AU Week 2: The Guild (1/2)
Title: The Guild
Author: leesa_perrie and jane_perry
Genre: AU
Prompt Weird Science
Word Count: 12,334
Rating: PG-13
Warnings: None
Summary: Kidnapped and experimented on, Rodney McKay is lost, alone and in pain, with no hope of rescue or escape - or so he believes...
Notes: Thank you to Jayne Perry for once again rescuing me! She helped me to work out a few plot holes and also wrote a few scenes I was stuck on. Without her help, this fic would still be lingering in my WIP folder.
Guild - 1. an organization of persons with related interests, goals, etc., esp. one formed for mutual aid or protection.
Chapter One: Lab Rat
Rodney McKay had never been so afraid in his life before. He'd been kidnapped from his home three, four or more days ago - it was hard to keep track of time - by masked gunmen, and then drugged and transported to here, wherever here was. Since then, he'd been x-rayed, scanned and had his blood taken, amongst other tests and examinations.
He was being studied like an intriguing lab rat, unable to fight them as he was restrained to a hospital gurney by straps over his ankles, calves, thighs, chest, wrists, arms and forehead - ensuring his ability to move was severely curtailed. When he wasn't in the lab, he was frog-marched to his cell by thugs armed with tasers - well, cell was rather a grand term for the cage that they pushed him into. It was little larger than a closet, with bars all around that gave him no privacy, especially as he was constantly watched.
The lack of privacy had been humiliating at first, but right now it was the least of his concerns. He'd been escorted back to the lab yet again, and securely strapped down once there. Behind him, he could hear them talking - their voices lowered to a hushed whisper that somehow still managed to carry to his ears.
"We've finished the tests," a man's voice stated. "Everything looks to be within the parameters that we need."
"Good," a woman's voice answered. "Time to move onto the first stage of the experiment."
That word - experiment - was terrifying. Visions floated through his mind, all of them bad, bad and even more bad. He pulled at the straps, knowing it was futile, but fear gripped him, sending him into panic. He wanted out of this place - out, out, out!
But there was no escape for him, and no one coming to his rescue. No one to even notice he was missing, and certainly no one to care if they did.
When the doctor, researcher, or whatever she called herself appeared beside him, his struggles became frenzied and wild. He cried out in fear, thrashing against the straps holding him down.
"Don't do this, don't hurt me."
He was ashamed of his pleas and the fear he couldn't hide. It didn't do him any good anyway, as the woman ignored him, injecting him with a pale blue liquid.
"What is that? What are you doing to me?"
She didn't answer, merely watched with cold eyes, waiting.
And then there was pain. Agonising pain that swamped his nerves with a white heat that wouldn't lessen. Screams rent the air - his own he realised - screaming in pain and fear until his voice gave out and he felt like he was drowning in fire and pain and hurt.
But even when his voice was gone, still he screamed - silent screams, as the fire flickered on, relentless. He writhed against the restraints, his skin reddening where the straps rubbed against him. Distant voices noted his vitals with unfeeling calmness, and hours seemed to pass - though time had lost all meaning to him - but finally the fire started to cool, the pain to recede and he wept in relief.
Shaken and shaking, he was aware of more blood being taken and stats being discussed. And then the straps were removed and two burly guards grabbed him, pushing him into a wheelchair as he was too weak to stand.
They took him back to his cell, his cage, where he curled up on the poor excuse of a bed - a thin mattress on the floor that was doing nothing for his bad back - to try and sleep and not think about the next experiment.
It didn't work.
------------------------------
It had been a sunny day in Colorado Springs but now, at last, the heat was abating. Lieutenant Colonel John Sheppard stood and stretched, easing tired muscles. He'd been working on his newly acquired 1947 Indian Chief for most of the day, hiding from the sun inside his garage - if not from the heat - and now decided it was time to have a shower, grab a beer, order in a pizza and settle down to a college football game.
He had just entered his home when the phone rang. Sighing in annoyance, he decided to ignore it. The shower was calling him and they could leave a message if it was important. The phone stopped ringing as he slipped off his t-shirt, but no message was left.
Couldn't have been important, he thought to himself, even while wondering idly who it had been.
"John, please answer the phone."
Teyla's voice resounded in his head unexpectedly, causing him to jump in shock. Damn it, he was never going to get used to her telepathy.
The phone began ringing again. Rubbing a hand across his brow, he went back downstairs and answered the call.
"This is my day off, you know," he protested, albeit mildly. He knew it must be something important - well, it had better be! - but damn it, he'd been looking forward to a relaxing evening.
"Sorry, John," Elizabeth, his boss, answered him, sounding tense rather than apologetic. "We have an emergency."
"You want me to come in? Teyla could have told me that..."
"No, I wanted to brief you on the situation myself, you know how using her telepathy over long distances tires her. She's just left with Ronon and Carson to pick you up, they should be with you in about thirty minutes."
"Okay. So, what's up?"
"Our contact at the NID received information from an agent inside The Foundation for Genetic Advancement. There is a small group of them conducting experiments on an enhanced person not far from here."
"And we're going to rescue the enhanced person?" John said, not able to hide the deep anger and hatred welling up inside of him. Those bastards had killed his mother in the name of research six months ago, and the only reason he had survived was because the newly formed Guild had rescued him. The ones directly responsible for his mother's death had been dealt with, and he was glad that illegal experimenting on humans (or aliens, though the general populace was unaware of their existence as yet) was treated the same as predetermined murder.
Though that had been little comfort to him at the time, or now even. Nor was the fact that they hadn't started their experiments on him, having decided to concentrate on his mother first. He still had nightmares of watching her suffer, wishing it was him instead, but being unable to help her.
"Yes," Elizabeth said, and he could hear the sympathy in her voice even if she didn't put it into words - something for which he was grateful for. The anger helped to keep the grief at bay and being consoled was the last thing he needed right now.
"Tell me what you know."
"The person in question is a Dr Meredith McKay, an astrophysicist who, according to the NID agent, the Foundation have been watching for several months. His job was terminated recently, and as he lives alone, it seems they decided this was a good time to take him. Certainly no one has reported him missing as yet."
"Any idea what his ability is?"
"According to his medical files he has gills as well as lungs, which enable him to breathe underwater."
"Not heard of that one before," John said, but not sounding too surprised. They were often coming across new genetic mutations. Most were able to live reasonably normal lives, others were recruited to one of the military contingents, while others were recruited either to the Stargate Program or, more recently, to the Guild. Criminals, of course, were placed in special jails, designed to keep in even the most tricky of 'enhanced people' in.
Mutants, freaks, genetic mistakes; he'd heard them all, and worse, but the government preferred its more politically correct term. Personally, he believed himself to be a freak of nature, and no amount of counselling would change his mind on that.
"No, not one we've run across before," Elizabeth agreed. "And one that can be easily hidden, depending on where the gills are situated. The NID have spoken to some of his former co-workers and none of them were aware of his enhancement."
"Kept it a secret, but the Foundation found out and decided to target him, poor bastard." John hoped that the Foundation hadn't gone beyond taking some base readings, otherwise who knew what they might have done to the guy? "Whereabouts are we heading?"
"A mansion situated in a secluded area about ten miles outside of Burlington. It's rented under the company name 'TA Pharmaceuticals'. You should arrive there at dusk."
"Right. Standard procedure I presume - recovery of the victim, capture of the personnel and recovery of their data, if possible. In that order of priority."
"Yes, the usual. Take care."
"I will," he replied before ending the call. Moving quickly, he headed to the bathroom. He had just enough time to have a shower before his ride arrived, so long as he was fast.
------------------------------
John, fresh from his hurried shower, was waiting on the porch when the van pulled up in front of his home. The side door of the van slid open.
"Hey," Ronon greeted him from inside the van.
"Hey," John replied, climbing into the van and sitting down next to Carson. "Who's driving?"
"Sergeant Stackhouse," Teyla told him. "We will meet up with Major Lorne and his team when we get closer."
"Good." John nodded, they were good people. Stackhouse was normally part of an offworld team, but often helped out if available. He had the ability to freeze anything he wanted to, to whatever temperature suited his needs. Major Lorne was also part of the Stargate Program, with his own team. Lorne was the opposite to Stackhouse, able to warm things up to whatever temperature he wanted. His other team members weren't enhanced people, but they were solid and dependable nonetheless.
He pored over the building blueprint that Teyla had handed him, mapping out the mansion and working out a plan of attack. He was always amazed at how much information the Guild had access to - amazed, but also grateful, as it made his task much easier.
"Doc, you coming in with us or sitting this one out?" Sheppard asked. He could see that Carson was nervous, but also knew that Carson was capable of overcoming his fear if he felt he needed to. Still, John wouldn't hold it against him if he chose to sit this one out.
"Ach, you might need me to be on hand for the poor bugger they've got in there. No saying what they might have done to him."
"Okay, doc. You're with Teyla. I'll send Stackhouse and Smith in with you." Lieutenant Smith was one of Lorne's team, the other two being Sergeant Markham, an experienced marine, and Dr Miller, a computer geek extraordinaire.
"Ronon, you're with me. We'll take Lorne, Markham and Miller in with us."
Ronon nodded his assent.
"The Intel we received says the rooms we're looking for are in the basement," Teyla informed him.
"Okay," John said, looking at the blueprints carefully. "Teyla, you and your group take the entrance to the left here. I'll take my team in from the back entrance and head down this staircase. That way we have one group coming at them from the left and one from the right."
"So they have no way to escape," Teyla said.
"Yes."
They continued planning as the van took them to their destination, hoping to cover all possible contingencies, anxious to make sure the mission went well.
