Chapter 2.

A huge thanks to my beta, Kodiak for getting this chapter back to me so quickly! All mistakes are my own…

Sheppard was awoken some time later by a distant voice calling his name. Refusing to be roused, he continued to drift in the hazy fog his brain was revelling in. He groaned as someone gently shook his shoulder, calling his name a second time. He managed to prise open heavy eyelids, and struggled to bring the person who had interrupted him from his painless twilight world into focus.

"Colonel? Can you hear me? For God's sake wake up, or I'm going to assume your last brain cell has finally met its maker," the familiar voice complained.

Awareness kicked in instantly.

"McKay?" Sheppard whispered, not quite believing, yet fervently hoping, that his friend's presence in the dingy cell was a hallucination.

"Well done. Obviously the brain cell is still present and correct. Though perhaps correct is an exaggeration, as you're not right that often, are you?"

Not a hallucination then.

Sheppard's brain started to put everything together.

"You didn't escape. You were captured too?" he asked unhappily.

McKay snorted.

"Well, obviously I was captured. I'd hardly be here otherwise, would I?" he stated, irritation present in his voice.

"Thought I was hallucinating," Sheppard answered honestly. "Are you okay?"

McKay gulped. "I'm fine. You're – obviously not. What did they do to you?"

Sheppard chuckled weakly, hissing in pain as his body protested at the movement that action caused.

"Beat me up a little, then decided to re-arrange the position of my fingers," he answered, knowing McKay would freak out when he saw the livid purple bruises and disfigured joints on his hands.

"What? Let me see!" McKay demanded indignantly, and without invitation gently lifted Sheppard's nearest hand. "Shit! The bastards. What else did they do?" he asked, and Sheppard heard the anger and revulsion in the scientist's voice.

Sheppard thought how best to prepare McKay for inevitable nightmare ahead.

Playing down his injuries and trying to calm the nervous scientist, he explained, "Look, it was standard stuff. So don't worry about it," he started. McKay started to complain, but Sheppard continued talking, realising he had a limited amount of time to explain the situation to the anxious man. "They roughed me up some…did a great job on my fingers, so playing my guitar isn't going to be an option for a while, but I'm okay other than that. Really." Sheppard paused, thinking how to best phrase what he had to tell McKay.

"Listen, I don't know how much time I've got to explain this, so pay attention. Whatever they do to me, don't tell them anything. Even if I beg you. Believe me, if they ask me to give them information or they'll hurt you, I won't tell them anything." Sheppard was careful to avoid using the word torture. "These goons are called the Torellians. I think they're nomadic, and that this isn't their home planet – if they even have one. I don't know anything else. They're rough, callous, dangerous, and pretty good at what they do. We can't afford to let them know about Atlantis." Sheppard exhaled, before continuing. "I haven't told them my name, but don't worry if you end up telling them yours, just hold out as best you can. Hopefully it won't come to that."

McKay stood and started pacing.

"You're talking about torture, aren't you? They tortured you for information, and you think they're going to torture me too," McKay stated, the pitch of his voice raising in panic.

"It might not come to that. I just want you to be prepared. Just…do your best. You're not in the military, tell them what you have to. No one will judge you…Look, if they try to hurt me to make you tell them stuff – don't, okay? They'll know you're not trained to withstand that kind of interrogation and they'll try and mess with your head," Sheppard warned.

"Right. I'll just stand there and watch them hurt you, and say nothing, because that's so like me, isn't it?" McKay was really starting to freak out.

Sheppard knew he had to calm his friend down.

"Rodney, listen to me. These guys could be a danger to Atlantis. They could be in league with the Genii, Wraith or God knows who else. We have to keep Atlantis' survival a secret and protect the expedition." Sheppard sighed. "They've got my GDO, and we can't afford to let them know the 'gate address or IDC. I know this isn't nice, and believe me I don't enjoy pain, but Atlantis' survival is paramount."

McKay paled. "I know. I'm just not good at being tortured. After Kolya…"

Sheppard interrupted. "Forget about that. That wasn't your fault. Just do your best. Did Ronon and Teyla make it to the 'gate?"

McKay nodded. "Yes, I think so. I couldn't run as fast as those two, and I got cut off from the 'gate. I hid for as long as I could, hoping the - Torellians?" Sheppard nodded. "Would give up. In the end they found me, and I was hit by some sort of stunner."

"Okay. If Ronon or Teyla made it back, then they'll be coming back with a rescue party soon enough. We just need to hold out." Sheppard thought out loud.

The sound of the cell door opening caught both men out.

The same two henchmen who'd hefted Sheppard around earlier were back again.

"Back so soon? What a pleasant surprise," Sheppard remarked in a voice dripping with sarcasm. That earned him a kick to his ribs. As his vision blurred, he wondered why he didn't just keep his mouth shut.

