Archive of Our Own ^beta

All of these corridors looked the same, as Carson ran down one hallway just to turn the corner and see the exact same hall. Michael kept him in a singular room for most of his incarceration, with his door sealed. And when he was summoned elsewhere, he was taken to a specific room, with a direct route, no sightseeing. He wasn't allowed to see the layout of Michael's base of operations. No doubt to prevent escape attempts, or in the unlikely event that Carson was rescued he wouldn't be able to provide his friends with much information about the very building he'd been trapped in.

Although, it had been months, at least Carson had thought it had been months and there was not a single whisper of Sheppard, Rodney, Teyla or Ronon. Some part of his mind was beginning to think they had give him up for dead like they had for Aiden and that there was no rescue coming. However, he fervently argued against those creeping doubts. There was no way Rodney would give up on him or give up trying to save him unless he saw a body. And as he got turned around in the complex, admitting to himself that he was officially lost, he had to tell himself that they would find him.

Turning down another hallway, aimlessly he ran right into Michael. There had been no alarms, and he had thought foolishly that that had meant that Michael hadn't yet checked his room and therefore didn't notice his disappearance. But there he stood, not shocked to shim him roaming around free. He stood up straight, his pale skin and spiked hair, and that neutral face and thinned out lips. It all made Carson shiver, intimidated by his presence, but he did his best not to let it show in his face. He'd learned early on that Michael tended to pounce and exploit any weakness he outwardly showed.

"Really, Doctor. I would have thought you were smarter than that." He took a deep breath, stepping closer to Carson. The smaller man couldn't keep up his staunch stance, and had lurched backwards in fear. Scared that Michael might kill him and a little worried in himself that he was okay with that. He'd been his prisoner for so long and as his hope for rescue dwindled, so too did his hope for some kind of end rise. Michael's stoic face did take on a deceptive leer, sensing and enjoying the fear coming off of the human. "Disappointing you'd try and run, although it's not altogether surprising. I've come to expect this recklessness and willful defiance from your kind. I must say, you are more resourceful than I gave you credit for. And you have more backbone, too. Funny, I thought I took care of that back in the beginning when you first refused to help me."

As Michael got right into Carson's face, he trembled and whispered. "What-What are you going to do to me, Michael? Kill me?"

The wraith hybrid hissed in his face, hating the name they gave him, but he soon regained his composure. His hand, the back of his knuckles trailed down the side of Carson's cheek. "You still have so many uses to me, Doctor."

Carson had flicked his head away from the nauseating touch, and he squeaked out in question again, if Michael would kill him. He couldn't say for sure that it was even a question anymore. All he knew was that he'd rather die then be the subject of his sick curiosity again. Anything but that. That hand came back at him, landing on the back of his neck, keeping him from shrinking away from him again. But instead of being pulled closer to the lithe body or his sickly grey lips, he was shoved instead, back in the direction he'd come from.

"I'm not going to do a single thing to you, Doctor. I'm taking you back to your room."

Carson balled up his fists, but had no weapons. He could not take Michael one on one, even if he had the will and balls too, and being Michael's prisoner had done a number on him. It'd made him more desperate and angry then he use to be, but he knew angry was not the same as having the power to stand up to him. Even if he could, he'd still be lost, he'd have nowhere to go. So with a sigh, and his head hanging sadly, Carson began the slow trek back to where his room was located.

Michael's hand was a steady, imposing and revolting contact wrapped around the nape of his neck. "And when we get back, I'll let you decide how many innocent humans will die due to your insolence."

That had stopped Carson dead in his tracks. It had torn him apart when he was helpless to stop the last prisoner from being murdered in front of his eyes. He couldn't go through that again. And with tears in his eyes, he spun back around to face the wraith. "No! You can't-"

There was a resounding echo of a hit bouncing off the walls. The back of Michael's hand had come down hard upon him, and Carson brought his hand up to his face, feeling a little blood pooling in the corner of his mouth. "You should have thought about that before you escaped your room. Their deaths are on your hands. Now move!"