------------------------------
Rodney shivered in the restraints, the pain receding slowly. This was the third time they'd injected him with the blue liquid. The third time his body had reacted with intense pain for what seemed like forever, before gradually subsiding. Hours of pain followed by a few of rest, followed by tests and then another injection.
Behind him the scientist recorded her observations. The bitch didn't care about his pain, only about the results. Whenever she looked at him, her eyes were cold and calculating, making him wish she'd look away.
Behind him, hidden from his view, he heard someone enter the room and ask her for a progress report.
"The scans of the subject's brain are showing a slight alteration. We believe a mental ability is starting to manifest itself, but so far it is very weak, possibly too weak for the subject to be aware of or use. However, each time the injection is given, the scans show further development. Over time, we believe the ability will strengthen."
"Is there a way to increase the efficiency of the serum?" the man asked.
"Richards is working on it, but it will take time."
"What about the pain? We can't subject our enhanced friends to that."
"No, of course not. We're concerned that any pain medication or anaesthesia may interfere with the serum, either adversely affecting the subject, possibly harming or killing him, or else slowing down the serum's effectiveness even more. We wish to track the serum's ability to alter the subject further, maybe another three or four injections, before introducing any possible complications pain relief may cause."
"Hmm. Can you speed up the process? One injection every fourteen hours seems a little over cautious to me."
"We need to give the subject time to recover or risk weakening him too greatly, potentially causing his heart to give out on us. We also need time to gather the data we need from tests and scans." The woman sighed. "But perhaps we are being a little too cautious. I'll speak to the Richards, we may be able to give the subject an injection every, say, ten hours instead? It would help if we had another subject too."
"It's hard to find suitable subjects - you know they need to be isolated enough not be missed for a while. However, I'll see what I can arrange."
"That would be good."
Rodney didn't hear any more as he was released from the restraints by two of the guards and roughly manhandled into the wheelchair. The pain flared up again at the mistreatment, swamping his thoughts until he was back in his cage, lying on his side and curled up as best as he could. As the pain receded to a dull roar, his mind started to process the information he'd overheard. It was the first time anyone had talked about what they were doing to him while he was present, and it sent chills down his spine.
The idea that they were trying to stimulate another mutation within him, a mental one at that, was scary enough without hearing that it was working, albeit slowly. He didn't want another mutation, didn't really want the one he had but had grown used to - well, used to hiding. He'd learned early on in his life that it was better to hide his gills, because no one wanted a freak. Hell, his parents had taken one look at their newborn child and walked away, leaving him to be cared for by the state.
He supposed he'd been lucky in some ways. The home he'd grown up in had been well maintained, and the people who ran it seemed to care - when they weren't too busy or harried to spend time with him, which all too often they were. It was hard watching other kids being fostered or adopted while he was left behind. He knew it was because he was a freak - something he was never allowed to forget by those kids that knew. So he learned to hide his gills - though not his intellect! He wouldn't hide that, even when it made things difficult for him at school.
When he was fourteen he'd tracked his parents down, not sure what to expect, but not really surprised to find hatred and loathing. He still couldn't work out what had possessed him to do that. But it didn't matter - he ignored the part of him that said it did, that it hurt to be rejected - he was better than them. His intelligence got him a full scholarship to college and he earned his first doctorate within four years, his second a year later.
Of course, people were jealous of his intellect, something he knew that all too well. His so-called friends usually wanted something from him in return for pretend friendship, dropping him when they had what they wanted - or discovered they weren't going to get it.
It was better to remain alone.
Only it appeared that remaining alone had gotten him into this mess. There was no one to report him missing. Not one person to notice or care.
He shivered again. More injections, at least three, possibly four, without any kind of pain relief. And even when, or if, they introduced pain meds, it could make him ill, harm him, kill him even.
Maybe that wouldn't be so bad. It'd be better than this; being experimented on, tortured for the sake of medical advancement.
Part of him hoped for death, but most of him wasn't there yet. Most of him still wanted to live, to escape, though he had no idea how.
Huddled in his cage, he tried to take his mind off his predicament and the painful future he faced by working out long complicated equations, thinking up new theories, designing computer programs - anything that kept his mind distracted.
It didn't really work all that well, but he tried.
Chapter Two: Rescue Mission
They parked the van off the road, hidden in trees about a mile from the mansion's grounds. Major Lorne and his team arrived shortly after them in another nondescript van and parked nearby.
The mansion's security was not as tight as it could be, but John supposed the Foundation didn't want to attract undue attention with high tech systems on display. It was set inside heavily wooded grounds, only the last fifty metres or so were treeless, and even then there were shrubs to hide behind for much of the way. If he had been running a place like this he would have cleared much of the bushes and trees, and could only suppose that the place hadn't been used for nefarious activities until recently. Either that, or the Foundation was getting sloppy and overconfident.
They entered as one team, making their way through the wood carefully and quietly. Part way in, Ronon stiffened and used a hand signal for everyone to stay still, his enhanced senses having picked something up.
"Dogs," he growled softly. "Can smell and hear them over that way." He pointed slightly to the right of them, before striding off in that direction.
Sheppard nodded, letting Ronon get several metres in front of them before signalling the team to follow. Teyla took the lead, using her empathic ability - that allowed her to pinpoint people accurately - to track Ronon, and several minutes later they caught up with him.
Ronon was on the ground, fussing one of the four very docile looking Dobermans, who were feeding from his hand - literally. The Satedan's ability to calm and control even the wildest of animals always amazed Sheppard, and could come in extremely useful at times like this.
"Food's drugged," Ronon informed them, keeping his voice low as the dogs slowly closed their eyes. "They'll sleep for hours now."
"Any more?"
"No. At least, not that I can hear or smell."
"Okay. Teyla, take your group and head for your assigned target. Radio silence unless it's an emergency."
The teams split up, heading into the gathering darkness.
------------------------------
Teyla made sure that Carson was sandwiched between herself and Stackhouse, with Smith covering their six. She used her empathy to locate the enemy inside the house, but pulled back from reading emotions as that would tire her unnecessarily. It seemed that the household were situated within a small area, most likely the labs she and her team were targeting. Nine people, and one of them would be Dr McKay. She would be able to distinguish him from the others as she got closer.
Stackhouse froze the lock of the door, causing the metal to turn brittle and crack, enabling him to break the lock with the butt of his gun. Teyla was worried that the people inside would hear the noise, but her senses told her no one was coming to investigate. She carefully pushed the door open, making sure not to make contact with the remnants of the handle or lock, knowing that they would be cold enough to badly burn her if she did. Walking down the hallway, the door that led down to the underground corridor and labs was easy to locate. Stackhouse soon had that open as well.
Teyla put up her hand to stop everyone before they entered the stairwell, having sensed the presence of a person approaching below. Had he heard the lock breaking? Carefully, she extended her empathy. No, it seemed he had other things on his mind. She pulled her empathy back and they waited for him to come closer, pulling the door too so that he would not, hopefully, notice any problem with it.
Fortunately the man didn't notice anything amiss and entered a room just before the stairwell. She led her team down the stairs, to the door of the room the man had entered, and indicated that Smith and Stackhouse position themselves on either side of the door of the room.
The sound of a toilet flushing was soon heard, causing Smith and Stackhouse to share a grin and a moment of mimed juvenile humour. But they were ready for the man as he left the restroom, quickly and silently overpowering him. Carson injected the man with a sedative, before Stackhouse and Smith tied him up and left him in the restroom. All of this was done in a practised silence.
Telya led them down the corridor, expanding her empathy again and reading the emotions of those she could sense. A strong feeling of pain, fear, desperation and despair hit her and she had to close her eyes to help steady herself against the onslaught. She narrowed the feeling down to a room two doors away, and then pulled back quickly to save energy that she needed for her telepathy now.
"From our position, Dr McKay is being held two doors down. Two guards are with him," she informed both teams and John. " Three doors down and around the corner from us there is a room with five more people inside. No others, except the one we just took down. My team will wait outside the second room were Dr McKay is being held. Once I sense we are all in position, I will give the command for both teams to go in. If that is alright, Colonel, click the radio once."
Hearing a click, she nodded to her team to get into position. She hoped she didn't need to use her telepathy for more than giving the 'go' command - she was tiring rapidly.
------------------------------
John led his team to their point of egress and Major Lorne used his enhancement to melt the lock - only in doing so, he also melted a fair bit of the metal door as well. John rolled his eyes as Lorne gave him a sheepish grin and a shrug of the shoulders.
Being careful not to burn themselves on the molten metal, and grateful that the hallway and surroundings were solid brick and stone, they entered the kitchen area. Ronon took point, using his enhanced hearing and smell to warn of any people close by.
It didn't take long to find the back stairwell down to the lab area, and this time Sheppard stopped Lorne before he could try to melt the lock - the door was made of wood and would most likely catch fire - falling back on his black ops training from many years ago and picking the lock instead. Something he hated doing, as it was fiddly and took more time than he liked.
They paused at the top of the steps as Teyla contacted them with the locations of people inside the mansion along with her plan of action. Clicking his radio once in acknowledgement, they stealthily moved into position, glad that the corridor turned another corner before reaching the room they were targeting, giving them some protection.
He waited for Teyla.
------------------------------
Teyla gave the command to go, and she and her team burst into the room, taking down the first guard before he even knew what was happening and the second before he could return fire. Hearing firing from around the corner, Teyla resisted the urge to find out how things were going, instead motioning Carson into the room, and then standing guard at the door.
Carson approached the cell - or cage, he amended in his head - slowly and carefully, not making any sudden moves that might further terrify the frightened man before him.
