the rita hayworth scenario

John saw Rodney as soon as he came out into the grounds, the building dark and grey behind him, grey like everything from their uniforms to the gunk that was served up as a meal three times a day. John and Rodney fit right in with the prisoners, gaunt and pale.

It was viciously cold, cruel and biting, inches of snow on the ground under a white sky. Not like Antarctica at all, where there was snow and freedom. Here there was a prison, even the snow looking tainted by the grey.

The guards walked around menacingly, waiting to see someone step out of line. Of course, what constituted as stepping out of line was completely up to the guards. Prisoners who talked back? Out of line. Prisoners who bullied and beat each other? Entertainment. John had found this out on the first day. The bruises of that encounter had faded, but he wore new ones on his face, his bottom lip split and a dark ugly gash high on his cheek, still an angry red. He hid the bandage around his hand under his long sleeved coat, where his fingers had been stomped on a day ago.

Rodney didn't look any better, miserable and bowed, a dark smudge on the bright white of snow glowing behind him as he shuffled around the ground, hands in pockets. He had a cut high on his forehead, a cut on the bridge if his nose and a dark shadowed eye. He looked defensive, shoulders hunched, body stiff and mouth clamped shut, jaw clenched. If he was lucky, maybe someone would take that to mean he wasn't worth messing with.

Rodney's eyes caught John's and John saw the split second of change flit across Rodney's face, something like relief. The last time they had seen each other, John was being dragged off of another prisoner, bloody and swearing. John had already been marked by other prisoners. One look at his face and they had decided he was cocky or thought too much of himself. He pretty much expected them to come at him from all directions. So the rule was clear. Rodney had to keep a distance.

John looked away from Rodney, glancing around the place, watching prisoners walking around, getting their daily exercise, some of them laughing with each other, like it was a damn vacation. John spat down on the snow, pretending to rub it into the snow and stealing a look at Rodney with a sideway tilt of the head.

Rodney was talking to another man, both men standing there with hands in their pockets, the dark skinned man nodding slowly. Rodney seemed overly defensive and John wondered if it was an act, or if he was just that pissed off. A trade mission that ended with them in an alien Gulag; of course he was pissed off.

John's view was suddenly obscured when a rather large person stepped in front. John smiled and looked up to see Tobins, tall, wide, ugly and stupid as they came. He was dressed in the regulation grey cargo pants, dark grey sweater with grey shirt peeking out underneath, grey coat and grey wool hat. A whole lot of grey.

“Sheppard,” the man wheezed. “Heard you spent a few days in the hole.”

John took a safe step back, keeping his hands ready at his sides. “Needed a time out I guess. How's your buddy? Nose still broken?”

Tobins laughed, showing a row of rotting and yellow teeth. “Yeah. Told me to give you this.”

John stiffened, ready for the assault, but Tobins grabbed him by the front of his shirt, pulled him up close and kissed his cheek, whispering, “You're a dead man.”

John twisted away, tightened his fist and slammed it up hard into Tobin's jaw. The man stumbled and John threw another punch, landing him on the ground where he delivered a kick to the ribs. The next thing he knew, his arms were being pulled behind him by others and he was being dragged back. Tobins was stumbling to his feet, his nose bleeding.

He lumbered over to John with a bloody grin. He poked John in the chest, which made him struggle against his captors. “You'll get yours. Not here. But you'll get it.”

John glared as he nodded. “Yeah. We'll see.”

Tobin grinned and walked away, throwing John a look loaded with threatening promises. John shoved his captors away with a, “Get off me.”

Someone muttered, “Crazy bastard,” and walked away. Others were still behind him,

“I didn't need your help,” John said, turning to see the man Rodney had been talking to and... Rodney.

“No, you didn't,” Rodney said tightly. “He obviously did. Everyone knows Tobins couldn't put up a fight against you. Somehow crazy beats strength, don't ask me how.”

“Where I come from, you don't let a guy kiss you unless he buys you a corsage,” John said dryly.

Rodney's friend frowned and then laughed with a shake of the head. “I'm Jagan. That's McKay.”

John gave his best indifferent nod. “Sheppard.”

“We know who you are,” Rodney said, looking thoroughly unimpressed. “Everyone knows who you are.”

