The Prisoner of Zenda: 3 of 4
Written for the reel_sga challenge
Pairings: Primarily McKay/Sheppard with bits of Weir/Kolya, Wier/Zelenka, and Dex/Teyla
Total word count: 30665
Overall Rating: NC-17; this part R
Beta'd by the fabulous lamardeuse
The Prisoner of Zenda
Part 3
The three of them went to the hunting lodge the next day. There was a small flurry of activity in the morning while Dex checked Elizabeth's story, which none of them were going to trust blindly. Also, there were apparently a whole lot of post-coronation appointments and events. Rodney let Dex cancel everything. Sometimes it was good to be the King.
There was nothing to do at that point but wait. They traveled with the King's usual retinue of guards and servants, so they had to keep up the charade. Rodney managed to tone his flinch at being addressed as “Sire” and “Your Majesty” way down, though he really didn't like it when John said it. More annoying was that Rodney couldn't do anything the King ordinarily wouldn't. So, no catching up on his journals, no writing down the vital insights on his work, his real work, that popped into his conscious mind after days of unconscious mulling. He couldn't even go online to get his email.
And really, shouldn't he be writing down all the half-started ideas in his head? He'd been shot at, and might yet die. The world needed to know about this stuff, and here he was in a dead-animal-filled stone building, in mortal danger every moment, and he wasn't even allowed to think! This had all been such a bad idea. He was stuck in a nightmare.
The monotony was broken in late afternoon by a visit from Radek of Hentzau.
It was the first time Rodney had actually seen the man; it had been way too dark at the summer house. Somehow, he'd pictured someone more menacing. This short, slender man with the glasses and devil-may-care grin didn't look like he could be anyone's enforcer, much less Kolya's, who looked so much more threatening.
He gave fair warning of his approach, since he roared up on a vintage European motorcycle. Obviously a very skilled rider, he braked to a quick stop without throwing up even a single pebble. Rodney watched out the window as he hopped off and strode jauntily to the door of the lodge, asking to see the King, with a message from Prince Kolya. The guards did their job and wouldn't let him in without Colonel Dex's permission, which came only after Hentzau surrendered his gun.
Rodney thought it was ridiculous. All four of them in the room knew he wasn't the King, yet here he was, putting on accents and acting like an idiot. Oh well. They might as well get this over with.
“What does my brother say, Hentzau?”
“I am happy to tell you, Your Majesty. In private.”
Rodney glanced over at Dex, who nodded. Apparently Dex was of the “all data is good data” school, and wanted Rodney to probe for information. Rodney was not happy to go with Radek, even so far as across the room, but he was pleased to see John draw a gun and flick off the safety. At least he was covered.
Rodney was disappointed when all Radek had was a predictable repeat of Kolya's previous night's offer, doubled to half a million U.S. dollars. Rodney just looked at him like he was crazy.
“I knew you would not be interested, but Kolya tells me to ask, so I ask.” Radek shrugged philosophically.
“If that's all...”
“Oh, no, Dr. Actor. I have my own suggestion, since Kolya is so...unimaginative.” Radek drew closer on the window bench. “You and I, we are perhaps the only men in this little comedy worth saving, yes? So here is my plan. Attack the castle at Zenda, and let your military friends there take the lead. Kolya, he will surely fall. The King? You don't want to know. If your friends fall as well, is too bad, such gallant men. Then, you and I are the only ones who know the truth. I, Rupert Hentzau and you, king of the realm.”
“Aren't you being a little hard on Kolya?”
“Perhaps, but I do not like his jealousy.”
“Jealousy?”
“You have met her.”
“Oh, the summer house, where you and your friends had a shocking experience.”
Radek laughed, but it didn't reach his eyes. Rodney wondered how badly his men had been hurt, but it didn't seem the time to ask.
“She can't possibly prefer the Prince. Not with you around.”
“Of course not. But he has some hold on her, and I will free her.”
“Very noble of you. So, this-” Rodney waved a hand, “-is all about love?”
“Love, yes, and Your Majesty's gratitude through your long and happy reign. And, since Kolya's castles and estates will need supervision, it is only responsible to sign them over to one who will care for them.”
“You.”
“Me.” Radek favored Rodney with a brilliant smile.
“Hmm.” Rodney appeared to consider the idea. “You've thought of everything, Very clever scheme.”
“Just look at the offer - throne, princess, such a neat package.”
“Neat.” Rodney stood and moved away slightly, looking for all the world like he was seriously considering the offer. “Who could resist.”
“Who, indeed?” Radek smiled charmingly, looking sure of himself and of Rodney.
“Who, indeed,” Rodney murmured, walking away from Radek quickly, careful to stay out from between Radek and von Sheppheim's gun. “Colonel, you should hear this. Hentzau offers me the throne, that is if you two don't mind being killed...”
Radek's smile turned ugly, and, snarling “Their turn will come later, yours comes now!” he whipped a knife out of his sleeve and threw it at Rodney. In almost the same motion Radek spun and leapt out the open ground floor window. John surged forward, rushing to the window, but by the time he got there, Radek was on his motorcycle, kicking it to life and spinning out of the gravel drive. John fired a few wild shots, then gave it up and turned back to the room.
Rodney was frozen against the door jamb he'd been passing when Hentzau threw the knife. He'd turned at Radek's shout, so his back was against the wall. Out of the corner of his eye he could just see the still quivering knife handle, the blade buried hilt-deep in the hardwood molding. He swallowed, opened his mouth to speak, closed it, then opened it again. No words came.
“McKay!” John strode to his side and reached for Rodney, who grabbed his arm and held on tight like the lifeline it was.
“Von Sheppheim! This is the King!” Dex's reprimand came almost over top of John's cry of concern.
John's face twisted in frustration. “Sir,” he choked out, letting the colonel know he understood.
Gently leading Rodney to a wing chair and encouraging him to sit, he looked him in the eye. “Sire, are you all right?”
“Of course I'm not all right! Did you see how close that thing came to my head? I need my head! The world needs my head! There are Nobel-winning thoughts in this head, and that lunatic almost let them out by jamming a seven-inch knife right through my skull!”
John grinned and patted Rodney on the shoulder, saying, “Glad to see you're fine, Sire.”
Rodney found himself smiling back. Somehow, John had managed to convey that his comfort and concern were for Rodney, even though he called him by another man's title.
~&~&~&~&~
Radek went straight to Zenda. He was furious that both his plans had failed, and he needed to let off a little steam. He made his way to the dungeon, passing through the antechamber where two guards were playing cards and into the cell where a disheveled, injured King Rodney was shackled to an iron cot.
Radek was surprised to find Elizabeth nursing the King. Well, perhaps not so surprised. Radek was of the opinion that women could not help themselves - if someone needed care, they felt honor bound to provide it. But it didn't serve his purposes to have her around. He had business with the King. A little mockery, and Elizabeth was on her way, proud head held high. Sometimes people were so very easy to manipulate.
Which reminded Radek why he was here: a man who refused to be manipulated, even when it was in the fool's best interests. Maybe he could manipulate the man in front of him instead. King Rodney's best interests were so very simple these days.
“Water, please.” The King's voice was hoarse and full of pain.
Radek moved over to where the chained man could see him and smiled.
“Perhaps you should reconsider your request, Sire.” Radek emphasized the honorific sarcastically. “The water you get might not be the water you want.”
Radek reached down and pulled at a large iron ring on the floor, opening a heavy trap door. Looking around, he spotted the washcloth Elizabeth had been using to wipe the King's face. He held it up so that the King could see it.
“Listen carefully,” he said, and dropped the rag from shoulder height into the hole. A full four seconds passed before a very faint splash.
“That is the moat, Your Majesty. It is the deepest part of the moat. That poor rag might someday float to the surface, but it is not likely. If I had weighted the rag with chains, it would stay in the moat forever.” Radek closed the trap door with a thump and smiled at the King, touching his forehead briefly and flipping him a mocking salute. “I wish Your Majesty...pleasant dreams.”
When Radek left the King's prison, he was smiling. It is gratifying to be reminded of one's successes after a failure.
~&~&~&~&~
Prince Kolya, on his way to see his brother, scowled when he saw Radek leaving the cell. Hentzau was a loose cannon, always making his own plans, and Kolya didn't quite trust him.
“Why are you here? Don't your interests lie elsewhere in the castle?” Kolya knew Radek had designs on Elizabeth, but was confident she wouldn't stray - she had too much to lose.
Radek's response was flippant. “I just do my part to make the King more receptive," he said as he brushed by.
Kolya's scowl deepened as he let himself into the King's prison cell.
The King looked terrible. His wounds had not been cleaned, and they had been only roughly dressed. His eyes shone bright with fever. His clothing was torn and filthy. However, he still managed that supercilious tone that had grated at Kolya for his entire life.
“So, finally you show yourself.”
“Hello, brother. I see we've been a little lax in our hospitality. I'll be happy to speak to the staff about that. In fact, I can offer you a very comfortable bed for as long as you need it. There is a price for these things, though. If you would sign this,” Kolya unrolled a declaration of abdication, “I'll see to it right away.”
King Rodney weakly raised his shackled hands and pushed the paper away. It took him three tries before he could speak through his cracked lips, but when he did, what he said infuriated Kolya.
“I haven't lived like a king. Perhaps I can die like one. I'll not disgrace the crown I never wore."
The King turned his face to the wall, and didn't watch his half brother stride out of the room, his jaw clenched tight and his scarred face set in a mask of fury.
~&~&~&~&~
It was almost midnight when the word from Elizabeth finally came. A lone man, a servant at Kolya's castle at Zenda, arrived at the hunting lodge and was shown in to the room where Colonel Dex, Captain von Sheppheim, and Rodney waited. He came equipped not only with the matching earring, but with a map of the castle and a plan.
“I am to lower the drawbridge at two a.m.”
Dex was quick to point out a glaring problem. “But the noise! The King will be killed!”
“That is why before I lower the bridge one of your men must swim the moat and climb to Madame's room. Alone, one man might reach the dungeon. That man must hold off the guards until the others cross the bridge and get below.”
“Always two guards on the prisoner?” Dex asked.
“Two by day and two by night.”
“And no other men who can fight?”
“Only His Highness and Hentzau tonight.”
“Three against six. Tell Mademoiselle we will be waiting at two for her signal. One of us will swim the moat, the others will be waiting for you to lower the bridge.” Dex turned back to the map, effectively dismissing the man.
The servant nodded and left.
When he was gone, Rodney had to say it. “Three against six assumes a lot. More like two against six. I think I've proved I'm not a fighter. You're going to have to bring in more men.”
The colonel hesitated. “And let them in on the secret?”
John sided with Rodney. “McKay's right. The odds are too great. We have to have more help.”
Dex scowled, but had to acknowledge the point. “All right. Let them come. But we keep the details from them if we can.”
