Reavengeance II

Disclaimer – clearly I don't own SGA or any of the characters involved and maybe that's a good thing?
Summary - The slightly more disturbing sequel to my other story 'Reavengeance' (although it's not necessary to have read that one to understand this). Set just before Season 4's 'Missing.' Michael gets his psychotic hybrid mits on poor McKay. Michael then places him in a really fun maze full of monsters. But there's even more unimaginable torture and pain to follow for Rodney. Very dark.
Rating – Mostly T, with potential horrific torture squicks, so M for safety.
Characters – Rodney McKay and Michael, with a healthy dose of Rodney/John friendship.
A/N – Split as five chapters, but posted as one. This was partly inspired by my London Dungeon visit a couple of months ago, but mostly by my really bad RL stuff recently… oh dear, oh dear… ouch! (A lot of sugar and one too many late nights may have had something to do with it as well)

Chapter One

"I don't feel so good…"

"Not now, McKay," John whispered from the corner of his mouth.

"Seriously, I feel like my insides are being rewired like Zelenka's pathetic attempts on that junction box we found last week."

None of the other graced him with a reply, and John looked angry while Ronon and Teyla's faces mixed equal parts indifference and exasperation.

Rodney glanced around the tent where the team were waiting for the natives to come and start the discussions. They were seated on the floor with a small table in front of them. Rodney rolled his eyes into the back of his head as he clutched at his aching chest and moaned a little louder.

John snapped, "McKay! Don't embarrass us. These people are friends of the Athosians and they said they've just found several glowing yellow objects."

"Z-ZedPMs…" Rodney grunted and squeezed his eyes tightly closed as his skin took on an unhealthily light hue, flushed with red patches. "I think it's something I ate."

Ronon had his long legs awkwardly folded under him and he shifted as he turned to Rodney and frowned. "We haven't eaten anything here."

Teyla at least had the courtesy to begin looking concerned, but Rodney was now visibly trembling and his face paled even further. She said, "Perhaps we should return? They will not mind."

Rodney suddenly put his hand over his mouth, stood up and ran out of the tent. John followed him and stopped as Rodney found a nearby tree and promptly fell to his knees. He hugged his arms around his middle as he vomited noisily all over the base of the trunk. John grimaced when the smell hit him and then started to worry as the heaving turned into dry retching and Rodney shuddered and gasped for breath as he continued to throw up nothing.

John went over and only just caught Rodney as he keeled over and nearly landed in his mess. He dragged the barely conscious man away from the reek and laid him out on his side, in the recovery position, near to the tent where Teyla and Ronon were waiting. He found it odd that neither of them had come out to investigate the noise Rodney had been making.

A pitiful whimper brought his attention back to his ailing team mate. "McKay." He patted Rodney's clammy face. "McKay, how're you feeling now?"

Rodney coughed and curled up, clutching his trembling hands against his chest. "Cuts like knives…"

John frowned, but did not have a chance to ask anything else, as there was a sharp pain in the centre of his back and darkness swiftly followed.

---------------------------

When John woke up, the first thing he noticed was that he was in the tent again. Teyla was lying nearby and Ronon was sitting up, fiddling with a knife. There were cut pieces rope all around the tent and Ronon's wrists were red and bruised.

Teyla stirred and sat up. She rubbed her head and blinked a few times in a daze.

John glanced around and asked, "Rodney?"

Ronon grunted and his eyes darkened in anger. "Gone."

John sat up and rolled his shoulders with a wince. "What? Where?"

"They took him. I woke up soon after they used the stunners and they said that a Wraith-Man had promised them eternal life and the strength to stand against the pure Wraith."

John widened his eyes in shock and realisation. "Michael! But after last time…"

Teyla furrowed her brow. "I am so sorry. I do not understand what has happened here. They used to be allies of my people. I should never have brought us here."

Ronon shook his head. "It's okay."

"The Wraith have changed the priorities of a lot of people in the Pegasus," John added.

Teyla glanced at both of them. "If this is truly the work of Michael, then we must find Rodney as quickly as possible."

Ronon said, "I heard darts before I got free. They could be anywhere by now."

John grimaced as he wondered what Michael had in store for Rodney this time and whether they would reach him before it took its toll on the already deeply traumatised scientist.

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Rodney woke up lying on a hard surface. The muscles in his abdomen cramped and he rolled over onto his side and drew his knees up to his chest to alleviate the spasms. He kept his eyes closed while the pain lessened until it retreated to a steady ache in his abused midsection.

Memories of feeling like his was about to throw up his entire digestive system came back to him. He swallowed down the nausea and pressed his forearms against his belly as he rode it out.

His arms were restricted from directly touching his midsection by something solid and he opened his eyes in curiosity. He glanced down at himself first and saw that he was still wearing his tac vest and he also had his sidearm and knife. It had not been deemed necessary for him to be assigned a P90 for the mission, as it was only supposed to have been a simple 'meet-greet-eat' with some of Teyla's old buddies.

Certainly not a 'kidnap Rodney' affair.

He sighed and looked around to find out where he was. The lights were dim, but he sucked in a sharp breath when he saw the eerily familiar organic tendrils and stretched skin forming the interior décor of a Wraith ship.

He was locked in a small cell and there was some water and bread on the floor nearby. He eyed it suspiciously and tapped his radio, which was mysteriously still in place.

"Sheppard? Teyla? Ronon?" He did not know why, but he whispered their names tentatively, even though he could not see or hear anyone nearby.

"Dr McKay?" his headset obediently chirped back.

Rodney frowned and slowly pushed himself up into a sitting position. He grimaced at the stretching of his abdominal muscles as he scooted back until he could lean against the rear wall of the cell and see the whole room and the door.

"Who's that?" he asked the disembodied voice.

"I thought you would remember me. Especially after last time."

Rodney felt a shard of ice pierce his heart and a phantom pain shot through his back and then proceeded to dance over the skin of his previously torn and faintly scarred midsection. He opened his mouth in shock and his heartbeat pulsed in his throat in terror. "Michael…" was all he could utter before he started shaking in fear.

Even though it had been months ago, he still had the nightmares and woke up drenched in sweat and screaming into the darkness of his quarters.

The unpleasant, mocking voice entered his ear and he tore off the headset and chucked it across the cell in disgust before he had to listen to any more of the insane psychotic Wraith hybrid mutterings. He drew his legs up into his chest and buried his head into his arms as he wrapped them around his knees.

But Michael had other means to taunt him and his voice echoed around the chamber as he spoke through the speakers instead. "The sample of your genetic material I managed to salvage before your friends interrupted us has proven very useful. I was able to create a device which causes unconsciousness, but only in the person who it is attuned to; you in this instance. I gave it to the foolish and gullible people of the world you came from, and it seems to have worked rather well."

"But it gave me chest pains and made me sick," Rodney said hotly. "So, you're not as good as you thought."

