Fic: Golgotha, Gen. NC-17, Evan Lorne 1/5

[rubygirl29]

Title: Golgotha
Author: Rubygirl29
Fandome: SGA/SG-1
Genre: H/C
Rating: NC-17
Warnings: Violence, torture, language, emotional and physical trauma
Characters: John Sheppard, Cam Mitchell, Evan Lorne, Laura Cadman, Vala Maldoran, Carolyn Lam, Sam Carter and various OCs.

Summary: Evan Lorne has no idea how far his friends will go in their efforts to "Leave No Man Behind," emotionally and physically.



Author's Note: The inspiration for this came from the wonderful story "Promises" by bluflamingo set in her What Happens Next 'Verse. Alex Sheppard is her OC. A few of the scenes reflect, but are not word for word, from her story. Alex is John's artificially conceived biological child. When the child's mother is taken by the Wraith, John returns to earth with the boy and retires from the Air Force. Thank you, Em, for giving me permission to write Lorne's story.

Golgotha deviates quite a bit from the original. I've written this as a genfic, not slash, because I wanted the emphasis to be on Lorne, not on the relationship between John and Cam. It is a story about friendship, healing, hope and love.

And a HUGE thanks to black_raven135 for her beta-reading and invaluable expertise on military protocol and procedure. I couldn't have done this without her help.

Golgotha

The calm of the gateroom is broken by the harsh claxon of the gate erupting into action. "Unauthorized Activation!" Chuck announces with only a hint of panic. "Lieutenant Cadman's IDC."

Richard Wolseye's mind starts off in a hundred different directions, none of them good. "Open the iris. Guard team to the gate." Armed marines aim weapons at the gate as the horison gushes forth and clears. Lieutenant Cadman stumbles in, followed by the other member of the team who had gone to the planet's surface on what should have been an uncomplicated mission. Woolsey counts heads and stops.

"Lieutenant, where is Colonel Lorne?"

Cadman's face is bone-pale and her voice is shaking. "They took him, sir. They stunned all of us, and when I came to, Colonel Lorne ... was ... gone. Sir, we need to go after him," she says, and then realizes that she is committing a major breach of protocol. If possible, she gets even more pale, until the faint shadows beneath her eyes show like bruises. "I'm sorr --"

Woolsey waves it aside. "Lieutenant, take your team to the infirmary and get checked out."

"Sir, with all respect, they took him."

"I am aware of that, Lieutenant." Woolsey is a bit chilly. "Why Colonel Lorne?" he mused, softening a bit when he sees her distress.

"Because he has the gene," Laura says. "It's happened before with the Genii." She sways a bit then corrects. "They aren't the only ones who want ancient technology."

"Go to the infirmary. I'll have a strike force readied to retrieve him."

"I want to be on the team, Mr. Woolsey." Despite her pallor, Cadman stands tough. She's a marine, and Richard knows she and Lorne are friends, if not more.

"If Dr. Keller clears you --"

"Thank you, sir." Laura's salute is less snappy than usual, but she goes to the infirmary. Twenty minutes later, she is leading the strike force through the gate.

^*^*^*^*^*^*^

Lorne comes to consciousness abruptly, like somebody had thrown icy water on his face, and realizes that somebody has thrown icy water on him. He has a headache, his body is buzzing with the familiarity of being stunned, and the cold water only adds insult to injury. "Hey!" He throws his hands up, suddenly aware that they are cuffed, not tightly, but still ... "Hey! I'm one of the good guys, remember?" He shakes the water from his eyes and regrets it when his head throbs. He lays back and waits for his vision to clear.

"I apologize for stunning you, Colonel. It was a necessity."

Evan recognizes the man as the leader of the diplomatic mission that greeted them at the gate. Well, maybe not so diplomatic. The guy has eyes like arctic ice and a face like a hatchet.

"Umm, I'm not following your logic here." He sits up, looks around. "Where's my team?" His heart is beating faster than it should be.

"They have returned to your people. They are safe."

"Prove it."

"Colonel, I am wounded by your lack of trust. We had no use for them, so they were allowed to return to your city."

"Why am I here? Did I defy some local custom or tradition? Am I a hostage?"

"Only in the sense that you posses something we need. The gene of the Ancestors."

Crap! Another crazy like the Genii. Lorne's head hurts too much for him to think logically. "Why?" He asks, not sure that he wants to know the answer.

"Come with me, Colonel." He motions to his attendant who helps Lorne to his feet. He'd feel better with his hands free, but when he holds them up, the gesture is ignored. So much for hospitality, he thinks as he is guided down a long passage.

The room they enter is large and eerily familiar. Ancient symbols are etched into the walls. Lorne language skills aren't up to deciphering more than a few of them. The control consoles are similar to those on Atlantis and the faint, hum of Ancient tech is calling to his genes. The attendant gives him a shove towards a doorway. "In there," he says, earning a frown from the leader.

Evan's nerves are throbbing. What lies beyond that door is powerful. He tries to recall anything McKay has said about ancient technologies but when he steps inside the chamber, his brain stops thinking for a moment.

A chair. The damn planet has a freakin' weapons chair! Lorne files that information away as valuable intel. His second thought is that if they have a chair, they must have a ZPM -- also filed away as intel. "So...?" He acts like he has no idea what they are asking ... and he really doesn't; if they want help fighting the Wraith, Atlantis will help them. Another ally was always welcome. If that is the case, why is he being held hostage?

"We have this chair. You have the genetic material we need to use it."

Lorne shakes his head. "I can't do this without talking to the leader of our expedition."

"Our need is pressing." The man's eyes have gone dangerously icy and Lorne feels a chill down his spine.

