To Freedom

Chapter One: Interest

Warnings: Mild, largely implied slash (homosexual pairings), implied Wraith/human pairing, violence, language on par with that of the show

This is the story that was once known as The Captive. I'm going back and rewriting the chapters I have up...well, more like editing them to be more readable, but I'm also changing a few plot and charaacterization points. Hopefully it'll end up being much better than the one from two years ago.

This new title, I feel, suits the story much better. I never liked the old title and I always thought of it as a placeholder.

The first thing he became aware of was the headache. The cascade of agony throbbing inside his skull. When he tried to move his head, daggers shot through the soft gray matter of his brain and he was forced to fall still. Well, at least he could still feel his head, even if it was nothing but a tender ball of pain. When he tried to open his eyes, a brilliant deluge of light rushed into the gap left by his retreating eyelids, and he quickly clamped them shut.

He groaned and fell backwards and his head banged against the wall, but it didn't hurt because the wall wasn't hard. In fact, it felt slightly...squishy.

Squishy? Why were the walls squishy? And where was he? More importantly...

Who was he?

He felt a body but his mind was still floating somewhere in the morass of space, unaccessable. It was a terribly lonely feeling.

Damn, amnesia on top of everything else, he thought with a wry chuckle. Even that small movement of his jaw and vocal cords sent agony coursing through his head. He slumped against the mysteriously squishy wall, unable to open his eyes, unable to move, and his head felt only seconds away from bursting. On top of that, he didn't even know who he was.

Carson could fix this headache, and then he found himself wondering who this "Carson" was too. His head gave a particularly excruciating throb.

Water...damn, some water would be nice. This was true - his throat was dry as sandpaper. Somehow, he felt some ice cold water would also help to clear his head, and maybe rewire his brain so that he could remember who the hell he was.

He tried to speak - at least he still knew what speaking was. He started by moving his jaw and making sounds issue from his throat, but when nothing but unintelligible gibberish - which made his jaw hurt - exited his lips. Of course. He had to think of what to say first.

"A little water, guys?"

But who were these mysterious "guys?" Maybe he should try being more polite.

"Could I please have some water?"

That was too much to say, though.

"Water. Please."

That sound nice. Only three syllables.

He tried it. Ignoring the pain that shot through his head, he opened his mouth and choked out a syllable that sounded something like, "Wah." Good. Just "Ter" and "Please" next.

"T...t...ter...puh...leez." Was that even him talking? He sounded like he was both drunk and suffering from a speech impediment. His voice rumbled and crackled like a monster's, and it made sharp spikes poke at his brain through his ears. Oh, this wouldn't do.

"Waaaaaaahh..." he tried again, making a noise approximating that a whale would make as it was being harpooned. Why was asking for a drink so damnably hard?

"Taaaaaaa...eeehhhh...rrrrr..." he continued, without any idea what he was saying. "Puuuhhhhhhhh..."

Just as he had pieced together something that sounded faintly respectable (a bit like, "Wa-tuh-er puh-leez"), his concentration was destroyed by the steady stomping of boots. The sound was unbearable - each thud was like a sledgehammer driven deeper into his skull. He groaned and twisted as the steps grew louder and closer, echoing like thunderclaps.

He was vaguely aware of movement somewhere in front him. Shadowy figures stood in a row, but he could not see them well because trying to crack his eyes open caused a torrent of blinding light to hammer his head. He compromised by opening them the barest of slivers.

A thought occured to him - he could ask these people for water, whoever they were.

Before he could begin to launch into another painful attempt to say "Water, please", a harsh voice sliced like a dagger into his brain.

"Colonel Sheppard."

And then his mind found his body again. All the scattered, scrambled memories rearranged themselves into a solid whole when he heard his name, and he remember not only who he was, but how he'd gotten here, and above all what this place had to be.

"Oh, hell, no," Lt. Colonel John Sheppard muttered.

"Wow, it's really, uh, dark," said Dr. Meredith Rodney McKay, darting nervous glances around the thick branches and tree trunks that loomed out of the gloom like armed warriors. He was paler than his usual pasty shade and sweating quite profusely. "I didn't know it'd be so dark here."

"What, you afraid of the dark, Rodney?" said Lt. Colonel John Sheppard, aiming his gun light through a clump of trees. "Relax, nothing's going to eat you."