There was a brief moment of silence before Michael shot back, "No matter. That is what experiments are for. I seek to better myself through what I do."

There was a long pause, in which time Rodney thought he had been left in peace, but suddenly the calm voice spoke again. "I have adjusted the settings. Shall I test it out now?"

Rodney flinched and jolted upright as he gripped his shins so tightly with his fingers that they went white. All the colour drained from his face and he gritted his teeth and tensed up for another round of vomiting. But it did not come and only the voice spoke again. "Perhaps not. I have another use for you."

The cell door suddenly opened. Rodney frowned in confusion and Michael said, "There is food and water in your cell. It is quite safe."

Rodney glared at the ceiling angrily and said, "I'm not eating anything you have to offer!"

"Suit yourself. But I expect you to co-operate as I do not want to have to persuade you to do the task I have planned."

Rodney stretched out his legs and huffed as his sore muscles pulled and protested. He folded his arms and his voice shook as he replied, "I'm not doing anything. And you're going to tell me what you did with the rest of my team and then let us all go."

"Rest assured, your team is safe. They are probably back on Atlantis by now, no doubt wondering where you are. But they will never find you here."

Rodney mumbled, more to himself than to the faceless speaker representing his captor and tormentor, "They'll come for me…"

The volume of his voice rose as he spoke to Michael, "And when they do, you're toast."

"Believe what you will, Dr McKay, but for the time being, you are mine."

Rodney did not like the sound of that, as he did not like the sound of the blood pumping noisily around his body or the sensation of the pulse rapidly thrumming in his neck. He also heard a light tapping sound gradually getting louder and he wondered if it was new or whether it had always been there.

"If you survive. I might let you live."

Rodney squeaked, "What's that supposed to mean?"

There was no answer, except for the tapping. Or was it clacking? It sounded like high heels on a hollow floor, but Rodney doubted that Michael had abducted a six foot blonde haired model as his assistant on the Wraith ship.

Rodney stood up and automatically pulled out his hand scanner. He harrumphed as he realised that Michael had left him with a potent weapon. To a scientist, such as himself, the tiny Ancient scanner could be far more powerful than any gun or explosive.

There was a single life sign coming towards him on the screen. He widened the scan and found that he was actually on a Wraith Cruiser and there were about fifty life signs in total.

The clacking speed increased and Rodney drew his gun as he watched the life sign approaching. There was only a straight, one-way corridor leading to his cell, so he had nowhere to run or hide.

Whatever the thing approaching was, it sounded like it was running and Rodney breathed heavily in fright as the gun slipped about in his sweaty hand. He lifted it up and was ashamed to see that his betraying fingers were shaking so badly that the barrel was wandering around all over the place, making his less than stable under normal circumstances aim, even more questionable.

The clacking came from the left and a foul smell preceded the monster before it appeared in front of Rodney and bore down on him. What little Rodney saw of the creature before he engaged it in a battle for his life, was more human than the previous version of Michael's monsters he had encountered. The claws and teeth still glistened in sharpness, but the creature was wearing pieces of ragged cloth and its face had more human features.

He fired into the monster's belly as it leapt on him and sent him to the ground. He felt a sharp sting and cried out as it swiped across his chest and then a final bullet into the creature's throat finally stilled it. It collapsed down onto Rodney and squeezed what little breath he had left out of his lungs.

Rodney rolled over and shoved the dead thing off him. He lay on his back and panted in the adrenaline coursing through his veins. He was still holding the gun and he could feel the sticky substance of the monster's blood where it stuck to him and seeped through his tac vest and shirt.

He grimaced in disgust and drew in a deeper breath. A painful tug on the lower right side of his ribs reminded him that he had been injured in the struggle. He dabbed the wound experimentally with his free left hand and whimpered. He lifted his hand up and saw a small amount of red blood in his palm, but there was far more monster blood, which was more like clear goo than anything resembling a vital bodily fluid.

Rodney hoped he wasn't going to get an incurable infection from the injury, but it did not seem to be deep and when he breathed, it was only his skin which hurt and he knew that his ribs were still intact.

"One down." Michael's voice boomed out and made Rodney jump. "But there are several more. You have spare ammunition with you? I did not take anything away when you were brought here."

Michael seemed crazier than before, which only increased Rodney's already heart attack inducing level of panic to a level he had never experienced. That the mad hybrid held such an irrational, personal vendetta against Rodney multiplied his fear tenfold. Although he was scared in his lonely and vulnerable state without the rest of his team, he knew he had to do what he could to help himself while he waited for the rescue to come.

Rodney pulled one of the smaller bandages out of his vest, because he had a sinking sensation in the pit of his achingly empty stomach that he was soon about to get seriously injured, which would require the larger bandages. He gingerly unzipped his vest and pulled his shirt away from the shallow slash through his flesh. He held his breath as he carefully poked at the puffy edges of the wound to check its depth. It did not seem too serious, but it evilly smarted until he felt his eyes watering. While he worked on patching himself up, he spat, "What do you want, Michael? If you want to torture me again, this isn't exactly efficient."

"I am not going to kill you. This is merely an experiment to see how my research is progressing. Some of the hybrids I have created and loosed upon this ship are even capable of speech in a very primitive way of theirs."

Rodney hissed as he rubbed a disinfecting wipe over the cut. He then pulled the cover off the adhesive edges and pressed the pad of the bandage against his bare skin as firmly as he could stand.

He asked, "So, you've been killing humans again for your twisted experiments?"

"No. I have been altering humans directly ever since the last time we met. This is a test of their intelligence."

Rodney zipped up his tac vest and winced as it pressed the bandage flat against the cut. "I'm not playing your sick little games."

"You do not have a choice. Another one is approaching. They seem to be communicating with each other. Hmm, interesting…"

Rodney grimaced and grabbed the gun and scanner as he forced himself upright to face his fate.

Chapter Two

John clasped his hands tightly in frustration as he sat uncomfortably in his chair. He hated doing nothing while every second they wasted allowed Michael to hurt Rodney, or worse.

He drummed his fingers on the conference room table as Zelenka told them that they couldn't eliminate any of the addresses last dialled by the gate and Ronon helpfully pointed out that a ship could've been in orbit.

Teyla asked, "How could Michael have obtained a larger vessel?"

Sam's face was tight with worry as she said, "The Daedalus won't be here for a week. But a Puddle Jumper should be able to scan for residual energy readings in orbit which could indicate if a Hive or Cruiser had been there. In the meantime, I'll organise some teams and start searching the addresses."

Teyla said in anger, "I will also ask my people whether they knew anything of this betrayal. There were no people left on the planet when we awoke."

"Culled," Ronon mumbled.

Sam nodded reassuringly at the downcast faces of the remnants of Rodney's team. "We'll get him back."

John looked pensive as he said, "But what will he be like when we do?"

