Rumble

I give Kolya my best defiant glare as he leers at me and my team from the other side of the bars. About a dozen of his goons ambushed us the instant we stepped through the 'Gate, caught us off guard. It just goes to show how cocky we've become––how cocky I've become. It really was my fault. I always tell my team to be ready for anything, but if I'd have followed my own advice, I wouldn't have gotten us into this mess. Brilliant, John, just brilliant. God, they took us so easily––none of us is even badly wounded; that's how much of a fight we weren't able to put up. The only bright side is exactly that––we're not wounded, not dead.

But I swear, before we get out of here, Kolya will be.

Am I scared? You bet. But no way in hell am I going to let Kolya know that, or the rest of the team. Well, the way Teyla's looking at me, I think she's probably figured out as much. Score one for feminine intuition, I guess. But Ronon and McKay, and more importantly, Kolya, seem to be blissfully oblivious.

"I must commend my men for a job well done," Kolya gloats. "I only told them to take you alive, Colonel Sheppard. And yet they brought me you and your entire team––not just alive, but relatively uninjured."

"They jumped us from behind," Ronon growls. "They're nothing but a band of cowards."

Seeing Kolya's expression darken, McKay pipes up, "A band of highly skilled and well-trained cowards, of course…"

"Shut up, Rodney," I snap.

Kolya's voice is low and dangerous. "Would you like to find out just how skilled they are, Doctor McKay?"

"You have merely proved Ronon's point," Teyla says, jumping to McKay's defense. "Only a coward would single out the most helpless of us to threaten."

"You're a spirited one," Kolya says. I don't like the look on his face as he unlocks the cell door––the only word I can think of to describe it is lecherous. "I've been wanting to get my hands on you for a long time."

Okay, now I've had it. Threats of simple violence are one thing, but this is too much. I move to stand between Teyla and Kolya. "Leave her alone. It's me you want."

The smile on Kolya's face tells me he'd been baiting me, and I'd taken it. "Indeed. And it's me you want, isn't it? Looking for revenge for our last encounter?"

"Trying to rectify a mistake I made two years ago. I should've killed you when I had the chance."

Kolya steps back from the open door. "Well, now you have another chance. I challenge you to a fight to the death, Colonel Sheppard." With a sweeping gesture, he indicates a nearby table where all of my team's weapons and equipment are laid out. "Choose your weapon."

Okay, there has to be a catch. At this range, one-on-one, I could make short work of him with a P90, and yet there it is, mine for the choosing. I pick it up carefully and inspect it. No sign of tampering. I check the magazine.

Aha. Empty. And the spare ammo is missing from the collection on the table.

A similar inspection of all the guns provides the same results––fully functional, but not loaded. So it is to be hand-to-hand. I pick up my knife and turn to face Kolya. Ronon shouts a warning.

I'd done another stupid thing––I'd turned my back on the bastard. He's literally inches away from me when I turn around, and his own knife is slashing toward my throat. I jerk away just in time, and I feel a sting across my forehead that quickly escalates to roaring pain. Blood pours into my eyes, and I'm temporarily blinded. Dammit––head wounds bleed like crazy. I won't be able to see for more than a few seconds at a time.

I dive in a direction I'm pretty sure is clear as I wipe the blood from my eyes. Kolya stumbles into the table with a satisfying crash––he must have just barely missed me. He pushes himself upright and lunges at me again, and I manage to block his knife with mine as I struggle to keep my vision clear with my other hand. He got me good––I've got blood dripping into both eyes at once.

But now isn't the time to assess my injuries. Kolya ramps up his attack, forcing me to remain on the defensive. It's all I can do to keep up with him. He watches me carefully, striking like a snake when I can't see. I quickly find myself covered in small cuts, mostly on my arms and hands.

He has me backed up to a wall, at a serious disadvantage. I kick out with my left foot, sweeping his legs out from under him. He goes down, but recovers quickly and is back on his feet almost before I can circle around him and away from the wall. But the tables are turned now, and it's Kolya who's on the defensive.

I aim for his knife hand. I want to look in his eyes when I kill him––I want to see the defeat there. I want to see his face when he realizes he's lost, and that I won't be as merciful as I was the last time I bested him.

The fight seems to be a draw for a while. The bleeding from that first cut seems to have slowed, and I can see much better. I score a couple of hits, and take a few more. Finally, just as I'm beginning to wonder if he's getting as tired as I am, my knife plunges into Kolya's forearm. He roars in pain as his weapon clatters to the floor. In a flash, my blade is at his throat, and in his eyes is exactly what I want to see. I have Acastus Kolya at my mercy.

I want to make his defeat as bitter as possible. Keeping the edge of my knife pressed to his throat, I drag him to the door of the cell where my team is imprisoned. Nodding toward the bulge of the keys in his pocket, I hiss, "Let them go." I don't really expect him to do it––in fact, I have a sudden mental image of pushing him up against the bars and having Ronon or Teyla take the keys from him.

But he surprises me by calmly unlocking the door and throwing it open. Between the four of us, we surround him.

I force him to his knees. The memories of everything he's done to me, to my team, to Atlantis, come crashing in on me full force, leaving me shaking with rage. I'm going to turn his own monstrosity back on him. I don't give a damn that he's unarmed, that he's helpless. I've humiliated him, and I'm going to kill him. He deserves worse.

Kolya sways, ostensibly from weariness, and nearly falls backward, bracing himself with his good hand near his boot. Then he grins wickedly, and Teyla barely has time to cry out, "John, he has another––" before he punches me in the gut.

The blow knocks the wind out of me, and I stagger backward. His fist has left a bloody mark on my uniform, and I wonder briefly how his uninjured hand got that much blood on it. That's when I realize the mark is spreading. Rapidly.

I stare at the rat bastard kneeling on the floor, and see the bloody knife in his hand––the one he'd had hidden in his boot. Teyla and Ronon are shocked into silence, and McKay breathes a panicked, "Oh, my God!"

Kolya lunges forward, blade slashing, trying to finish me off. I try to hold him off, but I'm losing blood fast, and the pain has finally kicked in. I know I'm not going to last long as my vision grays and starts to tunnel. I collapse, and it's over.

But Ronon, resourceful as ever, grabs the empty P90 and swings it like a club, bashing Kolya over the head. My archenemy crumples to the floor, unconscious. But I'm too weak to end his miserable life.

Teyla is kneeling beside me. "Hold on, John. We'll get you back to Atlantis, and you'll be fine."

I appreciate her encouragement. But the last thing that runs though my mind before I pass out is that I've failed. Again.