The World is My Creation" (2/2) by Kristen999, Wildcat88, and Everybetty
“Aaargh!”
“Let it go, Ronon,” John rasped, his hand still massaging his throat. “Look, if Rodney’s right --”
At the roll of the physicist’s eyes he glared -- “Rodney’s probably right. That means this thing is just aching to get his hands on something more to ‘play’ with. Just… just everyone clear their minds and relax.”
“Oh, so ‘don’t think about bad things’ is your answer to this?” Rodney practically screeched. “That’s all I DO is think bad things. And you carry enough angst for the group of us - what? It’s true! Oh, God, what if it’s whales?”
John strode over and plunked his hands on Rodney’s shoulders to gaze him straight in the eye. “Now is not the time to fall apart, Rodney. We’ve had our heads frakked with before--”
“Shot, remember?”
“And we always figure our way out of it,” John continued without flinching. “Just… just chill, buddy, okay?” he asked more quietly.
Rodney stuttered out a nod, wincing as pain spiked behind his eyes, and began muttering to himself. He saw John smile in recognition of what he heard being recited. With another firm clasp on his shoulder, John grinned. “That’s the spirit.”
Ronon spat angrily, his saliva swallowed up by the sand in a heartbeat. “What does this thing want?” he growled in a voice as ragged now as John’s. Livid red finger imprints ringed his neck where the giant warrior had been throttling him.
“It… he… seems lonely,” Teyla answered quietly. “But what he hopes to gain by this… performance, I have no idea. The Hashal, your Satedan hero… they bear no connection I can see.”
“Except they both kicked our asses,” John drawled. “So? Ideas anyone?”
Before anyone could answer the world went solid black. A bolt of silver blue lightning pierced the sky and thunder crashed. Seconds later another bolt split the darkness, momentarily illuminating a massive, decrepit medieval castle, straight out of an old time horror movie.
“What the --?”
“Oh, come ON! I was up to the 100th iteration of pi! I swear, I wasn’t thinking of anything! I was all pi, I swear!”
“Relax, Rodney,” John said. “I know you were trying. So, this is yours, huh?”
“Oh, probably,” Rodney said, his shoulders sagging. Unless Teyla spent Sunday afternoons watching old Universal Studios movies with her little sister.
“All right. Well, we just stay outside then. We don’t have to play --”
The bolt of lightning screeched as it struck the ground less than a football field away; the sand beneath their feet shuddered and a charge ran up their bodies. Rodney barely had time to note that John’s hair had scarcely changed while everyone else’s looked like they were wearing fright wigs before softball sized hail began pelting them.
“Run!” was a cry shared by multiple voices and the team ran flat out up to the doors of the castle and huddled in the small alcove formed by the massive hewn rock arch over the entrance.
John and Ronon turned their backs to the hail and stooped to offer more cover for the two smaller members.
“This is ridiculous!” Rodney shouted out over the racket of ice on rock. “We should just go in!”
“No, Rodney! I told you, we’re done playing his game!”
Then the wooden doors fell open and the four tumbled into a black and white tiled foyer. A gigantic crystal chandelier hung overhead casting scattered glints of light over them. The doors swung shut behind them with a resounding thud and the sound of hail against the castle became a muted backdrop to the sound of four bodies breathing harshly.
“Damn it!” John groaned as he rolled off of Teyla. He rubbed the back of his neck then offered a hand to help Rodney stand. Rodney’s eyes grew bigger and the blood drained from his face, leaving him lightheaded.
“What’s going on in there, McKay?” John asked with obvious concern.
“It’s… um… I think - I mean, I always had a problem with b- blood, and Jeannie was always teasing me. I couldn’t let my little sister know- her big brother was afraid of a-- a--”
“Good evening.”
The four turned at the strangely accented voice to see a man standing further into the castle. The foyer opened onto what appeared to be a parlor or sitting room. A stone fireplace filled one wall; what looked like a half cord of wood crackled and spat within the stone mouth. The light from the blaze reflected oddly on the man’s alabaster white skin and his eyes seemed to glow from within.
“Vampire,” Rodney finished with a tremulous voice.
“Seriously?” John muttered out of the side of his mouth. “Like Dracula?”
“Him, yeah, and Nosferatu and the ones in Scoob- the Night Stalker and the ones on Buffy -- it’s complicated. They always seem to smell fear and there’s the whole blood thing, and oh, my God! My face! My arm!” Rodney began slapping at the tears left from the Hashals’ claws in a panic.
“Rodney!” John hissed. “Stop it!”
“He can smell it!” Rodney hissed back.
“What the hell is that thing?” Ronon finally grunted as the form began gliding towards them. It wore a brocade jacket of deepest black velvet over black pants of silk. Its face was pale but it flickered from form to form as if cast by a film projector. Handsome, full mouth with red tinged lips and slicked-back dark hair. Bald and misshapen, fangs jutting from a cruel thin-lipped mouth. Yellow eyed with skin so translucent the blood vessels could be seen as a fine blue patchwork.