-------------------

Rodney dispatched another hybrid monster as he ran along the maze like corridors of the Wraith Cruiser. He had already memorised the basic shape of the vessel and had even downloaded a map onto his scanner when there had been a lull in the fighting for his life and he had found a console to use.

But he was fast running out of bullets, nerves and energy. The new, and supposedly improved, hybrids were easier to kill, but a lucky hit when two had ganged up on him a few minutes ago had bruised his arm. He held it against his chest as it hurt to bend it and wiggle his fingers. He hoped it wasn't broken, but it caused him more grief than ever as he could now no longer use the scanner and hold the gun at the same time.

He was desperate to find a way out of the nightmare, so he was making his way to the dart bay.

He paused for breath and leaned against a wall. He bent over at the waist and panted. He kept the scanner in his right hand and watched the life signs stalking through the passageways as he let his damaged left arm dangle down limply. They were quite a way from his position, so he walked a short distance and found a nice little alcove to hide in and sat down. He already had the scanner set to stay on constantly and placed it on the floor in front of him, along with his gun. He checked the weapon as he did so.

Sheppard would be proud. He was fairly sure that every bullet he had fired had hit a monster. They took several bullets before they fell, but they did die. Their human faces had scared Rodney and made him hesitant to start with, but the reminder in the form of pain told him that to hesitate again could cost him his life and the way he would go would be far more painful than a minor shallow scrape and a bruise.

He took out a power bar and munched on it as he considered his plan. The console hadn't been attached to the mainframe on the Cruiser, so that meant Michael must have planted it. All the other access panels were hidden and it seemed that the hybrid had been very busy indeed since he had acquired this ship; securing corridors and vital systems. The only way he could control the ship alone would have been to re-route all the main controls to the bridge. Michael probably wouldn't stand a chance in a fire fight with another spaceship, but it was very effective for creating a mobile lab and easier to hide from the Lanteans than to create a base on a planet.

Rodney studied the scanner as he ate and noted that there were three hybrid-monsters between him and the dart bay. He had six bullets, then he would be down to the knife and he knew that if it came to that he was going to die in a truly horrific way. He only prayed that he would be dead before he had to feel and see them eating him alive.

He furrowed his brow sadly. Why had his team abandoned him? The cruiser couldn't have been that far away from the planet. Why had the others allowed him to be captured? After the last time he had been captured by Michael, he had initially refused to ever go offworld again in fear that the hybrid would get him again. His team mates had each sworn him a solemn oath that he would be protected with their lives.

They had promised…

Rodney took the time he had to take stock of his injuries. He rolled up the sleeve of his jacket and studied his arm. The bones seemed to be intact and he couldn't see any obvious deformity through the darkened swelling. But it ached and was outright painful when he flexed his hand. Even if it was just muscle damage though, it would still hurt like that… wouldn't it?

Rodney grimaced and covered the marred skin. There was nothing he could do about it anyway, so he gathered up his meagre supplies and vowed to make every last bullet count.

He stalked out into the corridor and aimed himself towards the dart bay at a cautious pace. If only the rest of his team could see him now! He allowed himself a small self-satisfied smile: McKay the sharp-shooting, monster killer! No longer as helpless and vulnerable as they all thought! He must have killed at least five of the things and he could imagine the looks on his team mate's faces if they had been there; Teyla's poorly concealed shock, Ronon's nonchalant shrug, "Knew you could do it," and Sheppard's disbelieving smile as he suddenly saw Rodney in a new light.

The vision quickly faded as the grim reality of his future came back to him when he saw the three hybrids teaming up to head him off on the last stretch of corridor. It was going to be a tough fight and his heart rate increased at the thought. He memorised the last positions of the monsters before he pocketed the scanner and swapped it for the gun – much safer in this case. He checked the knife - if it came to that – was easy to access and his vest was zipped up tightly around his torso. He felt the reassuring weight of the Kevlar plates protecting his sorry skin, but he knew that claws could slash through it if he got too close and that it was useless against heavy impacts which would easily break his bones.

Rapid claw-clacking approached him and he tensed up, before flattening himself against a squishy wall and staying still. If only he had one of Ronon's swords with him; he could have made himself a new and much safer path through some of the blocked off corridors. Although he was fairly certain that Michael was watching his every move and would have found some way to further torment him and prevent any chance he could of getting the higher ground. After all, he was on Michael's home territory now and was never going to win this fight.

"Get a grip, McKay," he whispered quietly. "Three to go and then I can get out of here!"

The clacking stopped. It sounded like all three of them were hunting him together. They were probably conferring about the best way to carve up a lonely and frightened scientist who only had six bullets between him and their razor sharp built-in filleting tools.

Rodney winced and held his injured arm across his middle as the claw tinkling started again. They were not exactly stealthy and for that he was grateful, even though it felt like his heart was beating too quickly for it to keep going for much longer. He steeled himself and decided that it would be better if he squeezed off his shots before they were right on top of him, so he peeked around the corner of his hidey-hole to see where they were.

They spotted him instantly and as the first one approached, Rodney broke cover and shot the allocated two bullets into the creature's chest. It stopped still and fell down twitching. Rodney did not have a chance to congratulate himself, as the second one raised a stunner clasped in its well manicured claws and pulled the trigger.

Rodney was too surprised to move out of the way in time and the blast caught him in the upper leg – evidently they claws were not so dextrous for aiming purposes.

Instead of knocking him out like a normal stunner should – then he would at least be unconscious and unaware as he was mauled to pieces and eaten - the stunner had been modified in Michael's need to experiment with everything he could.

Rodney screamed as burning pain in all the nerves of his left leg spread through the entire limb and into his groin. He stumbled and fell. He landed heavily and writhed until the last of the pain had passed and he could draw in a ragged breath. It was worse than the most awful cramp he had ever felt and the aftershocks continued to send his muscles into spasm for several seconds afterwards.

He glanced up and saw that the monsters had stopped and were both looking down at the stunner the one who had shot Rodney still held. They were almost like children with a new toy that had to be admired and it gave Rodney a chance to locate and retrieve his gun. He moved very slowly along the floor and paused and hissed on each twinge of his leg, but he soon held the cold metal implement of death, or in his case, defence, in his trembling hand. He angled it up at the one with the stunner and shot into its armoured hide.

It only stumbled, even though Rodney could see syrupy gloop coming from the bullet holes in its side. It lifted the stunner and Rodney grunted, "Not again," as he shot it a couple more times until it fell down and lay still.

The other one's strange face twisted into a frown and it snarled as it ran at him where he was still lying on the floor, knowing that his abused leg would not support him as the muscles recovered from the shot. His gun clicked on empty and his eyes widened in fear.

"No no no!" He retrieved the knife from his belt, but he did not have time to ponder the angle or proposed forms of attack the creature could make as it scuttled over and lifted up its claws for a killing strike into his chest.