"Yeah, you think?" shot back Rodney. "Look, did you hear that shriek when we first gated in? It could've been, I don't know, a man-eating bat or something or even worse - "

Sheppard raised an eyebrow. "Man-eating bat?"

"What's a bat?" said Ronon Dex as he passed Sheppard and Rodney.

"It's like - some sort of - flying thing," said Sheppard, raising his arms in a passable imitation of flight.

"Some flying thing," snorted Rodney derisively. "Nice powers of description there, Shakespeare!"

"Hey, that is what a bat is, isn't it?" said Sheppard defensively. "They fly!"

"Yeah, but so do moths and bees and birds," said Rodney. "And airplanes, and - "

"Look, I can't believe we're even talking about this," said Sheppard, deciding to terminate this conversation before it turned into a full-fledged argument. "Bats, of all things?"

"Yeah, well, man-eating bats are nothing to laugh at!" squeaked Rodney.

"Flying things that eat people," said Ronon casually. "We had things like that on Sateda. They were huge birds."

Rodney made a noise that sounded very much like "Eek!" Sheppard bit back the urge to laugh.

Rodney did have a point about the dark, though. The beams from the gun lights were barely enough to penetrate the thick and heavy darkness. More than the darkness, the air itself held a heavy, oppressive weight that pressed down upon Sheppard's chest and quickly drove cheerful thoughts from his mind. He was sure the same thing was happening to Rodney, but Rodney was making no effort to act stoic like Sheppard was. Ronon, Teyla, and Carson were holding up well too, though Carson kept throwing nervous glances around.

"This place...has a very...evil...feel to it," said Teyla, her voice laden with apprehension. Sheppard agreed wholeheartedly - the sooner they left, the better.

"See, I'm not the only person who thinks that! Ha!" yelled Rodney.

"Rodney," said Teyla, though she was smiling, "do quiet down, please."

"Yeah, or else the bats will eat you," quipped Sheppard.

"We'll be out soon, won't we?" said Carson. "I mean, this is just a basic reconnaissance mission, isn't it? Right? Am I right?"

So many questions in that one, thought Sheppard ruefully. He'd like to leave soon too, though. All they were doing was scouting out the area, since the MALP had detected a village in the distance. Why anyone would want to live somewhere so creepy was beyond him.

"We should've landed on the day side of the planet," Rodney was moaning.

"Grow a spine, McKay," said Ronon.

"Besides, the stargate's on the night side," pointed out Sheppard.

"Still, we could at least wait until it's day!" Rodney said.

Sheppard felt like teasing Rodney more, but he could see how terrified the Canadian scientist's terror, so refrained from speaking. Everyone else fell into a grave silence as well, and in silence they nervously trekked the loamy earth and aimed their guns through the trees, mindful of the occasional shrieks and wingbeats issuing from the distance.

Yeah, it is pretty creepy here, thought Sheppard. Maybe we should have come at day.

But hey, he wasn't Rodney, and he certainly wasn't afraid of the dark!

And then before he could register what was happening, figures melted from the darkness ahead and shot at the Atlantis team. Reflexes took over for Sheppard and he sprayed the attackers with shots, shots that they returned with bolts of stunner light.

"They're Wraith!" roared Ronon above the din of combat. "An ambush!"

Sheppard fired - Wraith fell. More continued to leap out of the trees and stream from the darkness, but that was okay, they fell easily to his gun. He, Ronon, and Teyla fired with fierce determination into the ambushing Wraith, and even Carson and Rodney managed to get in a good shot now and then.

The Wraith were nearly all disposed of by now, for which Sheppard was grateful - he was tired and sweating profusely, and his arms ached from firing the gun so much. "So, that's it, then?" he panted, turning to his comrades.

"I s'pose," said Ronon, shrugging.

"Let's go back to Atlantis as quick as possible," said Teyla. "We must alert Elizabeth immediately."

"Sounds like a plan," a white-faced and wide-eyed Carson said.

"Auuughhh! Sheppard! Ronon! Teyla! Carson! Help me!"