“It’s like a Wraith,” John answered while staring at the creature. “Only, uh, uses its mouth and prefers pretty women in long white flowy gowns. Not really up on vampires.” He turned to Rodney and grabbed his arm, shook him a little. “Rodney! What do you know about vampires?”
“Uh, jeesh! Uh, they hate garlic! Sunlight. Oh! Crosses. They hate crosses! Can’t see themselves in mirrors.”
“What. Kills. Them?”
“Jeez, it depends on the type. Some need to be decapitated, some need to burn… stake through the--”
Ronon let loose a guttural cry before Rodney could finish and hurled himself towards the form. The vampire smiled and launched his arm out, slamming it into Ronon’s chest and knocking him back ten feet to land on his ass in a pile.
Teyla crouched down in preparation to attack. John exchanged a flurry of hand signals with her then sprang off to the side, disappearing into the parlor, while Teyla charged, her foot swinging around to land heavily in the middle of the creature’s chest. It grabbed her ankle, twisted and flung her to the side in one smooth gesture then took another step towards Rodney.
“Oh, sh--” Rodney lifted his arms and made a cross with his fingers. “Back!”
The vampire smiled, baring fangs, jagged teeth. “You have no faith,” it said in a whispered voice that dripped with disdain.
“Crap!” Rodney yelled while dropping his hands into fists at his side. “If I knew how to make an atom with my hands you’d SO be in trouble.”
Ronon meantime had clambered to his feet and stood wavering while he glared and wiped at blood dripping from his lip.
Stuck in place with a fear so stupid but so primal, Rodney could only watch as Ronon attempted another attack. As the vampire swung, Ronon curled into himself and slammed the creature with his shoulder, bearing them both down with his impetus and weight.
But when the vampire hit the floor he poofed into a large black bat and flew away as Ronon landed heavily.
“Catch!” Rodney heard John shout as he tossed a half-lit log at Teyla. She caught it smoothly, waved it like a bantos rod in the air in front of her, swinging the flaming wood as the bat swooped down at her. The lit end thwacked the bat, sending it spinning off.
Quickly regaining its flight, it wobbled in the air then flickered again as the creature resumed its earlier form. It hissed like a wild cat and ran at her with arms raised, long clawed fingernails raking at her as she ducked and spun.
John came charging in with his own flaming log, swinging it like a Louisville slugger and connecting with the vampire’s head. The creature wavered then turned with a blinding speed and backhanded John across the jaw. The colonel flew backwards, landing in an obvious daze, blood now running from his mouth, nose, and the side of his eye.
“Rodney!” Teyla shouted. The desperation in her cry was enough to break him from his daze. Picking up the log that John had dropped, and damning himself for all the TV he’d watched over the years, Rodney groaned loudly, knowing he was about to get the stuffing knocked out of him and launched himself at the creature.
Crap! It was so fast! Nothing like the old school Bela Lugosi vamps. The creature caught his gaze as he closed in on it, held it there and grinned. Rodney’s charge was only completed due to simple momentum; his feet no longer carried him forward. But it was enough.
His weight bore them down and it again transformed into a bat, but Rodney was ready for it and the spell broke the minute it changed. With a decidedly unmanly scream he ditched the log to battle the leathery wings, pinning the now much smaller creature to the floor.
He found the animal’s neck and began squeezing. The wings battered his face and razor sharp claws tore at his hands.
Just when he thought he might vanquish the creature it changed under him, becoming full-sized. Claws and wings became arms and taloned fingernails scrabbling at his hands.
“You got him, Rodney!” John screamed, and as the vampire began to buck, Rodney’s teammates descended on them. Teyla pinned the vamp’s legs, John and Ronon each took an arm and began launching wild punches at the thing’s face and body.
Blow after blow landed while Rodney rode the thrashing body underneath him. His fingers ached and cramped but he fought to hold his grasp on the ice cold neck.
As the creature’s fight finally began to slow in intensity Rodney sat up, picked up the log, reversed it, and slammed the end into the vampire’s chest.
The dull wood was stopped by the rib cage.
“Shit! Buffy always made it look so easy!”
“Hold it, Rodney!” From behind him was a flurry of motion and then John was grasping the end of the log, still glowing with red hot embers, and slamming himself down atop it, using his own tac vest protected chest to brace it.
The wood pierced the bony cage and the vampire dissolved with a horrible scream into an oily black cloud.
“Oh, God!” Rodney cried, coughing and gasping. “I sucked in vampire!” He spat several times on the tile then wiped his jacket sleeve across his tongue with a grimace. “Now, that’s just nasty.”
John was hacking as well, his face having been right over the cloud. With a final gah he finally rolled onto his back, his hands curled on his stomach as he panted heavily.
“Hey, is everyone…” Rodney’s question died off as he scanned the faces of his teammates. Not a one was clear of dirt, ash, sand and blood. Teyla’s jaw had a swelling purple bruise. Ronon looked even wilder than usual, his dreads having come loose from their tie; a black burnt patch showed where he had caught flame or falling ember in the battle.
