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.

Fifth fic in the series, this is the tag for Progeny. This will deal with both the physical whumping of Shep (cos it sure looked like that mindprobe hurt!) and also the interesting emotional repercussions of his visions of the death of Atlantis… should be two chapters in total.

Please read and review.

SPOILERS FOR PROGENY!

"My head is killing me."

Lost in his own thoughts, Sheppard was only vaguely aware of Elizabeth's softly-spoken complaint.

She had it right though. Killing was definitely the appropriate description. His head felt like it was about 3 sizes too small for his brain, like a tight band was squeezed around his skull, building an increasing pressure behind his eyes and making his entire head pound and throb relentlessly. It made his eyes hurt and his teeth ache.

He sat slumped in a corner of the cell, his legs drawn up in front of him, arms resting on his knees, trying his best to not move his head any more than was necessary. He was still reeling from whatever Oberoth had done to him. From the revelation that he – that they, all of them – were not Ancients, not even men, but machines. Replicators. He knew the name from the SGC reports… but reading the cold, impartial reports of what these complex machines could do was no comparison to experiencing… What the hell had he experienced? What had Oberoth done to him?

The last thing he remembered was standing alone in the control room as Atlantis shuddered and shrieked around him, wailing and groaning in her death throes. He'd hit the button, closed his eyes and waited to die along with the city.

The death of Atlantis hadn't been what he was expecting. There'd been a sharp, excruciating pain, like a knife between the eyes, and a dizzying sensation of falling, and he'd opened his eyes to find himself back in the cell, sprawled on the floor with Oberoth standing over him, a roaring pain in his head and feeling so groggy and disoriented that he could barely string a sentence together.

He still felt disoriented. The Asurans had simply walked away without a word, leaving the Lantean team lying dazed and shaken on the cell floor. With a shaky groan, he'd picked himself up off the floor, wobbling and uncoordinated, his body protesting the movement with trembling limbs and bursts of pain like miniature fireworks behind his eyeballs. The others had been equally shaky and he'd pushed his own pain aside, helping Elizabeth to her feet, lending a hand as Rodney groaned and swayed unsteadily. He'd still been struggling to process what had happened, trying desperately to get his bearings, operating on autopilot as he gritted his teeth against the pounding in his head and made sure that his team, his friends, were okay.

Dazed and hurting as they all were, there hadn't been much in the way of conversation, just vague assurances that they were all ok and tremulous smiles that were meant to reassure but that didn't quite ring true. Sheppard felt anything but ok.

What the hell had happened to him?

"How'd we get back here?"

There was a long moment of silence in the cell and, without wanting to move his head enough to look around, Sheppard knew that everyone had turned to look at him.

"What do you mean, "back here"?" Teyla sounded exhausted and… something else. Something he wasn't sure he wanted to think too closely about.

"Well, we broke out, got to the jumper, gated back to Atlantis…"

His words faltered. The awkward silence was more than answer enough to his question. He grimaced. "At least... I thought we did."

"That is not what I remember…" The tremor to Teyla's voice made something dark and ugly rear its head in Sheppard's soul, something that, right at that moment, wanted very much to have five minutes alone with Oberoth.. and a sharp implement. He decided right there and then that he probably never wanted to know exactly what it was that Teyla remembered.

"The only thing I remember was being in a dark room, fighting hand to hand for hours.." Ronon was slouched in another corner, the runner's long legs stretched out before him, his arms wrapped around his midriff.

"Well, they obviously created different scenarios for each of us during the mindprobe. No doubt looking to gather information from our responses." McKay was restless, agitated, wandering endlessly about the cell. Just watching him stalk back and forth was making Sheppard dizzy. Mindprobe. So… none of it was real. Was it? How could he tell? When did his real memories end and the mindprobe scenario begin? They were back in the cell. No. Still in the cell. So.. they'd never escaped?

"I thought our escape seemed too easy."

McKay harrumphed dismissively, "Huh. At least you escaped."

Sheppard tilted his head up and that, ignoring the twinge of pain that reminded him just how bad an idea that was. He knew Rodney pretty well by now; well enough to pick up on the taste of bitterness in the scientist's voice.

"What'd they do to you?" Honestly, he wasn't sure he wanted to know but concern tightened his chest and the question slipped out before he had time to think about it.

McKay's restless motion stopped for a moment and his chin lifted almost defiantly. "Torture. In ways too hideous and.. intimate to recount."

"Like what?" Ronon's question distracted Sheppard from the ugly undertone to Rodney's voice and the scientist's face twisted into familiar impatience before Sheppard could get a fix on the emotions he'd seen flit across Rodney's mobile features.

"I said too hideous to recount!" With one snappish response, the familiar, condescending personality was firmly back in place and the brief moment of vulnerability was gone.

Sheppard suddenly felt incredibly tired, his head drooping forward as he stared unseeingly at the floor by his feet.

"I just had a horrible thought."

Sheppard suspected they had all been thinking the same thing, having the same doubts. It was Teyla who gave words to their shared concern

"What if it is still happening?"

"Yes." Weir's voice was hollow, shaken. Sheppard couldn't get rid of the image of her looking back at him as she stumbled through the gate, leaving Atlantis for the last time. Not real, he reminded himself. It wasn't real.

"There's gotta be a way to know for sure."

Lost in his thoughts, seeing not the plain, bare floor of the cell but the blinding flare of explosions and sparking conduits, the racing numbers of the self-destruct countdown, Sheppard wasn't really aware of McKay walking up alongside him until the scientist poked a finger at the side of his head and pushed, hard. The motion snapped John's head to the side and sent a flare of pain ricocheting about his skull. He shot McKay with a look that was a mixture of irritation and disbelief and responded instinctively, smacking his hand against McKay's leg in childish retaliation.

He caught Elizabeth giving them a slightly incredulous look as though she were trying to decide which of them were the bigger idiot. Dammit. His head really hurt.

"Doesn't really prove anything.." He drew his legs in closer as McKay wandered away in vague dissatisfaction, huddling himself further into the corner, his thoughts sliding unwillingly back to those memories – false memories, he tried to remind himself – of seeing Atlantis fall all around him.

And then a voice intruded on his thoughts, snapping his head up and making him clamber awkwardly to his feet.

Niam.

"It's real, Dr McKay."

TBC…