He held the knife out and rolled over as the claws flashed downwards. He narrowed his eyes as he further hurt his bruised/possibly broken arm. When he turned over to see where the monster was, he opened his mouth lopsidedly in confusion when he saw that the monster had succeeded in burying its claws into the deck and was struggling to get free.

He crawled over and considered just leaving it there, but it kicked out at him and he narrowly avoided the sharp spiked toe-nails as they whistled past his face. He went for the thing's throat and stuck the knife in it as it tried to hit him again. It thrashed around for a while and released a choking gurgle which made the hairs on the back of Rodney's neck stand up in how human it sounded.

He mumbled, "I'm sorry, I'm sorry," as it slowly perished by his hand.

He wrapped his fingers around the hilt of the knife and turned his face away and screwed his eyes tightly closed as he tugged it free. He wiped the mess on the hide of the monster and then on the nearby skin stretched over the wall of the ship to clean it and then tucked it back in the sheath.

He grabbed the modified Wraith stunner and tucked it into his vest.

He used the same section of wall to pull himself upright and carefully tested his leg. It shook uncontrollably and the muscles protested the load he forced onto them, but he did not have a choice as he knew it would not be long before the others found him. His leg trembled and his hip and pelvis felt weak and insubstantial as he gripped the wall for dear life. He took a few tentative steps, and found that the shaking lessened and he was soon even able to push away from the wall and limp onwards.

He was almost walking normally by the time he reached the dart bay. He could have cried in relief as he saw the solitary open-canopied dart on the deck waiting for him. He scrambled over to it and muttered, "Well I can rig it up to fly, but who's going to fly it?" He looked around in expectation that a messy haired Colonel would suddenly come ambling along and offer him a ride home, but no-one came. He was still alone.

He sighed and climbed into the vessel. He laid the scanner down on the control console and tapped a few buttons to interface the device with the Wraith ship.

Rodney narrowed his eyes at the confusing readings he got and then tried to lift his right hand up to press another control, but he could no longer move it. He grimaced and glanced down at his right side. His arm was flat on the seat and refused to co-operate, no matter how much he grunted and panted. "Come on! This is the way out!"

The canopy suddenly sealed over him and trapped him inside the dart. He looked up in panic, but it felt like there was a weight pressing down on the top of his head and compressing his spine. He attempted to lift his right arm again, but it seemed to be too heavy to move.

"The artificial gravity…" he gasped as the air in the cockpit thinned out and he no longer had enough oxygen to remain conscious. He slumped in the seat as the dart's engines hummed and carried him away to a place as yet unknown.

Chapter Three

John knew that with every minute that passed and every planet they searched only to find nothing, that the chances of finding Rodney alive, and more importantly, alive and unharmed, diminished drastically.

Was he suffering?

Was he scared?

Or maybe he was already dead?

Zelenka had come with them back to the planet where he had been taken, and using a Puddle Jumper he confirmed that a large ship had recently been in orbit and had entered hyperspace.

But where had it gone?

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Rodney woke up in a small cell, but a cursory glance around informed him that he was no longer on the Wraith ship. The walls were made of stone, but the room was well lit and appeared clean enough, even by his paranoid standards of hygiene. Knowing his luck, he would probably still get an infection from the rife, but invisible bacteria.

He shivered and that was when he noticed that his tac vest and shirt had been taken and his ankles and wrists were bound. He looked down at himself and shifted to try and get more comfortable on the cold, hard floor where he had been dumped, but his muscles were stiff and sore from the impromptu bout of unconsciousness. The bandage he had applied was still in place over the cut across his ribs and his arm was not hurting that much anymore; just a dull ache and throb when he strained against the ropes, and failed to make any ground.

Michael and his new found minions must have known that he had woken up, because the heavy metal door to the cell clanged open and five hybrid monsters came in. Rodney curled up and tried to shield his exposed midsection from the blows he figured they were about the rain upon him. He closed his eyes and gritted his teeth as his body was shot through with adrenaline and fear.

Instead of pain though, strong hands grabbed him and his feet and ankles were freed. He opened his eyes as they led him out of the cell and along a similarly well lit, stone passageway. He asked in a high voice, "Where are you taking me? What's going on? Where's Michael?"

None of them said anything and he started struggling in panic. The monster immediately in front of him spun around and he saw that it had one of the hated modified stunners in its claws. It pulled the trigger and after the blast struck Rodney in his bare chest, all that he could do was fall down, and then scream and scream. It was so intensely painful that he couldn't move under his own volition, or even think anymore, so the monsters dragged him along the corridor, taking no heed when he held his breath until he passed out.

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Rodney woke up alone, cold, trapped and in pain. He was lying spread-eagled and horizontal on a hard slab or table and the only view he had was of the brown stone ceiling and bright lights shining on him. He feared that when Michael had finished with him this time, he would probably be left eating out of a tube for the rest of his days; if he survived to be rescued. He doubted he would be now. Michael had brought him to this place and he had no idea where he was or whether there was even a gate nearby.

The pain was terrible and he realised that it came from the restraints used to secure him to the table or whatever it was. They were not around his wrists and ankles as he had expected, but through them. Or more specifically, the hoops were pushed through in between the bones of his forearms and lower legs and then bolted down to the table. It made any prospect or thought of struggling to break the bonds futile, as it would only cause more pain as the thin pieces of metal tore through flesh and cleaved tissue filled with nerves which didn't take to kindly to such damage.

He gritted his teeth and tilted his head back as tears poured down his face and he suppressed the nausea trying to make him lose whatever was left in his stomach from the last time he had eaten. He had no idea how long he had been there or how long it would be before the pain would finally be eased. He quietly cried as he drew in rapid, jerky breaths in misery.

His sight greyed and spun around him dizzyingly in the harsh twilight between reality and nightmares which merged together at the torture. He suffered as much in the dreams as he did in the waking world.

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When Rodney woke up again, he was no longer alone, but nor could he be sure that he was really awake. So he kept his eyes closed as footsteps trod around where he was lying literally pinned down. He could feel that something was different, he felt more lucid and stronger than he had done.

In the brief moments when he knew that he was awake before, he had become sharply aware that his body was shutting down and that he was dying, but it did not seem to be the case anymore.

A harsh voice spoke, "Open your eyes."

His mind informed him that it was Michael speaking and silently replied, No thanks!

"I know that you are awake, so I insist."

I don't think so. There was no point, because it would only give Michael what he wanted and authorise him to continue or increase the level of the pain he was inflicting.

He knew that he wouldn't stand a chance, because a psychopath could not be reasoned with. Michael could justify everything he was doing as rational and necessary. Pleading wouldn't work and was a waste of energy and hope, so resistance was the only way. He would never give Michael what he wanted, so he disobeyed the only command he had been given.

"Your friends will never find you. But I am a man, or should that be, a Wraith, of my word. I am not going to kill you. But I am going to hurt you as punishment for murdering so many of my children."