“Oh, this is just… I am SO done playing!” Rodney yelled to the air.
Around them the castle shimmered then disappeared. They were back in the obsidian fort once again. Ronon limped over to offer a hand up to John; the pilot got up with a loud groan and wiped the blood from his eye with the back of his hand.
“But I am not done. Want to keep playing!” came Othrol’s voice from somewhere unseen.
“You sound like a toddler past his bedtime, you blue freak!” Rodney yelled back, massaging his shredded hands. “We don’t want to play. We’re done playing. Put us back on the shelf and maybe we can try again another day.”
A door slid open in the black glass wall and Othrol stalked in, head quaking on his spindly neck, three fingered fists clenched at his sides. “No! Play NOW! Play now, now, now. Need more; this was too soon. Too sooooon!”
----------
Othrol wailed, pacing the wall, talking rapidly to himself. “Too soon, too soon!” The alien slammed his hands against the sleek black structure, peering at his reflection. “Why? Why do they tease? Minds so open, new doors, new windows to run through. Then BOOM!” Othrol banged his head, rattling the glass. “Then they make it all go away!”
John kept a wary eye on their unhinged host. This was so weird, even for Pegasus. “Options?” he whispered past a swelling throat.
“Last I checked, I had two PhDs after my name, not a quack MD. I leave the head shrinking to those who sacrifice animals during the full moon,” Rodney hissed.
“He's tried to kill us. I say we take him while he's distracted,” Ronon suggested.
“In and out. Out and in. So much to find,” Othrol muttered, idly running patterns with his fingers.
“He is obviously using us, but we do not know if his intentions are evil,” Teyla reasoned.
“I think the vampire says evil, Teyla!” Rodney huffed.
The fact of the matter was they didn't know a damn thing about what was happening. And the longer things went on, the greater the chance one of them could be seriously injured. John studied his team, each of them bloody and bruised. He wasn't sure any of them could take another blow to the head or slam into a wall. They looked more like ragtag survivors of a crash than the lead off-world team of Atlantis.
John's head hurt, his clothes were filthy with dried blood, and his hands stung with their burns.
“Excitement and adventure!” Othrol shouted. “Shiny fun times!” he giggled. “To the mystery machine!” The wild blue alien looked over at John. “Be all you can be.”
“Wrong service,” John said, annoyed. But part of him tensed. He knew what was coming and that scared the hell out of him.
“What are we going to do?” Rodney asked in exasperation.
“I don't like it when people crawl around inside my mind without permission.” John looked at Teyla. “No matter the intentions.”
“No!” Othrol whined. “You can't take it all away!!”
“What happened, Othrol?” Teyla moved closer. “Why are you doing this?”
“To keep Othrol company,” the alien responded as if it was the dumbest question ever.
“But you cannot steal things from our private thoughts. That is wrong,” Teyla said, trying to reason.
The jittery being's eyes twitched then his hands started tapping against his forehead. “Wrong?” Fingers slid to each temple and dug. “Wrong,” Othrol breathed.
John was getting a bad feeling. He glanced at Ronon, and his teammate nodded. They needed to be closer to prevent another vanishing act.
“Yes, wrong,” John said, stepping closer. “The images you steal don't belong to you. And you're using them to hurt us.”
“Hurt? No, no. Not hurt. Watch. Watch and learn and live the new.”
John inched closer, Ronon keeping with every step. “You're doing this to watch? You like controlling these images? Screwing with our minds so you get a kick out of it?”
“Control? No, not control. Can't control.” Othrol uncurled his serpent-like neck to its full height. “Release. I release and they said it was wrong!” He pointed to Teyla. “You say it is wrong! But they were wrong! Wrong is wrong!”
John's head started to throb, a stabbing sensation dissecting his brain. No! Not gonna happen.
“Yes, it will,” Othrol hissed. Gone was the sad type of crazy. Back was the cold and calculated.
John's body coiled, ready to strike. But he fumbled, a spike of pain lashing through his skull, his boots skidding along sand.
Ronon was a blurry motion, tackling empty space.
“Clear your head!” Rodney shouted.
John tried. He was good at this game. At blocking and shutting down. “We... we should keep moving.”
“Math puzzles are good. Or... oh, think of white paper!” Rodney suggested.
“You can do this, John.”
“The next time he appears, I'm knocking him out. Not gonna wait.”
They were walking. Where, no one knew. John counted the grains of sand beneath his feet and multiplied the numbers by nine.
Then the obsidian sand disappeared, morphed into the grey of concrete sidewalks. John's heart pounded while he looked around, puzzled. They were in a parking lot, black sand now replaced by blacker asphalt. Abandoned warehouses with shattered windows and rusty metal fences loomed nearby.
“Okay, so it’s been mutant vultures, evil Hercules and a vampire,” Rodney whispered. “What did it pry out of that head of yours?”
Plenty, John thought. God, he didn't want this. “I don't know.”