------------------------------
Rodney had nearly had a heart attack when the fierce looking woman had entered the room and killed the two guards. He'd slammed himself into the bars at the back of the cage, slipping into a crouch and curling into himself, hoping that the next bullet wasn't meant for him.
"We're here to rescue you. Once we have the place secure we'll see about getting you out of that cage. Are you hurt?"
He looked up at the man in front of his cage. He wanted to believe that, he really did, but maybe these people merely wanted to do their own experiments on him? Out of the pan and into the fire and all that.
"It's okay," the man said quietly. "We're not going to hurt you. I'm a healer, if you're hurt, maybe I can help you."
Healer? Did he mean he was a doctor?
"Who..." he croaked, his voice strained from all the screaming of the last few days.
"I'm Dr Carson Beckett. That's Teyla Emmagan, Sergeant Stackhouse and Lieutenant Smith. I'm a medical doctor, and also a healer," the man answered, apparently understanding what he'd tried to ask. "I have the ability to heal people - well, so long as the injuries aren't too severe. I can't raise the dead or anything like that."
Another freak, like himself. That didn't mean they weren't here to hurt him though. The ones who'd held him here talked about their enhanced friends - people who would benefit from his pain. These could be people like them.
The healer, Beckett he'd called himself, was kneeling by the bars of his cage now, as close to him as the man could get - within touching distance, but Beckett made no move to reach him. Scared and hurting, he decided to take a risk and reached out hesitantly, showing Beckett the welts on his wrists from the restraints.
Beckett hissed in sympathy and gently touched him. He flinched back, before steeling himself and leaning forward, allowing Beckett to hold his arm. A cool sensation, that was strange but not entirely unpleasant, spread throughout his body. He could see the welts on his wrists healing before his eyes and felt his other injuries being healed as well. Then the feeling faded and Beckett removed his hand, kneeling back and smiling at him.
"I'm sure you're feeling a lot better now."
"Thanks," he answered easily, his vocal chords returning to normal.
He was still desperately scared that these people would turn on him, but Beckett hadn't harmed him and, okay, maybe they needed him healthy for their own experiments, or maybe they were trying to gain his trust to make it easier to study him, but something about the man before him suggested otherwise.
He didn't always follow his instincts, preferring rationality, logic and facts to guide him instead, but he was tired and scared and maybe, just maybe, his instincts were right.
He hoped that they were.
------------------------------
John positioned Lorne and Miller to one side of the door, and Ronon and Markham to the other. Then, standing in front of the closed door, he took a deep breath and slowly made himself invisible. It wasn't easy for him to do - imaging a shield or cloak surrounding himself and anything he held helped - but even then, he couldn't remain invisible for more than a few minutes without feeling very queasy.
He waited for Teyla to contact him, wishing not for the first time that they had someone with x-ray vision on their team - but so far, that was an ability that remained solely in the realms of comic book heroes.
"Go!" Teyla's voice still managed to startle him, even though he'd been expecting it.
Not wasting any time, he opened the door and entered the room, moving to the right and out of the line of fire. In the room, four guards were playing cards at a table, and off to one side was a doctor - or at least he assumed she was a doctor by the white coat she wore - who was studying a computer. No one had noticed the door opening, apparently too engrossed in their activities. John shook his head. Sloppy, very sloppy.
He fired, his shots taking the guards by surprise, two of them down before they realised they were under attack and could respond. He wished there was another way, but knew from bitter experience that guards employed by the Foundation would rather die than surrender, taking as many with them as they could.
Lorne burst through the doorway taking out another guard, while Ronon dispatched the last of them. Lorne then turned his gun onto the doctor.
John took the time to shake off the his invisibility - the doctor looked at him curiously, before giving a sad smile. Her legs buckled beneath her and foam dribbled out her mouth.
"Smells like almonds," Ronon stated, his nose picking up the smell.
"Cyanide," Markham said with a grimace. "Must be mixed with something else, though, to act that quickly."
John nodded, not really surprised by what the doctor had done, but wishing he had been able to stop her. He watched as Dr Miller moved to the computer, carefully avoiding the doctor's body, and connected his laptop to it.
"Lorne, call NID and get a clean up crew in here. Then take Smith with you to get the vans. Markham, you're with me," John ordered, heading to check on Teyla's situation.
------------------------------
Rodney started in surprise as two more people entered the room.
"Hey, everyone okay in here?" one of the men asked.
"We are fine, John," the woman, Teyla, answered. "The key is missing, but Sergeant Stackhouse is about to freeze the lock."
"You might want to step away from the bars," the sergeant said to Rodney. "They might get rather cold as well."
He stood quickly, moving away from the bars while watching the sergeant with furrowed brow as the man froze the metal lock until it cracked and broke, the door swinging open. Another freak, then, he thought to himself. Though one with a useful ability, he had to add, as he cautiously left the cage.
"Are you all enhanced?" he asked curiously, trying to hide how vulnerable he felt without the bars between them - part of him wanting to go back into the cage where they couldn't hurt him, but part of him knowing that was stupid, pathetic even. He was a rational human being, not some animal that preferred its cage to freedom when the time came to be released.
"Everyone in this room except Lieutenant Smith, yes," the healer, Beckett, explained, sounding tired.
"We need to get you out of here," the man Teyla had called John said. "The van should be at the front soon, and there's always a chance the Foundation has been notified somehow. An alarm button certainly isn't out of the question, so the sooner we get you are out of here, the better."
The thought of an alarm button wasn't comforting, and Rodney decided that, although he wasn't confident of the motives of these people, he really didn't want this Foundation - presumably the ones who had hurt him - to get their hands on him again.
"Okay," he said, swallowing nervously.
"Stackhouse, you drive. Send Smith back in to help with the clean up. Teyla, Carson, you're going with Dr McKay. I'll send Ronon and Lorne as well. That way, if the Foundation tries to reacquire Dr McKay, you'll have plenty of backup. I have to stay here and wait for our NID contacts," John, obviously the person in charge, ordered.
Rodney allowed himself to be led out of the building, climbing into one of the vans when they arrived. He really hoped these people were the good guys - and not more bad guys in disguise.
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The journey had been nerve racking, with Rodney afraid that the van would be attacked at any moment. But no one had attacked them and now he was in what passed for an infirmary inside Cheyenne Mountain. Maybe he should have paid more attention to conspiracy theories, because he was sure this wasn't part of NORAD. Though whatever it was, presumably it had a military basis to it, as it was accommodated here.
The room held several beds, though none of the other beds were occupied, to his relief. He had checked the room for any form of surveillance, but hadn't found anything - of course, that didn't mean the room wasn't bugged. Still, he wasn't strapped down, which was a definite plus, and it wasn't like he was going anywhere any time soon. Even after the weird healing Beckett had done, he still felt weak. Apparently, there were limits to what Beckett could do.
He perched on the edge of the hospital bed, wearing the grey sweatpants and t-shirt he'd been given not long after arriving. Although still unsure of these people, he was grateful to get out of the dirty white scrubs he'd been wearing and back into proper clothing, even if drab and ill fitting.
The door opened and Beckett entered with a tray of food. His eyes lit up. That smelled good. Really, really good.
"I thought you might be wanting something to eat. I've no idea if those bastards bothered to feed you or not."
"Not much," he said, moving to a table and chair next to one of the walls as Beckett placed the tray down. "It's not got any citrus has it?" he suddenly asked anxiously. "I'm deathly allergic..."
"No, I checked."
"How did you know to check?"
"When the Intel came in about you being captured by the Foundation, information on you was requisitioned, including your medical records." Beckett shrugged. "We needed to be able to help you, and to be able to do that properly we needed to know everything we could."
"Oh," he said, feeling decidedly uncomfortable with that knowledge. These people knew too much about him for his liking. As he started in on the food - wow, the stew was delicious - he wondered if there was anything they could use against him, and if there was, would they?
"I know you're probably feeling skittish about medical things right now - goodness knows I would be in your place - but I would like to check a few things; your pulse rate, blood pressure, nothing invasive or painful. Would you be alright with that, Meredith?"
"Don't call me that," he said with a scowl.
"Ach, I'm sorry. Would you prefer Dr McKay?"
"Yes, or Rodney if you must, but definitely not my first name!"
"Ah, I see. Not overly fond of it, I'm guessing," Beckett said with a smile. "Not that I can blame you. So, can I..."
"If you must," he muttered, hiding his unease under anger.
"Aye, I must," Beckett said, though he did have the decency to wait until Rodney had finished eating.
It wasn't that bad, really. Beckett did some basic checks and then left him alone to rest. Not that he expected to sleep much - but exhaustion had other ideas and he soon fell into a deep sleep.
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Pain tugged at him, calling for attention, straps digging into him, burning and burning, muscles contracting, convulsing...
People talking, watching, recording, waiting...
And then there was Larry, his best friend when he was six, laughing at him as the bullies beat on him, shouting names at him, ending their friendship in the cruellest of ways...
And he was fourteen and his parents were snarling at him to go away, to leave them alone, they hadn't wanted him as a baby, they didn't want him now. A sister he didn't know watching him with fearful eyes. Pain in his heart....
Shifting through darkness...
The drone of bees, out to get him... can't breathe, can't breathe, going to die... and he's alone and afraid and there's no one and no one and still no one and he can't breathe, only he can, but it's wheezing and it's hard and he's going to die... but it eases and he doesn't die but he was alone and no one knew and no one seemed that worried when he told them what had happened...
And there's laughing, and it's Susan, and she's laughing because he thought that she liked him, and it was high school and he's not quite sixteen yet, but she said yes, he could take her to the dance, but when he showed up at her door she laughed and there was Joel, the star quarterback, and they went to the dance and he went back to the children's home, alone...