What happened to your face, John wanted to ask, who did that? Something hard and hot coiled in his gut when he saw the sickly pallor of Rodney's face. That wasn't how a scientist was supposed to look. Wasn't it John's job to stop this from happening?

“Done staring?” Rodney snapped. “Take a picture, it'll last longer.”

John arched an eyebrow, unable to relish the moment as Jagan said, “Nothing lasts long around here. Especially a picture.”

The next time they met, the snow was thicker and colder, their clothes the same. Rodney's looked the same. Same was good. Same was safe. He was wearing one of the crappy itchy hats, hands shoved right into his pockets.

Rodney nodded to a few men, exchanging words as John wondered how the hell the man that couldn't get on with anyone had made friends in a prison.

When he asked Rodney, the reply was simple. “Not everyone's guilty here. Like us.”

They were seated on a table, their feet on the bench in front, hands in pockets, snow falling around them. “You shouldn't of done that yesterday, Rodney. I told you we can't be seen together.”

“I wasn't the only one,” Rodney said quietly. “You looked like you were going to kill the guy.”

“Wouldn't be the first time I've killed a guy,” John said.

“Not like this,” Rodney said, like his words couldn't make it through the snow. “Katik's out of the infirmary. He's coming for you. Him and all his sycophants.”

John nodded slowly. “I know.”

Rodney looked across at John, horrifyingly open and broken. “They're going to kill you.”

John shook his head. “You don't know that.”

“Yes, I do,” Rodney said tightly. “Everyone does, including you. Including the guards and the wardens, who don't give a damn.”

“Plan's not ready, Rodney,” John said with a shake of the head. “We go for it tonight? We'll both probably die.”

“If we don't, you die,” Rodney said.

“It's a risk-”

“I'm not willing to take!” Rodney snapped. “You want to be a hero, fine, but I am not going to watch you get killed and then be left here...”

Rodney stopped, breathless, face flushed, looking shaken up.

John remembered what it was like before they had been dumped here a month ago. He remembered that even on Atlantis, he didn't have to hide that he gave a shit. Here, he didn't even have that.

“You okay?” John asked quietly.

Rodney closed his eyes and shook his head. “No. I'm in prison. This hat's giving me a rash on my forehead and the food tastes like glue. I am in a whole world of not okay.”

John chuckled, his face hurting under the still healing gash. “Way to prioritise, Rodney.”

“I don't want you do die here,” Rodney said matter-of-factly. “I don't want Teyla and Ronon to show up here, which they will, to find out that you died and I unofficially married a guy called Caleb.”

“That is not going to happen,” John said.

“He's been looking at me like I'm an all you can eat buffet,” Rodney said with a roll of the eyes. Then he stared at John. “Oh my god. You don't think he wants to eat me do you? I mean, I wouldn't blame him, the food here is terrible.”

John stared, shaking his head. Then he though of Atlantis, where they could be like this all the time, without worrying that someone was going to beat the crap out of them for it.

“You're right,” John said said with a nod. “This place sucks. We should leave. We should leave tonight.”

The plan was simple... which was what Rodney had called it just to be insulting. A rigged timer was going to short the circuits, opening cell doors and setting off alarms all over the place. If John was right, the slightly more crazed part of the population was going to take the opportunity to take over the asylum. The guards would try to herd everyone for a line up, which was going to take forever with the lights out. It had taken him and Rodney four weeks to put the plan into motion and if it had been up to John, he would have waited long enough to make it a dead certain thing. Only, in this place, there was a bigger certainty that he would be dead by the end of the next day.

The bars to the doors slid up just when John expected. He lay in bed and listened as the alarms come on. Moments later, prisoners were venturing out of their cells, murmurs and random shouts filling the dead silence of before. John got up slowly, smoothly pulling a metal bar from under his mattress and slipping it under his sleeve, cradling the end in his palm. He walked out of his cell, saw men excitedly gathering in the shadows. Bad plan, he thought.

Rodney's cell was two tiers down and John could have found it with his eyes closed, which was good because the lights had flickered for a second before shorting out. The plan had been simple. Overload the prison's power grid in one go, overriding all security protocols at the same time, It meant allowing other prisoners to escape, but 1) you did what you had to do and 2) like Rodney said, not everyone here was guilty.

Rodney stepped out of his cell just as John reached it - it was all about the timing – and they fell into step next to each other, the route mapped out and clear ahead of them.