There was a light pressure in one point of his abdomen and he frowned and cracked open his eyes to find out what it was. He soon widened his eyes in shock at the sight of what Michael was doing.

His skin was pale and sweaty from the ordeal of the arm and leg hoops he had already endured and continued to suffer, but in comparison to Michael's hybrid hands, his skin looked tanned.

Michael showed his horrid little sharp teeth while he held a thin spike of metal against Rodney's bare skin. The implement was only a couple of millimetres in diameter, but it looked sturdy and lethal enough. He was slowly pushing it into Rodney while he concentrated on the screen of a Wraith medical scanner in his other hand.

There were pads attached to wires stuck to Rodney's chest and four needles piercing each of his upper arms and legs and again attached to tubes. They looked too much like the things the infirmary staff used for Rodney to be set at ease. His lower half was still clothed, but Michael informed him about the rest. "I have provided you with lines to give both sustenance and remove the waste. There are also what I believe you call 'anti-biotics' within what the machines are giving you. The supply will last a long time. I have already sewn the seed so that your friends will find you, but it is up to them how quickly they come and whether you will still be alive when they do. The life sign monitoring equipment will inform me if they do or not."

So that explained the strength. He whispered, "Painkillers?"

"No. That is the one thing you do not deserve."

Rodney grimaced and his voice was harsh as he asked, "Why?"

Michael shrugged, "Because I can. And it may even help me to better understand humans as I have now partially become one. Let us begin."

Rodney flinched in fright, the hoops of metal in his flesh were more lively than ever and if he wasn't even going to be allowed to get an infection to finish him off, then he didn't know what was going to happen to him or how much he could endure before he went mad. He would have to find a way to build up walls and shield himself, but there was no time and the pressure on his abdomen increased. He lifted his head up to see what was going on.

Rodney lost it then as Michael suddenly pushed the skewer right into, and all the way through him. He howled and screwed his eyes so tightly closed that he could feel the pressure crushing his eyeballs and tingeing the darkness in white.

Michael waited until he had sufficiently recovered to open his eyes again before he grabbed another identical spike and shoved that one through him too. Rodney cried out in agony, screamed and howled, panted and gasped, and after several more of the hated spikes had penetrated his body he whimpered and pleaded, "Just kill me!"

Michael shook his head and retrieved another one of the instruments of torture from his seemingly endless supply.

"Please!" he begged. "Kill me!"

Michael's answer was the mercilessly slow pressure of the new skewer over Rodney's stomach region. Before Rodney could even brace himself, he used it to pierce him again and this one made him scream until he passed out.

---------------

Rodney was aware that his nightmares had become more comforting than the waking world, as he withdrew further into himself to escape. In the brief moments of lucidity, he knew that he was alone and that his body was in constant excruciating pain without release or end from the skewers rammed through his guts. Michael had pushed more pieces of metal into his abdomen while he slept and left them there. Then he had abandoned Rodney to his fate – left him to die without comfort or a friend to help him through the worst of it.

What he had once thought of as the beautiful bloom of his spirit was now wilting, and as each fragile petal was pulled away, his soul and sanity were being slowly broken down and ripped to shreds.

The dripping of blood sounded like a ticking clock, running down as it drained away. The steady sound roused Rodney from the natural sedation. He had lost all sense of time, but his internal chronometer told him that he had been there for hours, possibly even days.

Help, if it ever came, was going to come far too late for him. He tried not to, but he couldn't help himself as he wriggled and writhed and sobbed, but no matter how much he thrashed, he couldn't get off the metal where it impaled his midsection, arms and legs to the table. He held his breath in the midst of his throes of agony to stop the metal from slipping and sliding around inside.

He spoke into the room as his mind grew increasingly fragmented and shattered, "What do you want from me?" He laughed and that sound scared him more than ever. "I'm the smartest man in the Pegasus. I can fix things just by thinking about it." Now he was just getting cocky. "Alright then, ceiling, walls, I'll make you a deal. You get me out of here, and I'll give you a dazzling paint job that'll make you the envy of the whole building." He chuckled again and his lower jaw trembled. "No? How about I add consoles and fancy coloured lighting?"

They remained silent as they continued to watch his suffering. "Please… If you're not going to answer…" Tears started to leak from his eyes and he squeezed them shut before he blinked them open again and his vision blurred.

"Then let me die," he grunted in a choked gargle. "Please…" he added with a sob. He knew he was being selfish. But he was in such severe distress from the abdominal and limb pain, he no longer cared. His body was punctured in so many places and acid and bile along with his blood had been spilt.

He grew angry then and cried, "Don't just stand there watching me!" He glared at the ceiling. "Well, if you're not going to help me… Just… just go away!" The walls shifted and dilated around him, tilting and swirling as they came nearer and then drifted away again.

He couldn't go on like this for much longer.

He grunted in disgust at their taunting just before his eyes fluttered shut and promptly passed out again into the only place he had left that did not hold any pain or fear for him anymore.

---------------------------

Rodney returned to wakefulness after his latest dream; one where he had been lying outside on Atlantis. He had been on a pier all alone, but the sun had pleasantly warmed his skin as he relaxed and let the world go by without a care. He felt hands in his messy hair and soft lips caressed his cheek and a female voice whispered into his ear, "Hold on, we're coming for you."

His eyes snapped open in hope, but he saw that he was still on his own and sunk down into despair once more.

In that moment of time, he could not immediately recall how he got to where he was; this place of endless pain and torment. He thought for a moment that maybe he was dead and in hell, but even if he was, the sounds, smells and sensations were still as sharp as they were in life. The pain in his midsection and limbs reminded him of Michael and allowed him to feel every breath he took with crystal clarity. Unless he had been injected with the pain-intensifying drug again? He would not put that beyond his captor.

He lifted his head and then closed his eyes when he saw them again. The thin and innocent looking metal torture jabbed through his abdomen and left in place, so that he had to suffer as much as was humanly possible before he died, if he was ever allowed to die.

They seemed to have effectively sealed the blood inside so that he did not bleed to death, and were carefully positioned so that it had not severed any of the arteries running through him and were not immediately life threatening. He knew that they had done a lot of damage to his internal organs though. What was down there anyway? Kidneys, intestines, liver? His entire abdomen was jam packed with digestive organs crucial to his long term survival. Not that Michael seemed that keen on keeping him alive indefinitely. Just for a long time so that he would have to experience the most intense and prolonged pain imaginable.

What had his poor, sore belly ever done to Michael except for to bleed as crimson dripping quivering flesh? A healthy fear of pain and death set his heart rapidly a-pounding in the midst of his wracked body even as his very spirit, soul and mind were tormented by the physical anguish and, along with his body, all four cried out for mercy in unison.