Always alone...
And pain, so much pain, detached voices, not caring, no one ever caring, never really caring, just pretending and then leaving or hurting or discarding...
Pain...pain...white-hot fire in his veins....
He screamed... and awoke, sitting up suddenly, eyes darting around the room...
White room, medical...
No, no, no, no, no! He was back there, the rescue was all a dream, a terrible dream...
He pushed himself out of the bed, rushing to the door - he had to get out, out, out and he had to do it now, before they came back and restrained him, and he opened the door but beyond it lay darkness, solid and terrifying, reaching out to him, so he shut the door, but then hands were pulling him back towards the bed and pain and...
Someone was talking, a low voice rumbling in his ear...
He jolted awake - really awake this time, not the false waking of his nightmare - and nearly collided with the one talking to him.
"Easy, lad," the soft tones of Beckett reached him. "You're safe now."
Suddenly embarrassed, he wrapped his arms around himself, unable to meet Beckett's eyes. "Sorry," he muttered quietly.
"Ach, it's only to be expected. And nothing to be ashamed of, that's for sure." Beckett patted his shoulder gently. "You might want to talk about it. It can help."
"No," he said, shaking his head.
"Aye, well, when you're ready."
He didn't think he'd ever be ready to talk about, well, that. What they'd done to him.
"There's nothing in your medical files about telekinesis."
"What?"
"When you woke up, you pushed your bedside table over, telekinetically," Beckett explained. "At least there wasn't anything breakable on it."
"I'm not telekinetic," Rodney said, worry furrowing his brow. "I've never..." he trailed off suddenly, remembering the conversation he'd overheard. "That woman, the researcher, she was talking to someone. Something about me developing a mental ability, though it wasn't very strong. They were trying to make their enhanced friends even more enhanced, but it wasn't working." He looked at Beckett, fear in his eyes. "They were going to increase the injections, make them more often... I don't think I could have survived that!"
"Easy, lad, easy," Beckett placed a gentle hand onto his shoulder. "It's okay, we got you out, you're safe."
Rodney tried to get his breathing under control, but panic gripped him. What had they done to him? He didn't want the gills, he certainly didn't want anything else as well.
"Come on, lad, slow breaths. In. Out. In. Out."
"Oh crap," he whispered, but he slowed his breathing, following Beckett's instructions.
"It'll be okay," Beckett reassured him.
"You don't know that," he retorted.
"No, not for certain," Beckett admitted, giving his shoulder a quick squeeze before letting go. "But we'll do everything we can to help you, you have my word on that. We've got their research notes, which will be a great help, and we have access to some of the world's best doctors."
"But..."
"We have an expert on telekinesis. I'll arrange for him to see you tomorrow. I know this must be difficult, but try to get some rest."
"Fine," he muttered and Beckett left him to sleep. Like he could sleep after that revelation! Damn it, he really didn't need something else to make him more of a freak than he already was. What had he done to deserve this?
He spent the next few hours tossing and turning, worries and fears churning round and round in his mind - with the few snatches of sleep he managed to get disturbed by nightmares.
Chapter Three: Telekinesis
John fidgeted in his seat - meetings were a necessary evil, but that didn't mean he had to like them - earning himself a pointed look from Elizabeth. He tried not to feel like a school boy caught not paying attention in class, but failed. So he reverted to the trick he'd used back in school and gave her one his most boyish smiles. Elizabeth's mouth twitched in amusement - mission accomplished - before turning her attention back to the meeting.
"Next on the agenda is Dr McKay. Carson, perhaps you would like to give John, Ronon and Teyla a brief summary of your report," Elizabeth asked.
"Radek is still analysing the data, but from what we know so far they were trying to bioengineer a person whose enhancement was physical into developing a mental enhancement as well. This caused Rodney to develop a form of telekinesis, though we haven't had chance to see how strong it is or how well he can control it."
"Any ideas why they're doing this?" John asked, though he was pretty sure he could guess the answer.
"As you know, the Goa'uld have proved unable to control people with mental abilities, though they can control those with purely physical enhancements. We're assuming the Foundation is trying to combat that danger, should Earth be invaded. It looks like they would move onto giving unenhanced people mental abilities as well, if that's even possible."
"They're trying to protect themselves should a worst case scenario occur," Elizabeth summarised. "Their methods, however, are unacceptable. How is Dr McKay?"
"Physically, he is recovering well. I would release him, but I think it would be best to keep him here for observation a little while longer. I'd also like for him to talk to Dr Heightmeyer. After what he's been through, I'm sure she could be a big help. Though I'm not sure how well that will go down with him, he doesn't seem to like talking about himself."
"I'll talk to him," Elizabeth offered. "Maybe I can get him to see the need to talk to Kate. Though I can't force him as he isn't a member of the Guild. At least, not yet," she added.
"You're thinking of offering him a job here?" John asked, not really surprised. He'd read the reports they had on McKay, enough to realise that the man could be an asset, but also enough to know that he could prove to be a bigger pain in the ass than Kavanagh could be.
"Yes, he's been given clearance and I think he would prove to be very valuable to us. Although his previous employers have referred to him as being arrogant and difficult to work with, they have also admitted that he was truly brilliant in his fields. He has a PhD in astrophysics and another in mechanical engineering, with a Masters in computing."
"Two doctorates seem like overkill to me," John said, before realising that Elizabeth had two as well and smiling sheepishly at her.
"Perhaps he wishes to keep himself busy," Teyla suggested diplomatically.
"Perhaps," Elizabeth agreed dryly, raising an eyebrow at John. "Though I suspect that, in his case, it's probably more to do with proving just how good he is to the rest of the world."
"Wonderful," John muttered. More proof they had another Kavanagh on their hands - though he only had one doctorate. Hmm, it could be interesting to see what happened when McKay and Kavanagh met. Might be fun to watch - but preferably from a safe distance.
"I have spoken to him a few times," Teyla said. "I believe that he wears a mask and underneath he is not so bad. I think he has been hurt and that arrogance and sarcasm are his defence against that happening again."
"Maybe he just needs a friend," Carson suggested.
John shuddered. Well, someone else could have that job, he didn't need to be befriending arrogant geniuses.
"Have you spoken to Carter about him working in the Science Division?" John asked.
"Actually, I've been in talks with General Hammond and the IOA. We're being give a set of labs separate from the SGC and forming an independent Science Division. We'll have access to alien technology, but will be concentrating on items that might prove to be of use in our fight against the Foundation and other such organisations. We're also forming a separate Medical Division as well, with Carson in charge of it. Obviously, both divisions will liaise with their SGC counterparts, but will be under Guild control."
"In other words, they report to you directly and not to General Hammond," John said.
"Yes. I spoke to Radek, but he doesn't wish to be in charge. Apparently, there is far too much paperwork and general hand-holding involved," Elizabeth said with a wry smile. "Though he did agree, reluctantly, to be acting Head of Science until we find someone to fill the position."
John grinned, wondering how much Czech swearing had been muttered during that meeting. Zelenka and McKay might prove to be even more interesting to watch - Zelenka had cut Kavangh down to size on more than one occasion when their paths had met.
"So who's going to be in charge?" he asked.
"Dr McKay, if he agrees. I'm hoping that the position of Head of Science might tempt him into staying."
"That's a gamble, isn't it? We hardly know him and he really doesn't sound like leadership material to me."
"I believe that being responsible for others will help," Teyla said. "There was once one amongst my people who pushed others away, but when she was placed in a position of trust and responsibility as a teacher, she learned to look outside of herself. She even found friendship and love after a time. I am hoping that the same may be the case for Dr McKay."
"It's a risk, but I'm willing to trust Teyla's instincts. Besides, I'm not sure he would be willing to settle for anything less - his last three jobs have ended badly because he didn't like taking orders."
"So, you will have two people who don't follow orders well. McKay and Sheppard," Ronon said, finally entering the conversation and startling John, who had forgotten he was there. How someone of that stature and presence could disappear into the background always amazed him.
"Hey," he protested indignantly. "It's not like you, or Teyla for that matter, always follow orders offworld!"
"And it is good that we do not," Teyla answered him with a teasing smile, "Or you would be dead many times over."
"That's..."
"More true than you'd like to admit," Carson butted in.
And damn it, it was.
"I'm sure I will be able to handle Dr McKay," Elizabeth said confidently.
"So, is that all?" John asked, eager to leave.
"Not quite," Elizabeth said, a glint of mischief in her eyes, knowing full well he wanted to go. "I'd like for you to take one of our scientists with you when you go offworld, to help determine the usefulness of any alien technology you come across. I think that, to start with, you should rotate any scientists that are willing to join your team. Then you can make a decision on who should be your permanent scientist once you've had a chance to see how they cope offworld."
"Sounds doable," John answered, though not entirely thrilled at the idea. "They'll need to have some training first."
"I'm sure you can work that out. I have three volunteers so far - Simpson, Kusanagi and Abrams. I also think it would be good for our medical staff to have some offworld experience."
"Bloody hell," Carson moaned. "Do I have to?"
"I think it would be good to lead by example, don't you? Which is why, should Dr McKay accept the position here, I would strongly encourage him to take a turn as well."
"Don't worry, Doc, we'll take care of you," John said with a grin. Carson looked less than reassured - but then, Carson's loathing of wormhole travel was well known amongst both the Guild and SGC.
"So, any other business?" Elizabeth asked.
John was willing no one to answer, sighing in relief when Elizabeth ended the meeting.
"Wanna spar?" Ronon asked nonchalantly.
"Sure," John replied. It wasn't like he had anything better to do and his stick fighting was improving. Maybe he'd be able to get a few hits in this time - before Ronon wiped the floor with him.