“Sorry we never got around to the Rita Hayworth scenario,” John said, keeping his voice low and his eyes on everyone else.

“What?” Rodney asked.

“You know, you get a huge poster and spend a few years digging a tunnel behind it,” John said. “Andy Dufresne.”

“Andy Dufresne?” Rodney asked, sounding annoyed. “Screw that. I don't have the patience to spend years digging a hole with a miniature hammer. You definitely don't.”

John smiled, something he didn't do much of lately, but it was dark and no one could see it. “You're right. Screw that.”

John figured this prison was straight out of a Stephen King novel, hiding horrible secrets he had no interest in. He only wanted to know how it would work to their benefit. Rodney had actually complained that if they'd at least been somewhere high-tech he'd have something interesting to work with. Here it was all about brute force, something that was written into the foreboding structure of the building, large and looming, always dark across the snow that never stopped falling, holding people in with metal bars and old stone.

It was written across the faces of inmates that had seen enough of the endless winter, some of them walking around as if their backs were bowed by a string, ready to snap any second. Maybe they were the innocent ones. Or maybe they'd had enough time to think about what had put them in prison. It sure has hell wasn't a trading mission.

The riot was beginning behind them, in the main area in the middle of the cell block. Someone had already lit a fire. John heard hurried footsteps. He grabbed Rodney by the arm and pressed him into a corner that was nothing but dark shadows, Rodney breathing harshly against him.

They stood there until the guards passed them and converged on the rioters. John tapped Rodney on the arm and pulled him out of the corner. They walked faster now, away from the main building, where it was darker and quieter, but they could hear other prisoners that had ventured out as well as the threats of the guards.

They were heading towards the back of the prison, to the laundry room where there was manhole cover, something both of them had been longingly looking at since Rodney had managed to access original drawings of the prison in the warden's office. That was how it worked. Someone smart did all of the warden's pen pushing, he didn't think twice that the same person might nose around where he wasn't supposed to.

The laundry room smelled like bleach, leaving a chemical taste on John's mouth merely from breathing in the room. They walked through it quietly, listening for anything other than the dripping noises and the sounds of metal popping in the machines, still cooling from overuse.

John and Rodney stopped for a moment, eyes adjusting to the darkness of the room and the little moonlight that sprinkled itself over the machines, bouncing across puddles on the ground. John made a move, heading to a large machine, behind which was their escape route.

“Love birds sneaking off for some private time?”

John stilled, heart stuttering to a stop. Next to him, Rodney looked almost ghostly under the moonlight. John looked at the ground, trying to figure out what to do with Katik and his goons probably ready to beat him to death. John held his hand steady, the metal bar safe under his sleeve.

“What's wrong, Sheppard? Scared?” Katik goaded.

John started to step forward, mouth clamped hard, but Rodney grabbed his arm and pulled him back with a look that asked him if he was actually really crazy.

“There's two ways we can do this, Sheppard. You come out here, or we come to you and your friend. Choice is yours,” Katik said.

John looked around himself for a plan, a miraculous wonderful plan that was going to save him and Rodney and transport them the hell out of here at the same time. All he saw was detergent. John stared at the large bottles behind him and Rodney. Then he looked at Rodney who looked at the bottles, looked back at him and then just looked plain annoyed. John gave him a nod.

John stepped out from behind the machine to see Katik flanked by four other men. A quick look around showed no one else, but that didn't mean they weren't there. John moved out a little more, keeping safe distance.

“Laundry day?” he asked, keeping his voice low.

Katik turned his swollen nose up and smiled, showing that one tooth was missing. Yeah, he wasn't going to let John get away with that. At least if it was one on one, John could take him, being of a similar build and really really pissed off. But he had his whole gang. Tobins was behind him, looking ready for payback. Rodney's possible fiancé Caleb was there too, looking as though he got way more than three meals a day. There were two other guys John had seen around the place, but didn't know. They seemed happy enough to kick the crap out of him anyway.

“Know your problem, Sheppard? You got a real smart mouth on you,” Katik said. “Strutting around like you're something.”

John didn't say anything, trying to centre some sense of calm in himself, concentrating on the feel of the steel bar's end poking his palm. He hadn't sparred for a while, but he wanted nothing more than to invite Katik for a brief match.

“You think you're tough? We're going to see how tough you are,” Katik said and John just couldn't help himself.