The ground shook. Then it rumbled.
“What is that?” Teyla said, frantically searching for the source of the noise.
Ronon sought out the rumble, his eyes tracking upwards. “Damn.”
“John?” Teyla gasped.
“Oh my... are you kidding me!” Rodney snapped. “Of all the... what the hell?”
John craned his neck, struck speechless. The ground shook, each massive step of the enormous figure creating cracks in the pavement.
“This... this thing? What is it? Some kind of replicator?” Teyla asked, astonished.
“No, not at all. That would be something we could possibly defeat,” Rodney hissed. “This!” He waved his hand. “This is a Transformer. To be precise, a Decepticon. I mean really, Sheppard! Freaking Megatron!”
“You mean like that movie?” Ronon asked, face still in awe.
“I don't know. Does he turn into a jet or a gun? What version were you thinking?”
John wet his mouth, trying to find the capacity to form coherent words. “Classic. You know, like the cartoon.” Except this wasn't some animated image. Or the toy with the dents received in 'battle' and peeling stickers from overuse.
This was thirty-five feet of towering metal, its robot form dominated by the fusion cannon mounted on a metallic arm. A weapon that could level a whole damn block. John couldn't believe it. Cold sweat prickled his skin. This was the ultimate villain.
Oh, how John hated him.
The Transformer was sizing up the area, giving little attention to them. And John just stood there, dumbfounded and shocked.
Ronon turned to him. “Does it have a weakness?”
“A weakness? Its feet are larger than cars! He has another weapon mounted on his back that can retract and he can replace his right hand with an energy flail. He can fire electrical blasts from his hands and laser blasts from his eyes!”
“Rodney,” John growled, finding the shredded remains of his voice.
“What? I'm sorry, am I bad for spelling out our doom!?”
“How about being quiet long enough to--”
“What planet is this?”
John's ears and head winced at the booming voice. Megatron inclined his head; two red glowing eyes stared down at them. “I asked you humans a question.”
Something clicked inside John. Something old and buried. “This is M3X-919.”
He had no gun or C-4. Not that it mattered. Nothing they owned would scratch that indestructible outside. They were mere insects to be squashed.
“I do not know that designation. But it does not matter.” The Transformer gazed at the horizon. “This planet is of little use to me.” It stepped closer, its massive legs barely moving to close the distance.
The cybertronic machine's shadow blocked out the stars and John could hardly see its face for its massive body. “You will tell me the location of your home world or you will die.”
“We will do no such thing,” Teyla responded, standing her ground.
Ronon glanced around the parking lot, moving towards one of the warehouses and returning with a crowbar.
“Oh, that'll help. Maybe you can chip the paint,” Rodney snarked.
The Decepticon laughed. “Lesser creatures are the playthings of my will.”
“Last time I checked, my G.I. Joes kicked your ass,” John mocked.
For a gigantic robot, Megatron moved fast. The wind caused by moving its arm nearly knocked them all over. The next thing he knew, John was facing down the barrel of that pulse cannon.
“You do not amuse me.”
John didn't need to see those eyes to envision that hard, emotionless expression. He could crawl inside the massive gun chamber if he wanted, but he stood his ground, knowing that the blast would cause more damage to the metallic beast than anything he could wield.
“I want all of you to run,” he whispered to his team.
“No freaking way!” Rodney's voiced echoed in the air. “Besides, that laser's discharge will kill us all anyway.”
John held his breath, waiting to be vaporized, cursing that his friends would go down by a figment from his childhood.
“I have no intentions of causing myself damage.” Megatron's voice rattled John's ears.
Yeah. This robot was no dummy. Super villains were always super smart. This one happened to be one of those intelligent bad guys.
Before he knew it, the gun was gone and a large metal hand came crashing down. John had enough time to roll out of the way before the asphalt was pulverized. “Run!” he yelled.
The ground ahead of him disappeared into a crater of cinder, the explosion knocking John down. Of course the Decepticon had more than one weapon.
The smoldering pavement spread smoke and ash, the ground quaking again even though John couldn't see what was going on. “Rodney! Teyla! Ronon!”
There was a thundering roar, like the earth was shattering --then maybe it did.
John scrambled to his feet, ignoring the pain in his thigh and ran towards the noise. The air cleared and he watched in horror as the Decepticon hurled a massive piece of rubble the size of a tanker truck at his friends' retreating forms. Mortar and brick crumbled upon impact and John screamed despite the pain it caused.
Megatron stood before a warehouse, the entire eastern wall missing, the rest of the building collapsing into rubble from the lack of structural integrity. The giant robot tore at part of the roof, tearing the remainder away like tissue paper.
“Carbon-based life forms are useless,” Megatron snorted.
At the edge of one of the other buildings he saw Ronon, his shoulder at an awkward angle, helping a limping Rodney, Teyla moving to the scientist's other side to aid him. The Transformer wadded the material into a ball and threw it in their direction. It was a missile of cement and steel, crashing into the adjacent complex.