Part Two
Author: leesa_perrie and jane_perry
Genre: AU
Prompt Weird Science
Word Count: 12,334
Rating: PG-13
Warnings: None
Summary: Kidnapped and experimented on, Rodney McKay is lost, alone and in pain, with no hope of rescue or escape - or so he believes...
Notes: Thank you to Jayne Perry for once again rescuing me! She helped me to work out a few plot holes and also wrote a few scenes I was stuck on. Without her help, this fic would still be lingering in my WIP folder.
Guild - 1. an organization of persons with related interests, goals, etc., esp. one formed for mutual aid or protection.
Chapter One: Lab Rat
Rodney McKay had never been so afraid in his life before. He'd been kidnapped from his home three, four or more days ago - it was hard to keep track of time - by masked gunmen, and then drugged and transported to here, wherever here was. Since then, he'd been x-rayed, scanned and had his blood taken, amongst other tests and examinations.
He was being studied like an intriguing lab rat, unable to fight them as he was restrained to a hospital gurney by straps over his ankles, calves, thighs, chest, wrists, arms and forehead - ensuring his ability to move was severely curtailed. When he wasn't in the lab, he was frog-marched to his cell by thugs armed with tasers - well, cell was rather a grand term for the cage that they pushed him into. It was little larger than a closet, with bars all around that gave him no privacy, especially as he was constantly watched.
The lack of privacy had been humiliating at first, but right now it was the least of his concerns. He'd been escorted back to the lab yet again, and securely strapped down once there. Behind him, he could hear them talking - their voices lowered to a hushed whisper that somehow still managed to carry to his ears.
"We've finished the tests," a man's voice stated. "Everything looks to be within the parameters that we need."
"Good," a woman's voice answered. "Time to move onto the first stage of the experiment."
That word - experiment - was terrifying. Visions floated through his mind, all of them bad, bad and even more bad. He pulled at the straps, knowing it was futile, but fear gripped him, sending him into panic. He wanted out of this place - out, out, out!
But there was no escape for him, and no one coming to his rescue. No one to even notice he was missing, and certainly no one to care if they did.
When the doctor, researcher, or whatever she called herself appeared beside him, his struggles became frenzied and wild. He cried out in fear, thrashing against the straps holding him down.
"Don't do this, don't hurt me."
He was ashamed of his pleas and the fear he couldn't hide. It didn't do him any good anyway, as the woman ignored him, injecting him with a pale blue liquid.
"What is that? What are you doing to me?"
She didn't answer, merely watched with cold eyes, waiting.
And then there was pain. Agonising pain that swamped his nerves with a white heat that wouldn't lessen. Screams rent the air - his own he realised - screaming in pain and fear until his voice gave out and he felt like he was drowning in fire and pain and hurt.
But even when his voice was gone, still he screamed - silent screams, as the fire flickered on, relentless. He writhed against the restraints, his skin reddening where the straps rubbed against him. Distant voices noted his vitals with unfeeling calmness, and hours seemed to pass - though time had lost all meaning to him - but finally the fire started to cool, the pain to recede and he wept in relief.
Shaken and shaking, he was aware of more blood being taken and stats being discussed. And then the straps were removed and two burly guards grabbed him, pushing him into a wheelchair as he was too weak to stand.
They took him back to his cell, his cage, where he curled up on the poor excuse of a bed - a thin mattress on the floor that was doing nothing for his bad back - to try and sleep and not think about the next experiment.
It didn't work.
------------------------------
It had been a sunny day in Colorado Springs but now, at last, the heat was abating. Lieutenant Colonel John Sheppard stood and stretched, easing tired muscles. He'd been working on his newly acquired 1947 Indian Chief for most of the day, hiding from the sun inside his garage - if not from the heat - and now decided it was time to have a shower, grab a beer, order in a pizza and settle down to a college football game.
He had just entered his home when the phone rang. Sighing in annoyance, he decided to ignore it. The shower was calling him and they could leave a message if it was important. The phone stopped ringing as he slipped off his t-shirt, but no message was left.
Couldn't have been important, he thought to himself, even while wondering idly who it had been.
"John, please answer the phone."
Teyla's voice resounded in his head unexpectedly, causing him to jump in shock. Damn it, he was never going to get used to her telepathy.
The phone began ringing again. Rubbing a hand across his brow, he went back downstairs and answered the call.
"This is my day off, you know," he protested, albeit mildly. He knew it must be something important - well, it had better be! - but damn it, he'd been looking forward to a relaxing evening.
"Sorry, John," Elizabeth, his boss, answered him, sounding tense rather than apologetic. "We have an emergency."
"You want me to come in? Teyla could have told me that..."
"No, I wanted to brief you on the situation myself, you know how using her telepathy over long distances tires her. She's just left with Ronon and Carson to pick you up, they should be with you in about thirty minutes."
"Okay. So, what's up?"
"Our contact at the NID received information from an agent inside The Foundation for Genetic Advancement. There is a small group of them conducting experiments on an enhanced person not far from here."
"And we're going to rescue the enhanced person?" John said, not able to hide the deep anger and hatred welling up inside of him. Those bastards had killed his mother in the name of research six months ago, and the only reason he had survived was because the newly formed Guild had rescued him. The ones directly responsible for his mother's death had been dealt with, and he was glad that illegal experimenting on humans (or aliens, though the general populace was unaware of their existence as yet) was treated the same as predetermined murder.
Though that had been little comfort to him at the time, or now even. Nor was the fact that they hadn't started their experiments on him, having decided to concentrate on his mother first. He still had nightmares of watching her suffer, wishing it was him instead, but being unable to help her.
"Yes," Elizabeth said, and he could hear the sympathy in her voice even if she didn't put it into words - something for which he was grateful for. The anger helped to keep the grief at bay and being consoled was the last thing he needed right now.
"Tell me what you know."
"The person in question is a Dr Meredith McKay, an astrophysicist who, according to the NID agent, the Foundation have been watching for several months. His job was terminated recently, and as he lives alone, it seems they decided this was a good time to take him. Certainly no one has reported him missing as yet."
"Any idea what his ability is?"
"According to his medical files he has gills as well as lungs, which enable him to breathe underwater."
"Not heard of that one before," John said, but not sounding too surprised. They were often coming across new genetic mutations. Most were able to live reasonably normal lives, others were recruited to one of the military contingents, while others were recruited either to the Stargate Program or, more recently, to the Guild. Criminals, of course, were placed in special jails, designed to keep in even the most tricky of 'enhanced people' in.
Mutants, freaks, genetic mistakes; he'd heard them all, and worse, but the government preferred its more politically correct term. Personally, he believed himself to be a freak of nature, and no amount of counselling would change his mind on that.
"No, not one we've run across before," Elizabeth agreed. "And one that can be easily hidden, depending on where the gills are situated. The NID have spoken to some of his former co-workers and none of them were aware of his enhancement."
"Kept it a secret, but the Foundation found out and decided to target him, poor bastard." John hoped that the Foundation hadn't gone beyond taking some base readings, otherwise who knew what they might have done to the guy? "Whereabouts are we heading?"
"A mansion situated in a secluded area about ten miles outside of Burlington. It's rented under the company name 'TA Pharmaceuticals'. You should arrive there at dusk."
"Right. Standard procedure I presume - recovery of the victim, capture of the personnel and recovery of their data, if possible. In that order of priority."
"Yes, the usual. Take care."
"I will," he replied before ending the call. Moving quickly, he headed to the bathroom. He had just enough time to have a shower before his ride arrived, so long as he was fast.
------------------------------
John, fresh from his hurried shower, was waiting on the porch when the van pulled up in front of his home. The side door of the van slid open.
"Hey," Ronon greeted him from inside the van.
"Hey," John replied, climbing into the van and sitting down next to Carson. "Who's driving?"
"Sergeant Stackhouse," Teyla told him. "We will meet up with Major Lorne and his team when we get closer."
"Good." John nodded, they were good people. Stackhouse was normally part of an offworld team, but often helped out if available. He had the ability to freeze anything he wanted to, to whatever temperature suited his needs. Major Lorne was also part of the Stargate Program, with his own team. Lorne was the opposite to Stackhouse, able to warm things up to whatever temperature he wanted. His other team members weren't enhanced people, but they were solid and dependable nonetheless.
He pored over the building blueprint that Teyla had handed him, mapping out the mansion and working out a plan of attack. He was always amazed at how much information the Guild had access to - amazed, but also grateful, as it made his task much easier.
"Doc, you coming in with us or sitting this one out?" Sheppard asked. He could see that Carson was nervous, but also knew that Carson was capable of overcoming his fear if he felt he needed to. Still, John wouldn't hold it against him if he chose to sit this one out.
"Ach, you might need me to be on hand for the poor bugger they've got in there. No saying what they might have done to him."
"Okay, doc. You're with Teyla. I'll send Stackhouse and Smith in with you." Lieutenant Smith was one of Lorne's team, the other two being Sergeant Markham, an experienced marine, and Dr Miller, a computer geek extraordinaire.
"Ronon, you're with me. We'll take Lorne, Markham and Miller in with us."
Ronon nodded his assent.
"The Intel we received says the rooms we're looking for are in the basement," Teyla informed him.
"Okay," John said, looking at the blueprints carefully. "Teyla, you and your group take the entrance to the left here. I'll take my team in from the back entrance and head down this staircase. That way we have one group coming at them from the left and one from the right."
"So they have no way to escape," Teyla said.
"Yes."
They continued planning as the van took them to their destination, hoping to cover all possible contingencies, anxious to make sure the mission went well.