“It's going to take all five of you to show me?” John smiled. “I'm flattered.”

Katik looked even more annoyed, taking a step forward. John took a step back, hearing the machine behind him creak and squeal in places as the men in front advanced.

“Can't fight your own battles?” John asked Katik, hoping he had an ounce of stupid pride.

“Don't need to,” Katik said.

John nodded. “Sounds about right.”

They all stepped closer just as John let the metal bar slip out of his sleeve and into his grip, watching them carefully. Only something rained down on all of the men, coming off like steam when it touched them. As they all yelled out in pain, Katik hid behind another machine, missing the next rain of chemical burn coming from Rodney who had climbed on top of the laundry machine.

John took the opportunity to knee the closest one in the face as he bent over and clawed at himself, punching another in the head, steel bar in hand and watching Tobins take off out of the room, screaming from the burns.

“Rodney!” John called, hearing the other man jump down from the machine to join him. “Find something to tie them up.”

Rodney looked around and disappeared for a few moments before coming back with a roll of wire and small cutters. John watched him tie the wrists and ankles of the barely concious men on the floor.

Then he turned to look around for Katik, who he knew was still in the room, waiting for an opportunity. When John saw him rush out in a blur, something in his hand, John automatically brought the metal bar up, feeling his arm jar as something just as sturdy connected.

Katik had found some kind of pipe and he'd just invited John for a small sparring session. John smiled at him. Maybe the prison had really made him a little nuts or maybe he was still pretending to be the crazy guy that didn't back away from any fight, but he was going to enjoy this.

Only John heard a loud smack and Katik dropped on the floor, revealing Rodney behind him with what looked like a nail gun in his hands. John frowned.

“Did you really want to go ten rounds with this psychopath because as far as I remember, you're a little lazy about that kind of stuff,” Rodney asked.

John thought about it and shrugged. “You're right about that. Let's get the hell out of here.”

It took a lot of cursing and hammering with heavy objects, but they finally got the cover open. They picked up fresh clothes from the cleaned laundry bags, snagging the boots of the fallen men. They put all the clothes into plastic bags, along with their own boots, putting on the borrowed and somewhat ill fitting ones. Tying the bags to themselves with the wire from the roll Rodney had found, they made a break for it.

For a while, it was just a long tunnel that carried the laundry water away from the prison, smelling acrid and toxic, making John and Rodney cover their mouths. Then it joined into another system that would take them to the river outside the prison. The sewage system.

Rodney looked pained and John made a face. He patted Rodney on the back and said, “Rodney? Hope... is a good thing.”

Rodney said, “I hate you so much right now.”

The sewage pipe seemed to go on forever and only seemed to increase in its foulness. Not only that, the further it went from the prison, the cooler it became and it was like wading through a sludge of icicles. John was doing everything he could not to throw up and marvelled at how Rodney hadn't.

“What are you thinking about?” John asked him.

“I'm thinking I'm going to hug the next Wraith I see,” Rodney said, making a disgusted face.

When the sound of rushing water came, they walked faster, as fast as they could knee deep in shit. The shock of icy water was enough to knock John off his feet, but he stumbled a few feet as he stepped into the shallow water, Rodney cursing behind him.

Outside, the moon was full, a bright flash light in the sky, turning the black of night into a supernatural blue, tinting the snow on the river bank. John looked across the field of snow, the prison small on the other side of it. He was covered in crap, icy water up to his knees and the snow still falling. He couldn't feel his feet, but he was pretty sure he could feel everything else, things he hadn't felt in weeks.

“Now what, Andy Dufresne?” Rodney asked. “Got a plan?”

John reached back for his bag and nodded. “Let's get out of these clothes.”

In theory, John had no idea where they were. They had been brought here in a dark van and dumped inside the prison gates, still wearing their field gear from a quick thirty minute trial in a jail cell. What John did know was that down the river was a bridge you could see from the prison infirmary and it was on the road away from here, wherever here was. Any place away from here was good.

They were wearing clean clothes, their own boots and walking fast to keep warm against the chill of the air, following the river until they spotted the bridge and walked away at an angle that kept them out of sight, but eventually brought them out of the woodland and onto a snow covered road.

“I figure it took them half an hour to drive us down here,” John said. “So, maybe if we keep going down this road we can find that town where they threw us in jail and find the Stargate.”