John nodded and continued, “I'll be the one to go into the castle.”
“Of course,” Dex agreed. “We don't want to lose both our kings.”
Rodney looked up sharply. “Hold it! Wrong on both counts!”
Both the military men stared at him.
He held up a finger. “OK, one. You don't have two kings. You have one. I can't keep this up, I have a life! God knows why I let you talk me into all this, but no matter what happens tonight, I'm done. And two.” Rodney held up a second finger and turned to John, “It's bad enough the colonel here thinks you're expendable. You aren't allowed to act that way. There's got to be someone else who can...”
“Like who, McKay? The colonel has to round up and lead the squad. We can't order someone else to do it without the word getting out. You? We all know you're not any kind of fighter.”
“Yes...but...What if I went with you. I'd be able to do some good. Watch your back. Something.” Rodney felt himself going frantic, babbling. John was going to get himself killed and Rodney couldn't stop him.
“Please, McKay. You'd just slow me down. You'd be worse than useless. I want my King alive, thank you. I'm not going to leave his fate to a glory-hound, out-of-shape physicist playing at heroism.”
Rodney felt like he'd been slapped. What the hell was going on? “It's not...I wasn't...Damn you, Jo...Captain, I was just trying to pro...” Rodney's protests stopped abruptly. “You know what? You're right. Rescuing kings isn't my job. I'll step aside now, and let the experts do it.” He crossed his arms tightly over his chest and fell silent, glaring furiously at John from under his furrowed brow.
“Good answer, McKay.” Did John just sneer at him? “In fact, maybe you should just stay here. I'm sure someone can come get you and escort you over the border in the morning.”
Rodney set his jaw and lifted his chin defiantly. “Not acceptable. You talked me into this, and I'm going to be there at the end. Besides, I may be out of shape, but I'm anything but an idiot. I may come in useful.”
Colonel Dex had kept out of the argument, but now he chimed in. “I agree. Dr. McKay will be with us at the bridge. I want you disguised, though. No need to advertise your existence if we don't have to.”
“Fine,” spat Rodney. “What's one more level of incognito among friends.”
“Fine.” John's acquiescence wasn't any more gracious than Rodney's.
“Fine,” concluded Dex tiredly.
~&~&~&~&~
By 1:45 they were on the moat's bank, poised, anticipating the signal. The trilling of frogs filled the air, masking the slight sounds they made while waiting.
Rodney wasn't needed for this, but he couldn't stay with Dex's squad of guards without every one of them knowing right away that the King had a double. Still stung by John's nasty comments, Rodney made a point to keep Dex between them, barely acknowledging the captain's existence, giving stiff nods and one-syllable answers whenever he couldn't avoid interacting with him.
A flash from a first floor window got their attention. It was the signal. John took off his jacket and reached to give it to Dex.
"Oh, yeah." John dug around until he found what he was looking for. "Here, McKay. I went back to the summer house and got this for you."
Rodney looked at the object. It was his multitool. He reached to take it back, then withdrew his hand.
"Keep it, Captain."
"McKay?"
"For now, keep it. It might come in handy, when you're doing your..." he waved a hand, "...heroic rescue thing. Works better after getting wet than a gun."
"Uh, thanks." John shoved the tool into his pocket. "And speaking of which..." he reached to the small of his back and pulled out the handgun he kept there. "You'd better keep this for me." He tried to hand it to Rodney.
"I told you before, I don't do guns."
"You don't have to fire it. I'm just asking you to hold it for me. C'mon McKay. The swim will only ruin it, and it's my favorite."
"Oh, all right." Rodney accepted the weapon, holding it properly, if gingerly and pointing it at the ground. "The safety's on, right?"
"No, it's off, because I like living with the possibility that I'll shoot my own ass off. Yes, McKay, the safety's on. See that thumb switch? no red dot, safety on. Flick the switch, red dot, safety off."
"Thank you, Captain. I understand the principle," Rodney replied frostily.
"Captain von Sheppheim!" Colonel Dex called John's attention back to the task at hand.
"Sir."
"She's signaling again. It's time for you to go."
"Yes, Sir." John sat down on the bank and slipped his feet into the water. Dex and Rodney each took an arm and lowered him the rest of the way to avoid any splash.
Rodney watched through field glasses as John swam the short distance to the castle. He saw Elizabeth and the servant lean down to help John into the window. Through the window he could see John drying off and slipping on a sweater. Elizabeth handed John something, probably a gun.
Through the binoculars, Rodney watched John slip out of sight through the door of Elizabeth's room, and wondered if he would see him alive again.
~&~&~&~&~
Radek of Hentzau was just coming out of his room when he heard a sharp metallic clang. He stopped and listened, but the sound was not repeated. God knows it could have been anything, but with things how they were, it needed to be looked into. When he got downstairs to the great hall, the first thing he noticed was light from Elizabeth's room, escaping through the cracks of a door left ajar.
It really wasn't wise for Elizabeth to leave her door open like that. Kolya employed some rough men, and they might take an unlocked door as an invitation. It was only polite that Radek check on Elizabeth, make sure she was safe, perhaps keep her company for a while.
Radek knocked on the door jamb as he entered the room, startling Elizabeth as she tried to read a book.
“Count Hentzau.”
Oh, Mademoiselle was icy tonight! Well, Radek did appreciate a woman who made him work. It made the winning so much sweeter.
“It was careless of you to leave your door open, dear lady. Very careless and very inviting.”
“You really should not be here, Count. His Highness would not want to find you in my rooms.”
“Then we will have privacy, and he will not find me unless you call him.” Radek stepped into the room and pushed the door closed behind him. “Will you call him, Elizabeth? Do you want him to find me here? Perhaps not. Do you fear his anger? Perhaps you fear for my safety. Or,” Radek stepped close to Elizabeth and turned her toward himself with a hand on her shoulder, dropping his voice intimately. “Perhaps you really do want me here.”
“I do not.” How strange. Kolya's mistress never let him get this close before. Her words rejected him, as usual, but she was allowing him move in close and touch. Radek wondered what else she would allow.
“You wound me. After all this time, you do not like me even a little bit? I have been so patient. And patience is a virtue I ordinarily lack.”
“You never lack for audacity, Count.” He was so close now he could smell her perfume; so close he could see the pulse fluttering in her throat when she turned her head away.
“You know what they say. Faint heart never won fair lady.” Radek took Elizabeth in his arms. “You are very fair.” He leaned in close and whispered in her ear, “What will it take to win you?”
Elizabeth shuddered in his arms, bringing one hand up to clasp his arm and laying the other lightly on his chest. Many women had surrendered to Radek of Hentzau, and he knew the signs. This was victory!
Radek was leaning down to claim his first kiss when the door burst open.
It was Black Kolya. He was in a fury - his fists were clenched, his jaw was set, and his eyes, always cold, were hard as flint. Radek stared brazenly at him, smirking slightly.
“I was only apologizing for your absence, Your Highness. You leave this treasure alone too often.”
Kolya's nostril's flared and he growled menacingly,“The moat can hold more than the King, Hentzau.”
“Is Your Highness threatening me?"
Radek's defiant response was calculated to inflame Kolya past the point of thought, and it must have worked. He leapt at Radek, clawed hands reaching for his neck.
The outcome should have been obvious. Kolya was much larger than Radek, and his fury lent him even more strength. But Radek was quick, and kept a cool head when he fought. He dodged Kolya's first rush, pushing past and ducking low under his arm. Radek danced away, giving himself time to reach for the concealed knife he was never without. When Kolya attacked again, Radek let him close. They grappled for a moment, then Kolya jerked and froze as Radek drove the knife deep, up under his ribs and into his heart.
Kolya's fingers loosened and he fell to the floor.
Elizabeth shrank back against the wall. A small whimper escaped her, and she froze as Radek turned to look at her. She was shivering against the cold stone and whispering to herself. Radek knew he had to calm her down before her quiet reaction turned into loud hysterics. He had just killed Black Kolya, and the longer it took for the prince's men to find out, the better it would go for Radek.
Radek approached Elizabeth slowly, murmuring soothing nothings. She watched him fearfully. Radek showed her his empty hands, trying to appear nonthreatening. He forgot that one hand, the hand that had wielded the knife, was covered in Kolya's blood. When Elizabeth saw this, she shrank back further, and her whispering grew to muttering, and Radek could understand what she was saying over and over.
“My fault. Pierre will die. I let them in, and they'll die too. My fault.”
Radek understood the meaning of this immediately. That sound, forgotten until now, meant that the King's men were here. They may already have started their rescue. With Kolya dead, all the blame would fall on Radek. He had to move fast if he was going to eliminate the evidence and stop the King's men from getting in. Forgetting Elizabeth, forgetting Kolya's body cooling on the floor, Radek rushed out of the room.
Just outside the door of Elizabeth's room Radek stopped and looked around the darkened great hall. In the gloom he could see that the main door was open, and there was someone tampering with the bridge mechanism. Moving silently, Radek came up behind Kolya's manservant, who was kneeling on the floor, struggling to untie the rope. He knew that the moment the bridge came down, the castle would be filled with the King's men, every one of them out for his blood. Radek wasn't interested in dying so soon. There on the floor was the metal handle for the bridge winch. Radek picked it up and swung it down with as much force as he could on the servant's head. That took care of that problem.
Radek realized that he could place even more obstacles between the King's men and himself. He called the two off-duty guards and set them outside the castle to guard the entrance. They might not be able to slow down a squad of soldiers, but any encounter would make some warning noise.
~&~&~&~&~
Unaware of the violent drama being played overhead, John crept down the stairs to the dungeon. He could find one of the guards without even looking by the man's off-key tuneless whistling. He was surprised the man's own partner hadn't killed him yet.
John was in luck - the two men were separate. He must have caught whistling boy on the way back from the can. John pulled himself into a dark recess in the stone wall of the dungeon and waited for the man to walk by, then clipped him hard behind the ear with the butt of his borrowed gun. The guard dropped like a stone, and John shoved him into the hiding spot. He would have liked to have tied the man up, but he could hear the second guard calling, and he had to get to the King before the other guard decided something was wrong and carried out his murderous orders.
Things didn't go as smoothly with the second guard. By the time John reached the antechamber, the man was already in the King's cell, leaning over the weakly struggling King. A trap door gaped open in the floor. John didn't know where it led, but it had to be the “never find the body” part of the threat. The rattle of iron chains implied locks and shackles and didn't these people realize this was the King?
John aimed his gun automatically, but couldn't shoot. Not with the guard so close to the King. Cursing under his breath, he jammed the gun into his waistband and reached for his boot knife. Which was gone. John knew he'd slipped it into place when he dressed for this, but it must have come out during the swim or the climb into the window. And didn't that just suck.