------------------------------
Rodney shivered in the restraints, the pain receding slowly. This was the third time they'd injected him with the blue liquid. The third time his body had reacted with intense pain for what seemed like forever, before gradually subsiding. Hours of pain followed by a few of rest, followed by tests and then another injection.
Behind him the scientist recorded her observations. The bitch didn't care about his pain, only about the results. Whenever she looked at him, her eyes were cold and calculating, making him wish she'd look away.
Behind him, hidden from his view, he heard someone enter the room and ask her for a progress report.
"The scans of the subject's brain are showing a slight alteration. We believe a mental ability is starting to manifest itself, but so far it is very weak, possibly too weak for the subject to be aware of or use. However, each time the injection is given, the scans show further development. Over time, we believe the ability will strengthen."
"Is there a way to increase the efficiency of the serum?" the man asked.
"Richards is working on it, but it will take time."
"What about the pain? We can't subject our enhanced friends to that."
"No, of course not. We're concerned that any pain medication or anaesthesia may interfere with the serum, either adversely affecting the subject, possibly harming or killing him, or else slowing down the serum's effectiveness even more. We wish to track the serum's ability to alter the subject further, maybe another three or four injections, before introducing any possible complications pain relief may cause."
"Hmm. Can you speed up the process? One injection every fourteen hours seems a little over cautious to me."
"We need to give the subject time to recover or risk weakening him too greatly, potentially causing his heart to give out on us. We also need time to gather the data we need from tests and scans." The woman sighed. "But perhaps we are being a little too cautious. I'll speak to the Richards, we may be able to give the subject an injection every, say, ten hours instead? It would help if we had another subject too."
"It's hard to find suitable subjects - you know they need to be isolated enough not be missed for a while. However, I'll see what I can arrange."
"That would be good."
Rodney didn't hear any more as he was released from the restraints by two of the guards and roughly manhandled into the wheelchair. The pain flared up again at the mistreatment, swamping his thoughts until he was back in his cage, lying on his side and curled up as best as he could. As the pain receded to a dull roar, his mind started to process the information he'd overheard. It was the first time anyone had talked about what they were doing to him while he was present, and it sent chills down his spine.
The idea that they were trying to stimulate another mutation within him, a mental one at that, was scary enough without hearing that it was working, albeit slowly. He didn't want another mutation, didn't really want the one he had but had grown used to - well, used to hiding. He'd learned early on in his life that it was better to hide his gills, because no one wanted a freak. Hell, his parents had taken one look at their newborn child and walked away, leaving him to be cared for by the state.
He supposed he'd been lucky in some ways. The home he'd grown up in had been well maintained, and the people who ran it seemed to care - when they weren't too busy or harried to spend time with him, which all too often they were. It was hard watching other kids being fostered or adopted while he was left behind. He knew it was because he was a freak - something he was never allowed to forget by those kids that knew. So he learned to hide his gills - though not his intellect! He wouldn't hide that, even when it made things difficult for him at school.
When he was fourteen he'd tracked his parents down, not sure what to expect, but not really surprised to find hatred and loathing. He still couldn't work out what had possessed him to do that. But it didn't matter - he ignored the part of him that said it did, that it hurt to be rejected - he was better than them. His intelligence got him a full scholarship to college and he earned his first doctorate within four years, his second a year later.
Of course, people were jealous of his intellect, something he knew that all too well. His so-called friends usually wanted something from him in return for pretend friendship, dropping him when they had what they wanted - or discovered they weren't going to get it.
It was better to remain alone.
Only it appeared that remaining alone had gotten him into this mess. There was no one to report him missing. Not one person to notice or care.
He shivered again. More injections, at least three, possibly four, without any kind of pain relief. And even when, or if, they introduced pain meds, it could make him ill, harm him, kill him even.
Maybe that wouldn't be so bad. It'd be better than this; being experimented on, tortured for the sake of medical advancement.
Part of him hoped for death, but most of him wasn't there yet. Most of him still wanted to live, to escape, though he had no idea how.
Huddled in his cage, he tried to take his mind off his predicament and the painful future he faced by working out long complicated equations, thinking up new theories, designing computer programs - anything that kept his mind distracted.
It didn't really work all that well, but he tried.
Chapter Two: Rescue Mission
They parked the van off the road, hidden in trees about a mile from the mansion's grounds. Major Lorne and his team arrived shortly after them in another nondescript van and parked nearby.
The mansion's security was not as tight as it could be, but John supposed the Foundation didn't want to attract undue attention with high tech systems on display. It was set inside heavily wooded grounds, only the last fifty metres or so were treeless, and even then there were shrubs to hide behind for much of the way. If he had been running a place like this he would have cleared much of the bushes and trees, and could only suppose that the place hadn't been used for nefarious activities until recently. Either that, or the Foundation was getting sloppy and overconfident.
They entered as one team, making their way through the wood carefully and quietly. Part way in, Ronon stiffened and used a hand signal for everyone to stay still, his enhanced senses having picked something up.
"Dogs," he growled softly. "Can smell and hear them over that way." He pointed slightly to the right of them, before striding off in that direction.
Sheppard nodded, letting Ronon get several metres in front of them before signalling the team to follow. Teyla took the lead, using her empathic ability - that allowed her to pinpoint people accurately - to track Ronon, and several minutes later they caught up with him.
Ronon was on the ground, fussing one of the four very docile looking Dobermans, who were feeding from his hand - literally. The Satedan's ability to calm and control even the wildest of animals always amazed Sheppard, and could come in extremely useful at times like this.
"Food's drugged," Ronon informed them, keeping his voice low as the dogs slowly closed their eyes. "They'll sleep for hours now."
"Any more?"
"No. At least, not that I can hear or smell."
"Okay. Teyla, take your group and head for your assigned target. Radio silence unless it's an emergency."
The teams split up, heading into the gathering darkness.
------------------------------
Teyla made sure that Carson was sandwiched between herself and Stackhouse, with Smith covering their six. She used her empathy to locate the enemy inside the house, but pulled back from reading emotions as that would tire her unnecessarily. It seemed that the household were situated within a small area, most likely the labs she and her team were targeting. Nine people, and one of them would be Dr McKay. She would be able to distinguish him from the others as she got closer.
Stackhouse froze the lock of the door, causing the metal to turn brittle and crack, enabling him to break the lock with the butt of his gun. Teyla was worried that the people inside would hear the noise, but her senses told her no one was coming to investigate. She carefully pushed the door open, making sure not to make contact with the remnants of the handle or lock, knowing that they would be cold enough to badly burn her if she did. Walking down the hallway, the door that led down to the underground corridor and labs was easy to locate. Stackhouse soon had that open as well.
Teyla put up her hand to stop everyone before they entered the stairwell, having sensed the presence of a person approaching below. Had he heard the lock breaking? Carefully, she extended her empathy. No, it seemed he had other things on his mind. She pulled her empathy back and they waited for him to come closer, pulling the door too so that he would not, hopefully, notice any problem with it.
Fortunately the man didn't notice anything amiss and entered a room just before the stairwell. She led her team down the stairs, to the door of the room the man had entered, and indicated that Smith and Stackhouse position themselves on either side of the door of the room.
The sound of a toilet flushing was soon heard, causing Smith and Stackhouse to share a grin and a moment of mimed juvenile humour. But they were ready for the man as he left the restroom, quickly and silently overpowering him. Carson injected the man with a sedative, before Stackhouse and Smith tied him up and left him in the restroom. All of this was done in a practised silence.
Telya led them down the corridor, expanding her empathy again and reading the emotions of those she could sense. A strong feeling of pain, fear, desperation and despair hit her and she had to close her eyes to help steady herself against the onslaught. She narrowed the feeling down to a room two doors away, and then pulled back quickly to save energy that she needed for her telepathy now.
"From our position, Dr McKay is being held two doors down. Two guards are with him," she informed both teams and John. " Three doors down and around the corner from us there is a room with five more people inside. No others, except the one we just took down. My team will wait outside the second room were Dr McKay is being held. Once I sense we are all in position, I will give the command for both teams to go in. If that is alright, Colonel, click the radio once."
Hearing a click, she nodded to her team to get into position. She hoped she didn't need to use her telepathy for more than giving the 'go' command - she was tiring rapidly.
------------------------------
John led his team to their point of egress and Major Lorne used his enhancement to melt the lock - only in doing so, he also melted a fair bit of the metal door as well. John rolled his eyes as Lorne gave him a sheepish grin and a shrug of the shoulders.
Being careful not to burn themselves on the molten metal, and grateful that the hallway and surroundings were solid brick and stone, they entered the kitchen area. Ronon took point, using his enhanced hearing and smell to warn of any people close by.
It didn't take long to find the back stairwell down to the lab area, and this time Sheppard stopped Lorne before he could try to melt the lock - the door was made of wood and would most likely catch fire - falling back on his black ops training from many years ago and picking the lock instead. Something he hated doing, as it was fiddly and took more time than he liked.
They paused at the top of the steps as Teyla contacted them with the locations of people inside the mansion along with her plan of action. Clicking his radio once in acknowledgement, they stealthily moved into position, glad that the corridor turned another corner before reaching the room they were targeting, giving them some protection.
He waited for Teyla.
------------------------------
Teyla gave the command to go, and she and her team burst into the room, taking down the first guard before he even knew what was happening and the second before he could return fire. Hearing firing from around the corner, Teyla resisted the urge to find out how things were going, instead motioning Carson into the room, and then standing guard at the door.
Carson approached the cell - or cage, he amended in his head - slowly and carefully, not making any sudden moves that might further terrify the frightened man before him.
------------------------------
Rodney had nearly had a heart attack when the fierce looking woman had entered the room and killed the two guards. He'd slammed himself into the bars at the back of the cage, slipping into a crouch and curling into himself, hoping that the next bullet wasn't meant for him.