"Rodney!" yelled Sheppard, instinctively crashing through the branches toward the source of Rodney's panicked screams. There were two Wraith - they were holding Rodney - one had his hand positioned over Rodney's chest - Rodney's eyes were wide as saucers and he shook and whimpered -

"Let the hell go of him!" roared Sheppard, but he could do nothing for fear that a badly aimed shot would hit Rodney. The Wraith turned to glance at Sheppard. They were not the faceless drones that Sheppard and friends had been fighting, but taller, long-coated Wraith. Commanders. One of them, a tall one sporting an impressive goatee, offered Sheppard a derisive smirk.

"Tell us why, Colonel Sheppard," he said mockingly, his hand hovering over Rodney's chest. Rodney sucked in deep, rattling breaths and fixed his gaze on the completely black sky. "Oh, God, oh, God, oh God," he gasped.

"I'm warning you," shouted Sheppard, pointing his gun at the Wraith. Both chuckled and the goateed one clamped his hand right over Rodney's heart. Rodney screamed - a shriek that sucked all of Sheppard's blood back towards his heart. Again he cocked his gun, but the Wraith positioned themselves so that no matter how he shot, he would end up hitting Rodney.

Just then, his (rather slow) comrades came crashing through the underbrush. Ronon roared in rage and firing angry red bursts from his gun - the Wraith crumpled and Rodney hit the forest floor with a miserable thump. Teyla and Carson ran to his side and helped him stand, while he shook and moaned and groaned.

"Thanks for the save, big guy," said Sheppard, grinning at Ronon.

"No problem," said Ronon. "Least I could do."

"John - ! Behind you!"

Sheppard barely heard Teyla's terrified shriek before he turned around and found a Wraith stunner pressed against his forehead.

I've been taken prisoner. I'm in a Wraith prison. That's why it's so squishy, 'cause it's the Wraith, you know, and they like their squishy.

Sheppard was amazed that he could think such wry thoughts even when confronted by Wraith. Thankfully, it didn't hurt too much to think anymore. The pounding in his head had subsided into a dull ache; experimentally, he cracked his eyes open and was not greeted by a flood of light, but by the sight of walls made of the Wraith's characteristic organic tendrils. Through the bars of what was obviously his cell a group of Wraith was lined up like a yearbook photo, the goateed Wraith at the front and center.

"Colonel Sheppard," repeated the goateed Wraith, a smirk evident in his deep voice. "You are finally awake."

"Ungh...and I'm to take that this God-awful hangover I've got is courtesy of you?" grunted Sheppard, hauling himself to a sitting position. His head still ached and his vision was blurry, but at the very least he could move. Regaining his memories seemed to have reset his cognitive processes as well.

The goateed Wraith chuckled without humor. "Colonel Sheppard, we have done our best to ensure that you have not been hurt...within reasonable limits, of course."

"What do you want with me?" snapped Sheppard, deciding to drop the wit (just a little). "And where's the rest of my team?"

"Don't worry, they escaped," said the Wraith. "We have no need for them, anyway."

"You think? Well, that just goes back to my first question, doesn't it? What the hell are you planning on using me for?"

Goatee's smirk widened, if possible. "Later, Colonel. That is not for you to know at the moment."

"Yeah, but I'd like to know," retorted Sheppard. "Since your kind aren't big on taking prisoners. Usually you'd have eaten me already, huh?"

The goateed Wraith (damn, he needed a better name...) continued to smirk at Sheppard through the bars. "You will know...later."

"I take that to mean that whatever you want with me isn't exactly pleasant on my part?" said Sheppard. "Well? Hot or cold?"

The Wraith peered impassively at Sheppard, his expression unfathomable due to the both of the dim light and Sheppard's bleary vision. "We will return...later."

This Wraith was quite fond of that word.

"Fine by me," said Sheppard, yawning and stretching out. "I'm damn tired, anyway." The goateed Wraith stared at Sheppard through the bars for a moment longer, before spinning around and leaving. His drone consort thudded after him. Sheppard watched them depart, and felt his head begin to pound again.

So the Wraith had taken him prisoner - but for what? Goatee wouldn't say, except that Sheppard would know "later." When it came to the Wraith, he wasn't sure if that was a good thing or a bad thing. Did he want to be held in suspense wondering what they would do, or did he want to know what nefarious plot they had in store? He honestly didn't know, but for now, he had other things to worry about.

Yeah, right. You've only got yourself to worry about, unless they were lying when they said the team got away.