"Listen, our scanner showed no Wraith activity in this sector of the galaxy. It won't take long for me to bring in our leadership and our scientists. I can't do this without them."

"Oh ... I think you can." He nods to his enforcer, as Lorne is beginning to think of him. There is a quick movement and what feels like a sap connects at the base of his skull. Lorne goes down on his knees, sick and in pain. He is dragged up, his cuffs released as he is pushed into the chair and his hands placed on the pads.

The chair shudders beneath him, fighting his will to keep it under control. He cries out, pulls his hands away and launches himself off the platform. As he falls, a shock of energy races through him and everything goes dark.

^*^*^*^*^*^*^

Cadman's team, accompanied by Zelenka, steps through the gate. Nothing has changed, but this time there is no delegation to meet them, just a man working a small plot of land. Cadman and Sergeant Stackhouse approach him. She smiles. She knows she is pretty, and despite the weapons she carries, she can see the man's face light up. "Hello. I am looking for the delegation from your village who greeted us this morning," she begins, but falters when the man's face registers confusion.

"I know of no such delegation," he says. "This morning, I was not here."

"Yes, I know that. But do you know who would have greeted us?"

"The head of our village council, but he could not have greeted you. He was ill this day, as were many of the others on the council. Bad meat and too much wine at their meeting last night." The man gives her a conspiratorial wink.

Cadman shakes her head. "We were greeted by a man. Tall, wearing a gray cloak and a green-stone brooch?"

The man pales. "Cloaks like you describe are not worn by my people, but by the Varashi, our enemies. They are not from this world."

"What do you mean your 'enemies'?" Cadman asks, her lips feeling oddly numb.

"For many years they have raided our settlements, pillaged our villages, kidnapped our children."

Cadman looks at Zelenka and Stackhouse. "Sergeant, you're with me. Dr. Zelenka, can you determine the last address dialed?" When Zelenka starts to tell her that is nearly impossible, she fights back the fears that are making her stomach twist uncomfortably. "Yes, I know Dr. Zelenka, but this is Colonel Lorne, we owe him our best to bring him home safely."

Laura and Stackhouse walk towards the village in silence. Laura hates this. Evan is one of her best friends; they have never been lovers, but they are attuned to each other acutely. She is intensely aware of the passage of time. Each second might as well be the slow drip of Evan's blood. She wonders if she is trembling. If she stops moving, will she fall apart?

She is surprised to find she is rock-steady when she meets T'kai Molas, the head of council. Molas looks like a man who spent the night being ill. His skin is dry, his eyes sunken; but his manner is courteous, and there is concern in his voice.

"We have been at war with the Varashi for centuries. Our ancestors upon ancestors have told tales of great battles. However, my people stopped fighting many years ago. We became simple farmers, not warriors, the battles have become raids on our land. We live with it and pray that someday the Varashi will tire of it as well."

"What were you fighting about?" Stackhouse asks.

"An object of great value."

"Object?"

"It is forbidden to speak of it now. I am afraid no living soul remembers what this object is, or where it was hidden."

"The Varashi are still hunting for this relic?"

"Indeed, they have increased their raids of late. If they do not stop, we will have to start raising an army again to defend our children and our homeland."

T'kai looks so woeful, so sad, that Cadman wants to touch his shoulder in sympathy, but she asks instead, "Are you sure your illness was an accident?"

T'kai gasps, "My people would not betray their heritage."

"Well, somebody did," Cadman says. "One of our people was taken by the Varashi. I need the gate symbols of the Varashi home world. Please ... can you give those to me?"

"If your friend was taken, I pity him. I will give you what I have, but I warn you, the Varashi raiding parties do not confine themselves to one planet. They choose many. I have only a few of those ..."

"Maybe we'll get lucky," Stackhouse says grimly. He nods at T'kai and leaves.

Cadman holds out her hand. "We don't forget acts of friendship or kindness," she says. "If we find our friend, we will be in your debt."

She leaves with a list of ten coordinates that are possibilities. The seconds are still ticking away. When they get back to the gate, she looks at Zelenka and hands him the list. Now her hands are shaking. She doesn't hide it from Radek, who nods in sympathy. Laura thinks he would hug her if she weren't carrying a P-90, but she appreciates the thought.

"Should I start dialing the first address?" Zelenka asks.

"No," Laura decides. "We go back to Atlantis. I want Ronon Dex with us."

^*^*^*^*^*^*^
Lorne opens his eyes and groans. Every muscle in his body aches, as if he had been contorted painfully for hours. God, they had stunned him good. He starts to sit up and would have tipped over sideways if he hadn't been caught and held by somebody. As he struggles upright on his own, his cellmate skitteres away to the far corner.

"Where?" He looks around. He is in a jail cell. Iron bars and cold stone floors. Funny how that worked in every semi-primitive world they visit. He peers at the other man. "How long was I out?"

"Long time." The voice is rusty. "You are hurt?"

Evan moves his arms and legs. "No. just stunned. Apparently, I didn't give the Big Guy the right answer." He stretches cautiously and gets to his feet. He tests the bars. They are unyielding. He sighs. "How long have you been here?"

"I don't know."

"Not the answer I wanted to hear. I'm Evan. You?"

"Aris."

"You don't have to hide in the corner. I don't bite." When Aris doesn't move, Lorne shrugs. "Suit yourself, but we could be here for a while."

"A lifetime," Aris sighs.

"No way. I've got people out there looking for me."

"So I believed once." Aris inches into the vague illumination. As he comes closer, his features looked blurred, almost shapeless. Lorne has seen those scars before, on a pilot shot down in Afghanistan. His burns had happened in a flash, Aris's had layers to them, some old, some barely healed, some still weeping plasma.