The collision smashed the warehouse, flattening it in seconds.
“You asshole! The greatest Decepticon ever, a coward unable to kill his opponents face-to-face!” John growled. “What? Do we mere humans frighten you? No other way to get rid of us than to throw objects and try to smash us to bits?” John was at his wits end, stalking towards the metal monster. “Peace through tyranny, huh? Well, you've just proven how weak you really are.”
Rage burned through his skin, eyes watering from dust and sheer emotion. He couldn't see through the twisted debris ahead. If anyone from his team was even alive.
Of all of the things in his head. Of all the twisted shadows and faces of his nightmares. The comic book freaks and memories etched into his psyche. He had to confront this.
A manifestation from one of the most painful moments in his past. Stupid, stupid, stupid. His mind was one twisted up playground for blue aliens.
He waited and stalled, hoped and prayed. “You were always the megalomaniac,” he taunted.
Megatron stomped through the debris, turning concrete into ash beneath his feet. There was a metallic flash then John was flat on his back, surrounded by five thick metal bars. Except they weren't bars. They were long fingers, the sky above the surface of a gigantic palm.
“Give me one reason why I shouldn't crush your bones into dust.”
“Because this isn't what Othrol would want.”
That was Teyla's voice and John sagged in relief.
“Who?” Megatron bellowed.
“Othrol. Please, stop this. You said you didn't want to hurt us, but look at what you've done. Please help us.”
John's breath shuddered. He couldn't move, could barely breathe from the metal crushing his chest.
Megatron chuckled and the world around John shifted and shook. The robot moved, its hand sliding away until its large pointer finger remained pressed against John’s body.
“Just the slightest pressure,” the Decepticon threatened.
John gasped, his sternum forced down by the weight. He could hardly suck in any air.
“Don't! Teyla screamed. John heard Ronon growl and Rodney cry out.
They were alive.
“Othrol. Please!” Teyla pleaded.
“Cannot. Cannot control what is made. Can only watch and experience,” the odd alien's voice came from nowhere.
“Well, we're all about to experience a painful death!” Rodney yelled then coughed. “God, that hurts.”
“No, no death! Just play.”
“You said you didn't want to hurt us. We are hurt and in pain and I know you don't want that.”
John wiggled, twisting his neck so he could see beyond metal fingers. Teyla stood next to the blue being. Ronon and Rodney could barely stand, almost holding on to each other for support. Through John's own haze and anguish, he could see Ronon's anger and barely contained rage.
“Pain. Pain is bad,” Othrol said, shaking his head.
“Then stop this!” Rodney shouted.
The gigantic Transformer watched the drama, red-eyes glowing intensely. Probably wondering what the hell was going on, John thought. He tried using the distraction to his advantage, shimmying away from the metal bearing down on him.
“No, you don't,” the Decepticon warned, pressing down.
John could feel things crack and break, all oxygen forced out of his lungs.
“No! You! You bad! You should not be breaking my friend! My friend brings the new and exciting! Brings me more than meets the eye. But you do not!”
John heard the ranting but was too busy trying not to die.
“I do not have time for this,” Megatron's robotic voice boomed.
“Go away! Go back to inside here!”
John didn't know where 'here' was, but Othrol continued to babble and rant.
“You buzz like an insect. After I'm done swatting this one, I'll take care of you, too,” Megatron announced.
John tried to flatten his body, but there was nowhere to go and the robotic face of his nightmares peered down at him. “Humans are such fragile things. A waste of carbon.”
“No! No waste! Inside is wasted and empty, but not inside him. Or him, or him, or her! Not like inside Othrol!” And then the alien was next to John and the hand the size of a jumper. “Have not had friends in long time. So sorry. Only wanted to play again. To play with new friends.”
Then three tinged-blue fingers latched on the large one crushing John. “I say when to play. And when not. Time to go back.”
A gigantic burst of light engulfed the Transformer and blinded him. John slammed his eyes shut, chest struggling to rise against the unrelenting force. Once second he expected death, the next his lungs stuttered, finally taking in air. He cried out in relief, his desperate sounds mixing with an electronic howl of rage.
The pulse thrummed in John's ears, strobe effects dancing against his closed lids. Then the noise quieted and the intense energy beam evaporated. John thought he heard a voice whisper, “it’s over.”
“Sheppard?”
Ronon’s voice was muffled, like it was coming from a great distance. John clenched his teeth, his breaths hiccupping as he fought with the pain running rampant through his body. He wrapped his arms around his battered ribs and rolled on his side, unable to stifle a moan. Hands on his shoulders and arms tried to unbend him, and he didn’t have the strength to stop them. Sprawling on his back with a gasp, he blinked up into Ronon’s bruised eyes.
“You okay?” Ronon asked.
The fingerprints on Ronon’s neck were purple, his arm dangled uselessly from an badly dislocated shoulder, and blood trickled from his ear. John’s own throat throbbed every time he swallowed, and breathing was torture. Rodney slumped next to Ronon with his hands curled to his chest and a lump swelling near his temple. Teyla, hair frizzed and sporting a black eye and more cuts than he could count, hovered behind them.