Although his greatest urge was to sleep, Sheppard resisted and instead inspected himself. He was still in his uniform (why would the Wraith want to strip him, anyway...? Such bizarre thoughts), but his weapons and communication equipment were all gone. He gingerly reached for the back of his head and winced when his fingers brushed a particularly tender spot. Flakes of dried blood fell off on to the squishy floor.

Damn. That must have been one intense injury. A simple stunner couldn't do that. What had happened to him?

Well, now he knew why his head hurt so badly. He'd obviously hit his head quite badly, to the point of drawing blood. The rest of him appeared okay, excepting a few minor scratches and bruises from his wild rampage through the underbrush when he had been searching for Rodney. He also sported a bristly stubble even more impressive than his usual permanant shadow. How long had he been out?

His head was throbbing badly now and a aching weariness had settled over his limbs. Obeying his instincts, Sheppard slumped on to the squishy floor and let his eyelids drift shut. At least the floor's squishiness made it a nice mattress, and he slept well.

Colonel Sheppard had no idea how long he had languished in the cell until he was visited by another Wraith. His sleep, at the very least, had done wonders for both his body and head. But now he found himself suffering a new problem:

He was hungry.

That told him he must have been here for some time, since the instant he woke up, his stomach was churning like mad. He tried to remember when he'd last eaten...it had been lunch at Atlantis, and he'd had a tuna-salad sandwich and an Athosian fruit and yogurt parfait and a Pepsi. Oh, how he craved a sandwich now...or some pizza...or a burger, yes a juicy rare burger, slathered with ketchup and pickles and onions and melting cheese, and a side order of crispy golden fries and an enromous, ice-cold Pepsi...

Such thoughts did little to relieve his hunger.

By the time the Wraith had arrived, Sheppard had managed to scrounge up two Powerbars stuffed in his jacket's inside pocket. Though his instinct had been to devour them both immediately, he realized that the Wraith might not feed him, and so he sadly divided the Powerbars into bite-sized rations. He had eaten one, but it had done nothing to curb his appetite.

He was beginning to consider eating another portion (It's just one, he told himself), when the loud stomping of a drone sent daggers through his still tender head. Sheppard whirled around and instinctively reached for his gun - but it wasn't there. Damn.

What was there was a soldier drone that held a plain metal tray with a bowl and a tin cup of water on it. Without a word the drone slipped it under the bars (which had risen slightly, to allow the food tray's entry), before turning around and stomping away like an elephant.

"Hey, you didn't even give me a chance to say thank you," called Sheppard after the drone, witty as ever despite his growling stomach. And speaking of growling stomachs...

He seized the tray and pulled it towards him. Previously, Sheppard wouldn't even have touched the bowl's contents - some thick, greenish-whitish slop that looked like it had been reconstituted from a foil package. It smelled awful too, but to his starving eyes it was almost a Quarter Pounder with cheese.

"Bon appetit," he announced, and started searching with which to eat the slop - only to realize that there was no cutlery.

"Didn't even have a single fork to spare, did you?" he called indignantly. Then again, Wraith didn't need utensils to eat what they did. He scowled and decided to slurp from the bowl. The stuff, whatever it was, was completely flavorless, though slightly bitter.

When he'd emptied the bowl, he turned to the water. It tasted strange, slightly sour, and there was a layer of white residue around the rim of the cup. Wash your cups a little better. Use less soap! he mentally tiraded before downing the water.

Soon after his meal, he began to feel sleepy and sluggish again, and his headache had returned with a kicking-and-screaming vengeance. If anything he felt worse than he had when he'd first awoken - a disgusting bitter-sour taste clung to his mouth and throat and his body was heavier than a lead weight. Right before he sank to the squishy floor and closed his eyes, he glanced at the cup again. Its sleek metal inside, not just the rim, was covered with a sour-smelling white powder.

They've drugged the food, his sluggish brain managed to churn out before he slipped into a deep and dreamless sleep.

Just as before, the gentle thud of footfalls awoke Sheppard from his slumber. Not the graceless stomping of drones - whoever was heading his direction was taking great pains to tread carefully. Even that slight noise hurt Sheppard's sleep-befogged head.

"Ungh...gonna tell me now...?" he grumbled, pulling himself upright and shaking his head to clear it. He still felt heavy and stupid.