"They did this to you?" Lorne asks, horror and pity warring in his chest. "Why?"

Aris laughs softly. "I, too, did not give them the answers they wanted to hear."

Evan swears under his breath. "Who are they?"

"They are called the Varashi, the skull takers. They have been at war with my world for centuries."

"That's a hell of a long time to hold a grudge." He thinks about his service in the Middle East and Afghanistan where the feuds go back so far and the hatred so deep that the origins have been lost. That kind of hatred wasn't limited to the Pegasus galaxy. "I guess it happens everywhere."

"You are not from here?"

"No." Simple is best.

"You are gate travelers?"

"Yeah." Lorne isn't stupid. He knows that spies have been planted in prison cells to lure unwary captives into sympathetic, and unwitting betrays. "Why do you call the Varashi skull takers?"

Aris shudders. "The tales say that they used to decapitate their enemies and leave their heads on the city gates. They say the walls of Varash, their home world, were built of skulls."

"Are we on Varash?"

Aris laughs weakly. "No. Varash is long dead. The Wraith culled and destroyed it."

"So, no love lost between the Varash and the Wraith." He thinks maybe he could bargain with his captors after all.

"The Wraith are enemies of all, but the Varash hate my people more than the Wraith, for they believe the Wraith came to our planet first, seeking our treasure, and were betrayed by us. If they could wipe us from the skies, they would."

"The Wraith aren't treasure hunters."

"Our treasure was said to give power beyond imagining to its possessors."

"The Wraith found it?"

"No."

Lorne is starting to put the pieces of the puzzle together. A treasure that gives limitless power, the Varashi possessing a weapons platform, but needing the ATA gene to use it against the planet that betrayed them to the Wraith ... A ZPM? If the Varashi can fire the chair, they must have a ZPM ... maybe one near depletion. Lorne looks at Aris' ruined face. "Why did they do that to you?"

"Because my father is T'kai Molas, the leader of my people. They believe that if I break, I will tell them of the treasure. But I do not know. Nobody knows. It is lost." He sounds suddenly young and desolate. Lorne decides he's no plant by the Varashi. He's still no closer to deciding what his next step will be when the door to the cell opens and two guards come in. One has a stunner aimed at Lorne, the other drags an unresisting Aris away.

Lorne knows that if he's stunned again, it will wreak havoc on his nervous system for a long time. He's still weak from the second blast. He shrugs at the guard and scoots into in the corner, his back to the wall, his hands limp on the floor. Passive. The guard grunts and backs out of the cell, leaving Lorne alone.

The screams begin a short time later. They are agonizing, hopeless, and they go on for a very long time. Lorne, who has killed, and who has seen men killed in ways that have haunted his dreams, prays that he will not have to see Aris' ruined face. The last scream ends abruptly. A door slams, and the Varashi guards drag a body past his cell. Lorne recognizes the clothes. One of the guards, hearing his choked gasp, looks at him and smiles. "You're next."

Before joining SGC, Lorne took Air Force SERE training. Survival, Evasion, Resistance, Escape. He figured this was more of an RESE kind of situation. He would resist, he would escape. He'd deal with the Evade and Survive later.

He doesn't get that far.

^*^*^*^*^*^*^

"I'm ready." Ronon spins his gun once and slides it into the holster.

He looks fierce, indomitable, a warrior from legends, Cadman thinks. She hopes he is the force multiplier they need. Lorne has been missing for forty-eight hours. She hates the waste of time. She would have gone from gate to gate to find him, even though intellectually she knows that would have been fruitless. It has taken more time than she likes for Zelenka to extract three addresses from the list that still had active gates.

He hands them to her apologetically. "I have three, but there is no guarantee that you will find Colonel Lorne. The addresses are highly suspect. I tried to compare them to the Ancient database, but the list had many inaccuracies."

Cadman feels like crying, but she looks away and meets Ronon's fierce, sympathetic eyes. "It's a starting point." She turns to Mr. Woolsey. "We're ready, sir."

"Good luck. Bring him home."

"Yes, sir."

Laura knows everybody thinks she and Evan are lovers. They're wrong. They love each other, sure, but not in that way. Their careers have been roughly parallel: he's a mining engineer, she is a demolition expert. They have a similar style of command. They share the same slightly skewed sense of humor. Laughter and trust aren't such bad foundations for any relationship.

"Let's move out," she says to her team and Ronon. There is a jumper waiting for them. Sergeant Stackhouse pilots it through the gate and the search is on.

The first planet is devoid of life. Scans from the jumper corroborate this, but they do a sweep from the ground anyway. Sour disappointment scours Cadman's throat. "Let's go to the next address," she says. Ronon walks behind her like a bulwark of strength at her back. She feels his support and is grateful that she isn't doing this alone.

They step out onto a meadow. The grass has been tended, and a path leads towards the edge of the clearing.

"Cook fires," Ronon says, pointing to a smudge on the horizon.

Cadman's heart lifts a bit. Maybe, just maybe this is the right planet. "Move out," she orders. She looks at Ronon. "Take the lead on this one. I never know how natives are going to feel about women in command." She's heard stories from Sam Carter that were both amusing and terrifying.

"I could go alone," he suggests with a slight grin. "I won't shoot anybody."

"Or physically maim them in any way?" She grins back. "Seriously, if you even suspect that this is the right place, radio me STAT, and wait for us before you decide to go on a solo rescue mission." She presses a photo of Lorne into his hand. "Be careful who you show this to."

"Yeah." He looks at the picture, smooths it before he tucks it into his tunic. "He's tough. He'll be all right."