He started sobbing again, not that he remembered the last time he had done so. He had no idea how long he had been there or why no one had come yet to either kill or release him. He tried to flex his fingers, but couldn't even do that without a releasing a strangled cry which had come from deep down inside, so deep it seemed to have been torn from his very soul. His breaths made his chest hitch which in turn only made the cries turn to screams until his parched throat was too sore to continue.

His mouth remained open in the soundless shape of horror and agony.

He suddenly felt his mind completely break into an infinite number of impossibly small shards. He salvaged what little he could and carried away all the pieces of reality he gathered up. He sealed what he had left of his fragile thoughts inside tiny boxes in his head and locked all the doors.

Rodney closed his eyes and smiled vacantly just before he fell unconscious again.

Chapter Four

The Athosians were the first ones to find out where Rodney was being held. They found out through another one of their trading partners, which John vowed to visit and interrogate when this was all over. Word had been passed to several worlds of a space gate orbiting a planet where there was only one man living. A man who was in chains because he could fathom mysteries which were never meant to be understood.

It sounded too much like Rodney to be passed up, and luckily Sam had agreed and authorised a mission to go and check out the lead. She warned that it could be a trap, but John was already way ahead of her.

They took two Jumpers in the end. Both contained squads of marines and the second had Dr Keller and a full medical team. After how Michael had tortured and hurt Rodney last time he had been captured, they were taking no chances, even though they all hoped that he was healthy and whole.

There was a tense and heavy silence in the Jumper as John piloted it through the atmosphere towards the only energy signature on the planet below. He brought up the HUD, but there were no other ships around. He still ordered that both Jumpers remain cloaked just in case there were enemy vessels hiding behind moons or on the other side of the planet.

The second Jumper stayed airborne while John, Ronon, Teyla and one of the marine squads checked out the small building in the middle of the ruined city and made sure it was safe. John used his life signs detector to track the solitary signal.

John baulked in shock and he heard Teyla stifle a cry in her sharp intake of breath when they found what they were looking for.

At first glance it appeared that Rodney was already dead. His chest was completely still and his bare skin shone out blindingly white in the glare of the lights in the concrete room. But as John cautiously approached, Rodney breathed; so shallowly that it made John wonder how he could stay alive with so little air entering his lungs.

A strong smell of fear and the metallic scent of bloodshed permeated the room which had become a place of horrendous torture and death.

John called for the Jumper holding the medical team to get there on the double and the marines with them to keep the area secure as John, Teyla and Ronon approached the still form of their team mate and friend.

"Rodney?" John called softly as he stopped beside the metal table. His eyes tracked along McKay's pale body and tightened in sympathy at the thin pieces of metal puncturing his belly, the hoops through his arms and legs and all the tubes feeding and keeping him alive.

How long had he been like this?

The fact that the metal did not move as Rodney breathed only confirmed the worst fear he had and Ronon ducked down and checked under the table. There were holes in the hard bed where he lay and Ronon straightened up and nodded grimly as he said, "All the way through."

Teyla furrowed her brow and gently stroked Rodney's forehead; wiping away the sweaty matted hair clinging to his skin.

His eyes, when he opened them, were bloodshot, watery and without focus as the prolonged pain of the torture blinded him. He looked around at his team blankly and then closed them again.

John was unsure what to do, so he took off his vest and laid his jacket over Rodney's naked chest to try and warm him. Ronon placed his hand under Rodney's head as a belated pillow as Teyla continued to hold his face and speak soft words of comfort and reassurance to him.

The medical team arrived and John backed away in a haze of guilt and shock as they set to work. Jennifer and her team removed the IV needles Michael had left and stuck their own in him; feeding him painkillers and fluids and all sorts of other things that John couldn't understand.

They clamped an oxygen mask over his slack and ashen face and placed a collar around his neck to support his head, but his chest had stopped moving again since they arrived and Jennifer called out to him, "Breathe, Rodney! I know it hurts, but you can do this. You have to do this."

He obeyed, even though he still seemed to be unconscious.

Jennifer swiftly assessed the situation and then came over to Rodney's team and looked around at them. "There are two options and we need to be quick to decide which one. Is this building and planet completely secure? Because in his current condition I don't like his chances of surviving while we transport him back to Atlantis."

She sighed and glanced back at her team while they worked. She then turned to John again and furrowed her brow. "I won't lie to you, it's going to be touch and go no matter where we operate on him and the conditions here aren't exactly sterile."

John answered, "It's up to you, Doc. Whichever way has the greatest chance that he'll survive. We can keep this building and planet secure for however long you need if it would be better to operate on him here."

Jennifer glared at him intensely while she thought and then said, "Alright, we'll do it here. We just need to stabilise him enough so that he can be moved. It's unlikely he would live long enough for us to move him back to Atlantis without any work first, even if we take the whole table. We're only prolonging the inevitable lengthy surgery that he's going to require to repair all the damage."

John nodded in consent and said to the room at large, "Alright, everybody who isn't part of the medical team, you're with me."

Teyla rested her hand on Jennifer's upper arm as she started to look bewildered and Teyla said, "Do what you can for him. We all have faith in you."

"Thanks. I'll call you when we're done."

---------------------

The wait while Jennifer and her team freed Rodney from his spiked prison was long and harrowing. John expected Michael to show up at any moment, but no one came.

John was soon flying the Jumper up towards the gate at breakneck speed while the medical team hovered around the bandaged form lying on the backboard. Rodney still had the collar around his neck just in case he had spinal or head injuries, although there were no external signs and only the scanner back on Atlantis would be able to reveal the true extent of his injuries. The spikes jammed through his torso and hoops through his arms had been removed and he was wrapped up in tight bandages but they were stained pink where he had already bled right through them.

The moment John landed the Jumper in the bay, Rodney was transferred to a gurney and whisked away before John even had time to finish shutting down the engines and running the post flight checks. A lot of blood stained equipment and bright red discarded absorbent pads littered the deck and John stared at them in a daze.

Teyla grabbed his arm and guided him out and past the mess left in the wake of Rodney's traumatic return to them. John said, "We should've found him sooner. How long had he been like that?"

Teyla increased the pressure of her grip and said, "It is not your fault. None of us knew where he was, and Ronon and I are equally responsible for letting him down."

Ronon said, "Come on, let's tell Carter and then get something to eat while we wait."

------------------

A week after Rodney had been returned to them, barely alive and clearly having just been subjected to the intense and unrelenting pain of prolonged torture, Jennifer walked over to his bed in the infirmary to check on him. He was still deathly pale and very ill and the sheet was pulled down to expose the bandages wrapped around his midsection where the most damage had occurred. Further bandages were around his arms and legs and IV lines fed and soothed him while he slept.

She looked at his face and was shocked to find that his eyes were open.

John was sitting in the chair next to the bed with his head lolling down onto his chest and his mouth agape as he snored softly. One of Jennifer's staff had draped a blanket over his shoulders.

Jennifer focused her attention on her patient and checked his monitors before she turned to his face and the vacant eyes. "Welcome back, Rodney." When he just continued to stare and stare, she furrowed her brow and asked, "Can you hear me?"

