdity of some of the theories she’d told
him
about whilst he was ‘not talking to anyone’, found
him
chased out of the lab by an angry, but very oh so hot, blonde physicist.
He smiled as he made his, for now, retreat.
Things were getting back to normal quite nicely, it seemed.
At least on the outside.
Chapter
Four - Addendum
Set towards the end of
Season One
When Kolya ordered the Genii soldier to cut his arm, he was determined
not to break. But he did. All the memories came
rushing
back; of Anubis, the torture, the pain, the fear. It
wasn’t
the cut that broke him, he knew that; it was the past that
he’d
hidden deep inside, followed quickly by the guilt and self-hatred for
spilling his guts.
When, a day later, Elizabeth and Sheppard tracked him down and cornered
him, he hadn’t been happy. They wanted him to talk
about
what had happened, and he really, really didn’t want
to. He
wanted them to leave him be.
And a year ago, hell, even a few months ago, he would have clammed up
and pushed them away. But not any more. His
barriers had
been breached, first by Elizabeth, then by Carson, Sheppard and even
Teyla.
It wasn’t fair of them, to befriend him like that.
But they had. And he’d let them.
So when they cornered him, he tried to bluster and misdirect them, but
found he couldn’t. Instead, he spilled his guts for
the
second time that week.
Which led to appointments with Heightmeyer and threats of being removed
from duty if he didn’t cooperate with her. Again,
not fair.
She dissected him piece by piece, bit by bit. Say what you
like
about Heightmeyer, but she knew her trade and wasn’t fooled
by
any of the tricks he’d used in the past to fool other, less
skilled psychiatrists. She got to the bottom of his fears and
guilt, about Anubis, about Kolya; about himself. And then she
helped him to put himself back together, to accept what had happened
and move on from it.
It took time.
And now there were other more pressing fears; the Wraith would arrive
soon, and their defence was… laughable at
best.
He’d even found himself agreeing with Kavanagh, of all
people,
but Sheppard and Elizabeth seemed to be of the persuasion of
‘never say die’.
So he’d keep working, keep looking for the solution;
he’d
hate to let them down. And it would be a shame to die just as
he
felt he’d truly started living for the first time in his life.
The End