"I know." She doesn't know and she has little faith in the world. She's seen too many people die.

^*^*^*^*^*^*^

Shortly after Aris' body was dragged past his cell, a hooded interrogator enters. He carries a short black rod that delivers a shock as he digs the point into Lorne's ribs.

"Get up," he rasps.

"Sure thing ..." Lorne drags himself to his feet. His ribs feel like they're on fire. He straightens up with a grimace and follows his captor out into the dank hallway and a second guard, also with a prod, follows him. If he's prodded in the spine, he'll be paralyzed. He does as he's told, glancing around surreptitiously. There's not much to see. Stone walls, metal sconces ... rows of empty cells. He wonders if that's a good sign or a bad one.

He is pushed into a dim room. Rough hands strip him of his clothes. They shove a pair of flimsy trousers and a loose shirt into his hands, and he is grateful for that shred of dignity. He is manacled to rings suspended from the ceiling. If he were taller, it would be merely uncomfortable; as it is, his weight has to rest on the balls of his feet, or put too much strain on his shoulders. Maybe that's their plan.

"Um ... this isn't very hospitable of you." He tries humor, but his voice sounds weak, and the tall man with the prod doesn't seem to find his effort particularly amusing. He gives Lorne a quick punch in the stomach. Evan tastes blood on his mouth when his teeth inadvertently tear his cheek. It is going to be a long night ....

It is the longest night of his life. They don't let him sleep. If he starts drifting off, they get out the prods. Sometimes it's a quick punch, sometimes a slow agonizing stroke down his ribs, or a push into his armpits, the side of his neck, his hip, his groin. He doesn't know how long they torture him. He only knows that he screams, he cries, but he doesn't talk.

He's not ashamed of his tears. He doesn't beg them to take him back to the chair. He doesn't gibber that he'll do anything they ask, even though he flinches every time that hooded figure moves.

Finally, they take him down. He collapses on the hard floor, wanting to weep for the sensation of the cool stones against his face, on his body, which feels like it is on fire. He lies there, dying of thirst, nauseated but with nothing in his stomach but bile, and in too much pain to rest. His nerves are twitching from the sustained shocks, he is shivering and sick.

"They'll come for me," he whispers. "They'll come for me."

^*^*^*^*^*^*^

Cadman paces, knowing that Stackhouse is following her every move as if he expects her to break. The other marines are exchanging anxious glances, and Laura forces herself to slow down, to be calm. Where is Ronon? He has gone off by himself on rescue missions before, and she prays that isn't the case now. Evan is missing, and it's like having part of her heart torn away. Movement keeps her from replaying their mission over and over in her mind, trying to see if there was something she had missed, some sign that they were on the road to failure. Logically, she knew she shouldn't berate herself; none of them should, but it doesn't help that gnawing cramp in her gut that is made of fear, guilt, and loss.

When her radio clicks in her ear, she nearly jumps out of her skin. "You found him?"

"No, but I have another gate address. These people have traded with the Varashi."

"Good work," Cadman says. "Get back here and we'll check it out."

"Yeah." There is hesitation in his voice that chills Laura, but she decides to wait to question him. She turns to the marines. "We have a new address. Full military kit, stun grenades, stunners and P-90s, C4."

Stackhouse's mouth twitches, and Laura gives him a small smile back. Lorne's love of C4 in dire situations borders on the legendary. That's what comes from being a mining engineer for SGC early in his career. Now, he's a pilot, but C4 can still make him grin with delight. The memory of his smile gives Laura a momentary pang beneath her breastbone. Please, God, let us be in time, she prays.

Ronon arrives as they are finishing their preparations. He ducks into the jumper, looks around and tilts his head, indicating Laura should talk to him outside. Her heart sinks. "What is it?" she asks.

Ronon looks troubled, anger running close to the surface. "These people traded with the Varashi in good faith and the Varashi turned on them two years ago. They say the Varashi have become ravishers; taking slaves, destroying villages, turning on their former allies by betraying them to the Wraith."

"Great. So now we have to worry about the Wraith on top of everything else." She starts heading back inside the jumper. Ronon catches her elbow gently. "What?"

"The Varashi don't take hostages."

The world beneath Laura's feet lurches. She has been depending on dealing with kidnappers, of using brains and lures to free Lorne, now that option seems to be gone. "What else?"

"They've been boasting about a weapon so powerful that they will destroy worlds with it."

"Could they have Ancient technology?"

"Lorne has the gene."

"So do Stackhouse and Daniels."

"Lorne has it naturally," Ronon says softly. "With Sheppard gone, he's the strongest one."

Laura looks at him. "We'll get him back. Give Stackhouse the coordinates. We'll go in cloaked."

"This might be nothing," Ronon warns.

"No. I think this is it. I feel it is." She doesn't know what she will do if it isn't. She doesn't know what she will do if they are too late.

^*^*^*^*^*^*^

Lorne opens his eyes. Nothing focuses. He closes them again, waits a few moments and opens them again. The first things he sees are his fingers. There is a smear of blood across his knuckles. He remembers biting his cheek, and he can taste the rusty sweetness in his mouth. His fingers move weakly. Just beyond his immediate reach he sees a metal cup. He moves it closer, dips his fingertips into liquid, moves them to his mouth. He tastes it. There is a peculiar sweetness to it. He doesn't know if that is just the taste of the water on the planet, or if there has been something added to it -- a drug, a poison. He is parched, but he tips the cup over, spilling the contents.