John reviewed his options quickly. He was going for his gun again when he remembered the multitool.
McKay is gonna kill me for this, he thought as he opened the knife blade.
Moving quietly across the antechamber and into the cell, John came up behind the unaware guard. Three things happened simultaneously. The King noticed John over the guard's shoulder, and his eyes went wide before he stepped up his struggles, the lock holding the shackles to the bedstead finally yielded to the guard's efforts, and John grabbed the guard's chin from behind with his left hand, yanked it up, and drew the blade in his right across the guard's throat.
There was a sickening gurgle as the guard collapsed forward. He would have landed on the King, but at the last minute John pushed, and his body hit the floor with a dull thud. In almost the same motion, John swung around and kicked the trap door shut. Then he turned to look at King Rodney, taking in his condition for the first time.
John was appalled. As far as he could tell, there wasn't a spot on the King that hadn't been bruised, bloodied, or scraped in some way. He was obviously ill, his hair was matted with dried blood, and it looked like he hadn't been fed his entire imprisonment.
“Sire? My God, Sire!” John fell to his knees beside the bed and touched the King's shoulder.
“John?” King Rodney's voice was barely audible, even in the quiet of the cell. His wrists were still chained together, and he raised them, searching for John.
“Here, Sire.” John offered one hand, which the King immediately grasped, and cast around for the keys the guard had dropped with the other. As soon as he had them, he unlocked the cuffs. The King's wrists were rubbed raw and bloody, and John hesitated to peel off the metal from where it was stuck to the skin. The thought of leaving the King in irons was more distressing, so John did what he had to to get them off, then wrapped King Rodney's wrists with strips torn from the bedding, which, though dirty, was marginally cleaner than any other cloth in the room.
John didn't want to leave the King, but as far as he knew there were four fighting men still in the castle, and he had neither heard nor seen his backup. At the very least, he had to safeguard the King until Dex's squad showed up to move the sovereign to safety and medical attention.
“Sire? I have to go, Sire.”
“No, John. Stay.” John could tell that the King was squeezing his hand as hard as he could.
“I wish I could, Sire.”
“I'm your king, John. I command you to stay.”
“Sire, Colonel Dex will have me up on charges if I don't make sure of your safety.”
“Colonel Dex is a hidebound martinet who inherited his father's fussiness when he inherited his position.”
John snorted softly. If the King could get cranky, perhaps he wasn't in as bad shape as he looked. “Yes, Sire. In this case, though, I agree with him. I've made you as comfortable as possible. Now I have to make you safe.”
King Rodney didn't let go, but it took no effort for John to break his grasp. Grabbing the ring of keys as he stood, he verified that the guard was actually dead, walked out, pulled the door closed behind him, and locked it.
Colonel Dex should have shown already. Something must have gone wrong with the drawbridge. With the King safely locked in, John turned to check out the situation. He didn't get far. At the foot of the stairs stood Radek of Hentzau, blocking John's way and pointing a gun right him.
“Ah, it is the King's toy soldier. I do not think His Majesty is strong enough to play. Unless you revived him with a kiss?”
“I have no idea what you're talking about. And when did you give up knives for pistols?”
“I left my knife in Kolya. He got in my way once too often.” Radek gestured with his gun. “That gun in your belt. Put it on the floor now.”
John complied.
“I'll take those keys, too.” Radek caught them neatly. “You got through both Betendorf and Gerich? My compliments.”
“I hear you're a hand-to-hand expert.” John spread his arms invitingly, hoping to coax Hentzau into evening the odds. “How about we make this more interesting?”
Radek only laughed at John's attempt to even the odds. “Face it, Captain. I'm not a gentleman...” Radek aimed his handgun at John. “I really am sorry.”
“Don't I get a last request?”
“What do you want? A blindfold? A last meal? I have neither on me.”
“I was thinking of a cigarette.”
“Captain, you don't smoke.”
“I thought I'd see what I was missing.”
Radek shook his head, amused. “Very well.” he could afford to be magnanimous. He dug his pack out and tossed it to John.
John caught it deftly and extracted a cigarette. “Lighter?”
Radek tossed that, too. This time, John fumbled, and it dropped on the floor between them.
“Sorry,” he grunted, and bent down as if to pick up the lighter. Then, staying low, John grabbed one of the heavy wooden chairs the guards had been using and slammed it straight into Radek.
The impact forced Radek's hands into the air, firing the gun uselessly before knocking it and the keys out of Radek's grasp. John reached for both the gun and the keys. He got the key ring, but missed the gun, accidentally kicking it and sending it skittering into a dark corner. Radek shoved the chair back at John, pushing him across the room. As he passed, John tried to scoop his own gun off the floor, but ended up knocking it into the one of the locked cells through the tray slot in the bottom of door.
John quickly shoved the keys into his pocket to free his hands. He noted that he still had the safely closed multitool, but didn't have time to pull it out and open it up. At this point it almost didn't matter. The odds had been leveled, and now at least John had a fair chance.
“Touché, Captain! It looks like you'll get your fight after all.” Radek settled his weight and grinned. Von Sheppheim still had to get past him and into the great hall to get to the drawbridge.
John charged. It was a crude move, but he had to get up those stairs, and that meant going through Hentzau. Radek was braced, and when John feinted one way, then tried to slip past the other side, Radek was ready.
As John went by, Radek grabbed his shirt and added momentum, making John stumble and crash headlong into the stairs. The captain caught himself on his hands, avoiding smashing his face into the stones, but the momentary distraction let Radek get an arm around his neck from behind. John grabbed that arm, leaned forward, and flipped Radek over his head and onto the stairway. He landed on his back with a grunt, and John scrambled over him and up the stairs, out of the dungeon and into the great hall.
Radek recovered quickly, and followed him into the hall.
“Stand your ground and fight, coward!” Radek wasn't even the slightest bit breathless, and seemed even to be enjoying the fight.
“He who fights and runs away, remember?” John wasn't exactly tiring, but he could feel it waiting in the wings.
“You're not going to get that drawbridge down. I just killed one man who tried that.”
“An unarmed man, of course.”
“Of course.”
John looked at the mechanism and realized he was going to have to cut the rope. That meant getting out the damned multitool again. He dug it out of his pocket and wished they made these things switchblade. One hand operation would be real nice right now.
Radek came after him, trying to herd him away from the drawbridge rope. John swung at the smaller man with the multitool wrapped in his fist. His blow split the skin over Radek's cheekbone, and John used the seconds while Hentzau was gauging the damage to get the knife blade open.
Now John was armed, and Radek wasn't. He came at Radek with the knife held low. Radek sidestepped and tripped John as he went by. John landed on the drawbridge rope, and slashed at it with the knife, but failed to cut all the way through. Radek grabbed him from behind and heaved, throwing John bodily away from the mechanism. John hit the floor awkwardly, landing on his elbow and jarring his arm. Suddenly holding on to the knife became a priority, especially since Radek was coming at him with the winch handle.
They both had weapons now. Radek only needed to keep John away from the rope, but John had to get that bridge open and defend against Radek - who was, of course, between him and the mechanism. Shit.
John got to his feet. Radek advanced, holding the bent metal bar loosely. Even in the dim light John could see where it was crusted with blood, hair and tissue from the poor servant Radek had killed.
A feint, a dodge, and a lunge had John back at the rope, though it earned him a glancing blow on his arm. Aiming for the weakened spot, he slashed the knife down on the rope once more. Success! The released winch began to spin wildly as the bridge came crashing down.
Radek came at John, trapped in the mechanism niche, with renewed fury. Part of John's brain registered shots outside and figured out where there other two guards had gone. All six opponents were accounted for. In a minute all the King's men would be rushing into the castle. John merely had to stay alive until they did.
Radek advanced, swinging the winch handle with bone-breaking force. The way John was cornered, one of those blows was going to connect sooner or later. He had to get out of there. Deciding he could minimize any injury by choosing which hit to take, John stepped into the next swing, arm raised, body pivoted, protecting his head but taking the hit on his triceps. Jesus that hurt! The blow reverberated along his arm and made him drop the multitool as he scrambled as fast as he could away from Radek.
Radek saw the knife go flying and went after it. Luckily for John, Radek tripped over the body of the servant he'd killed earlier and lost hold of the winch handle as he tried to keep his balance. Unluckily, Radek got the knife. At least this was a multitool blade, and not very well balanced. John didn't need to see Radek's knife throwing skills again.
Radek followed John across the room. John could tell it wasn't about the plot or the King anymore. Radek was out for his blood. If Dex and his men didn't get inside soon, Hentzau would gut him with that idiotic multitool.
Radek closed with John. It was down to a grappling contest now. John's height would have given him the advantage, except he could barely use his right arm. John could feel himself tiring. He didn't have much time.
Both men were too involved in their fight to notice when the doors crashed open and a swarm of soldiers rushed in.
~&~&~&~&~
Rodney burst into the great hall with the rest of the squad. Half of them followed Dex down to the dungeon and the King, and half went swarming through the castle, looking for anyone who might be hiding.
Rodney did neither. He was only interested in finding John. It didn't take him long to spot the two men struggling over a knife on the far side of the hall.
“Hey, wait a minute. That's my multitool! It's a tool, you idiots, not a weapon! What do you think you're doing?”
Rodney was no fight expert, but the way he saw it, it wasn't looking good for John. Radek had the upper hand, and suddenly the knife blade looked huge as it glinted in the light, poised high to come down on John's unprotected back the minute his arm, visibly trembling, lost strength.
“Oh, no. I don't think so. Not with my multitool.”
Rodney reached into his pocket and pulled out John's handgun. Images from every elementary mechanics book he ever read streamed through his mind - angles and trajectories and monkeys in palm trees, arcs and pool tables. Suddenly it was all relevant.
Rodney barely thought about the possibility of hitting John. If he didn't fire, John was dead. If he fired and hit John, it might kill him, it might not, and it might distract Hentzau long enough for something else to happen. If he fired and hit Hentzau, it would stop the fight and John would be saved. Statistically, firing the gun at Hentzau was the best thing to do. Rodney loved statistics.
Some sort of trance possessed Rodney as he smoothly flicked the safety off and raised the gun, aiming with one hand, bracing it with the other, elbows slightly bent to absorb the inevitable recoil. He sighted through the notch at Radek's torso. It was the biggest target, and who knows? He might even hit it.
Rodney squeezed the trigger and time slowed. Later he would swear he could see the bullet move through the air as it headed toward Hentzau's back - and missed.
It must not have missed by too much though, because he could see Hentzau flinch and duck a little; anticipating more bullets, probably. Rodney was trying to decide whether to shoot again when John kicked out and knocked the knife out of Hentzau's hand and across the room.
Rodney was sure it was his distraction that gave John his opportunity. And John thought he'd just get in the way. Hmph.