“Sheppard?”
“Been better, big guy,” John whispered. “At least I didn’t kick my own ass this time.”
Rodney snorted. “No, you let a kid’s toy do it for you.”
“Don’t remind me.” John steeled himself and muttered, “Help me up.”
His vision whited out as his teammates pulled him to his feet.
“Ow, ow, ow! Sheppard, you’re breaking my arm!” Rodney howled.
“S-s-sorry.” John pried his fingers from their arms and wavered like a drunken sailor as he staggered forward.
“If we all don't die before a rescue, I'm so hanging this over your head, Sheppard. Megatron. Did you have it that bad for the Transformers as a kid? Wait... No, I was a teenager, not a kid; so were you.”
Rodney's voice swirled around John's head. “Who didn't watch the cartoon? Besides, he killed Optimus Prime.” The ultimate battle between leaders-between good and evil. And Optimus fell. But not before ridding the universe of its greatest threat. John couldn't go there. Couldn't bring himself to recall the other loss he’d experienced at fifteen. The loss that changed everything. He turned his attention back to the situation at hand.
“Where’s Othrol?”
“He is here,” Teyla said, kneeling next to a limp form.
The blue alien blinked languidly, his eyes dull. “No more play,” he murmured.
“How did you do that?” Rodney asked. “That… beam thing?”
Othrol’s eyes lost focus. “No more energy.”
“You can convert energy? Is that how you’ve survived here? Made the rooms we’ve seen? The food?”
Ronon frowned. “The food wasn’t real?”
“Were your eyes open when we got here?” Rodney snapped. “Did you see any plants or animals running around in this B-movie landscape?”
“McKay,” John sighed.
“Yes, yes, sorry. It’s just I’m in pain, and I don’t deal well…” Rodney’s gaze flicked from John to Ronon. “Never mind.”
Othrol’s breathing hitched. “Release. Please, release.”
“What can we do?” Teyla asked.
“Release,” he begged, his eyes searching, landing on John. “Release.”
“I don’t know how.”
He turned to Rodney. “Release.”
McKay’s brows puckered as he stared at the alien. “Release? This is a prison, isn’t it?” He began to pace, his fingers fluttering slightly, then wheeled to look at Othrol again. “The Ancients imprisoned you here. That’s why you kept accusing me and Sheppard, because we have the gene.”
“Glows, so bright,” Othrol mumbled. “Release.”
“The Ancestors left this galaxy over ten thousand years ago. He has been alone here all this time?” Teyla sounded horrified.
Ronon knelt next to Teyla. “You do this to other people?” he asked Othrol. “Is that why they put you here?”
“Wanted to play. No hurt. Never to hurt. Only to watch. Play.” Othrol shuddered. “Release,” he whispered.
John’s gaze swept his team. Ronon shrugged. Teyla nodded. Rodney looked thoughtful.
“McKay?”
“I’m not sure. The guy’s been here for millennia. I don’t know how… I mean, the Wraith don’t die from old age. Maybe-” Rodney turned in a circle, studying the parking lot and warehouses. “His mind is creating all of this somehow.”
“What are you saying?”
“He converts energy to matter. Maybe energy is what sustains him.”
“And?”
“And… he drained his supply with that beam.”
“So why hasn’t it reverted back to whatever it really is?”
“I don’t think that’s the way it works. He converted the energy. This is real. He’s imprisoned by whatever his mind creates.”
“Release,” Othrol pleaded.
“Is it that simple?” Rodney asked.
“What?”
McKay turned to John. “Think ‘release’.”
John shut his eyes and concentrated. He cracked one eye open. “Nothing happened.”
“Maybe we have to do it together. Ready? One, two, three.”
Release.
Othrol drew a shaky breath. “Free.”
The asphalt undulated as the buildings shrunk then exploded and dissolved. Starlight flickered overhead as black sand swirled at their feet. Obsidian glass shone all around them.
Othrol exhaled one last time and stilled.
The glass melted, puddled, turned into inky rivers that washed away the silt. Soon all that was left was barren rock with a small console standing underneath an arch in the distance.
“That’s it?” Ronon asked. “That was his prison?”
“Probably some kind of force shield.” Rodney’s shoulders slumped as he trudged toward the console. “And I’m sure the power supply is worthless now.”
“Where are you going, McKay?”
Rodney waved a vague hand. “To check. Even if it’s depleted, it will be worth examining. The signature was different from a ZedPM, and it lasted a really long time.”
John nodded. “Might as well get something out of this. Let’s go.”
Teyla covered Othrol’s face with the tattered remains of her tac vest then stood and offered a hand up to Ronon. They stationed themselves at John’s elbows as they made their way toward the console.
Sweat dripped in John’s eyes as he focused on putting one foot in front of the other. His teammates kept him in line as they slowly staggered to the console that Rodney was disassembling.