It finally registers that his hands are free. He closes his eyes and tries to envision his tormentors. They wear gray or black hooded cloaks. Gray-cloak cinches his cloak with a belt. Is there a scabbard for a knife? A short sword? He thinks there is. If he can get hold of the weapon, he could fight his way out of here, find some help. Get to the chair. If he launches a drone and detonates it, maybe somebody will see it ... his people, in a jumper. At this point, he'd even take the Wraith ... he knows how to get off a Wraith ship.

He wonders if he's thinking clearly enough, if he's strong enough. If he doesn't get out of here, if he doesn't try, he might as well die here. If he dies, it's better to die fighting. The door opens and he sees boots and the hem of a gray cloak.

"Get him on his feet."

Lorne lets them drag him up. He keeps his head down, checks to see if he was right about the knife. It's there, a long thin poignard. He lifts his head slowly and meets the icy eyes of his abductor. He needs to lure the man closer.

"Have you reconsidered your decision?"

"Fuck, no." Lorne doesn't think the obscenity will translate but he lets his tone speak. "I will never let you use me. Never."

The man lifts a long finger and slides it down Lorne's cheek. "You must be thirsty, yet you didn't drink." His finger presses against Lorne's Adam's apple. "You really should have."

"I didn't like the taste." Lorne lunges for the knife, his fingers close on the hilt, he pulls it free and grips it, intending to slide it under the man's ribcage to slice into his heart. His reflexes aren't as sharp as they had been. Torture has weakened him and he feels like he is moving in slow motion. He is hit with a stun rod to his chest, and pain lances through him. It feels like it will stop his heart and he thinks that might be better than what that liquid will do to him, as he slides to the floor.

"I think you will drink now."

Lorne tries to fight, but he is held down by two guards who push his abused shoulders to the stone floor. He has no strength to fight them. His mouth is forced open and a liquid is poured into his mouth. He has no choice but to swallow. He chokes on the liquid as it burns its way down his throat into his stomach. He tries to spit it out, but the damage is done. He feels the world growing fuzzy around the edges. He doesn't lose consciousness, just control. He is dragged out of the cell to the chair room. They lash his arms in place, force his palms onto the control pads.

The chair comes to life as his gene activates it. Evan tries to keep it from initializing. It hurts; the chair's programming is like a living thing, it fights him. His head throbs with pain, it lances down his nerves. He doesn't know if it's the drug, or his stubborn reluctance, or the ZPM giving up the last of its power, but the chair's power fades and weakens, even as Lorne does. He slumps down, completely exhausted but feeling a small flicker of victory.

His head is pulled back by his hair, and the poignard is at his throat. "Do it," he is commanded.

"Go to Hell." His words are slurred, still defiant. The Varashi tears the thin material from him body with one strong pull. Cold metal glides across his neck, warm blood flows down his skin. It's slow, not arterial spray, so it won't kill him. "Cut deeper," he challenges, and the Varashi's eyes glow with rage. He backhands Lorne across the cheek, opening a cut that adds more blood to the sluggish flow from his throat. The Varashi holds out his hand for a stunner and runs it down Lorne's chest and stomach, to his groin. Lorne screams until his throat is raw and swollen, but the chair remains lifeless.

Rough hands haul him out of the chair. He is thrown against a stone wall, his head hitting hard. He feels blood starting to soak his hair. Dazed, he looks up. The gray cloaked man has his stun rod out, the tip poised over Lorne's heart. This is death, Lorne thinks. He isn't sure he cares. The rod touches his breast and Lorne feels his heart convulse and stutter in its rhythm. It's not the coup de grace Lorne had anticipated, just another cruelty before the Varashi throws the stun rod to one of the guards and leans over him.

"You will beg for death," he whispers against Lorne's cheek. "But it will not come ... Your people will die, your city will fall, and all because of your pride." He backs away, turns to his guards. "He's yours. Do with him what you will."

Lorne watches helplessly as two black-clad men approach him. One has the stun rod, the other stands over him; the toes of his boots are clad in metal. He draws back and kicks Lorne in the side. The pain makes him scream. There is no subtlety in what they do. Even after Lorne passes out, they continue to beat him until the room is spattered with his blood. Then they leave him to die.

^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^
The signal is so faint that at first Stackhouse thinks it is the result of wishing to hear it so fiercely that it's a hallucination. It is weak, stuttering, but it is definitely the chirp of a subcutaneous transmitter.

"Lieutenant, I've got something," he calls back to Cadman. "Looks like one of ours."

Laura leans over his shoulder and looks at the display. "Is it ...?"

"I think so. It's erratic, and very faint."

"Electronic interference?"

He takes a breath, not wanting to say what he really thinks. "That's one explanation."

Laura won't ask him with the other is. She turns to Ronon and the Marines. "Okay. We'll land the jumper. Ronon and I will go ahead. Keep your radio channels open. Any hint of trouble, go back to the jumper and come get us."

"Are there any other life signs?" she asks Stackhouse.

"None in the area of ... none near the other." He gets up from the pilot's seat. "Ma'am, I want to come with you. If there's trouble, Danielson can fly the jumper."

Cadman looks at him. He is deadly serious. He's been on Lorne's team for a long time, they've saved each other's lives. He cares, almost as much as she does, as much as Ronon does. Another gun is never a bad idea. "Let's go. Sergeant Danielson, you have your orders."

They leave the jumper and head towards what looks like a fortress in the near distance. There is no sign of life, or human habitation. A dry wind whispers through the grasses. It sounds mournful, like an exhalation of life. Laura shivers, despite the heat of the sun on her back. Ronon looks grim. "This is a dead place," he says. He kicks a tussock of grass and nearly jumps back when bones show through the earth. He looks more closely at what he thought were merely rounded stones and realizes that they're skull and bone fragments. He picks up and handful and shows Laura. "Bones."