The kick must have been pretty powerful, because Radek grabbed his hand as if it were injured and jumped backwards to a safe distance. He glanced between John, who was slowly rising to come after him and Rodney, who had a gun. His face settled into its usual expression of sardonic amusement as he leapt onto the sill of a nearby open window.
“Gentlemen, my most hearty congratulations. I concede defeat. You win!”
With that, Radek of Hentzau bowed slightly, turned, and gracefully dove off the window ledge into the moat.
Rodney stood blinking for only a moment, then he shook himself and ran across the room to where John sat on the floor.
“Captain, you'd better still be alive!” Rodney helped John to lean against a nearby wall.
“Yeah, McKay, I'm alive.”
“Good, because I want to kill you myself. Are you hurt?” Rodney noticed John gripping his upper arm.
“Not really. Here, these are the keys to the dungeon. Go unlock the door and help them get the King out.”
“What do you mean 'Not really?' You're injured, right? How bad is it. Are you bleeding out?”
“No, McKay. I'm not bleeding out. I'm not even cut. Just bruised. Will you go help the King? Please?”
“If you're sure you're not going to die.”
“Just go, McKay.” Exhaustion colored John's voice.
Stung, Rodney took the keys and went to find Dex. John obviously neither wanted nor needed him, and Rodney was damned if he would hang around where he wasn't wanted.
~&~&~&~&~
With no one left in the castle except Elizabeth, it was no problem at all to get King Rodney safely to the palace in Strelsau. The hurricane of activity now swirled around the King, and Rodney found himself left mostly alone. If it hadn't been for the fact that Colonel Dex was still keeping him under wraps, he probably would have been ignored entirely.
Instead, he found himself shifted to a small suite with all the personality of a Marriott hotel room. At least someone had the courtesy to bring his things to the room, so he was able to shower and change into his own clothing. He couldn't shave - he didn't usually carry a razor in his kit - so Rodney guessed he'd be growing the beard back right away.
He left everything packed. They'd be wanting him gone soon enough, and he didn't want to be hanging around any more than absolutely necessary. Rodney sat in the woefully uncomfortable desk chair and made some notes of the ideas he hadn't been allowed to write down before. They'd come get him as soon as they remembered him.
It wasn't long before there was a knock on the door. It was Colonel Dex.
“Before you go, His Majesty would like to thank you for all you've done.”
“I should hope so. That's it, though, right? I get to go home after that?”
“Of course, Dr. McKay.”
Dex escorted him back to the royal apartments. The King was lying in bed, propped on pillows. He'd been cleaned up and bandaged and he looked a whole lot better than he did the last time Rodney saw him at Zenda.
When the King saw Rodney, he reached his hand out. They shook, and Rodney was reminded of the ring he still wore. He removed it, and was going to hold it out to the King, but the King extended his hand and Rodney took the hint and slipped the ring back on the King's finger.
“Yes. Well, ummm, wear it in good health.” Crap. Rodney was really bad at this sort of thing. What was he supposed to say? It was a privilege? Not so much. He'd tried not to dishonor it? Like King Rodney was respectful. Luckily, it seemed like the King had his own little speech memorized, and Rodney's participation was minor, if not totally insignificant.
“Cousin Rodney, I wanted to keep you with me, and tell everyone what you have done. You would have been my best and nearest friend. But Colonel Dex says the secret must be kept.”
And thank God for that. This was not something Rodney wanted showing up on his C.V. He couldn't decide if the whole nineteenth century adventure novel episode was something to be proud of or something to pretend had never happened, but his colleagues would laugh in his face if it ever got out. Secrecy was his friend.
“For once, Your Majesty, Dex is right. It's time to end this.”
“Yes, cousin, it's done. I don't know when I'll see you again...”
Never, if Rodney had his way. “I'm sure you can find me if you need me.”
“Yes, and thank you for all you have done for my country. You are the only one who could have done it.”
Rodney preened just a little. After all, he was the only one who could have carried it off, and he didn't do too badly, right?
Rodney turned to leave, then he thought he might actually be able to do one last favor for the country, and he turned back around.
“No, wait. I do have something to say. I noticed a lot of things while I was in your shoes, and yeah, I'm pretty dense when it comes to people, but even I can see that you're maybe not so hot running a country. So, here's something you can do for me, if you're really as grateful as you say you are. Listen to Princess Teyla, because she's really good at this leadership stuff.” Rodney would have also mentioned John, and how important it was that people stop treating him like cannon fodder, but he really didn't know how, so on that he said nothing.
Rodney's little speech was short, but the King was still injured, and by the time Rodney was done, the King was asleep. Rodney had no idea if he'd even been heard.
~&~&~&~&~
Rodney was staring out the parlor window toward the mountains, waiting for Dex to fetch him and send him home, when John walked into the room.
“McKay?”
“Hm?” The response was as slight as it could be without ignoring John outright. Rodney kept his attention on the distant crags.
John walked over and put his hand on Rodney's shoulder. “McKay?”
“Don't!” Rodney shifted to the side. “You don't get to touch me, Captain. I'm not even sure you get to talk to me.”
“McKay, please. Just look at me.”
“I don't really want to do that. Unless you're going to tell me my ride's here, you should probably go away.”
“Damn it, McKay! Would you at least let me explain?”
“I think you made things pretty clear. I'm an out-of-shape glory hound with delusions of adequacy, right? Well, you got your King back, and hey, you're still alive, thanks to yours truly, so it seems I may actually be adequate after all.”
“Jesus, McKay, will you please just let me explain.” John barely understood his own need, but he had to get McKay to listen. “Please,” he choked out.
The desperation must have come through, because finally Rodney turned and looked at John. John wondered what exactly he saw, because the distant expression on Rodney's face faded to something more sympathetic. OK, maybe not sympathetic, but certainly less aloof.
“Yes, all right. I can see you're miserable, and you definitely deserve it. Obviously you feel compelled to share your misery with me. So go ahead. Explain.”
Now that he had McKay's attention, John hesitated. What if he made things worse? Then he realized there was no worse. Either he managed to get McKay to understand and forgive his cruel words, or he didn't. Whichever it was, McKay was still leaving. The difference was, McKay left thinking John was an selfish scheming cad who used and manipulated people for fun, or he left realizing that John's motives were good, that all along he was thinking about McKay's safety, even though his execution sucked.
John knew which he wanted, so he gathered up his courage.
Rodney was still standing there, still watching John, arms crossed in the same defensive position they'd been that night. “Well? Waiting, here.”
“Look, when I said those things, I didn't mean them like they sounded.”
“Right.”
“Actually, you know what? I meant them to sound exactly the way they sounded. I just didn't mean them.”
“You want to try that again, this time making sense?”
“I said those things to keep you from being the guy who swam the moat. I had a bunch of other mean things lined up, too, in case those didn't work. And in case words didn't work at all, I was prepared to hit you over the head with the butt of my gun. That job was too dangerous, and you were too important to risk.”
“I'd already told you I wasn't going to be your ersatz king anymore. You had nothing to lose.”
“Nothing to lose?! How about your life?”
“Yeah? How about your life? I could have kept you from being hurt, which, if you remember, actually happened.”
“Don't change the subject. I didn't mean important to some plot, or to the country, you moron. I meant important to me!” How could someone so smart be so stupid?
“Oh.” Rodney looked blank for a minute, then he tilted his head and peered at John questioningly.
“Yes, oh, you idiot.”
“Oh.” Rodney repeated softly. He sat down on a nearby couch and looked away from John. His eyes flicked and he frowned slightly as he rearranged the world according to this new information. He suddenly turned back to John and asked, “This doesn't change anything, though, does it?”
“Of course it changes things! You stop hating me, for one.”
“No, I mean, practically. I'm still leaving, you're still staying. It doesn't change that.”
It was John's turn. “Oh.”
“Yes, oh.” Rodney didn't add 'you idiot,' but they both knew it was there. “So instead of a good mad, I get to leave knowing you really care, but I still can't have you. How is this better?” Rodney wasn't snarky or bitter, just sad.
John felt like a heel. Again. He was making quite the habit of breaking McKay's heart in a good cause. Maybe there was at least a way to show McKay that there were two hearts breaking here.
“Can I sit down?” John asked as he sat next to Rodney. Then he reached out a hand, “Do I get to touch you now, McKay?”
Rodney shifted so he was looking at John, and nodded. His eyes never left John's face as John reached over and placed his hands on Rodney's shoulders.
John's eyes flicked to Rodney's lips, then back up to meet Rodney's eyes. “Do I get to...?”
Rodney nodded again, and leaned forward to meet John in the middle.
It was everything John remembered, and more. The touch and taste of Rodney's mouth were intoxicating, and when his arms came up to circle John, one hand buried in John's hair, and the other roaming over John's back, John moaned. Rodney was murmuring his name against John's lips as they kissed, and the sweet desperation made John's throat close with unshed tears.
For his part, John just held on as tightly as he could. He opened his mouth in invitation and welcomed McKay's tongue, wishing they had time and privacy for more. He wished he'd had an opportunity to get everything. He wanted to open his entire self to McKay, to feel what McKay had felt when John had wrapped around him and moved inside him. The litany in his head went, more, it's not fair. I want more. I need more.
Underneath it all ran a current of despair. John cursed the circumstances that forced them to give this up, knowing how rare it was, and how unlikely he'd ever find it again.
Finally they broke apart. John watched as Rodney, wild-eyed and frantic, started babbling like he couldn't help it, like he was driven to find an answer, any answer, so that they wouldn't have to part.
“Look, I can't stay, we know that. But you could come with me. You'd love Canada. We could move to Vancouver. There are mountains there. You'd feel right at home. And the gay marriage law is going to pass soon...” Rodney stopped and swallowed. John watched him wince and look at the floor, hunching his shoulders like he was bracing for an attack.
“I can't, McKay.” John was very gentle, “You know I can't. This is my country, and he is my King. My place is here, and I have to stay, no matter how much I want to go with you. ”
“You want to...?”
“More than I can say. And maybe you should start working on being mad again, because the way I see it, that's worse than letting you think you mean nothing; no strings that way.”
“I see what you mean. This way...”
“Lots and lots of strings, yeah.”
They sat quiet for a while, holding hands and leaning against each other, just breathing in the other's presence, each one trying to absorb the sensations of being close.
Eventually Rodney stood up. “I'm gonna...'cause, you know, Dex is waiting...”
John still had hold of Rodney's hands, and he kept Rodney bent slightly, their faces still close. He let his eyes drop to Rodney's lips momentarily, but when he looked back up, Rodney just shook his head sadly.
John let go of Rodney's hands and clenched his into fists in his lap. He looked away and said. “Yeah. I know. So long, McKay.”
“John.”
John didn't look around, just repeated, “So long.”
Rodney turned and walked out of the room. He'd had enough of this country. It was time to go home.