“And what if they brought us to a different planet?” Rodney asked.

“Another planet where it's snowing?” John asked.

Rodney thought about it. “Maybe it's a preference thing.”

“Let's hope it's not,” John said, making a face.

“You ever seen so much snow before?” Rodney asked after they'd been walking a while.

John stared at Rodney. “Remember where we met for the first time?”

Rodney looked puzzled. “I don't remember it being this cold.”

John nodded. “And at least there was a golf course.” Rodney gave John a look that said John was clearly still insane. John shrugged it off and said, “I like golf.”

Rodney nodded. “Yes. So that makes golf, popcorn, ferris wheels, American football and things that go really fast.”

“Really fast,” John agreed.

“Yes. Like golf,” Rodney said, looking smug.

John scowled at Rodney, but it meant nothing, because they hadn't talked like this in weeks and somehow it made Atlantis feel closer. John could almost see a jumper in the sky.

“Oh my god! Is that a jumper?”

John stared. “I didn't want to say anything.”

The jumped slowly landed in front of them and they both jogged towards the back, the hatch already open with Teyla and Ronon waiting with relieved smiles. Behind them Lorne looked surprised, flanked by three Marines, two more in the cock pit.

They both walked into the jumper with a shared look of nonchalance.

“What brings you here?” Rodney asked casually, so casually, John had to smile.

“Uh... well, we're here to rescue you,” Lorne said slowly.

Rodney nodded, Teyla trying to hide her smile. “Hmm. Thank you, Major. I'll be sure to send you a fruit basket.”

“You look like crap,” Ronon said looking John over.

John nodded and cocked a thumb backwards, “Should've seen us an hour ago.”

Rodney pointed at John. “We promised we were never going to discuss that.”

John nodded. “We're not. Ever.”

Teyla was smiling, but looking a little regretful. “We would have come sooner.”

“I know.”John shrugged and made a face. “Look, how about we get the hell out of here?”

Lorne nodded and said, “Right away, sir.”

The hatch to the jumper closed and John fell onto a bench, Rodney sitting down opposite with a sigh, Teyla next to him, patting his leg.

Ronon sat down next to John and sniffed his shoulder. “You smell weird too.”

The floors, walls, ceilings, windows of Atlantis spelled welcome when they returned, spelling it in loud bright and warm colours that were melting away the cold of the snow. John and Rodney spent most of the day in the infirmary, having their injuries catalogued and being ordered bed rest for a few days.

People looked horrified when they said words like prison and gruel, so John took to making more jokes about the whole thing. It made it less real somehow, all that time lost under snow and stones. Elizabeth ordered a trip to see Heightmeyer, which was going to be a breeze. He'd tell her what she wanted to hear and that would be the end of it.

Unless she saw him going for a run at three in the morning, his muscles and bones protesting the new torture. John stopped with a sigh, closing his eyes and leaning against the wall of the hallway. After a moment he had to lean against it, slipping down into a crouch, waiting for everything to stop aching so hard.

“Are you having a breakdown?”

John smiled, shaking his head and looking up. “Yes, Rodney. I'm having a breakdown.”

Rodney gave an amused smile. “What are you doing out there?”

John stood up with a grimace. “Couldn't sleep. You?”

Rodney made a face. “Me too.”

“Missing Caleb?” John asked with a mock serious face.

Rodney rolled his eyes, which John took as a good sign for some reason. “Very funny, Sheppard.”

John poked Rodney's arm. “Hey, if you're not tired, want a game of chess?”

“Yes, because all my ego needs right now is for you to beat me at chess,” Rodney said, looking bored. “Why don't you just whip me naked through the hallways?”

John thought about it. “Because that would be really disturbing. Come on, Meredith, quit your complaining. I might even let you win.” John grabbed Rodney by the front of his sweatshirt and tugged him into moving alongside him, which Rodney automatically did with an indignant breath.

“Let me win?,” Rodney asked. “For all you know I've been lulling you into a false sense of security.”

“That's a lot of lulling,” John said, wondering if he could let Rodney win for once. Then just because he could, he gave Rodney a pat on the back. “Race you.”

John sprinted off with a smile, hearing Rodney yell out behind, “We have transporters... you freak of nature!”

John ran anyway, all the way through the colourful hallways, letting the lights of Atlantis smile around him.

- the end -