John leaned against the arch, breathing shallowly. “Anything, McKay?”
“Found my computer and our weapons.” Rodney flicked a hand toward a small pile at the base of the arch.
“Cool.” Ronon sheathed his knives and jammed his blaster in his holster then handed the P-90s to John.
“Thanks.” John turned back to Rodney. “What about the console?”
“I’m trying. I can’t… damn it! My fingers, my hands, I can’t make my hands work right.”
“Let me try, Rodney,” Teyla offered.
McKay crawled from under the console. “You need to remove the plate at the bottom of the console. The panel in the back will ask for a code. Press the top left button then the middle right then the bottom left twice.”
Ronon slid down the side of the arch, resting his head against it.
Rodney hunched over, gently opening and closing his fingers. “My hands. I need my hands.”
“Keller will fix you up. You’ll be good as new, just like last time.”
“We’re an hour’s walk from the jumper, John,” Rodney said quietly. “I’m not going to make it that far.”
“Rodney-”
“Listen to me. I barely made it here. My ears are ringing, I’m seeing double, and I feel like I have an elephant sitting on my chest. Ronon here,” Rodney waved a hand toward him, “can’t even stand up, and the only reason you’re still standing is because you know that if you sit down you won’t get up again.”
“You can’t give up, Rodney. We’re gonna get out of here.”
Teyla grunted then wiggled out from under the console, a flat crystal in her hand, its light steadily brightening and dimming. “I have it.”
Rodney squinted at it, scrubbed a hand over his eyes, and squinted again. “I can’t tell,” he finally admitted. “I need my lab.”
Teyla frowned at him, lifting his chin. “What is wrong?”
“My head hurts,” Rodney mumbled.
She peered in Ronon’s face then moved to John. “Are you able to make it to the jumper?”
John closed his eyes. He wanted to say yes, needed to say yes, needed to get his team home. But his legs were already shaking, and something was really wrong with his chest. “No.”
“Then I shall go.”
“You can’t fly the jumper.”
“No, but I can dial Atlantis and radio for help.” Teyla held his arm. “Sit down. I will return as quickly as I can.”
John nodded, allowing her to guide him to the ground next to Ronon. “Be careful.”
“I will.”
She vanished into the darkness in a dead run. Rodney slumped to the ground next to him. John’s lids grew heavy as the rhythm of his teammates’ breathing lulled him. He jerked awake with a groan as he slid sideways into McKay.
“Sorry,” he slurred.
Rodney whimpered slightly as he curled into a ball on the ground. John laid his head back and watched the stars dance overhead. They weaved, skipped, whirled, faded to nothingness.
------
John woke with a gasp when fingers brushed his face. The arm he commanded to move refused. His body was heavy, lethargic. The pressure on his chest was only slightly tolerable, and his right eye wouldn’t open no matter how hard he tried. The fingers moved to his neck. He thrashed weakly, panicking.
“Oh, Colonel, I’m so sorry,” a quiet feminine voice murmured. “I didn’t realize you were awake.”
Gritting his teeth, he forced his head to turn until a blurry figure appeared in his line of sight. “Who…”
“It’s Marie, Colonel. I need to check your breathing. I’m going to pull down the collar of your gown, okay?”
He felt like an idiot. He was in the infirmary. The smell alone should have told him that.
“Okay,” he whispered.
Cloth rustled and cool air fluttered over his skin before warm metal touched part of his chest not marred by healing cuts. Marie always took a moment to warm the stethoscope bell before using it.
“All done, Colonel. Your lungs sound fine. You have two cracked ribs and another three are fractured, but try to breathe as deeply as you can. The last thing you want is for pneumonia to develop. The doctor will be by later to check you again.”
“My… team?”
“The doctor should-”
“Tell me.” He groaned, panted for air. “Please.”
Marie patted his arm gently. “They’ll be fine. You were a sorry looking lot when you got here though. We’ve cleaned up the bites and cuts. Dr. McKay has a fractured rib and minor head trauma, and we’ve bandaged his hands. Ronon’s bad shoulder is a little the worse for wear. We’re still waiting for his double vision to clear. Some of the lacerations on Teyla’s arms have become infected which is causing her to run a fever.”
“Will-”
“And your larynx is bruised so please don’t talk.” She chuckled at his expression. “Before you ask, I’m not making that up to try to get out of questions. The burns on your hands were minor. You had mild internal bleeding that’s stopped, but we’re keeping a close eye on you just in case.” She dimmed the lights and placed the call button near his hand. “Get some rest. Call if you need anything.”
John nodded.
Marie pulled back the privacy curtain as she left. “Colonel?”
He rolled slightly to see her and grinned. The three beds to his right also had partially open curtains. Teyla sat up in one with Torren in her arms. She waved one of the boy’s pudgy fists in John’s direction. Ronon pouted next to her, his shoulder firmly encased in a brace, and Rodney snored softly on the other side of him.
“Go to sleep.” Marie tugged the curtain closed.