Epilogue
Pairings: Primarily McKay/Sheppard with bits of Weir/Kolya, Wier/Zelenka, and Dex/Teyla
Total word count: 30665
Overall Rating: NC-17; this part R
Beta'd by the fabulous lamardeuse
The Prisoner of Zenda
Part 3
The three of them went to the hunting lodge the next day. There was a small flurry of activity in the morning while Dex checked Elizabeth's story, which none of them were going to trust blindly. Also, there were apparently a whole lot of post-coronation appointments and events. Rodney let Dex cancel everything. Sometimes it was good to be the King.
There was nothing to do at that point but wait. They traveled with the King's usual retinue of guards and servants, so they had to keep up the charade. Rodney managed to tone his flinch at being addressed as “Sire” and “Your Majesty” way down, though he really didn't like it when John said it. More annoying was that Rodney couldn't do anything the King ordinarily wouldn't. So, no catching up on his journals, no writing down the vital insights on his work, his real work, that popped into his conscious mind after days of unconscious mulling. He couldn't even go online to get his email.
And really, shouldn't he be writing down all the half-started ideas in his head? He'd been shot at, and might yet die. The world needed to know about this stuff, and here he was in a dead-animal-filled stone building, in mortal danger every moment, and he wasn't even allowed to think! This had all been such a bad idea. He was stuck in a nightmare.
The monotony was broken in late afternoon by a visit from Radek of Hentzau.
It was the first time Rodney had actually seen the man; it had been way too dark at the summer house. Somehow, he'd pictured someone more menacing. This short, slender man with the glasses and devil-may-care grin didn't look like he could be anyone's enforcer, much less Kolya's, who looked so much more threatening.
He gave fair warning of his approach, since he roared up on a vintage European motorcycle. Obviously a very skilled rider, he braked to a quick stop without throwing up even a single pebble. Rodney watched out the window as he hopped off and strode jauntily to the door of the lodge, asking to see the King, with a message from Prince Kolya. The guards did their job and wouldn't let him in without Colonel Dex's permission, which came only after Hentzau surrendered his gun.
Rodney thought it was ridiculous. All four of them in the room knew he wasn't the King, yet here he was, putting on accents and acting like an idiot. Oh well. They might as well get this over with.
“What does my brother say, Hentzau?”
“I am happy to tell you, Your Majesty. In private.”
Rodney glanced over at Dex, who nodded. Apparently Dex was of the “all data is good data” school, and wanted Rodney to probe for information. Rodney was not happy to go with Radek, even so far as across the room, but he was pleased to see John draw a gun and flick off the safety. At least he was covered.
Rodney was disappointed when all Radek had was a predictable repeat of Kolya's previous night's offer, doubled to half a million U.S. dollars. Rodney just looked at him like he was crazy.
“I knew you would not be interested, but Kolya tells me to ask, so I ask.” Radek shrugged philosophically.
“If that's all...”
“Oh, no, Dr. Actor. I have my own suggestion, since Kolya is so...unimaginative.” Radek drew closer on the window bench. “You and I, we are perhaps the only men in this little comedy worth saving, yes? So here is my plan. Attack the castle at Zenda, and let your military friends there take the lead. Kolya, he will surely fall. The King? You don't want to know. If your friends fall as well, is too bad, such gallant men. Then, you and I are the only ones who know the truth. I, Rupert Hentzau and you, king of the realm.”
“Aren't you being a little hard on Kolya?”
“Perhaps, but I do not like his jealousy.”
“Jealousy?”
“You have met her.”
“Oh, the summer house, where you and your friends had a shocking experience.”
Radek laughed, but it didn't reach his eyes. Rodney wondered how badly his men had been hurt, but it didn't seem the time to ask.
“She can't possibly prefer the Prince. Not with you around.”
“Of course not. But he has some hold on her, and I will free her.”
“Very noble of you. So, this-” Rodney waved a hand, “-is all about love?”
“Love, yes, and Your Majesty's gratitude through your long and happy reign. And, since Kolya's castles and estates will need supervision, it is only responsible to sign them over to one who will care for them.”
“You.”
“Me.” Radek favored Rodney with a brilliant smile.
“Hmm.” Rodney appeared to consider the idea. “You've thought of everything, Very clever scheme.”
“Just look at the offer - throne, princess, such a neat package.”
“Neat.” Rodney stood and moved away slightly, looking for all the world like he was seriously considering the offer. “Who could resist.”
“Who, indeed?” Radek smiled charmingly, looking sure of himself and of Rodney.
“Who, indeed,” Rodney murmured, walking away from Radek quickly, careful to stay out from between Radek and von Sheppheim's gun. “Colonel, you should hear this. Hentzau offers me the throne, that is if you two don't mind being killed...”
Radek's smile turned ugly, and, snarling “Their turn will come later, yours comes now!” he whipped a knife out of his sleeve and threw it at Rodney. In almost the same motion Radek spun and leapt out the open ground floor window. John surged forward, rushing to the window, but by the time he got there, Radek was on his motorcycle, kicking it to life and spinning out of the gravel drive. John fired a few wild shots, then gave it up and turned back to the room.
Rodney was frozen against the door jamb he'd been passing when Hentzau threw the knife. He'd turned at Radek's shout, so his back was against the wall. Out of the corner of his eye he could just see the still quivering knife handle, the blade buried hilt-deep in the hardwood molding. He swallowed, opened his mouth to speak, closed it, then opened it again. No words came.
“McKay!” John strode to his side and reached for Rodney, who grabbed his arm and held on tight like the lifeline it was.
“Von Sheppheim! This is the King!” Dex's reprimand came almost over top of John's cry of concern.
John's face twisted in frustration. “Sir,” he choked out, letting the colonel know he understood.
Gently leading Rodney to a wing chair and encouraging him to sit, he looked him in the eye. “Sire, are you all right?”
“Of course I'm not all right! Did you see how close that thing came to my head? I need my head! The world needs my head! There are Nobel-winning thoughts in this head, and that lunatic almost let them out by jamming a seven-inch knife right through my skull!”
John grinned and patted Rodney on the shoulder, saying, “Glad to see you're fine, Sire.”
Rodney found himself smiling back. Somehow, John had managed to convey that his comfort and concern were for Rodney, even though he called him by another man's title.
~&~&~&~&~
Radek went straight to Zenda. He was furious that both his plans had failed, and he needed to let off a little steam. He made his way to the dungeon, passing through the antechamber where two guards were playing cards and into the cell where a disheveled, injured King Rodney was shackled to an iron cot.
Radek was surprised to find Elizabeth nursing the King. Well, perhaps not so surprised. Radek was of the opinion that women could not help themselves - if someone needed care, they felt honor bound to provide it. But it didn't serve his purposes to have her around. He had business with the King. A little mockery, and Elizabeth was on her way, proud head held high. Sometimes people were so very easy to manipulate.
Which reminded Radek why he was here: a man who refused to be manipulated, even when it was in the fool's best interests. Maybe he could manipulate the man in front of him instead. King Rodney's best interests were so very simple these days.
“Water, please.” The King's voice was hoarse and full of pain.
Radek moved over to where the chained man could see him and smiled.
“Perhaps you should reconsider your request, Sire.” Radek emphasized the honorific sarcastically. “The water you get might not be the water you want.”
Radek reached down and pulled at a large iron ring on the floor, opening a heavy trap door. Looking around, he spotted the washcloth Elizabeth had been using to wipe the King's face. He held it up so that the King could see it.
“Listen carefully,” he said, and dropped the rag from shoulder height into the hole. A full four seconds passed before a very faint splash.
“That is the moat, Your Majesty. It is the deepest part of the moat. That poor rag might someday float to the surface, but it is not likely. If I had weighted the rag with chains, it would stay in the moat forever.” Radek closed the trap door with a thump and smiled at the King, touching his forehead briefly and flipping him a mocking salute. “I wish Your Majesty...pleasant dreams.”
When Radek left the King's prison, he was smiling. It is gratifying to be reminded of one's successes after a failure.
~&~&~&~&~
Prince Kolya, on his way to see his brother, scowled when he saw Radek leaving the cell. Hentzau was a loose cannon, always making his own plans, and Kolya didn't quite trust him.
“Why are you here? Don't your interests lie elsewhere in the castle?” Kolya knew Radek had designs on Elizabeth, but was confident she wouldn't stray - she had too much to lose.
Radek's response was flippant. “I just do my part to make the King more receptive," he said as he brushed by.
Kolya's scowl deepened as he let himself into the King's prison cell.
The King looked terrible. His wounds had not been cleaned, and they had been only roughly dressed. His eyes shone bright with fever. His clothing was torn and filthy. However, he still managed that supercilious tone that had grated at Kolya for his entire life.
“So, finally you show yourself.”
“Hello, brother. I see we've been a little lax in our hospitality. I'll be happy to speak to the staff about that. In fact, I can offer you a very comfortable bed for as long as you need it. There is a price for these things, though. If you would sign this,” Kolya unrolled a declaration of abdication, “I'll see to it right away.”
King Rodney weakly raised his shackled hands and pushed the paper away. It took him three tries before he could speak through his cracked lips, but when he did, what he said infuriated Kolya.
“I haven't lived like a king. Perhaps I can die like one. I'll not disgrace the crown I never wore."
The King turned his face to the wall, and didn't watch his half brother stride out of the room, his jaw clenched tight and his scarred face set in a mask of fury.
~&~&~&~&~
It was almost midnight when the word from Elizabeth finally came. A lone man, a servant at Kolya's castle at Zenda, arrived at the hunting lodge and was shown in to the room where Colonel Dex, Captain von Sheppheim, and Rodney waited. He came equipped not only with the matching earring, but with a map of the castle and a plan.
“I am to lower the drawbridge at two a.m.”
Dex was quick to point out a glaring problem. “But the noise! The King will be killed!”
“That is why before I lower the bridge one of your men must swim the moat and climb to Madame's room. Alone, one man might reach the dungeon. That man must hold off the guards until the others cross the bridge and get below.”
“Always two guards on the prisoner?” Dex asked.
“Two by day and two by night.”
“And no other men who can fight?”
“Only His Highness and Hentzau tonight.”
“Three against six. Tell Mademoiselle we will be waiting at two for her signal. One of us will swim the moat, the others will be waiting for you to lower the bridge.” Dex turned back to the map, effectively dismissing the man.
The servant nodded and left.
When he was gone, Rodney had to say it. “Three against six assumes a lot. More like two against six. I think I've proved I'm not a fighter. You're going to have to bring in more men.”
The colonel hesitated. “And let them in on the secret?”
John sided with Rodney. “McKay's right. The odds are too great. We have to have more help.”
Dex scowled, but had to acknowledge the point. “All right. Let them come. But we keep the details from them if we can.”