"Auschwitz," Laura whispers. "It's like Auschwitz. My great-grandfather was with the liberators. He told me about it ... he took me there." The sense of evil lingers like a miasma, and she grips her P-90 like a talisman against it. She remembers holding her grandfather's hand and wishes that she had somebody holding her hand now.

Stackhouse is somber as he looks around. "The whole place is a graveyard. There must be thousands of bodies buried here." He looks at his life signs detector. "This way ..." he gestures ahead. He doesn't tell Cadman that the signal is growing fainter instead of stronger.

At first they stay off any paths worn through the grasses. Ronon has scooped up handfuls of dust, rubbing it into his leathers to dull them. Laura and Stackhouse, in desert cammo, blend in easily. They don't move as quickly as Laura would like, less than a hundred yards at a time before pausing, waiting for any sign that their presence has been noticed. Nothing else stirs. The distance is deceiving, the land's rolling contours making the fortress seem closer than it is.

Stackhouse can't keep quiet any longer. "Ma'am, we need to hurry. The signal is fading."

Laura knows what that a means. She is already as pale as the dust clinging to her uniform. She taps her radio. "Danielson, bring the jumper to our current position. Stay cloaked. We'll find you." She looks at the walls of the fortress, less than a mile away now. "Okay, let's pick up the pace. We'll risk the road."

Ronon is already off at a lope, his long tireless legs eating up the ground, his gun drawn. Laura and Stackhouse follow. Laura wonders at the complete absence of life. There should be something, somebody ... maybe this is all a trap. It wouldn't be the first time a transmitter had been cut out of one of their people.

Danielson's voice startles her. "Ma'am, not to alarm you or anything, but we're picking up a Wraith cruiser. Far away yet, and maybe not heading this way. I ran a scan and there's an energy signature that looks like a ship entering hyperspace about an hour ago."

"Thank you, sergeant." She motions to Stackhouse. "Did you hear that?"

"Yeah. Maybe that's why there aren't any other life signs. The picked up the Wraith cruiser and beat a retreat."

"Okay, let's go in the front door. I'm tired of this," she tells Ronon. He acknowledges with a wave of his hand, though he continues running towards the fortress walls. As they get closer, the construction of the walls grows more distinct, as if it were built of rounded stones. Ronon stops, stares up at them, waits for Laura and Stackhouse to catch up to him.

"Who are these people? Who built this place? These are skulls! Thousands of them."

Stackhouse looks spooked. "Golgotha," he whispers hoarsely.

Laura has no answers. She really doesn't care. "They're gone. Let's find the way inside. Stackhouse, how's the signal?"

"No weaker, but not stronger, either."

"Okay. Let's ring the front doorbell." Laura looks at the gates. Ronon pushes them. They are perhaps twenty feet high, build of timber that looks hard as rock. Laura takes out two cubes of C4. She packs the plastic into what looks like the most vulnerable places, locks and hinge. They run back and she sets the detonator. "This is for you, Evan," she whispers and depresses the button. The explosion is huge and effective. The dust clears, revealing one door hanging ajar on it's hinges. Ronon, coughing, pushes it aside.

"Stackhouse?"

He's studying the detector in his hand. "This way," he points and Laura lets him take the lead. If there were any defenses, they're passive ones. She keeps an eye out for anything that might indicate a booby trap; tripwires, the sheen of a mine. She doesn't think there are any. This place was built to inspire fear and terror. "This is a prison," Laura says. "That's why there aren't defenses."

"Or life signs," Ronon says. There is a pile of bodies, limbs tangled and contorted. "Fresh kills," he says, his voice thick. Laura doesn't want to look. She takes a step toward Ronon, but Stackhouse holds her back.

"He'll do it. You don't have to."

Ronon is already laying the bodies out, giving them some dignity. "He's not here." Only the lifting of his shoulders betrays his relief. They leave the bodies in the courtyard and go inside the main keep.

It is cold. Not cool, cold. Laura shivers inside her desert gear. Ronon doesn't seem to notice. He isn't coding the place, but his gun stays in his hand. Laura walks beside Stackhouse, focusing on the faint glow of the detector.

"Stairs," Ronon says. "Down there?"

"Yeah." Stackhouse nods. "I think so." He digs a lighter out of his pocket. "Torches on the walls. We'll need light."

Ronon takes the lighter and reaches up to light the way. He takes one out of the sconce and carries it. The flame-cast shadows are haunting. There are more bodies at the bottom of the stairs. Manacled together, they lie as they fell. Ronon gives them a quick look. Shakes his head.

"How did they die?" Laura asks. They seem unmarked; starved and brutalized, but not bearing any significant wounds.

"Don't know. Some kind of lethal stunner. It looks like burns on their chests over their hearts." He looks at his gun. "At least they died quick."

"Not quickly enough," Stackhouse mutters, then gives Laura an apologetic look. "Sorry, ma'am."

She shakes off the paralyzing fear that one of the bodies was Lorne's. "We need to hurry." She tries to contact the jumper, but the signal is being blocked. They'll need to get outside. She holds out her hand for the detector. "Go topside, tell Danielson to move to the front gate but stay cloaked. Find out what's happening with the Wraith cruiser."

"I'll be back." He folds her cold fingers over the detector. "He's not far."

She looks at the signal. It should be stronger. She looks at Ronon. "This way for about fifty yards, then there's another corridor on the left. We go that way."

She follows the signal on the detector, turns left into a corridor that narrows quickly and slopes downwards. There are cells cut into the rocks. Ronon sweeps the torch down one side, while Laura uses her mag-lite on the other. They are empty, the doors unlocked. She guesses this is where the dead prisoners had been kept. Some of the cells have dark stains on the walls and floor that she prefers not to think about even though she can smell the old scent of blood.