"We're here to rescue you. Once we have the place secure we'll see about getting you out of that cage. Are you hurt?"
He looked up at the man in front of his cage. He wanted to believe that, he really did, but maybe these people merely wanted to do their own experiments on him? Out of the pan and into the fire and all that.
"It's okay," the man said quietly. "We're not going to hurt you. I'm a healer, if you're hurt, maybe I can help you."
Healer? Did he mean he was a doctor?
"Who..." he croaked, his voice strained from all the screaming of the last few days.
"I'm Dr Carson Beckett. That's Teyla Emmagan, Sergeant Stackhouse and Lieutenant Smith. I'm a medical doctor, and also a healer," the man answered, apparently understanding what he'd tried to ask. "I have the ability to heal people - well, so long as the injuries aren't too severe. I can't raise the dead or anything like that."
Another freak, like himself. That didn't mean they weren't here to hurt him though. The ones who'd held him here talked about their enhanced friends - people who would benefit from his pain. These could be people like them.
The healer, Beckett he'd called himself, was kneeling by the bars of his cage now, as close to him as the man could get - within touching distance, but Beckett made no move to reach him. Scared and hurting, he decided to take a risk and reached out hesitantly, showing Beckett the welts on his wrists from the restraints.
Beckett hissed in sympathy and gently touched him. He flinched back, before steeling himself and leaning forward, allowing Beckett to hold his arm. A cool sensation, that was strange but not entirely unpleasant, spread throughout his body. He could see the welts on his wrists healing before his eyes and felt his other injuries being healed as well. Then the feeling faded and Beckett removed his hand, kneeling back and smiling at him.
"I'm sure you're feeling a lot better now."
"Thanks," he answered easily, his vocal chords returning to normal.
He was still desperately scared that these people would turn on him, but Beckett hadn't harmed him and, okay, maybe they needed him healthy for their own experiments, or maybe they were trying to gain his trust to make it easier to study him, but something about the man before him suggested otherwise.
He didn't always follow his instincts, preferring rationality, logic and facts to guide him instead, but he was tired and scared and maybe, just maybe, his instincts were right.
He hoped that they were.
------------------------------
John positioned Lorne and Miller to one side of the door, and Ronon and Markham to the other. Then, standing in front of the closed door, he took a deep breath and slowly made himself invisible. It wasn't easy for him to do - imaging a shield or cloak surrounding himself and anything he held helped - but even then, he couldn't remain invisible for more than a few minutes without feeling very queasy.
He waited for Teyla to contact him, wishing not for the first time that they had someone with x-ray vision on their team - but so far, that was an ability that remained solely in the realms of comic book heroes.
"Go!" Teyla's voice still managed to startle him, even though he'd been expecting it.
Not wasting any time, he opened the door and entered the room, moving to the right and out of the line of fire. In the room, four guards were playing cards at a table, and off to one side was a doctor - or at least he assumed she was a doctor by the white coat she wore - who was studying a computer. No one had noticed the door opening, apparently too engrossed in their activities. John shook his head. Sloppy, very sloppy.
He fired, his shots taking the guards by surprise, two of them down before they realised they were under attack and could respond. He wished there was another way, but knew from bitter experience that guards employed by the Foundation would rather die than surrender, taking as many with them as they could.
Lorne burst through the doorway taking out another guard, while Ronon dispatched the last of them. Lorne then turned his gun onto the doctor.
John took the time to shake off the his invisibility - the doctor looked at him curiously, before giving a sad smile. Her legs buckled beneath her and foam dribbled out her mouth.
"Smells like almonds," Ronon stated, his nose picking up the smell.
"Cyanide," Markham said with a grimace. "Must be mixed with something else, though, to act that quickly."
John nodded, not really surprised by what the doctor had done, but wishing he had been able to stop her. He watched as Dr Miller moved to the computer, carefully avoiding the doctor's body, and connected his laptop to it.
"Lorne, call NID and get a clean up crew in here. Then take Smith with you to get the vans. Markham, you're with me," John ordered, heading to check on Teyla's situation.
------------------------------
Rodney started in surprise as two more people entered the room.
"Hey, everyone okay in here?" one of the men asked.
"We are fine, John," the woman, Teyla, answered. "The key is missing, but Sergeant Stackhouse is about to freeze the lock."
"You might want to step away from the bars," the sergeant said to Rodney. "They might get rather cold as well."
He stood quickly, moving away from the bars while watching the sergeant with furrowed brow as the man froze the metal lock until it cracked and broke, the door swinging open. Another freak, then, he thought to himself. Though one with a useful ability, he had to add, as he cautiously left the cage.
"Are you all enhanced?" he asked curiously, trying to hide how vulnerable he felt without the bars between them - part of him wanting to go back into the cage where they couldn't hurt him, but part of him knowing that was stupid, pathetic even. He was a rational human being, not some animal that preferred its cage to freedom when the time came to be released.
"Everyone in this room except Lieutenant Smith, yes," the healer, Beckett, explained, sounding tired.
"We need to get you out of here," the man Teyla had called John said. "The van should be at the front soon, and there's always a chance the Foundation has been notified somehow. An alarm button certainly isn't out of the question, so the sooner we get you are out of here, the better."
The thought of an alarm button wasn't comforting, and Rodney decided that, although he wasn't confident of the motives of these people, he really didn't want this Foundation - presumably the ones who had hurt him - to get their hands on him again.
"Okay," he said, swallowing nervously.
"Stackhouse, you drive. Send Smith back in to help with the clean up. Teyla, Carson, you're going with Dr McKay. I'll send Ronon and Lorne as well. That way, if the Foundation tries to reacquire Dr McKay, you'll have plenty of backup. I have to stay here and wait for our NID contacts," John, obviously the person in charge, ordered.
Rodney allowed himself to be led out of the building, climbing into one of the vans when they arrived. He really hoped these people were the good guys - and not more bad guys in disguise.
------------------------------
The journey had been nerve racking, with Rodney afraid that the van would be attacked at any moment. But no one had attacked them and now he was in what passed for an infirmary inside Cheyenne Mountain. Maybe he should have paid more attention to conspiracy theories, because he was sure this wasn't part of NORAD. Though whatever it was, presumably it had a military basis to it, as it was accommodated here.
The room held several beds, though none of the other beds were occupied, to his relief. He had checked the room for any form of surveillance, but hadn't found anything - of course, that didn't mean the room wasn't bugged. Still, he wasn't strapped down, which was a definite plus, and it wasn't like he was going anywhere any time soon. Even after the weird healing Beckett had done, he still felt weak. Apparently, there were limits to what Beckett could do.
He perched on the edge of the hospital bed, wearing the grey sweatpants and t-shirt he'd been given not long after arriving. Although still unsure of these people, he was grateful to get out of the dirty white scrubs he'd been wearing and back into proper clothing, even if drab and ill fitting.
The door opened and Beckett entered with a tray of food. His eyes lit up. That smelled good. Really, really good.
"I thought you might be wanting something to eat. I've no idea if those bastards bothered to feed you or not."
"Not much," he said, moving to a table and chair next to one of the walls as Beckett placed the tray down. "It's not got any citrus has it?" he suddenly asked anxiously. "I'm deathly allergic..."
"No, I checked."
"How did you know to check?"
"When the Intel came in about you being captured by the Foundation, information on you was requisitioned, including your medical records." Beckett shrugged. "We needed to be able to help you, and to be able to do that properly we needed to know everything we could."
"Oh," he said, feeling decidedly uncomfortable with that knowledge. These people knew too much about him for his liking. As he started in on the food - wow, the stew was delicious - he wondered if there was anything they could use against him, and if there was, would they?
"I know you're probably feeling skittish about medical things right now - goodness knows I would be in your place - but I would like to check a few things; your pulse rate, blood pressure, nothing invasive or painful. Would you be alright with that, Meredith?"
"Don't call me that," he said with a scowl.
"Ach, I'm sorry. Would you prefer Dr McKay?"
"Yes, or Rodney if you must, but definitely not my first name!"
"Ah, I see. Not overly fond of it, I'm guessing," Beckett said with a smile. "Not that I can blame you. So, can I..."
"If you must," he muttered, hiding his unease under anger.
"Aye, I must," Beckett said, though he did have the decency to wait until Rodney had finished eating.
It wasn't that bad, really. Beckett did some basic checks and then left him alone to rest. Not that he expected to sleep much - but exhaustion had other ideas and he soon fell into a deep sleep.
------------------------------
Pain tugged at him, calling for attention, straps digging into him, burning and burning, muscles contracting, convulsing...
People talking, watching, recording, waiting...
And then there was Larry, his best friend when he was six, laughing at him as the bullies beat on him, shouting names at him, ending their friendship in the cruellest of ways...
And he was fourteen and his parents were snarling at him to go away, to leave them alone, they hadn't wanted him as a baby, they didn't want him now. A sister he didn't know watching him with fearful eyes. Pain in his heart....
Shifting through darkness...
The drone of bees, out to get him... can't breathe, can't breathe, going to die... and he's alone and afraid and there's no one and no one and still no one and he can't breathe, only he can, but it's wheezing and it's hard and he's going to die... but it eases and he doesn't die but he was alone and no one knew and no one seemed that worried when he told them what had happened...
And there's laughing, and it's Susan, and she's laughing because he thought that she liked him, and it was high school and he's not quite sixteen yet, but she said yes, he could take her to the dance, but when he showed up at her door she laughed and there was Joel, the star quarterback, and they went to the dance and he went back to the children's home, alone...
Always alone...
