Part of the "A World of Hurt" series – an ongoing, only slightly AU series of whumpy tag fics to the each of the Season 3 episodes. By hook or by crook I will work some Shep whump into every episode.. if TPTB won't do it, then I'll just have to do it myself :) These stories are designed to fit in with the canon of Season 3 – imagine, if you will, that they take place "off-screen" before, during or after the episode, as appropriate.
Fourth fic in the series – this is the tag for Sateda. An awesome ep with a bit of Sheppy whumpage thrown in too which I am only slightly expanding on in this piece. This fic is intended to focus not just on the physical but also on the emotional whumpage.. now that we have some hint of Shep's emotions where his team is concerned! There will be approx. one more chapter to this.
Please read and review.
SPOILERS FOR SATEDA!
Sheppard's heart was pounding in his chest as he ran back from the gate – his pulse racing with a mixture of exertion and fear as he sprinted back to find Ronon and Teyla. He'd hated having to split the team but McKay had been injured and unable to walk unaided – his first priority had had to be to get the wounded back to safety; to get Rodney to the gate. And so he'd ran, his shoulder under McKay's arm supporting most of the scientist's weight, dragging the floundering man along with him at every step. In doing so, he'd left Ronon and Teyla pinned down by angry villagers, covering his six while he helped Rodney. And now he'd left Rodney alone while he raced back to help the rest of his team. But Rodney would be fine; he'd go through the gate and he'd be fine. John kept telling himself that, the words reverberating in his head even as his feet pounded on the forest floor.
He stumbled to a halt in a seemingly empty clearing, confused for a moment as he looked in vain for his team. This was where he'd left them, he was sure. A flash of dark colour caught his eye and his heart dropped like a stone as he realised it was Teyla; his team mate lying crumpled at the foot of a tree, still and unmoving. Before he had time to do more than form a fervent hope that she was okay, before he could even take a step towards her, he felt a sharp, stinging pain in his arm, followed immediately by a rapid, spreading numbness.
Even as he looked down at the thin sliver of dart sticking out of his arm, the sharp tip penetrating his thick leather jacket and the shirt beneath to pierce his flesh, he could feel the numbness spreading, his limbs growing heavy and unresponsive. He had just enough time to realise what was happening and mutter a heartfelt "Oh, crap," before his legs wobbled and gave out on him and he slumped slowly to his knees. He was finding it hard to breathe, his muscles failing, refusing to respond to his commands. His mind grew fogged and unclear, a heavy, sleepy feeling settling over him. His last coherent thought as he toppled sideways was that at least this meant that Teyla and Ronon were probably still alive. He didn't feel it when he hit the ground, his body sprawling limply on the forest floor.
Waking up was hell and things didn't really get much better after that; John came back to himself slumped uncomfortably in a corner of a crude wood-pole cage. He awoke to a litany of aches and pains and an unpleasant taste in his mouth. Whatever drug these people had used on him, it was incredibly fast-acting and had left him feeling oddly exhausted, his muscles still a little weak and shaky. He grimaced slightly as he opened his eyes, choosing not to move too much just yet as he took in his surroundings, relieved to find Teyla sitting nearby and Ronon staring out through the bars of their impromptu prison, rigid tension evident in every line of the Satedan's pose. John wondered briefly if Rodney had made it through the gate okay.
Sheppard's neck ached from his uncomfortable posture and he tried to shift himself to a more comfortable position as he forced a cheerfulness he didn't feel into his voice. His words of comfort to Ronon fell on deaf ears and the look on Teyla's face said more than her words about the success of her own attempts to console the runner. He couldn't say he was exactly surprised by Ronon's mood and, with a suppressed groan, he clambered a little unsteadily to his feet, surprised at how shaky he felt. The cage was open to the elements and a thin layer of snow still dotted the ground around the village; John shivered a little, glad of the protection afforded by his leather jacket. Ronon on the other hand, stripped of his long coat and left in just his sleeveless tunic, seemed oblivious to the cold.
Sheppard was a little stunned by Ronon's description of his previous visit to the village – the runner had never really spoken much of his years of being hunted by the Wraith and hearing the stark reality of what his friend had lived through filled John with a welter of conflicting emotions; amazement that Ronon had survived as long as he had, anger at the Wraith for the torment they had inflicted and a fierce gladness that he had been able to rescue his friend from that life. How he was going to rescue Ronon, or any of them for that matter, from this situation however, was still a matter of debate.
It became quickly apparent that the villagers weren't going to listen to reason and the prospect of being Wraith food in the near future was not exactly a pleasant thought. Sheppard was still feeling just a little woozy from the knockout drug and, no matter how he tried to think of a way out of this mess, he was coming up desperately short on options. And then Ronon took matters into his own hands and John was left scrambling to catch up, the air thick with tension as he tried to talk both Ronon and the villagers out of doing anything stupid. He wasn't entirely joking when he said he was more worried about them shooting him and Teyla. This day was turning into an emotional rollercoaster of disastrous proportions – within moments he went from holding his breath in expectation of sudden violence, to relief when Ronon suddenly let the villager go, to being utterly blindsided when Ronon unhesitatingly held the knife to his own throat.
Nothing he or Teyla could say, neither direct orders nor cajoling, would make Ronon put the knife down, would convince him that what happened to the village in the past was not his fault. Sheppard was starting to feel lost, the situation spiralling way out of his control. He worked to control his frustration and his fear but couldn't help something like despair from washing through him as Ronon looked at his team mates and, in a breaking voice he had thought never to hear from the warrior, told the villagers they were "good people" and demanded they let them go. John realised with a sinking heart that Ronon had given up on himself; he knew there was no way out for him and he was willing to sacrifice himself, to take his own life if necessary, to at least save the lives of his friends.
Sheppard wanted more than anything to struggle, to fight back, when hands grabbed at his jacket and pulled him bodily from the cell. But he couldn't. As much as he wanted to fight, wanted to save Ronon, there was nothing they could do right now. The village leader's warning was clear; resist and you will be killed. They were unarmed and vastly outnumbered and with traces of the powerful sedative still in his bloodstream, Sheppard was not feeling in any fit condition for hand to hand fighting. He would not – could not – make light of Ronon's sacrifice by getting them killed anyway. John couldn't tear his gaze from the sight of Ronon, his face twisted with emotion, holding the vicious knife tight to his own throat as the villagers dragged Sheppard backwards from the cell.
He and Teyla were shoved roughly out into the street, villagers surrounding them, firm hands on his shoulders and arms forcing him to walk forward. He twisted his body to look back over his shoulder as the villagers dragged him away, his throat tight with anger and fear as he saw Ronon lower the knife and heard the distinctive "phut" of a drugged dart finding its mark. The last thing he saw before he was roughly pulled away was Ronon drop, the Satedan simply folding up as the powerful drug took effect, crumpling him bonelessly to the ground.
TBC…