Ronon stops in front of a cell, curses softly. "Cadman."

No,. She hasn't come this far to find Lorne dead. There is a body in the cell, face turned towards the wall. A pile of fabric is in the corner; an Atlantis military uniform. "No ..." she sighs, and feels like she's going to faint.

Ronon turns the body. "Don't look," he says, but Laura has to look. It's not as if she hasn't seen bodies before. The face is obliterated by scars ... old scars, and she swallows, half-relieved but horrified nonetheless.

"It's not him. This man has been starved. Lorne has only been missing for 48 hours. Not long enough to become this emaciated."

"The uniform is his."

"Take it with us." She leans against the wall. "Wait, what is that medallion around the man's neck?"

Ronon breaks the chain and hands it to her. "You know this?"

"I've seen one like it. T'kai Molas wore it. This might be his son." She stows the medallion in her pack. "He deserves at least this much back."

They leave the body and move on. The air is somewhat fresher, even though there doesn't seem to be any light filtering in. They come to a dead end and a tall door that isn't a cell. There are markings on it. Laura doesn't read Ancient, but she recognizes the symbols. "Look," she says. The detector in her hand is pulsing with light. "He's in here!"

Ronon puts his shoulder to the door and it yields on old metal hinges. They step inside. A faint, far away light filters down, the shaft illuminating the impossible. A weapons chair ... and at the base, what looks like a pile of bloody rags until Ronon bends down. "Lorne!" his voice is painfully rough, but his touch is impossibly gentle as he turns the body.

Laura steps forward dreading what she will see. "Is he alive?"

"Yeah, barely."

Laura kneels next to Ronon. "God," she breathes, almost relieved. His face, other than a cut on his cheek and bruises, is uninjured. His body looks broken. Ronon's hand firms on her shoulder. "They expected us to find him. They wanted us to recognize him," she says, her voice thick in her throat.

"Lieutenant," Ronon is taking Lorne's pulse. His eyes are scanning his body, seeing the blood on the walls, the floor. The thin rags Lorne is wearing are soaked with it. His leg is canted at an odd angle, there are bones sticking through the skin on his fingers, his breath sounds wet and spongy. "We have to get him out of here."

Laura, now that she has him alive, is assessing his condition. "Go to the jumper. Get Stackhouse and two marines. We need a backboard. I'm afraid to move him without one. God knows what else is broken that we can't see."

Ronon nods. He doesn't like leaving her alone, but she's determined beneath the unnatural pallor that makes her sprinkling of freckles stand out like ash. He puts his gun at her side, and when she looks up in surprise, he says, "Just in case this place isn't as empty as it looks."

She nods, but she turns back to Lorne. She can't even give him water, but she moistens a gauze pad from her kit with water from her canteen and wipes it across his lips, leaving a film of moisture. He doesn't move. His head is heavy on her hand, the skin clammy. His pulse beneath her thumb is impossibly slow and at times she swears it misses a beat. She bends her head and her tears fall on his dark hair. Just keep beating ... please. It is a hope and a prayer.

She hears a noise in the corridor and grabs Ronon's gun. She aims it at the corridor, her aim steady and cool, her training reflexive. Ronon's big frame eases in the door and her arm comes down slowly. She hands him his gun and reluctantly surrenders her place to Stackhouse and the marines so they can slide Evan's body on to the backboard. They strap him to it, careful of his obvious injuries.

Ronon looks at the chair. "What about that?"

Laura wants to destroy it, but their C4 would hardly put a dent in it. She leaves Lorne's side and presses the control panel at the back of the chair. She pulls the crystals. She can only hope that wherever the ZPM is, it's nearly depleted. "Let's go."

As they carry him to the surface, Ronon puts a hand on her elbow to guide her. It feels like a funeral cortege, he thinks; then shoves that thought deep in the box where he keeps all of his secret fears.

Danielson is waiting for them, his eyes a little too wide. "The Wraith cruiser is heading this way and launching darts."

"Shit!" Laura curses. "Get in and secure that backboard. Stackhouse, take the pilot's seat. Danielson, shotgun."

"They can't see us, right?" he asks.

"Not the jumper, but if they're close they'll see us activate the gate." She is checking the straps securing the backboard. She can't help if her fingers brush Lorne's hair. It's stiff with blood. She leans in, whispers. "We'll get you home. Just stay with us." If the marines hear her, they don't show it, but Ronon's eyes are uncharacteristically soft. It's that pity that nearly breaks her.

"Ma'am," Stackhouse speaks to her. "I'm about to dial the gate."

"How close are the Wraith?"

"Close, but the darts aren't heading this way yet."

Laura has a thought. "We have drones. Fire one at the fortress. She leans over Stackhouse's shoulder. The display shows the darts, the gate, their own position. "Go. Now!"

The gate activates. Stackhouse fires the drone. They all hold their breath, praying that their dialing sequence blocks the Wraiths'. If the Wraith beat them to it, they'll be trapped. Lorne can't afford any delay. Then the horizon clears and they shoot through as the drone impacts on the fortress and detonates in a blinding flash of light.

It happens so quickly that Laura's heart rate hasn't returned to normal as Stackhouse guides the jumper through the Atlantis gate. She gets on the radio. "Med team to the gate room, STAT!"

As Keller and her team reach the jumper, Laura's knees give out and she sinks to the jumper floor, her head buried in her arms, sobbing her heart out. It is Ronon who shields her long enough for her to regain some semblance of composure and help her to her feet.

^*^*^*^*^*^*^

"You destroyed a chair?" Woolsey looks both incredulous and furious. "A chair?"

