Thank you all for your reviews, they really do help. A little more plot development in this chapter, but don't worry, full on whumpage promised in the next few chapters. Enjoy!


John awoke with a start at the sound of voices approaching. It was still as dark as it had been before he drifted off, and he was beginning to wonder just how long night was on this planet. The sounds of the hunters got closer, he could here there footsteps now, and heard snatches of conversation. "Anyone seen the offworlder?" "Why do they want him so bad?" "Why are we searching for some nut in this heat?"

With the mention of heat it occurred to John that it was an unusually warm night. He began to get an uneasy feeling in the pit of his stomach, something weird was going on. Instinctively he crouched down lower in his thornbush, although the reasonable part of his brain wondered why he needed cover on a night as black as this. The only way for them to see him would be if they had thermal imaging, and, if they did, he was screwed regardless of cover.

"Captain, why can't we head back? It's nearly midday. If this guy has any sense, he's long gone by now." The complaint evident in the enemy's voice reminded Sheppard of McKay, and if silence hadn't been necessary, he might have snorted in laughter. The uneasy feeling had risen until he was nearly choking on it however, his subconscious shrieking at him that something was terribly wrong, but his consciousness hadn't quite comprehended it yet.

With a sick feeling, he played back the last snatch of conversation in his mind; "It's nearly midday..." This statement, coupled with the fact that it was unusually warm for night time and that the hunters didn't seem to need torches sent a shock through Sheppard, making him gasp involuntarily.

The realisation hit him with the force of a charging bull elephant. He was blinded. It was the middle of the day and he couldn't see a god damned thing. His heart fluttered, panic coursed through his entire body, rendering him unable to move, unable to breathe, until he felt he would die from fear alone. How had this happened?

He remembered coming through the gate at night, remembered weapons fire coming from all direction, the almost tinny rattle of the P-90s fighting with the dull booming from the enemy's weapons. He had gotten into a close quarters scuffle with one of them who seemed to be out of ammo, only to have something thrown in his eyes. It had stung like crazy, but he could still see then. He had shouted to the rest of the team to retreat, the tone of his voice brooking no argument. The gate had shut down before he could get to it, and he had bolted into the forest, firing rounds from his sidearm whenever he could get a clear shot off. It was only until he was far enough into the forest for it to seem normal that total darkness had descended.

He was god damned blind, in enemy territory, completely out of ammunition, and being hunted by an enemy who no doubt had plenty of ammunition and the ability to see. There was absolutely no chance that he would be able to evade what he couldn't even see, he had never been so utterly helpless. In fact, the only option open to his was to remain in the thorn bush and hope his team came and found him before the enemy did. He refused to even think about what would happen afterwards, the thought that the blindness may be permanent was just too horrible to contemplate.