John nodded and continued, “I'll be the one to go into the castle.”
“Of course,” Dex agreed. “We don't want to lose both our kings.”
Rodney looked up sharply. “Hold it! Wrong on both counts!”
Both the military men stared at him.
He held up a finger. “OK, one. You don't have two kings. You have one. I can't keep this up, I have a life! God knows why I let you talk me into all this, but no matter what happens tonight, I'm done. And two.” Rodney held up a second finger and turned to John, “It's bad enough the colonel here thinks you're expendable. You aren't allowed to act that way. There's got to be someone else who can...”
“Like who, McKay? The colonel has to round up and lead the squad. We can't order someone else to do it without the word getting out. You? We all know you're not any kind of fighter.”
“Yes...but...What if I went with you. I'd be able to do some good. Watch your back. Something.” Rodney felt himself going frantic, babbling. John was going to get himself killed and Rodney couldn't stop him.
“Please, McKay. You'd just slow me down. You'd be worse than useless. I want my King alive, thank you. I'm not going to leave his fate to a glory-hound, out-of-shape physicist playing at heroism.”
Rodney felt like he'd been slapped. What the hell was going on? “It's not...I wasn't...Damn you, Jo...Captain, I was just trying to pro...” Rodney's protests stopped abruptly. “You know what? You're right. Rescuing kings isn't my job. I'll step aside now, and let the experts do it.” He crossed his arms tightly over his chest and fell silent, glaring furiously at John from under his furrowed brow.
“Good answer, McKay.” Did John just sneer at him? “In fact, maybe you should just stay here. I'm sure someone can come get you and escort you over the border in the morning.”
Rodney set his jaw and lifted his chin defiantly. “Not acceptable. You talked me into this, and I'm going to be there at the end. Besides, I may be out of shape, but I'm anything but an idiot. I may come in useful.”
Colonel Dex had kept out of the argument, but now he chimed in. “I agree. Dr. McKay will be with us at the bridge. I want you disguised, though. No need to advertise your existence if we don't have to.”
“Fine,” spat Rodney. “What's one more level of incognito among friends.”
“Fine.” John's acquiescence wasn't any more gracious than Rodney's.
“Fine,” concluded Dex tiredly.
~&~&~&~&~
By 1:45 they were on the moat's bank, poised, anticipating the signal. The trilling of frogs filled the air, masking the slight sounds they made while waiting.
Rodney wasn't needed for this, but he couldn't stay with Dex's squad of guards without every one of them knowing right away that the King had a double. Still stung by John's nasty comments, Rodney made a point to keep Dex between them, barely acknowledging the captain's existence, giving stiff nods and one-syllable answers whenever he couldn't avoid interacting with him.
A flash from a first floor window got their attention. It was the signal. John took off his jacket and reached to give it to Dex.
"Oh, yeah." John dug around until he found what he was looking for. "Here, McKay. I went back to the summer house and got this for you."
Rodney looked at the object. It was his multitool. He reached to take it back, then withdrew his hand.
"Keep it, Captain."
"McKay?"
"For now, keep it. It might come in handy, when you're doing your..." he waved a hand, "...heroic rescue thing. Works better after getting wet than a gun."
"Uh, thanks." John shoved the tool into his pocket. "And speaking of which..." he reached to the small of his back and pulled out the handgun he kept there. "You'd better keep this for me." He tried to hand it to Rodney.
"I told you before, I don't do guns."
"You don't have to fire it. I'm just asking you to hold it for me. C'mon McKay. The swim will only ruin it, and it's my favorite."
"Oh, all right." Rodney accepted the weapon, holding it properly, if gingerly and pointing it at the ground. "The safety's on, right?"
"No, it's off, because I like living with the possibility that I'll shoot my own ass off. Yes, McKay, the safety's on. See that thumb switch? no red dot, safety on. Flick the switch, red dot, safety off."
"Thank you, Captain. I understand the principle," Rodney replied frostily.
"Captain von Sheppheim!" Colonel Dex called John's attention back to the task at hand.
"Sir."
"She's signaling again. It's time for you to go."
"Yes, Sir." John sat down on the bank and slipped his feet into the water. Dex and Rodney each took an arm and lowered him the rest of the way to avoid any splash.
Rodney watched through field glasses as John swam the short distance to the castle. He saw Elizabeth and the servant lean down to help John into the window. Through the window he could see John drying off and slipping on a sweater. Elizabeth handed John something, probably a gun.
Through the binoculars, Rodney watched John slip out of sight through the door of Elizabeth's room, and wondered if he would see him alive again.
~&~&~&~&~
Radek of Hentzau was just coming out of his room when he heard a sharp metallic clang. He stopped and listened, but the sound was not repeated. God knows it could have been anything, but with things how they were, it needed to be looked into. When he got downstairs to the great hall, the first thing he noticed was light from Elizabeth's room, escaping through the cracks of a door left ajar.
It really wasn't wise for Elizabeth to leave her door open like that. Kolya employed some rough men, and they might take an unlocked door as an invitation. It was only polite that Radek check on Elizabeth, make sure she was safe, perhaps keep her company for a while.
Radek knocked on the door jamb as he entered the room, startling Elizabeth as she tried to read a book.
“Count Hentzau.”
Oh, Mademoiselle was icy tonight! Well, Radek did appreciate a woman who made him work. It made the winning so much sweeter.
“It was careless of you to leave your door open, dear lady. Very careless and very inviting.”
“You really should not be here, Count. His Highness would not want to find you in my rooms.”
“Then we will have privacy, and he will not find me unless you call him.” Radek stepped into the room and pushed the door closed behind him. “Will you call him, Elizabeth? Do you want him to find me here? Perhaps not. Do you fear his anger? Perhaps you fear for my safety. Or,” Radek stepped close to Elizabeth and turned her toward himself with a hand on her shoulder, dropping his voice intimately. “Perhaps you really do want me here.”
“I do not.” How strange. Kolya's mistress never let him get this close before. Her words rejected him, as usual, but she was allowing him move in close and touch. Radek wondered what else she would allow.
“You wound me. After all this time, you do not like me even a little bit? I have been so patient. And patience is a virtue I ordinarily lack.”
“You never lack for audacity, Count.” He was so close now he could smell her perfume; so close he could see the pulse fluttering in her throat when she turned her head away.
“You know what they say. Faint heart never won fair lady.” Radek took Elizabeth in his arms. “You are very fair.” He leaned in close and whispered in her ear, “What will it take to win you?”
Elizabeth shuddered in his arms, bringing one hand up to clasp his arm and laying the other lightly on his chest. Many women had surrendered to Radek of Hentzau, and he knew the signs. This was victory!
Radek was leaning down to claim his first kiss when the door burst open.
It was Black Kolya. He was in a fury - his fists were clenched, his jaw was set, and his eyes, always cold, were hard as flint. Radek stared brazenly at him, smirking slightly.
“I was only apologizing for your absence, Your Highness. You leave this treasure alone too often.”
Kolya's nostril's flared and he growled menacingly,“The moat can hold more than the King, Hentzau.”
“Is Your Highness threatening me?"
Radek's defiant response was calculated to inflame Kolya past the point of thought, and it must have worked. He leapt at Radek, clawed hands reaching for his neck.
The outcome should have been obvious. Kolya was much larger than Radek, and his fury lent him even more strength. But Radek was quick, and kept a cool head when he fought. He dodged Kolya's first rush, pushing past and ducking low under his arm. Radek danced away, giving himself time to reach for the concealed knife he was never without. When Kolya attacked again, Radek let him close. They grappled for a moment, then Kolya jerked and froze as Radek drove the knife deep, up under his ribs and into his heart.
Kolya's fingers loosened and he fell to the floor.
Elizabeth shrank back against the wall. A small whimper escaped her, and she froze as Radek turned to look at her. She was shivering against the cold stone and whispering to herself. Radek knew he had to calm her down before her quiet reaction turned into loud hysterics. He had just killed Black Kolya, and the longer it took for the prince's men to find out, the better it would go for Radek.
Radek approached Elizabeth slowly, murmuring soothing nothings. She watched him fearfully. Radek showed her his empty hands, trying to appear nonthreatening. He forgot that one hand, the hand that had wielded the knife, was covered in Kolya's blood. When Elizabeth saw this, she shrank back further, and her whispering grew to muttering, and Radek could understand what she was saying over and over.
“My fault. Pierre will die. I let them in, and they'll die too. My fault.”
Radek understood the meaning of this immediately. That sound, forgotten until now, meant that the King's men were here. They may already have started their rescue. With Kolya dead, all the blame would fall on Radek. He had to move fast if he was going to eliminate the evidence and stop the King's men from getting in. Forgetting Elizabeth, forgetting Kolya's body cooling on the floor, Radek rushed out of the room.
Just outside the door of Elizabeth's room Radek stopped and looked around the darkened great hall. In the gloom he could see that the main door was open, and there was someone tampering with the bridge mechanism. Moving silently, Radek came up behind Kolya's manservant, who was kneeling on the floor, struggling to untie the rope. He knew that the moment the bridge came down, the castle would be filled with the King's men, every one of them out for his blood. Radek wasn't interested in dying so soon. There on the floor was the metal handle for the bridge winch. Radek picked it up and swung it down with as much force as he could on the servant's head. That took care of that problem.
Radek realized that he could place even more obstacles between the King's men and himself. He called the two off-duty guards and set them outside the castle to guard the entrance. They might not be able to slow down a squad of soldiers, but any encounter would make some warning noise.
~&~&~&~&~
Unaware of the violent drama being played overhead, John crept down the stairs to the dungeon. He could find one of the guards without even looking by the man's off-key tuneless whistling. He was surprised the man's own partner hadn't killed him yet.
John was in luck - the two men were separate. He must have caught whistling boy on the way back from the can. John pulled himself into a dark recess in the stone wall of the dungeon and waited for the man to walk by, then clipped him hard behind the ear with the butt of his borrowed gun. The guard dropped like a stone, and John shoved him into the hiding spot. He would have liked to have tied the man up, but he could hear the second guard calling, and he had to get to the King before the other guard decided something was wrong and carried out his murderous orders.
Things didn't go as smoothly with the second guard. By the time John reached the antechamber, the man was already in the King's cell, leaning over the weakly struggling King. A trap door gaped open in the floor. John didn't know where it led, but it had to be the “never find the body” part of the threat. The rattle of iron chains implied locks and shackles and didn't these people realize this was the King?
John aimed his gun automatically, but couldn't shoot. Not with the guard so close to the King. Cursing under his breath, he jammed the gun into his waistband and reached for his boot knife. Which was gone. John knew he'd slipped it into place when he dressed for this, but it must have come out during the swim or the climb into the window. And didn't that just suck.
John reviewed his options quickly. He was going for his gun again when he remembered the multitool.
