AN: Don't worry..."Far Away" has not been abandoned. It's just...well, this one plot bunny started nibbling on my foot, and wouldn't leave me alone. So I wrote, and this story popped out. Fun. Anyway...enjoy...Oh, and a BIG ole'
DISCLAIMER: I don't own anyone in this story. *sniffs*
Please Read & Review. It proves to my hubby that people still like my ramblings. LOL
Numb
By scarlet79
It has been four days.
Four days I have been locked in this filthy prison, my clothing torn to shreds, with no food or water. Not that I would want anything from my captors, even if they offered it. But if I could only taste an apple, or a bowl of my new favorite food – popcorn – I would die happily for just a bite.
I did, however, find these few scraps of paper in my pocket, and managed to fashion a pencil out of a piece of charcoal. Perhaps writing this is only a way for me to stave off the despair that crowds its way into my heart, but so far it is helping.
My voice is hoarse from screaming his name, from crying for him to come and rescue me. It burns when I swallow, and I cannot get enough moisture in my mouth to soothe the pain. My saliva has dried up, as have my tears. At first, they fell from my eyes like rivers, dripping down my chin, turning my eyelids puffy. But now, no matter how hard I try, I cannot make them come.
Night brings only fear and madness – for that is when they come for me. They pin me down on the ground, whispering dirty, evil things in my ear until I finally block them out by recalling the stories my father used to tell me. They put their hands upon me, touching me where only love should. I try to escape them, to wrench myself from their grasp, but they are strong. I can only close my eyes and imagine that he has found me, and though I can feel my eyes stinging with tears, they will not fall. My memory of him is so strong that I can almost smell his aftershave on the musty air, and I instinctively reach out for him – but he is not there. Choking back empty sobs, I wonder if he will ever be there again, or if I will die in here, alone.
Finally, they leave me. Slamming the door, the sound too loud in my ringing ears, they walk away. As I draw my knees up under my bruised chin, I can hear them laughing and congratulating each other. One of them grunts in pain and my head snaps up, fully expecting him – my rescuer – to be standing there. My heart drops as I see that the guard has only tripped over his own stupid feet, and I wish I had the strength to slam my fist against the dirt floor. Instead, I only close my eyes again and bury my face against my knees, praying to the Ancestors for death to come quickly.
They have taken everything from me – my honor, my dignity, and my freedom. I am left with nothing. And yet, as empty and helpless as I feel, there is a small flicker of hope within me. My dreams are filled with images of rescue, of him finding me here, and when I wake, I find that I can face the coming day.
Oh, but how I miss him! Each night, as I fall into my troubled, tortured slumber, I concentrate on the memory of his face. I grasp onto it like a rock in the midst of a storm, praying that it will keep me from being carried off into the waves. His smile gives me peace, assuring me that he will find me, and when I remember the touch of his hand on mine, I feel a thrill rush through me.
As I stare out the barred window at the sinking sun, my breath hitches in my chest, for I know that my nightmare is about to begin anew.
Footsteps begin to ring through the dim hallways, and again my heart cries out for him.
He paced worriedly inside Jumper One, his hands clenching and unclenching almost in time with the beat of his heart. His tac vest felt too tight, and he wished he could just leave it behind, as bad an idea as he knew that would be. The sound of his boots on the metal grating of the floor reminded him of a scene from a movie, but at the moment he couldn't recall just which one it was.
When Rodney finally stepped inside the Jumper and saw the look on Sheppard's face, he immediately flinched away.
"Uh," Rodney stuttered, panic seeping into his voice, "I almost forgot a few things, but I got 'em. Let's...let's get going."
Wordlessly, John slid into the pilot's seat and started the Jumper. Truthfully, as angry as he was at Rodney for holding them up, he couldn't yell at him even if he wanted to. His gut was twisted into so many knots that it felt like he was being eaten up from the inside out. As a result, the best he could do in terms of speaking was one-word answers.
She'd been missing for too long. His military training told him this; Hell, even Carter told him the same thing earlier. But something in the back of John's mind also told him not to give up, that he had to go find her. She was counting on him; he knew this as strongly as he knew his own name. Last night, he dreamed that she had called out for him – actually, she had screamed his name – and it had felt so real that he had actually sat up in bed and called her name in return. In fact, it had felt so real that he had to turn on the lights in his room to convince himself that she wasn't in there with him.
Now, as he peered unseeingly at the HUD, mentally pushing the Jumper to go at her top speed, he only hoped he wouldn't be too late.
Rodney sat beside him as usual, seeing every twitch on his friend's face out of the corner of his eye. People often thought he was unobservant, but the truth was that Rodney was often only too aware of what was going on around him. For example, right now he knew that Sheppard was trying hard to swallow against a wave of despair threatening to pull him – and, quite possibly, the entire Jumper along with all its occupants – down into a fiery demise. He saw the way Sheppard's hands gripped the controls, his knuckles turning white, jaw clenched so hard his teeth ground together, and Rodney's own heart took a nose-dive into his stomach.
John Sheppard had been Rodney's friend for a long time – and for a short time, his only friend – so when Sheppard was upset, so was he. Not only that, but Rodney was friends with her, too. She was a wonderful person, always cheerful and optimistic, and she put up with Rodney when everyone else had given up.
She loved Sheppard. Rodney could tell as plainly as if it were written on her face. Rodney also knew that Sheppard loved her, but would never admit it. Rodney guessed that it was because he was too afraid that he'd mess things up, but he had nothing to worry about. He was the most perfect guy Rodney had ever known; and anyway, if there was even a small chance that he would ever mess up, she would forgive him a thousand times over. That's how great a person she was.
People also thought he was heartless, or at least, too self-absorbed to care about anyone else, but they were wrong about that, too. He cared a lot; he just never let anyone see because then, he'd have been seen as weak or whatever. So he hid behind his intelligence, relying on sarcasm and an acerbic personality to keep people from getting too close to him. Now, as Sheppard reached up to rub at the corner of his eye, Rodney realized he was really trying to keep his tears at bay, and suddenly Rodney hated the unspoken rule that said men don't cry. How else were they supposed to show they were sad? Mentally, he shrugged. He was a guy, and he didn't cry when he was sad, either. So was something wrong with him? He didn't think so.
Rodney shook off these thoughts and did the only thing he could think to do to comfort his friend – leaning over, he clapped his hand on Sheppard's shoulder and smiled when Sheppard glanced over at him in surprise.
"We'll find her," he said, his gaze compassionate, and though he was confused by the physicist's sudden change in demeanor, Sheppard only nodded silently.
Leaning back in his seat, Rodney blew out a breath and went back to work on tracing her transmitter. Though he really never believed in God, he offered up a silent prayer that what he said would come true – that they would find her.
And soon.
TBC...