And pain, so much pain, detached voices, not caring, no one ever caring, never really caring, just pretending and then leaving or hurting or discarding...
Pain...pain...white-hot fire in his veins....
He screamed... and awoke, sitting up suddenly, eyes darting around the room...
White room, medical...
No, no, no, no, no! He was back there, the rescue was all a dream, a terrible dream...
He pushed himself out of the bed, rushing to the door - he had to get out, out, out and he had to do it now, before they came back and restrained him, and he opened the door but beyond it lay darkness, solid and terrifying, reaching out to him, so he shut the door, but then hands were pulling him back towards the bed and pain and...
Someone was talking, a low voice rumbling in his ear...
He jolted awake - really awake this time, not the false waking of his nightmare - and nearly collided with the one talking to him.
"Easy, lad," the soft tones of Beckett reached him. "You're safe now."
Suddenly embarrassed, he wrapped his arms around himself, unable to meet Beckett's eyes. "Sorry," he muttered quietly.
"Ach, it's only to be expected. And nothing to be ashamed of, that's for sure." Beckett patted his shoulder gently. "You might want to talk about it. It can help."
"No," he said, shaking his head.
"Aye, well, when you're ready."
He didn't think he'd ever be ready to talk about, well, that. What they'd done to him.
"There's nothing in your medical files about telekinesis."
"What?"
"When you woke up, you pushed your bedside table over, telekinetically," Beckett explained. "At least there wasn't anything breakable on it."
"I'm not telekinetic," Rodney said, worry furrowing his brow. "I've never..." he trailed off suddenly, remembering the conversation he'd overheard. "That woman, the researcher, she was talking to someone. Something about me developing a mental ability, though it wasn't very strong. They were trying to make their enhanced friends even more enhanced, but it wasn't working." He looked at Beckett, fear in his eyes. "They were going to increase the injections, make them more often... I don't think I could have survived that!"
"Easy, lad, easy," Beckett placed a gentle hand onto his shoulder. "It's okay, we got you out, you're safe."
Rodney tried to get his breathing under control, but panic gripped him. What had they done to him? He didn't want the gills, he certainly didn't want anything else as well.
"Come on, lad, slow breaths. In. Out. In. Out."
"Oh crap," he whispered, but he slowed his breathing, following Beckett's instructions.
"It'll be okay," Beckett reassured him.
"You don't know that," he retorted.
"No, not for certain," Beckett admitted, giving his shoulder a quick squeeze before letting go. "But we'll do everything we can to help you, you have my word on that. We've got their research notes, which will be a great help, and we have access to some of the world's best doctors."
"But..."
"We have an expert on telekinesis. I'll arrange for him to see you tomorrow. I know this must be difficult, but try to get some rest."
"Fine," he muttered and Beckett left him to sleep. Like he could sleep after that revelation! Damn it, he really didn't need something else to make him more of a freak than he already was. What had he done to deserve this?
He spent the next few hours tossing and turning, worries and fears churning round and round in his mind - with the few snatches of sleep he managed to get disturbed by nightmares.
Chapter Three: Telekinesis
John fidgeted in his seat - meetings were a necessary evil, but that didn't mean he had to like them - earning himself a pointed look from Elizabeth. He tried not to feel like a school boy caught not paying attention in class, but failed. So he reverted to the trick he'd used back in school and gave her one his most boyish smiles. Elizabeth's mouth twitched in amusement - mission accomplished - before turning her attention back to the meeting.
"Next on the agenda is Dr McKay. Carson, perhaps you would like to give John, Ronon and Teyla a brief summary of your report," Elizabeth asked.
"Radek is still analysing the data, but from what we know so far they were trying to bioengineer a person whose enhancement was physical into developing a mental enhancement as well. This caused Rodney to develop a form of telekinesis, though we haven't had chance to see how strong it is or how well he can control it."
"Any ideas why they're doing this?" John asked, though he was pretty sure he could guess the answer.
"As you know, the Goa'uld have proved unable to control people with mental abilities, though they can control those with purely physical enhancements. We're assuming the Foundation is trying to combat that danger, should Earth be invaded. It looks like they would move onto giving unenhanced people mental abilities as well, if that's even possible."
"They're trying to protect themselves should a worst case scenario occur," Elizabeth summarised. "Their methods, however, are unacceptable. How is Dr McKay?"
"Physically, he is recovering well. I would release him, but I think it would be best to keep him here for observation a little while longer. I'd also like for him to talk to Dr Heightmeyer. After what he's been through, I'm sure she could be a big help. Though I'm not sure how well that will go down with him, he doesn't seem to like talking about himself."
"I'll talk to him," Elizabeth offered. "Maybe I can get him to see the need to talk to Kate. Though I can't force him as he isn't a member of the Guild. At least, not yet," she added.
"You're thinking of offering him a job here?" John asked, not really surprised. He'd read the reports they had on McKay, enough to realise that the man could be an asset, but also enough to know that he could prove to be a bigger pain in the ass than Kavanagh could be.
"Yes, he's been given clearance and I think he would prove to be very valuable to us. Although his previous employers have referred to him as being arrogant and difficult to work with, they have also admitted that he was truly brilliant in his fields. He has a PhD in astrophysics and another in mechanical engineering, with a Masters in computing."
"Two doctorates seem like overkill to me," John said, before realising that Elizabeth had two as well and smiling sheepishly at her.
"Perhaps he wishes to keep himself busy," Teyla suggested diplomatically.
"Perhaps," Elizabeth agreed dryly, raising an eyebrow at John. "Though I suspect that, in his case, it's probably more to do with proving just how good he is to the rest of the world."
"Wonderful," John muttered. More proof they had another Kavanagh on their hands - though he only had one doctorate. Hmm, it could be interesting to see what happened when McKay and Kavanagh met. Might be fun to watch - but preferably from a safe distance.
"I have spoken to him a few times," Teyla said. "I believe that he wears a mask and underneath he is not so bad. I think he has been hurt and that arrogance and sarcasm are his defence against that happening again."
"Maybe he just needs a friend," Carson suggested.
John shuddered. Well, someone else could have that job, he didn't need to be befriending arrogant geniuses.
"Have you spoken to Carter about him working in the Science Division?" John asked.
"Actually, I've been in talks with General Hammond and the IOA. We're being give a set of labs separate from the SGC and forming an independent Science Division. We'll have access to alien technology, but will be concentrating on items that might prove to be of use in our fight against the Foundation and other such organisations. We're also forming a separate Medical Division as well, with Carson in charge of it. Obviously, both divisions will liaise with their SGC counterparts, but will be under Guild control."
"In other words, they report to you directly and not to General Hammond," John said.
"Yes. I spoke to Radek, but he doesn't wish to be in charge. Apparently, there is far too much paperwork and general hand-holding involved," Elizabeth said with a wry smile. "Though he did agree, reluctantly, to be acting Head of Science until we find someone to fill the position."
John grinned, wondering how much Czech swearing had been muttered during that meeting. Zelenka and McKay might prove to be even more interesting to watch - Zelenka had cut Kavangh down to size on more than one occasion when their paths had met.
"So who's going to be in charge?" he asked.
"Dr McKay, if he agrees. I'm hoping that the position of Head of Science might tempt him into staying."
"That's a gamble, isn't it? We hardly know him and he really doesn't sound like leadership material to me."
"I believe that being responsible for others will help," Teyla said. "There was once one amongst my people who pushed others away, but when she was placed in a position of trust and responsibility as a teacher, she learned to look outside of herself. She even found friendship and love after a time. I am hoping that the same may be the case for Dr McKay."
"It's a risk, but I'm willing to trust Teyla's instincts. Besides, I'm not sure he would be willing to settle for anything less - his last three jobs have ended badly because he didn't like taking orders."
"So, you will have two people who don't follow orders well. McKay and Sheppard," Ronon said, finally entering the conversation and startling John, who had forgotten he was there. How someone of that stature and presence could disappear into the background always amazed him.
"Hey," he protested indignantly. "It's not like you, or Teyla for that matter, always follow orders offworld!"
"And it is good that we do not," Teyla answered him with a teasing smile, "Or you would be dead many times over."
"That's..."
"More true than you'd like to admit," Carson butted in.
And damn it, it was.
"I'm sure I will be able to handle Dr McKay," Elizabeth said confidently.
"So, is that all?" John asked, eager to leave.
"Not quite," Elizabeth said, a glint of mischief in her eyes, knowing full well he wanted to go. "I'd like for you to take one of our scientists with you when you go offworld, to help determine the usefulness of any alien technology you come across. I think that, to start with, you should rotate any scientists that are willing to join your team. Then you can make a decision on who should be your permanent scientist once you've had a chance to see how they cope offworld."
"Sounds doable," John answered, though not entirely thrilled at the idea. "They'll need to have some training first."
"I'm sure you can work that out. I have three volunteers so far - Simpson, Kusanagi and Abrams. I also think it would be good for our medical staff to have some offworld experience."
"Bloody hell," Carson moaned. "Do I have to?"
"I think it would be good to lead by example, don't you? Which is why, should Dr McKay accept the position here, I would strongly encourage him to take a turn as well."
"Don't worry, Doc, we'll take care of you," John said with a grin. Carson looked less than reassured - but then, Carson's loathing of wormhole travel was well known amongst both the Guild and SGC.
"So, any other business?" Elizabeth asked.
John was willing no one to answer, sighing in relief when Elizabeth ended the meeting.
"Wanna spar?" Ronon asked nonchalantly.
"Sure," John replied. It wasn't like he had anything better to do and his stick fighting was improving. Maybe he'd be able to get a few hits in this time - before Ronon wiped the floor with him.
Part Two