McKay is gonna kill me for this, he thought as he opened the knife blade.
Moving quietly across the antechamber and into the cell, John came up behind the unaware guard. Three things happened simultaneously. The King noticed John over the guard's shoulder, and his eyes went wide before he stepped up his struggles, the lock holding the shackles to the bedstead finally yielded to the guard's efforts, and John grabbed the guard's chin from behind with his left hand, yanked it up, and drew the blade in his right across the guard's throat.
There was a sickening gurgle as the guard collapsed forward. He would have landed on the King, but at the last minute John pushed, and his body hit the floor with a dull thud. In almost the same motion, John swung around and kicked the trap door shut. Then he turned to look at King Rodney, taking in his condition for the first time.
John was appalled. As far as he could tell, there wasn't a spot on the King that hadn't been bruised, bloodied, or scraped in some way. He was obviously ill, his hair was matted with dried blood, and it looked like he hadn't been fed his entire imprisonment.
“Sire? My God, Sire!” John fell to his knees beside the bed and touched the King's shoulder.
“John?” King Rodney's voice was barely audible, even in the quiet of the cell. His wrists were still chained together, and he raised them, searching for John.
“Here, Sire.” John offered one hand, which the King immediately grasped, and cast around for the keys the guard had dropped with the other. As soon as he had them, he unlocked the cuffs. The King's wrists were rubbed raw and bloody, and John hesitated to peel off the metal from where it was stuck to the skin. The thought of leaving the King in irons was more distressing, so John did what he had to to get them off, then wrapped King Rodney's wrists with strips torn from the bedding, which, though dirty, was marginally cleaner than any other cloth in the room.
John didn't want to leave the King, but as far as he knew there were four fighting men still in the castle, and he had neither heard nor seen his backup. At the very least, he had to safeguard the King until Dex's squad showed up to move the sovereign to safety and medical attention.
“Sire? I have to go, Sire.”
“No, John. Stay.” John could tell that the King was squeezing his hand as hard as he could.
“I wish I could, Sire.”
“I'm your king, John. I command you to stay.”
“Sire, Colonel Dex will have me up on charges if I don't make sure of your safety.”
“Colonel Dex is a hidebound martinet who inherited his father's fussiness when he inherited his position.”
John snorted softly. If the King could get cranky, perhaps he wasn't in as bad shape as he looked. “Yes, Sire. In this case, though, I agree with him. I've made you as comfortable as possible. Now I have to make you safe.”
King Rodney didn't let go, but it took no effort for John to break his grasp. Grabbing the ring of keys as he stood, he verified that the guard was actually dead, walked out, pulled the door closed behind him, and locked it.
Colonel Dex should have shown already. Something must have gone wrong with the drawbridge. With the King safely locked in, John turned to check out the situation. He didn't get far. At the foot of the stairs stood Radek of Hentzau, blocking John's way and pointing a gun right him.
“Ah, it is the King's toy soldier. I do not think His Majesty is strong enough to play. Unless you revived him with a kiss?”
“I have no idea what you're talking about. And when did you give up knives for pistols?”
“I left my knife in Kolya. He got in my way once too often.” Radek gestured with his gun. “That gun in your belt. Put it on the floor now.”
John complied.
“I'll take those keys, too.” Radek caught them neatly. “You got through both Betendorf and Gerich? My compliments.”
“I hear you're a hand-to-hand expert.” John spread his arms invitingly, hoping to coax Hentzau into evening the odds. “How about we make this more interesting?”
Radek only laughed at John's attempt to even the odds. “Face it, Captain. I'm not a gentleman...” Radek aimed his handgun at John. “I really am sorry.”
“Don't I get a last request?”
“What do you want? A blindfold? A last meal? I have neither on me.”
“I was thinking of a cigarette.”
“Captain, you don't smoke.”
“I thought I'd see what I was missing.”
Radek shook his head, amused. “Very well.” he could afford to be magnanimous. He dug his pack out and tossed it to John.
John caught it deftly and extracted a cigarette. “Lighter?”
Radek tossed that, too. This time, John fumbled, and it dropped on the floor between them.
“Sorry,” he grunted, and bent down as if to pick up the lighter. Then, staying low, John grabbed one of the heavy wooden chairs the guards had been using and slammed it straight into Radek.
The impact forced Radek's hands into the air, firing the gun uselessly before knocking it and the keys out of Radek's grasp. John reached for both the gun and the keys. He got the key ring, but missed the gun, accidentally kicking it and sending it skittering into a dark corner. Radek shoved the chair back at John, pushing him across the room. As he passed, John tried to scoop his own gun off the floor, but ended up knocking it into the one of the locked cells through the tray slot in the bottom of door.
John quickly shoved the keys into his pocket to free his hands. He noted that he still had the safely closed multitool, but didn't have time to pull it out and open it up. At this point it almost didn't matter. The odds had been leveled, and now at least John had a fair chance.
“Touché, Captain! It looks like you'll get your fight after all.” Radek settled his weight and grinned. Von Sheppheim still had to get past him and into the great hall to get to the drawbridge.
John charged. It was a crude move, but he had to get up those stairs, and that meant going through Hentzau. Radek was braced, and when John feinted one way, then tried to slip past the other side, Radek was ready.
As John went by, Radek grabbed his shirt and added momentum, making John stumble and crash headlong into the stairs. The captain caught himself on his hands, avoiding smashing his face into the stones, but the momentary distraction let Radek get an arm around his neck from behind. John grabbed that arm, leaned forward, and flipped Radek over his head and onto the stairway. He landed on his back with a grunt, and John scrambled over him and up the stairs, out of the dungeon and into the great hall.
Radek recovered quickly, and followed him into the hall.
“Stand your ground and fight, coward!” Radek wasn't even the slightest bit breathless, and seemed even to be enjoying the fight.
“He who fights and runs away, remember?” John wasn't exactly tiring, but he could feel it waiting in the wings.
“You're not going to get that drawbridge down. I just killed one man who tried that.”
“An unarmed man, of course.”
“Of course.”
John looked at the mechanism and realized he was going to have to cut the rope. That meant getting out the damned multitool again. He dug it out of his pocket and wished they made these things switchblade. One hand operation would be real nice right now.
Radek came after him, trying to herd him away from the drawbridge rope. John swung at the smaller man with the multitool wrapped in his fist. His blow split the skin over Radek's cheekbone, and John used the seconds while Hentzau was gauging the damage to get the knife blade open.
Now John was armed, and Radek wasn't. He came at Radek with the knife held low. Radek sidestepped and tripped John as he went by. John landed on the drawbridge rope, and slashed at it with the knife, but failed to cut all the way through. Radek grabbed him from behind and heaved, throwing John bodily away from the mechanism. John hit the floor awkwardly, landing on his elbow and jarring his arm. Suddenly holding on to the knife became a priority, especially since Radek was coming at him with the winch handle.
They both had weapons now. Radek only needed to keep John away from the rope, but John had to get that bridge open and defend against Radek - who was, of course, between him and the mechanism. Shit.
John got to his feet. Radek advanced, holding the bent metal bar loosely. Even in the dim light John could see where it was crusted with blood, hair and tissue from the poor servant Radek had killed.
A feint, a dodge, and a lunge had John back at the rope, though it earned him a glancing blow on his arm. Aiming for the weakened spot, he slashed the knife down on the rope once more. Success! The released winch began to spin wildly as the bridge came crashing down.
Radek came at John, trapped in the mechanism niche, with renewed fury. Part of John's brain registered shots outside and figured out where there other two guards had gone. All six opponents were accounted for. In a minute all the King's men would be rushing into the castle. John merely had to stay alive until they did.
Radek advanced, swinging the winch handle with bone-breaking force. The way John was cornered, one of those blows was going to connect sooner or later. He had to get out of there. Deciding he could minimize any injury by choosing which hit to take, John stepped into the next swing, arm raised, body pivoted, protecting his head but taking the hit on his triceps. Jesus that hurt! The blow reverberated along his arm and made him drop the multitool as he scrambled as fast as he could away from Radek.
Radek saw the knife go flying and went after it. Luckily for John, Radek tripped over the body of the servant he'd killed earlier and lost hold of the winch handle as he tried to keep his balance. Unluckily, Radek got the knife. At least this was a multitool blade, and not very well balanced. John didn't need to see Radek's knife throwing skills again.
Radek followed John across the room. John could tell it wasn't about the plot or the King anymore. Radek was out for his blood. If Dex and his men didn't get inside soon, Hentzau would gut him with that idiotic multitool.
Radek closed with John. It was down to a grappling contest now. John's height would have given him the advantage, except he could barely use his right arm. John could feel himself tiring. He didn't have much time.
Both men were too involved in their fight to notice when the doors crashed open and a swarm of soldiers rushed in.
~&~&~&~&~
Rodney burst into the great hall with the rest of the squad. Half of them followed Dex down to the dungeon and the King, and half went swarming through the castle, looking for anyone who might be hiding.
Rodney did neither. He was only interested in finding John. It didn't take him long to spot the two men struggling over a knife on the far side of the hall.
“Hey, wait a minute. That's my multitool! It's a tool, you idiots, not a weapon! What do you think you're doing?”
Rodney was no fight expert, but the way he saw it, it wasn't looking good for John. Radek had the upper hand, and suddenly the knife blade looked huge as it glinted in the light, poised high to come down on John's unprotected back the minute his arm, visibly trembling, lost strength.
“Oh, no. I don't think so. Not with my multitool.”
Rodney reached into his pocket and pulled out John's handgun. Images from every elementary mechanics book he ever read streamed through his mind - angles and trajectories and monkeys in palm trees, arcs and pool tables. Suddenly it was all relevant.
Rodney barely thought about the possibility of hitting John. If he didn't fire, John was dead. If he fired and hit John, it might kill him, it might not, and it might distract Hentzau long enough for something else to happen. If he fired and hit Hentzau, it would stop the fight and John would be saved. Statistically, firing the gun at Hentzau was the best thing to do. Rodney loved statistics.
Some sort of trance possessed Rodney as he smoothly flicked the safety off and raised the gun, aiming with one hand, bracing it with the other, elbows slightly bent to absorb the inevitable recoil. He sighted through the notch at Radek's torso. It was the biggest target, and who knows? He might even hit it.
Rodney squeezed the trigger and time slowed. Later he would swear he could see the bullet move through the air as it headed toward Hentzau's back - and missed.
It must not have missed by too much though, because he could see Hentzau flinch and duck a little; anticipating more bullets, probably. Rodney was trying to decide whether to shoot again when John kicked out and knocked the knife out of Hentzau's hand and across the room.
Rodney was sure it was his distraction that gave John his opportunity. And John thought he'd just get in the way. Hmph.