McKay sighed and looked at the colonel curled up on the floor, panting in pain.

"You just can't stay quiet sometimes, can you?" McKay muttered in an exasperated tone.

Sheppard managed a weak chuckle. "That's good coming from you."

"Good point," McKay answered honestly.

The two henchmen moved closer to where Sheppard lay curled in a protective ball, and hauled him to his feet, the colonel wavering as his head swam.

Managing to find his equilibrium, Sheppard shrugged the goons away, and looked back at McKay.

"Guess I'll be seeing you later, then," he smirked at the scientist.

McKay headed towards the door. "Wait. Where are you taking him?" he demanded in an irate voice.

Henchman number one smiled menacingly, before answering, "You'll find out soon enough."

McKay swallowed. "Wonderful," he said to himself, as he started pacing the width of the small cell, waiting anxiously for the return of the colonel.

-oOo-

The interrogation this time was turning out to be a little different, Sheppard thought to himself. How ironic that he'd encouraged Cyclops to show a little ingenuity and that he was now paying the price for his earlier words.

Cyclops had obviously realised beating the crap out of his prisoner wasn't going to get him anywhere, so Sheppard figured he had decided on another plan of attack.

This one involved extremely hot pointy objects being pressed into Sheppard's skin.

The first burn had caused Sheppard to cry out immediately, as the back of his right shoulder was prodded with what Sheppard could only describe as a branding iron mixed with a red-hot poker. As he felt his flesh sear, he prayed Cyclops' poke and tell game wouldn't hit him below the belt – literally.

"What's the point of suffering, my friend?" Cyclops sneered at Sheppard. "You're going to tell me what I want to know in the end, so why not make it easier on both of us. What is your name?" he demanded.

"Okay. Han Solo…that's my name," Sheppard ground out, in between the shallow breaths he was taking, as he tried to quell the fiery pain of the burning agony, as it spread its tendrils across his back and shoulder.

Cyclops smiled, satisfied with his apparent success. "See? That wasn't so difficult, was it?"

Sheppard grinned. "Nope. Pretty easy really. So what's your name? Seems only fair you tell me yours as I told you mine," he asked pleasantly, between shallow breaths.

Cyclops took the hot iron and thrust it into the back of Sheppard's left shoulder. As Sheppard smelled his own flesh burn, he wondered for the second time that day why he didn't simply keep his big mouth firmly closed.

Cyclops grinned maniacally. "You'd do well to remember that it's me who's asking the questions. And we were getting along so well…" he sighed in mock regret. "Where are you from?" he continued.

"I told you. The name of my planet is Endor," Sheppard groaned.

"And I told you I'd never heard of it," the goon hissed back.

Sheppard grimaced, as his body desperately tried to cope with the agonising pain it was experiencing. "That's not my problem. It's the truth," he lied, inwardly praying Cyclops would believe him this time.

The beeping of a device around Cyclops' wrist distracted the goon, and he grunted, signalling to the two guards. "Take him back to his cell. I have matters to attend to," he growled. "Perhaps you need a little time to reconsider your answers?" he added, before leaving the room.

McKay quickly got to his feet as he heard his cell door opening. He let out a yelp as Sheppard was thrown into the darkness, landing in a heap at his feet.

"Oh, that was just totally unnecessary," he complained, as he knelt at his friend's side and studied the man lying in a tangled mess in front of him.

Sheppard moaned quietly, and opened his eyes to slits in order to study the scientist's face.

"Are you all right?" McKay asked worriedly. On seeing the burnt fabric of Sheppard T-shirt, and the livid whelts, oozing plasma under the holes where the material had melted, he exhaled. "Okay, so that was a stupid question. Jesus, what the hell did they do to you this time?" he asked, fear and concern tingeing the tone of his voice.

"Think they thought I was an unbranded prize bull," Sheppard joked. "I'll be fine in a few minutes," he added, knowing that his burns, although agonising, weren't too serious – just hurt like hell.

"I told them my name was Han Solo and that I'm from the planet Endor, so remember that," he whispered to McKay, as the pain he'd suffered finally began to take toll on his abused body. "Hey. You can be Luke Skywalker," he slurred as his eyes closed and he slipped into unconsciousness again.

As he busied himself trying to make Sheppard reasonably comfortable on the dirty, hard floor of the cell, McKay looked at Sheppard's injured fingers, and tentatively examining them, winced. Realising it would be sensible to bind the fingers together, he took off his jacket, and tore the material as best as he was able to, into thin strips, and carefully bound the fingers. "Crude, but efficient," he smugly said to himself. Looking at the battered man in front of him McKay sighed wearily, and all he could manage to utter was a resigned, "We're dead men."

Tbc.