Balancing on the edge, he eased himself into a crouch, took aim one last time, and leaped. For what seemed like an eternity, he hung suspended, body stretched, hands reaching, then he slammed into the cage, sending it into a wild heave and swirl, and felt himself slip almost as soon as he'd made contact. Fingers locked around rain-slick metal bars he held on for dear life.
The cage gave a lurch that catapulted Rodney out of the corner he'd crawled into and slammed him into the bars on the opposite side. One of the cracks he heard was caused by the impact of ribs on metal, and if he'd been in any doubt, the murderous stab of pain that sent a white shower of sparks flitting through his vision would have clinched it. The other crack, quieter and subtly different, remained unidentifiable until the metal bars moved under his weight. In a panicked flash he realized that the latch of the cage door, corroded by the endless rain, must have snapped. Then he began sliding through the opening and out of the cage. Arms flailing, he clawed for a handhold, snatched a bar with one hand. The fingers of his other hand briefly brushed metal, lost their grip and clutched at thin air. The bar he was holding on to, slippery as a piece of soap-God, how long before he lost his grip there, too? — con- tinued to move. The second he dropped free of the cage and into a sea of agony from his broken rib, it dawned on him that what he hung on to was the door of the cage. Somewhere in the back of his mind he also registered that the unnerving noise he was hearing had to be his-own- screams.
Then something else shouldered its way into his awareness.
"Shut up! McKay! Shut up, damn you!"
The voice, grating and impatient, sounded familiar. For a moment he thought it was Ikaros, but the kid wouldn't have been able to come over quite so offensive. The voice was familiar in a different way. When he finally made the connection, the surprise rammed his screams right back into his throat.
He hiccupped. "Ronon?"
Oh please! Not him!
"I'm busy. If you value your continued existence, shut up!" Rodney hissed ferociously. Ikaros's astute observations were the last thing he needed now.
There was no comeback, so apparently the kid had gotten the message. You had to be grateful for small favors.
Blinking water from his eyes, Rodney peered into the darkness below, relieved when he found he couldn't see much further than his toes. By the same token, he knew only too well what the night and the rain were hiding. He'd stared at it for the past three days. As Ronon did whatever he was doing up top, the cage kept moving erratically, and Rodney could feel his fingers slide millimeter by millimeter. The bottom edge of the door was digging into his wrist, his chest was on fire, his hands and feet were numb with cold, and he could have sworn the ball of his shoulder was inexorably sliding from its socket. Another jerk of the cage swung the door wider and made him swivel a quarter of a turn.
"I'm sure whatever you're doing there is a lot of fun," he yelped, "but I'm slipping. So stop moving, for God's sake!"
"Just hang on," Ronon's voice came back, accompanied by another jolt.
Then it was a lurch and a jolt, and Rodney whimpered when he felt his grip loosen some more. "I can't hang on!"
"Yes, you can. Quit chatting and save your strength."
Strength? What strength?
He hadn't eaten in three days, and his last meal-if you could call it that-had found its way into the abyss. It was a miracle he was even conscious, and never mind metabolizing enough energy to hold on for as long as he already had. The cage began to list to the side where Rodney was dangling, so apparently Ronon had made his way over. Just as that thought took hold, a gust caught the door and drove it back toward the cage, jamming Rodney's wrist in a metal vise.
It's Charybdis! It doesn 't
"Shut up!" he hollered.
"Didn't say anything." The Satedan's voice sounded strained but reassuringly close now. "Listen to me. McKay? Are you listening?"
"Yes!" As if he had a choice! Talk about captive audience…
"Good. I want you to hold on real tight now. I've got to swing the door back out."
"Swing the- Are you insane?"
"I won't be able to reach you unless I'm inside the cage. I can't get inside the cage unless I open the damn door. In order to open the damn door, I have to swing it back. So hang tight!"
As soon as he had a moment, Rodney would get riled up about how Ronon had the nerve to talk to him as if to a retarded kindergartner. For now he scrunched his eyes shut, held his breath, and tried to compute the time it would take for his fingers to slip completely. The result was not encouraging. According to his calculations, he should have fallen already. The cage dipped some more, and the door moved. He gave a soft groan, almost wishing that he would fall, because then at least this nightmare would be over.
In response to this upbeat thought, the cage began to shudder and shift in a cadence of jerky movements that culminated in a thud and another major heave as Ronon propelled himself into the cage. It was the last straw. Gravity finally won out over virtually nonexistent friction, Rodney's grasp opened, and he screamed.
In the very same instant an iron fist clamped around his wrist.
"Oh no, you don't!" the Satedan growled through clenched teeth.
No longer having to concentrate on keeping his fingers clenched, Rodney finally managed to look up, for all the good it did him. Between the darkness and the rain stinging his eyes, all he could see was a dark shape lying prone on the bottom of the cage, his head and shoulders sticking through the door.
The shape's free arm extended as far as possible, and Ronon shouted, "Grab my hand!"
"I can't!" Rodney gasped and anticipated the inevitable reply. "I really can't. I've broken at least one rib."
It prompted a string of crudeness from above. Then Ronon grunted, "Okay. This'll be unpleasant "
Unpleasant? As opposed to the box of delights Rodney had been through so far?
His mental diatribe was cut off when Ronon's free hand closed around his forearm. Christ almighty, the man was proposing to haul him in hand over fist! And he'd not been lying- except unpleasant didn't begin to describe it. There was a brutal yank up. Simultaneously the vise grip around Rodney's wrist released, only to reappear a second later, clamped around his upper arm, by which time he felt that his shoulder would give for sure.
"Help me!" Ronon snarled, strain flattening his voice.
Gritting his teeth, Rodney lifted his free arm and was just about able to reach the bar beside the opening. If he stretched a little farther… His ribcage howled in protest, but suddenly his fingers found purchase, and he held on and pulled for what he was worth. Not overly much, if Ronon's continued growling was anything to go by. Another yank, a fist clutched a handful of shirt at the back of Rodney's neck, and then Ronon started hauling for real.
Kicking and swearing, Rodney slid into the cage, convinced that his broken rib had shifted. Then the obvious struck him. "Now what?"
"You're welcome." Still panting hard, Ronon climbed to his feet, grabbed the crossbar above the door opening, and pulled himself up onto the top of the cage like a gymnast. Once up there, he lay back down on his stomach. "Grab my hands."
As if once hadn't been enough… Rodney suppressed a sigh and raised his arms, wincing.
"The other way round!" hissed Ronon. "You want me to break your back? Face me!"
Good point. Rodney hated when other people had those. He also hated the notion of having to back right into the door-far too reminiscent of high diving, high being the operative word and it made him crane his neck and look down against his better judgment.
"Hurry up!" the Satedan snapped.
Rodney resigned himself and turned, closing his eyes again, partly in expectation of what would happen in his chest once his feet left the ground. Seconds later he noted that his expectation had fallen way short of the actual event. By the time Ronon pulled him up onto the top of the cage, he seriously considered passing out. What stopped him was the fact that their combined weight had put the cage into a steep list. He felt himself sliding again, more rapidly than ever before, and scrambled for a handhold. At last, as though gravity had been thinking about it and made up its mind, his slide slowed to a halt, but Rodney couldn't shake the feeling that it'd start all over again if he so much as took a breath or batted an eyelid. Consequently, for the time being he decided to do neither.