The kick must have been pretty powerful, because Radek grabbed his hand as if it were injured and jumped backwards to a safe distance. He glanced between John, who was slowly rising to come after him and Rodney, who had a gun. His face settled into its usual expression of sardonic amusement as he leapt onto the sill of a nearby open window.
“Gentlemen, my most hearty congratulations. I concede defeat. You win!”
With that, Radek of Hentzau bowed slightly, turned, and gracefully dove off the window ledge into the moat.
Rodney stood blinking for only a moment, then he shook himself and ran across the room to where John sat on the floor.
“Captain, you'd better still be alive!” Rodney helped John to lean against a nearby wall.
“Yeah, McKay, I'm alive.”
“Good, because I want to kill you myself. Are you hurt?” Rodney noticed John gripping his upper arm.
“Not really. Here, these are the keys to the dungeon. Go unlock the door and help them get the King out.”
“What do you mean 'Not really?' You're injured, right? How bad is it. Are you bleeding out?”
“No, McKay. I'm not bleeding out. I'm not even cut. Just bruised. Will you go help the King? Please?”
“If you're sure you're not going to die.”
“Just go, McKay.” Exhaustion colored John's voice.
Stung, Rodney took the keys and went to find Dex. John obviously neither wanted nor needed him, and Rodney was damned if he would hang around where he wasn't wanted.
~&~&~&~&~
With no one left in the castle except Elizabeth, it was no problem at all to get King Rodney safely to the palace in Strelsau. The hurricane of activity now swirled around the King, and Rodney found himself left mostly alone. If it hadn't been for the fact that Colonel Dex was still keeping him under wraps, he probably would have been ignored entirely.
Instead, he found himself shifted to a small suite with all the personality of a Marriott hotel room. At least someone had the courtesy to bring his things to the room, so he was able to shower and change into his own clothing. He couldn't shave - he didn't usually carry a razor in his kit - so Rodney guessed he'd be growing the beard back right away.
He left everything packed. They'd be wanting him gone soon enough, and he didn't want to be hanging around any more than absolutely necessary. Rodney sat in the woefully uncomfortable desk chair and made some notes of the ideas he hadn't been allowed to write down before. They'd come get him as soon as they remembered him.
It wasn't long before there was a knock on the door. It was Colonel Dex.
“Before you go, His Majesty would like to thank you for all you've done.”
“I should hope so. That's it, though, right? I get to go home after that?”
“Of course, Dr. McKay.”
Dex escorted him back to the royal apartments. The King was lying in bed, propped on pillows. He'd been cleaned up and bandaged and he looked a whole lot better than he did the last time Rodney saw him at Zenda.
When the King saw Rodney, he reached his hand out. They shook, and Rodney was reminded of the ring he still wore. He removed it, and was going to hold it out to the King, but the King extended his hand and Rodney took the hint and slipped the ring back on the King's finger.
“Yes. Well, ummm, wear it in good health.” Crap. Rodney was really bad at this sort of thing. What was he supposed to say? It was a privilege? Not so much. He'd tried not to dishonor it? Like King Rodney was respectful. Luckily, it seemed like the King had his own little speech memorized, and Rodney's participation was minor, if not totally insignificant.
“Cousin Rodney, I wanted to keep you with me, and tell everyone what you have done. You would have been my best and nearest friend. But Colonel Dex says the secret must be kept.”
And thank God for that. This was not something Rodney wanted showing up on his C.V. He couldn't decide if the whole nineteenth century adventure novel episode was something to be proud of or something to pretend had never happened, but his colleagues would laugh in his face if it ever got out. Secrecy was his friend.
“For once, Your Majesty, Dex is right. It's time to end this.”
“Yes, cousin, it's done. I don't know when I'll see you again...”
Never, if Rodney had his way. “I'm sure you can find me if you need me.”
“Yes, and thank you for all you have done for my country. You are the only one who could have done it.”
Rodney preened just a little. After all, he was the only one who could have carried it off, and he didn't do too badly, right?
Rodney turned to leave, then he thought he might actually be able to do one last favor for the country, and he turned back around.
“No, wait. I do have something to say. I noticed a lot of things while I was in your shoes, and yeah, I'm pretty dense when it comes to people, but even I can see that you're maybe not so hot running a country. So, here's something you can do for me, if you're really as grateful as you say you are. Listen to Princess Teyla, because she's really good at this leadership stuff.” Rodney would have also mentioned John, and how important it was that people stop treating him like cannon fodder, but he really didn't know how, so on that he said nothing.
Rodney's little speech was short, but the King was still injured, and by the time Rodney was done, the King was asleep. Rodney had no idea if he'd even been heard.
~&~&~&~&~
Rodney was staring out the parlor window toward the mountains, waiting for Dex to fetch him and send him home, when John walked into the room.
“McKay?”
“Hm?” The response was as slight as it could be without ignoring John outright. Rodney kept his attention on the distant crags.
John walked over and put his hand on Rodney's shoulder. “McKay?”
“Don't!” Rodney shifted to the side. “You don't get to touch me, Captain. I'm not even sure you get to talk to me.”
“McKay, please. Just look at me.”
“I don't really want to do that. Unless you're going to tell me my ride's here, you should probably go away.”
“Damn it, McKay! Would you at least let me explain?”
“I think you made things pretty clear. I'm an out-of-shape glory hound with delusions of adequacy, right? Well, you got your King back, and hey, you're still alive, thanks to yours truly, so it seems I may actually be adequate after all.”
“Jesus, McKay, will you please just let me explain.” John barely understood his own need, but he had to get McKay to listen. “Please,” he choked out.
The desperation must have come through, because finally Rodney turned and looked at John. John wondered what exactly he saw, because the distant expression on Rodney's face faded to something more sympathetic. OK, maybe not sympathetic, but certainly less aloof.
“Yes, all right. I can see you're miserable, and you definitely deserve it. Obviously you feel compelled to share your misery with me. So go ahead. Explain.”
Now that he had McKay's attention, John hesitated. What if he made things worse? Then he realized there was no worse. Either he managed to get McKay to understand and forgive his cruel words, or he didn't. Whichever it was, McKay was still leaving. The difference was, McKay left thinking John was an selfish scheming cad who used and manipulated people for fun, or he left realizing that John's motives were good, that all along he was thinking about McKay's safety, even though his execution sucked.
John knew which he wanted, so he gathered up his courage.
Rodney was still standing there, still watching John, arms crossed in the same defensive position they'd been that night. “Well? Waiting, here.”
“Look, when I said those things, I didn't mean them like they sounded.”
“Right.”
“Actually, you know what? I meant them to sound exactly the way they sounded. I just didn't mean them.”
“You want to try that again, this time making sense?”
“I said those things to keep you from being the guy who swam the moat. I had a bunch of other mean things lined up, too, in case those didn't work. And in case words didn't work at all, I was prepared to hit you over the head with the butt of my gun. That job was too dangerous, and you were too important to risk.”
“I'd already told you I wasn't going to be your ersatz king anymore. You had nothing to lose.”
“Nothing to lose?! How about your life?”
“Yeah? How about your life? I could have kept you from being hurt, which, if you remember, actually happened.”
“Don't change the subject. I didn't mean important to some plot, or to the country, you moron. I meant important to me!” How could someone so smart be so stupid?
“Oh.” Rodney looked blank for a minute, then he tilted his head and peered at John questioningly.
“Yes, oh, you idiot.”
“Oh.” Rodney repeated softly. He sat down on a nearby couch and looked away from John. His eyes flicked and he frowned slightly as he rearranged the world according to this new information. He suddenly turned back to John and asked, “This doesn't change anything, though, does it?”
“Of course it changes things! You stop hating me, for one.”
“No, I mean, practically. I'm still leaving, you're still staying. It doesn't change that.”
It was John's turn. “Oh.”
“Yes, oh.” Rodney didn't add 'you idiot,' but they both knew it was there. “So instead of a good mad, I get to leave knowing you really care, but I still can't have you. How is this better?” Rodney wasn't snarky or bitter, just sad.
John felt like a heel. Again. He was making quite the habit of breaking McKay's heart in a good cause. Maybe there was at least a way to show McKay that there were two hearts breaking here.
“Can I sit down?” John asked as he sat next to Rodney. Then he reached out a hand, “Do I get to touch you now, McKay?”
Rodney shifted so he was looking at John, and nodded. His eyes never left John's face as John reached over and placed his hands on Rodney's shoulders.
John's eyes flicked to Rodney's lips, then back up to meet Rodney's eyes. “Do I get to...?”
Rodney nodded again, and leaned forward to meet John in the middle.
It was everything John remembered, and more. The touch and taste of Rodney's mouth were intoxicating, and when his arms came up to circle John, one hand buried in John's hair, and the other roaming over John's back, John moaned. Rodney was murmuring his name against John's lips as they kissed, and the sweet desperation made John's throat close with unshed tears.
For his part, John just held on as tightly as he could. He opened his mouth in invitation and welcomed McKay's tongue, wishing they had time and privacy for more. He wished he'd had an opportunity to get everything. He wanted to open his entire self to McKay, to feel what McKay had felt when John had wrapped around him and moved inside him. The litany in his head went, more, it's not fair. I want more. I need more.
Underneath it all ran a current of despair. John cursed the circumstances that forced them to give this up, knowing how rare it was, and how unlikely he'd ever find it again.
Finally they broke apart. John watched as Rodney, wild-eyed and frantic, started babbling like he couldn't help it, like he was driven to find an answer, any answer, so that they wouldn't have to part.
“Look, I can't stay, we know that. But you could come with me. You'd love Canada. We could move to Vancouver. There are mountains there. You'd feel right at home. And the gay marriage law is going to pass soon...” Rodney stopped and swallowed. John watched him wince and look at the floor, hunching his shoulders like he was bracing for an attack.
“I can't, McKay.” John was very gentle, “You know I can't. This is my country, and he is my King. My place is here, and I have to stay, no matter how much I want to go with you. ”
“You want to...?”
“More than I can say. And maybe you should start working on being mad again, because the way I see it, that's worse than letting you think you mean nothing; no strings that way.”
“I see what you mean. This way...”
“Lots and lots of strings, yeah.”
They sat quiet for a while, holding hands and leaning against each other, just breathing in the other's presence, each one trying to absorb the sensations of being close.
Eventually Rodney stood up. “I'm gonna...'cause, you know, Dex is waiting...”
John still had hold of Rodney's hands, and he kept Rodney bent slightly, their faces still close. He let his eyes drop to Rodney's lips momentarily, but when he looked back up, Rodney just shook his head sadly.
John let go of Rodney's hands and clenched his into fists in his lap. He looked away and said. “Yeah. I know. So long, McKay.”
“John.”
John didn't look around, just repeated, “So long.”
Rodney turned and walked out of the room. He'd had enough of this country. It was time to go home.
Epilogue