He blinked and the glaze vanished, much to Jennifer's relief, and he turned to look at her. She smiled at him and said, "Well, hello there." She cursed her choice of words; he wasn't a child even though he was badly hurt and in her care. She then frowned in concern as he continued to look at her, but did not seem to really be seeing her.

Jennifer turned to the sleeping man, "Colonel?"

John grumbled, "What've you done with my P90?" and then as he became more aware he rubbed his eyes and looked sheepish as he mumbled, "A dream."

Jennifer gestured down at Rodney as he slowly turned from her and looked at John.

Sheppard leant forwards and released a soft. "Oh! How're you feeling, McKay?"

Rodney peered at both of them and then closed his eyes and fell asleep again. John frowned and asked, "What was that about?"

Jennifer pursed her lips and said, "It's too soon to tell, but his body's still healing so it'll probably just take more time before he comes back to us."

"I hope you're right," John said, as he looked at Rodney and watched the steady rise and fall of his chest.

----------------

Another week later and Jennifer called Rodney's team along with Carter and Kate Heightmeyer to a meeting in the infirmary. They briefly stopped beside Rodney's bed. He had been propped up against the pillows and clicked one-handedly on a laptop resting on a table over his bed to prevent any pressure to his serious abdominal injuries. His other hand was resting over the bandages around his midsection hidden beneath the scrubs he wore and his arms and legs were swathed in white gauze too.

He seemed as a man so utterly broken, both physically and mentally, in pain and injury that he would never speak again. He did not acknowledge them and continued to work on in silence.

In turn, they each said hello and asked how he was, but he could have been deaf for all they knew as he did not reply.

Jennifer gestured towards her lab and shut the door once they were all inside.

Carter spoke first, "How is he?"

Jennifer set her lips in a thin line and then said, "As fine as can be expected, physically anyway. You already know we had to remove his spleen and one of his kidneys as they were too badly damaged to be saved."

John grimaced.

"And his throat was quite sore, but that's healed now."

Teyla asked, "What about the computer, what is he doing?"

"Working." Jennifer glanced around at all of them. "He just works on projects and corrects other people's work as he always has done, but he doesn't send emails or interact with anyone, even on there."

"What about brain damage?" Sam asked.

Jennifer shook her head, "This sort of injury is something which doesn't show up on the scanner."

Ronon asked turned to Kate who held a tablet in her hand. "Can you fix him?"

"I tried speaking with him, but although he does everything we ask him to, he won't say anything."

She glanced around at all of them and seemed to be looking through them as though she could see their darkest secrets just in a glance. She said, "When he was found, he was very close to death and had been tortured for so long that his mind had been forced to find a hiding place. What Michael did to him was never meant to kill, but to maim and cause permanent mental harm. And in that respect, he's succeeded. It may not now be possible to coax his mind out from behind the shield he was forced to create to survive the torture."

John asked, "You can try though, right?"

Heightmeyer pursed her lips and the question hung in the air unanswered in the quiet which fell between them.

--------------------------

Jennifer carefully removed the bandages around Rodney's middle as he sat shirtless on the edge of the bed trapped in the constant state of pensive silence he had been in since his rescue.

She uncovered the wounds visible on his back and belly where the stitches hid the horrific intra-abdominal injuries he had sustained. She furrowed her brow when he glanced down at himself and grimaced. His entire body had become nothing but a map of pain and surgical scars and she wasn't really surprised that he had also sustained serious mental injuries too. It was just that his mind was going to be so much more difficult to heal and sew back together than his body, because the most damaged part of his psyche couldn't be removed like some of his beyond repair internal organs had been. Although Heightmeyer said she was doing her best to treat him, she had made little progress. It was almost like he didn't want to get better.

The marks marred the pale skin of his abdomen in gory uneven tattoos, but she was only horrified that another sentient being had done this to him. She felt pity, rather than disgust, over the wounds which would have had most people running away, screaming in terror at the sight of him.

The injuries were healing nicely, so she grabbed the fresh bandage and cleaned his skin off before she wound the gauze around his middle and secured it. The only reaction she got was a flinch and small whimper when the disinfectant hurt him and she apologized and squeezed his hand comfortingly, which seemed to calm him down.

She motioned for him to lie back and, in a most un-McKay like fashion, he obeyed without question. She repeated the procedure for his arms and legs and was pleased to see that he should be ready to start physiotherapy in a few days to get him back on his feet again.

She spoke as she worked, "You're safe now, Rodney. I wish you'd come back to us and stop hiding in that big old head of yours."

He closed his eyes and his face remained a smooth and unreadable mask where he remained alone somewhere else. She sighed as her fear that his mind had been left behind in the torture chamber only increased.

Chapter Five

Rodney hissed in pain as he collapsed into the wheelchair and breathed heavily after the exertion of just a few steps. He rested his hands over his belly and closed his eyes.

John stood nearby and said, "Good one, Rodney! You'll be running around again in no time."

Rodney blinked and hugged himself more tightly. John indicated for him to go again, but Rodney shook his head.

John shrugged, "Alright, maybe that is enough for now. But you need to keep trying, even when I'm not here."

Rodney nodded and closed his eyes as John wheeled him out of the room set up for them. John pushed the chair down the corridor and acknowledged all the people who passed by. They greeted both John and Rodney by name, but McKay didn't reply even though he looked at them all and they went out of their way to appear happy to have him back.

John had been reassured by Heightmeyer that Rodney seemed to be recovering very slowly and no longer simply ignored everyone as he had done at first. The gestures showed that, but he had not spoken a single word to anyone yet. Whether he said anything to himself when he was resting alone in his quarters, no-one knew, but John would wager that he didn't.

Heightmeyer had also said that with any trauma, mental injuries sometimes got better as the effects of the physical ones diminished as there was no longer the constant physical pain as a reminder of the trauma. But even though his body was healing, his mind still remained in pastures unknown.

John hoped she was right, as it had been several weeks now since Rodney had been rescued. John had seen the scars Rodney had across his skin and winced when he thought of them. Injuries like that would never fade and according to Heightmeyer's philosophy, as long as he bore them, he would never recover from the mental ones to be the same man again. It was a cycle which may well prevent him from ever getting better.

John stopped by his own quarters and grabbed what he needed for his afternoon off with Rodney and pushed him into the transporter. Rodney was looking at him curiously and John tapped the screen and said, "You'll see."

-----------------

Rodney shoved John away as he wrapped his hands around Rodney's chest to help him up. John let go and stayed nearby as Rodney pushed himself out of the chair and bent slightly at the waist and grunted as he shuffled over to the deckchair on the pier. He settled down into it and panted and rubbed his abdomen with his eyes tightly closed as he breathed noisily through his teeth.