Laura clasps her shaking hands behind her back. "Sir, I didn't know what else to do. The Wraith were on the way. I didn't want the chair to fall into their hands. I can only speculate that the DHD was nearly depleted, which is why they kidnapped Aris Molas, and when that failed, went after somebody with the ATA gene."

"That is the most insane, ingenious, and, if you'll excuse the expression, ballsy decision I think I have ever seen -- and that includes some of Lt. Colonel Sheppard's ideas -- here in the Pegasus Galaxy."

Laura blinks at him. "Thank you, sir."

Woolsey is scribbling his signature on a piece of official-looking paper. "I believe the next time we meet, you will be Captain Cadman."

"Thank you, sir. But I don't understand ... the next time?"

Woolsey hands her the paper. "Your temporary transfer to SGC. Effective immediately. You'll leave as soon as you're packed."

Laura can feel the blood drain from her face. "Sir, please, I'd like to stay until Colonel Lorne regains consciousness."

"Unless that happens within the next several hours, I don't see how that will be possible. You did see whose signature is on those papers?"

"Yes, sir."

"I make it a point not to cross General O'Neill."

"Yes, sir. Is that all?"

"Lieutenant, thank you. You are a remarkable officer and a credit to the marines here on Atlantis."

"Thank you, sir." She turns crisply on her heel and leaves before she can start whining like a spoiled child denied a demand. It takes less than an hour to pack up her belongings. She grabs a sandwich and a cup of coffee from the mess and goes right to the infirmary.

^*^*^*^*^*^*^
Jennifer Keller is one of the best doctors in two galaxies, otherwise she wouldn't be on Atlantis. She has seen injuries and conditions that she never thought possible. She has lost patients. She has lost friends, and she is determined not to lose Evan Lorne.

His catalog of injuries is frightening. It's hard to believe he didn't get them in a jet crash, but from a savage beating. She studies the body scans and looks at the printouts of his EEG and ECG. Now that he's getting fluid, his heart rate is stronger but still sluggish. His blood pressure is shockingly low. He has a hairline skull fracture and a concussion. The worst injuries are to his thorax and pelvis. Broken ribs, a collapsed lung, internal bleeding, a dislocated hip, a fractured pelvis, torn muscles and deep-tissue bruises. Blood in his urine ... possible lacerations of his kidneys.

His blood tests are worrying. He has been given some sort of drug, possibly a hallucinogen. His muscles twitch like there are electric shocks pulsing through his nerves ... She hangs her stethoscope around her neck and turns away, pressing her fingers to her eyelids to stay the tears.

"How is he?"

She looks up, startled to see Ronon. He had entered silently, watching her work. "How could anybody do this to him? This is beyond brutality."

"The walls were built of skulls. Stackhouse called it Golgotha. Cadman said it was like Auschwitz." The unfamiliar words nearly trip him up, but he watches her for signs of recognition.

"Oh." Jennifer sits down. The frame of reference only makes things worse. "He's strong. I don't know if that's enough to see him through this. Even when the physical wounds heal, he'll have to be in physical therapy for a long time. He needs more than I can give him here."

"He'll have to leave Atlantis?"

"For a while. Perhaps indefinitely." She sighs. "When he's stable, he'll be sent to SGC." Ronon nods, but still looks abandoned. Jennifer takes his arm and stands on tiptoe to kiss his cheek. "You're a good friend. He knows that."

"Can I stay?"

"For a few minutes." She pulls a chair up for him. "I'll let you know when it's time."

^*^*^*^*^*^*^

Laura is still reeling from her talk with Woolsey. She doesn't want to go back to Earth, leave Atlantis, leave Evan without knowing he'll be all right ... if he'll even live. Under any other circumstances the idea of a promotion would be thrilling. Now, it weighs heavily on her.

She pushes aside the curtain to Lorne's cubicle. Ronon is sitting there, his hand on Evan's as if he could will some of his own prodigious strength into Lorne. Laura clears her throat softly and Ronon turns. "Hi."

"Any change?" she asks.

"No."

"I have orders to return to Earth."

Ronon turns to her in surprise. "What? When?"

She shrugs off the first question and answers the second. "In a few hours. I'd like to sit with Evan for a while," she suggests.

"Yeah." He rises. "He'll be okay. You know that, right?"

"I know." She lets the tears overflow, unashamed in front of Ronon. He gathers her in a gentle hug. "Take care of him, okay?"

"Keller says as soon as he's stable, he'll be going back to SGC."

"Really?" She hadn't expected that. "Then take care of him until then."

"You did great out there."

She smiles for the first time in what seems like forever. "Thank you."

After Ronon leaves she sits in the chair, pulls it a bit closer. She is very grateful that the Varashi didn't ruin Evan's face. It makes her believe that he will recover, which is difficult when his hands twitch and his eyes move restlessly beneath his closed eyelids.

She takes his uninjured hand in hers. "If you don't get better, I'll have to kill you," she says, because that's the way they talk to each other. She knows their friendship runs deep. She loves him, but she's not in love with him. "That would just be ugly, you know."

He is still again. His long, dark eyelashes look like smudges of coal on his pale skin. He has such pretty eyes; she's teased him about their devastating effect on both sexes. She just wishes he would wake up so she could see him, not this still, damaged stranger. "Evan," she whispers, "I have to leave now. General O'Neill wants to promote me, so I have to go back to Earth. I'll see you soon, I promise." She smooths the hair back from his forehead and kisses him. She doesn't want to leave, but they're waiting for her in the gate room. In twenty-four hours she'll be stepping through the gate in Cheyenne Mountain.

Part 2