No more eating their food, he told himself. Even if he starved, at least he wouldn't be pumped full of drugs.

"Well? What're you going to do with me?" Sheppard called into the darkness. He couldn't believe that initially he'd been overwhelmed with light every time he opened his eyes - like any Wraith facility worth its salt, everything was barely lit enough for him to see a few feet ahead of him.

"Hellooo," he scowled, annoyed now. Maybe he was just imagining it, but he was certain that he heard somebody coming his way. He folded his arms and waited for Goatee to finally show his smirking face and tell him exactly what it was the Wraith wanted with him.

But the Wraith who stopped in front of his cell bars wasn't Goatee. He didn't look like any Wraith Sheppard had seen before. The Wraith's standard long black coat swamped a skinny frame, and his build was hardly tall and imposing - in fact, he appeared about a head shorter than Sheppard. His long white hair wasn't that unusual for his species, but he didn't bother tying it back and it fell into his eyes. Eyes unlike any that Sheppard had seen on anyone, Wraith or human Large and pale and luminous, they glowed with an inquisitive light that Sheppard almost found entrancing.

Of course he didn't, since those eyes still belonged to a Wraith! He shook his head to clear away the last dandruff of sleep and struggled for something clever to say. To his surprise, words ecaped him.

"Colonel Sheppard," said the Wraith with a little jerk of his head that might have been a greeting. His voice was surprising, too - not harsh and deep like that of most Wraith, but so soft it was barely above a whisper.

"Yeah, hi, that's my name," Sheppard said, not very witty at all. Pull yourself together, John! Who cares how different he looks or talks, he's still a Wraith! Something intrigued him, though, and he had to voice it. "Hey, how do you all know my name, anyway?"

The Wraith blinked twice. "Our fellows have had encounters with you and - and your team."

"Ah..." muttered Sheppard, leaning back against the wall. "Yeah, I guess we've made quite a name for myself, haven't we?"

The Wraith surveyed Sheppard for what felt like an eternity. Didn't he need to blink? Sheppard was beginning to find the Wraith's unwavering, pale-eyed stare disturbing. Or perhaps what he found more disturbing was the fact that the Wraith had yet to snarl or threaten him.

"You're unusual humans," the Wraith finally said. Sheppard jerked, startled at hearing the Wraith's quiet voice after the silence.

"What, is that supposed to be a compliment or an insult?" said Sheppard, frowning.

"It is...it's an observation," said the Wraith. "You are highly unusual, you humans from Atlantis. You fight back. You resist."

"Well, of course we do, we don't want to be eaten, you know," Sheppard said peevishly.

"But other humans don't fight, and you are our food. Food shouldn't resist being eaten," the Wraith said with the air of a lecturing teacher. Sheppard bit back the incongruous urge to laugh - well, he might have actually laughed had a typical Wraith like Steve just said those words, but that would've just been a show for bravado's sake. This Wraith - or rather, his manner- he found actually amusing. It was so unthreatening that Sheppard had to remind himself that this was indeed a life-sucking monster he was talking to.

"Look, we're not food, okay," he said, though he knew such explanations had no effect on the Wraith. Still, didn't hurt to try. We're people, and we just want to live happy lives and marry and have kids and have fun and be rich. Well, only some of us...but none of us can do that with you Wraith running around trying to eat us."

"Humans are food," said the Wraith stubbornly. "We have never had food that resisted so much before. Your expedition is well known among us. Many hives compete trying to be the first one to cull Atlantis."

Now Sheppard laughed for real. "Yeah, like that's going to happen! Listen, for as long as we can, until we either all die or win this war, we're going to keep on fighting. That's just the way things are."

The Wraith didn't reply. He just stared, which Sheppard found more disturbing than any threat (hell, he'd probably die laughing if this effeminate little Wraith tried to threaten him). Those wide, luminous eyes...he knew it was illogical and stupid, but being scrutinized by them made him feel as if every secret, every past shame, was laid bare over his soul for the Wraith to judge.

Don't be dumb, he can't read minds, Sheppard told himself. He matched the Wraith's stare with a grin that he didn't feel, and leaned against the wall and stretched his legs out.

"You are an unusual human, too," said the Wraith. Sheppard frowned.

"Again, can't decide if that's a compliment or an insult," he said.

"You aren't afraid," the Wraith said. Sheppard laughed again.

