Stargate Atlantis: S7—A Gilded Cage2

John smiled. He was sprawled on what had to be the most comfortable bed in all of Atlantis. It cushioned and consoled his weary body. Aching muscles were being relaxed by nimble, warm fingers as a massage plied his skin. Hair tickled his bare arm and he relaxed, visualizing Moira and her long hair as she worked out the tension in his body.

Except that he wasn't on Atlantis.

He opened his eyes. They felt heavy, as if weighed down and he fought past the odd euphoric slumber to see he was in an ornate chamber. A Wraith chamber.

"What the fuck?" he muttered, sitting upright abruptly and dislodging the other occupants of the bed. He stared at the assorted beautiful women surrounding him. He didn't recognize any of them as they tended him. He worked his mouth but no words came. He glanced along his body and to his relief he saw that his pants were still on as were the tattered remains of his shirt.

"Drink," suggested a young blond woman. She held a cup to his lips.

He sniffed, but it was only water. He sipped some as she held the cup for him. He swallowed. The water was cold and tasty. He licked his lips. "Okay…what the fuck is this?" he repeated, scooting free of the women and their soft touches.

"Your reward," a comely redhead informed him with a smile.

"My reward?" he repeated slowly, uncomprehending. He stared at the bevy of young women, all watching him with serene smiles and a vacuous gaze in their eyes. "Ah. You're Wraith worshippers," he realized sullenly, recalling the last time he had seen this. A young woman had been placed in a Wraith cell with him to elicit information. That had been years ago.

"Yes. And we are your reward for helping them," a brunette told him. She ran her hand lightly along his leg and he jerked the limb away from her.

"I didn't help them," he said sourly. He glanced round the room. It was opulent, even by Wraith standards which differed greatly from human ones. It was draped in crimson and black, like some Gothic nightmare. He could see the veins of the ship pulsing under the drapery in places. The floor was bare but lined in gold that created a complicated design. It started to give him a headache and he looked up at the ceiling. It too was lined in gold and he frowned.

"Eat."

He returned his gaze to the women. One was offering him an apple, and John could not help but smirk at the irony. All were young, nubile, willing and docile. And they were all very pretty. All were scantily clad as well, giving glimpses of full breasts and rounded hips.

John shook his head and scooted along the bed to swing his legs off it. Feeling the solid floor beneath his feet gave him some sense of relief, but not much as he was still a prisoner. He stood shakily. He rubbed his brow as a headache threatened. "Okay. Okay then!" he said louder. "This is very nice and once I might have imbibed…but not now. So you can come out wherever you are!"

"Please, do not injure yourself!"

"Come back to the bed and rest!"

"If we displease you we will be punished!"

"Come, we will do whatever you wish!"

The women were clinging, cloying, trying to pull him back towards the bed but John resisted. Stubbornly he stood his ground, glaring round, knowing he was being observed. "Get off me!" he flared, pushing, almost shoving. He stomped to the door and swayed. "Fuck!" He leaned against it. He pounded his fist onto it. "Come on!"

There was a narrow opening and he tried to peer out of it. Darkness met his gaze, giving him no clue where he was on the ship.

"Do they displease you, John Sheppard?"

He whirled and regretted it as the room spun. His vision settled and he stared as Todd stepped out of the wall, or so it appeared. John reached down for his gun but of course his holster was empty. His fingers played across the leather.

"If so we can get others. There are always others. The queen thought these would be most pleasing to you. To serve your needs…whatever they may be."

John scowled. Todd's expression was almost salacious. "Why don't you just let me go? Wait…we…where are we headed?"

"You will see. And soon your usefulness will be at an end."

"That's what you think. Where are we…" Realization flooded. John softly swore. "No. No. No! I didn't tell you a damn thing! Not a damn thing!"

Todd smiled. "Enjoy your new home, John Sheppard. The queen still retains quite a fondness for you."

"Aren't I the lucky one?" he commented dourly. A blurred motion of Todd sent John flying across the room to fall heavily onto the floor. His jaw ached and he touched it.

"Do not dare to speak ill of our queen, John Sheppard!"