John’s traitorous eyelids slid shut as exhaustion and relief crashed through him. No amount of coaxing would get them open so he surrendered to the inevitable and let sleep carry him away.
-----
“…waited in the jumper until Major Lorne arrived. He picked me up, we found you, and we came home.” Teyla place two cards on the tray. “Dealer takes two. Rodney, it’s your bet.”
McKay grimaced as he pushed four M&Ms to the center. “This gauze is impossible to work with. I can’t type. How am I supposed to work if I can’t type?”
“I do not believe you are supposed to work right now. Ronon?”
Ronon tossed four M&Ms in and added two more. “At least both of your hands are free.”
John opened his mouth then clicked it shut at Teyla’s glare. He added his M&Ms to the pile. Teyla followed suit.
Rodney called and laid his cards on the tray. “Pair of aces.”
Ronon smirked. “Three nines.”
John spread his cards with a flourish.
“A flush,” Teyla said appreciatively then swatted his hand as he reached for the chocolate. “It is unfortunate for you that a full house beats a flush.” She smiled brilliantly at their groans and raked the chocolate towards her. “Peanut is my favorite.”
McKay sulked. “Mine too.”
John snatched the notepad and pencil someone had thoughtfully provided and scribbled, passing it to Rodney.
McKay frowned at it. “Anyone tell you that you have the handwriting of a serial killer?”
John swiped two of the M&Ms Rodney had left and munched loudly.
“Hey! That- Fine. No, I haven’t had the chance to analyze the crystal.” McKay waved bandaged hands. “Invalid, remember?”
Ronon snorted. “Like that’s ever stopped you.”
“I may have had Radek take a look at it.”
“Rodney,” Teyla scolded. “What did he find?”
“Nothing useful. We’ve never seen technology like that. It’s twice as powerful as a ZedPM. I’ve got four people searching the database for information on it, but they haven’t found anything yet. We have no idea how it works. Oh, and, um,” A crimson flush burned his ears, “that search term I couldn’t remember? Security. I was thinking of something we could use for Atlantis’ security and, of course, wound up with an alien version of Attica. Radek reran the search to see if we could find anything else.”
“And?” Ronon prompted.
“And nothing. There isn’t anything in the database about an invisible prison or a blue alien with magical powers.”
“Where do you think Othrol was from?” Teyla mused.
“Better yet,” Rodney said, “are there any more like him?”
“Has to be, doesn’t there?” Ronon rubbed at the fading imprints on his neck. “He had to come from somewhere.”
“I cannot imagine a society where everything you imagine becomes real.” Teyla shuddered. “Dreams and stories are frightening enough. But if the Ancients imprisoned him for his inability to control his gift, then perhaps there were not many of his kind.”
“Locked away for thousands of years by himself,” Ronon shook his head. “No wonder he was nuts.”
“Could have been worse,” Rodney pronounced. “Those crazy bird things of yours could have been the flying monkeys from The Wizard of Oz.”
John arched a brow.
“Oh, don’t pretend like that didn’t scare the crap out of you when you were a kid.”
John shrugged. He wouldn’t deny it. He hated those things.
Ronon huffed a laugh. “You think that’s scary? You should’ve seen the vatespa - little rodent creatures with fangs and a spiked tail. They attack at twilight when vision is poorest. They snap the tendon on your heel so you can’t run away then eat you alive.”
Teyla looked nauseous. “These vatespa lived on Sateda?”
“Nah. They were in a children’s story my mother used to read us.”
She shook her head. “It is a wonder you lived past childhood.”
“Oh, this from the woman whose legends include birds with shark teeth,” Rodney groused.
“Then be thankful Othrol didn’t choose the Mrenak. They are reptiles who are rumored to inhabit the caves on Athos. Their bite is venomous and their tails can crush a man.”
John shot her a look.
“Yes, the caves I showed you.” She laughed as his eyes widened. “The Mrenak do not exist.”
“You’re sure?” Rodney asked.
“I am certain. I spent many hours of my childhood there.”
Ronon sat back and stretched his legs. “Stories didn’t work on you?”
Teyla smiled mischievously. “I do not frighten easily. Much to my parents’ dismay.”
John grabbed the notepad.
McKay’s brows shot up. “Oompa Loompas? You too?”
John nodded. He hadn’t chewed gum for a year after seeing that girl swelled up and rolled out. At least Othrol hadn’t launched giant blueberries at them.
“What is an Oompa Loompa?” Teyla asked.
“These freaky little orange men who worked for Willy Wonka.”
“Who?” Ronon and Teyla chorused.
John settled back as Rodney launched into a detailed description of a candyland limited only by imagination. Their time with Othrol had left them banged up but stronger than ever in some ways. Rodney didn’t miss a beat when Teyla retied the bandage on his hand. She smiled gratefully and took the hand Ronon offered as she hobbled on her twisted knee back to her bed. And when McKay automatically moved the tray and placed the call button within reach, John didn’t argue.
They took care of each other.
After all, they were a team.