"No, why should I be?" He wasn't a total wimp like Rodney, stupid Rodney who'd been afraid of the dark. The instant the thought crossed his mind, he felt guilty - after all, Rodney had almost been eaten by the Wraith.

Yeah, I saved his ass, and this is the thanks I get? he thought, but it was all in jest. The team would rescue him, and if they didn't, he would break out himself. Well...after his head stopped hurting so much.

"Most humans, when we take them prisoners," said the Wraith, "are terrified. They cry and beg to be released, or they cower...but you're still calm."

"Hey, panicking never got anyone anywhere, that's my philosophy," said Sheppard with another false grin. Since he felt it'd be cowardly to look away, but he didn't want to meet the Wraith's unblinking gaze, he settled for examining the rest of him. He was surprised by how small and light the Wraith's build was - certainly, most Wraith commanders weren't exactly bodybuilders, but they did have at least some muscle definition. Had this Wraith been human, Sheppard would've thought he was anemic; the green of his skin was paler than that of most Wraith, an almost minty shade. Nor did he have a beard or elaborate tattoos - his chin was small and pointed and the only tattoo he sported was a thin zigzag beneath his left eye. All things considered, he looked quite...young.

"What...what are you, anyway? A scientist or an administrator?" said Sheppard, genuinely curious. He couldn't imagine this Wraith doing anything remotely Wraith-like. He looked like the kind of person who wandered around lost in his own thoughts.

"You're interested?" said the Wraith, blinking. About time.

"Well, just a little," said Sheppard. "I mean, Wraith have different jobs, don't they? What do you do?"

Why was he curious? It didn't matter, since all Wraith were the same to him - they wanted to eat him. Or use him for some nebulous but probably not very pleasant task, as the goateed Wraith planned. But this Wraith...he seemed different from most. Gentler. As gentle as an evil alien could be, of course... Not to mention, Sheppard was starved for decent conversation. Throwing quips at a cackling Wraith was only so much fun and the drones didn't talk at all.

The Wraith surveyed Sheppard from behind his long bangs, before saying, "I am studying to be a scientist, under the Wraith in charge of this facility."

"What?" said Sheppard. "Studying?" Well, of course, you think they just pop out knowing everything they do? Then again, he'd never given much thought to how Wraith society worked becausehe'd been too busy trying not to get killed by them.

It struck Sheppard that he could use this information - see, that was why it paid off to converse even with a Wraith. "So you're pretty close to the people at the top, huh?"

"You really are...you are an interesting human," the Wraith said, which was quite a bit of a non sequitur. Sheppard frowned.

"Well...I was just wondering," he said, trying again to get the Wraith to answer the question he wanted answered, "maybe you know what's going on? Y'know, what your higher-ups want me for?"

"I've never met a human like you before," continued the Wraith. Sheppard felt like yelling in frustration. It was if there were two different conversations going on, each cancelling out the other.

"'Course, you don't have to, but it'd be great if you had even a little bit of intel..."

"You interest me," said the Wraith. "Lt. Colonel John Sheppard."

Sheppard's first instinct was to shoot back a quip, but he met the Wraith's gaze and the breath was knocked from his throat. For a heart-stopping second he lost everything, even his own body - all he saw was the silvery depths of the Wraith's eyes, burning with an emotion that Sheppard couldn't understand, nor did he really want to. It disturbed him. But at the same time, it...

"You know," Sheppard said, "you kind of interest me too."

The Wraith's eyes widened but he said nothing. Sheppard found that he didn't mind meeting his gaze now, and so he maintained eye contact with this strange young scientist who considered Colonel Sheppard interesting. Somehow, Sheppard sensed an opportunity just beyond his grasp, but he didn't know exactly what it entailed. Or even if he wanted to seize it.

Then, without another word, the Wraith turned around and departed, his too-long coat swirling behind him. Sheppard watched, feeling dazed as if he had just awakened from a dream. His head was starting to throb again, and he dug his knuckles into his temple.

"Wait a minute..." he said a few minutes later, indignant. "He never answered my questions!"

I changed the most about Keith and Sheppard's first meeting, to make it more realistic for Sheppard's character and to clear up the rather muddled physical description of Keith.

Please do review, especially if you've read this story in its unedited form. I want to know if the changes are working or not.