"Your queen, pal, not mine." He groaned, moving to sit. His jaw ached and he felt a strange lethargy pinning his arms and legs. He wondered if he had been drugged. The young women swarmed around him and helped him to the bed where he collapsed with a grunt. He tried to shrug off the women but they clung like vines to him.

He had to admit the sensations were not all that unpleasant.

"Will you never learn, John Sheppard? Enjoy your…confinement."

John glowered at the departing Wraith. He sighed, shrugging free of the women. He wanted to get up and search the room. He wanted to find a way out of the room and then off the ship. He could easily steal a Wraith Dart and fly it to safety, to some planet with a Stargate and then get home. He could easily get back to Atlantis and plan a counterattack.

If he could just move to his feet, that is.

John reclined on the bed. Weariness assaulted him, but it was more than that. There was a strange fatigue that had nothing to do with the aches and pains. It was like a fatigue in his mind. He was comfortable here. The room was pleasant and the bed was comfy. He had food and water and even beer. He had female companionship with easy morals.

Why would he ever want to leave?

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Rodney sighed and scratched his head. He ran his finger along the data screen as he was hunched over it. He shook his head. "All right, then. We know where they are going and I can accurately predict when they will get there, given their trajectory from Echo Base and traveling through a hyperspace window. The plan is simple. We go in, get John, get out, and blow the ship apart. Easy peasy, as Carson would say."

"Are there enough explosives to rig a bomb?" Ronon asked. He was sitting across from Rodney as the two men hashed out the plan in the mess hall of the Tria. The ship was on its way to the coordinates Rodney had surmised that John would have told the Wraith.

Or so he hoped.

"Yes. Actually one overloaded naquaddah generator would do it, but this will suffice as well We can't spare a ZPM, unfortunately, because that would be a lot easier. It will be a powerful explosion. I can't stress that enough. Plus if I can get the primary weapons online we can bombard the Hive ship as well. Either way we all need to get out of there."

"I figured as much," Ronon agreed with a smirk.

Rodney met his gaze and frowned. "I am quite serious, Ronon! This explosion will take out not only the ship but anything in its close vicinity, including any escape vessels! This has to be timed to the very last second, all right? The war with the Fuglies was a picnic compared to this!"

"Okay."

"Okay? Don't you see how crucial the timing is on this?" the physicist nearly shouted.

"I do, Rodney, calm down," Ronon tried to soothe.

"Calm down? Calm down?" Rodney shouted, moving to his feet. "Our friend has been captured and is probably being tortured and I am not even sure that this plan will work! I am not even sure that this is the right place where we will find him! And if I am wrong he is doomed, as is Atlantis because she knows everything, well, nearly everything about Atlantis! She is our worst nightmare, Ronon! The enemy within! And now she has John in her clutches!"

"And you know John, and you know what he would have told her to protect the city and to help us find him. Is it really…Weir?"

The physicist shook his head. "No. It's a creature that resembles her and has her memories and knowledge. We couldn't tell anyone else. The shock…it was…we had to keep it quiet. Morale would have plummeted."

"I understand."

"It's incomprehensible! How the hell did they create such a monster? How could they? And to turn her against us, against her friends! But she's not Elizabeth. She will never be Elizabeth and we can't think of her like that, ever! And now John is in her clutches and he has to survive, he has to survive!"

"He will." Ronon's voice was full of calm confidence. Sheppard was a survivor first and foremost. Ronon had no doubt.

Rodney stared, furious at the calm Satedan. But he sighed and retook his seat. "Sorry. Sorry. It's been a lot to handle, you know?" He fumbled with the data pad. "If we can just get through this latest crisis we'll be fine. It's a lot to handle, a lot of responsibility!"

"Like knowing Moira was alive?"

"What? Oh…right. Yes." At Ronon's continued stare Rodney shrugged. "Look, he had his reasons for keeping that secret, all right?"

"And what were those reasons?" Ronon asked.

"That's not for me to say. You can glare at him when we get him back. Right now we need to go over this plan again!"

Ronon merely grunted an acknowledgment.