John pushed the wheelchair out of sight, sat down in the second deckchair next to Rodney's and placed the bag on the ground between them. They had a wonderful view of the sea stretching out towards the clear horizon and the sun shone down warmly and glittered upon the waves.

John retrieved a bottle of sunscreen from his bag and handed it to Rodney, but he pushed it away and sighed softly as he tilted his head back and faced the sun with his eyes closed.

John shrugged, "Suit yourself," and tucked the bottle back into his bag. He passed Rodney a beer and retrieved one for himself. They both silently drank while they enjoyed the afternoon sun. Although how much enjoyment Rodney was getting from it was totally beyond John as he didn't speak.

After the second can and more than an hour of silence, John said, "I wish you'd say something to me, Rodney. Can't you snap out of it? We got you back. I know it took us a while and for that I'm sure I've already apologised about ten thousand times. I suppose I'll have to keep doing it until you accept the fact that I am sorry or knock me on my ass and say that you can't forgive me for such a thing. And I wouldn't blame you if you go for the second option."

John tossed the empty can into the bag and leant back in his chair with his hands behind his head. He glanced across at Rodney, who had his head tilted down as he looked out across the seemingly endless and eternal ocean.

John sighed and said, "Alright then, if that's how you want to play it, then I'll say it again. I'm sorry, Rodney. First of all that you were taken, and secondly that it took us such a long time to find you."

Rodney continued to stare over the water without acknowledging the comment.

John sighed in exasperation and closed his eyes. A combination of his stimulating company and the slow swish of the waves soon sent him into a shallow sleep.

He woke up with a start and suddenly panicked when he noticed that Rodney had gone. The material of the empty deckchair flapped in the breeze and John stood up and looked around, expecting to see Rodney lying on the deck somewhere. But there was no sign of his friend and the wheelchair was empty too.

John called out; little use that would do to someone who decided that he would not answer anything.

He soon spotted Rodney where he stood swaying and alone as a forlorn figure at the edge of the pier. John sprinted over to him, afraid that any moment he could lose his unsure footing and fall off the edge, where there was a very high drop, and plunge into the cold water below.

John grabbed Rodney around the middle; serious injuries be damned! If he was going to jump… and pulled him back. Rodney shoved, but he was still too weak to offer any resistance and allowed John to manhandle him a safe distance away and then lower him down to the deck.

"What the hell do you think you're doing, McKay?! Are you trying to get yourself killed?"

Rodney cast his eyes down towards his hands as he rested them in his lap and John towered over him angrily. "Oh, I forgot, you've chosen not to say anything, so I'll have to guess as usual."

Rodney shivered even though the air was still pleasantly warm.

John glared down at him and frowned as he paced in frustration. "So, Michael made you a victim," Rodney flinched at Michael's name, but John ploughed on anyway. "He badly hurt you and then left you all alone and in pain for hours and hours. But we saved you and brought you back and Keller fixed you up.

"Now even though we're all trying to help you, you ignore us and stay sealed up inside that incomprehensible head of yours. Even Heightmeyer can't figure out what makes you tick and how to get you restarted again."

Rodney rubbed the livid scar on his right forearm where it had had the metal through it. John winced at the ugly mark and knew that worse things were hidden under the billowing baggy shirt Rodney wore. He had lost so much weight since his return that his normal clothes were now far too big for him.

John crouched down in front of Rodney and grabbed his shoulders and shook him gently. "Tell me what to do to get you back again! I know you're in there somewhere." John's eyes searched Rodney's bewildered ones to try and see a flicker of the friend he had once known somewhere in the blue depths.

It was like he was just an empty shell, a hollowed out husk of a man and devoid of all traces of what John had to keep reminding himself he had been like only a few weeks ago. But the time now seemed far longer and lonelier than ever.

John let go and sat down on the deck next to Rodney. He rubbed his face and said quietly, "Please, it's just not the same without you." He was so desperately sad and feared that Michael may very well have finally won. But Rodney was still alive and he would do anything not to let the psycho get what he wanted.

Rodney furrowed his brow and stared at the water. He turned his face away and closed his eyes as a tear ran down his cheek.

John did not notice this though as he was still looking out over the ocean with mourning in his eyes that he may already have lost his friend forever, even though he was there in body.

That was until there was a quiet sob next to him. John snapped his head around so quickly towards the small sound that he was sure he had just given himself whiplash. Rodney was looking down and his face was scrunched up and his teeth were gritted as he tried to prevent any noise escaping from his breakdown.

John shifted over to him until they were close enough that John could reach across and rest his arm over Rodney's back and draw him into a hug.

Rodney buried his face into John's shoulder and John grimaced and patted Rodney's upper back gently. "It's okay. Let it all out," he said, as he awkwardly changed his position to support Rodney more.

Heightmeyer was right, he was definitely emotionally damaged and only time would tell whether it was permanent or not.

John suddenly jumped as something other than a sob or sound of pain escaped Rodney's lips. He lifted Rodney up and held his shoulders as his eyes tracked all over Rodney's tear streaked, miserable face. "Did you say something?" He asked in shock and hope.

Rodney's lips trembled and he closed his eyes as he mumbled, "S-sorry. I… I… Oh…"

"What is it? Speak to me!"

"I… I'm sorry."

"Why? You've got nothing to be sorry for."

"Of course… I forgive… you," he forced out. It seemed that every word was an effort and his mouth struggled to form the words and make them coherent.

"I… .just… I…" he sighed and scrubbed the heel of his hand across his forehead and closed his eyes.

John smiled at him and said, "Come on, let's get you cleaned up and find some food."

Rodney slipped back into silence, but seemed more alert than he had been ever since he had been brought back to Atlantis, in body at least. He even appeared angry and grunted in irritation when John tried to help him back to the wheelchair. The return of that emotion caused the initial stirrings of relief in John's heart and he knew then that the scathing comments would return in time too.

Epilogue

Rodney still had a residual degree of occasional pain from the injuries he sustained, which may even turn out to be permanent. Because even Rodney, tough as he was, wasn't strong enough to survive such torture and be the same as he once was. Although he spoke, he was withdrawn and depressed at first. But he was eventually deemed to be mentally and physically recovered enough to resume offworld missions, he would just need more protection than before.

He refused to go at first, and no one blamed him or held it against him. He eventually relented when his team persuaded him to join them again.

When the time had seemed right, John even asked Rodney what had happened during his captivity; that was, if he felt ready to share of course.

But Rodney insisted that he couldn't remember anything from the time in the tent until that afternoon on the pier when his senses had finally returned as if he had woken from a long dream. Whether that was true or not, John didn't know or pressure him. He was just glad that Rodney was slowly getting better, even if he wasn't quite whole and never would be again.

If he ever did remember or decide to tell him, John would be there; that was for certain.

Fin.

A/N –What! No happy ending? Not this time… but can there truly be a 'happily ever after' when torture like this is involved? Hmm… I'll let you decide.