Author's note: thank you all so much for reviewing. Also thanks to those who put this story on alert. Kudos go to Llanea for providing me with the name Llorena and to Strut for actually buying season 1! It usually takes me a few chapter to get to the good stuff, so this is a build up for chapter four where… well, you'll see. I've been told Sheppard is acting a little off character. Suffice it to say that this is on purpose. It freaks him out too. G. All will be explained in due time.
Chapter 3
An arena, I'm underneath a goddamn arena! He didn't feel at all like Russell Crowe. 'The Gladiator' didn't say anything about shape changing adversaries! Sheppard thought accusingly and eyed the few cells to his left beneath the arena's playing ground. They looked more like cages to him. A couple of feet in diameter, the cell's clear iron barred boundaries looked poorly maintained. The sturdy steel didn't allow breaking through though. He tried. Out of reach, on the corridor wall, two torches set in brackets illuminated the place in a soft yellow. The rest of the cells were unoccupied.
There was only one cot lining the brick wall in the back, and he'd put Teyla down on it. That was hours ago. He'd slept uncomfortably on the concrete floor and now the cold seemed to be lodged deeply within him. Try as he might, he couldn't stop shivering. In an effort to warm himself up, he angrily paced the small confines of his prison.
Teyla was unconscious again, which was unsettling to say the least. He'd given her some water last night when she'd briefly woken up. Was it last night? Which one of Llorena's minions was kind enough to bring, but if anything it dosed her even more. Suspecting the liquid to be tampered with, he refrained from using it himself, even though he was thirsty as hell. His stomach growled in its demand for food, but John ignored it. He felt woozy though and light headed, much more than should be the case, considering his usual strong stamina.
The main cell door, a wooden construction right next to their current lodgings, opened with a creak. The draft caused the torch to flicker and create eerie shadows on the walls as Llorena stepped through. She stopped short of the bars, studying Teyla like she was some kind of experiment. "Ah, the drug is working well."
"What did you do to her?" John demanded, gripping the iron rods with whitening knuckles.
Llorena's eyes lifted to meet him, her red dress leaving not much to the imagination. The carefully placed smile on her face did nothing to light his heart. "She will wake up, once you have done your duty."
John took a deep breath, stepping back. "I'm not going to fight any more of your battles."
The grin faltered, leaving the glare of a cold hearted killer. "You win, she wakes. If you lose or if you refuse to cooperate, she will never open her eyes again. The drug in her system is slow but deadly. It takes a couple of antidotes to counteract the effects. You will fight for each of them."
He tilted his head, then grimaced. "Why are you doing this? What's the point?"
Llorena shrugged. "We need the practice, John. And what better way to hone our skills using the Wraith's menace."
"I take that as a compliment. We do kick your bosses assess from time to time, but that's no reason to…" He frowned, realizing something. "Wait a second. How did you know my name?"
"We have our sources. We know your name, the names of your teammates and why you're here. We also know you're from Atlantis. But not much more than that." She leaned in. "Care to tell me all about the city's weak points?"
John kept silent.
"No? I didn't think so." Llorena clicked her fingers and a few more minions appeared.
This really started to annoy him. "What? Time for round two already?"
She didn't answer, just opened the cell door and waited for him to move out.
Reluctantly he complied.
"Scanners show nothing, Doc," Major Evan Lorne grunted, peering out of the windshield of Jumper two.
"I know, son. It doesn't mean they're not here. We just have to search the whole bloody area again."
Frustrated, Lorne turned the jumper mid-air, starting a search pattern lower to the ground. Doctor Beckett must have caught on to the worry in his voice but luckily decided not to mention it. "Something's blocking the sensors. Maybe it's all this damn fog."
They needed to stay focused.
After Sheppard had failed to check in, search teams were immediately dispatched. With four jumpers strong, Lorne had figured it would just be a matter of time before they found the flag team. Even if they were wounded, the flat marshlands would have given away any signs of life easily. Scanners appeared to be useless though, and the mist blocked any clear view from above, making a search from the air nearly impossible. Still, he hesitated to proceed on foot. Whatever had happened to Sheppard's team, could happen to them.
"Aye, it's hard to see down there. Reminds me of Scotland, actually. Best way to do a search there is to use dogs."
"Yeah, well, we don't have those, so you just keep looking out of that windscreen." Lorne tried the radio again, but as so many times before received only static in return.
Beckett sighed, "We've been searching all night. Chances are they got captured and taken off planet. If that happened…"
We never find them again. "If that happened I'm sure Doctor Zelenka will figure out where they went," he finished instead.
"You know as well as I do, Major, that deriving the last dialed Gate Address on the DHD is problematic to say the least. As good as Zelenka is, even Rodney would have a hard time at it."
Lorne sucked in a deep breath, keeping his attention on the misty ground below as he skimmed the jumper over yet another endless rivulet.
"WAIT!"
The Jumper reacted instantly to his mental command, and even with the inertial dampeners on line, Lorne still felt the G-forces pulling at him as the vehicle was brought to a sudden stop. "What? What?"
"I thought I saw something."
Lorne lowered the ship until it was only a few feet from the ground.
"There!" Beckett pointed at a shape lying face down in the mud.
The major inwardly applauded the physician's eyesight. He never would have spotted him. Covered in dirt, between soggy reeds, Ronon was practically camouflaged.
"Right, taking us down."
John blinked. If only he would be able to see through the illusion. He had no idea if the guy in front of him was the wraith worshipper he pretended to be or someone else entirely. Could even be a girl for that matter.
The lighting was the same as it always was. Barely there. But this time, John had a better picture of his surroundings. A huge, round battleground. Which gave him a fair amount of space to move around in. Again, he'd only been given one knife.
This scrawny fellow was fast though, almost unnaturally so. According to Llorena, he'd trained in this arena for a long time. John's only chance was to stick to the shadows and make sure the guy couldn't get at him from behind. Judging from his opponent's lack of weight, Sheppard figured the guy would use his agility and quick reflexes to win.
He never saw it coming. One moment he stood poised for attack, and the other he was flying through the air and hitting the grey wall with a dull thud. For a moment he saw stars, his eyesight went and his limbs refused to move. Good going, John! Underestimate his strength!
Pulling his legs underneath him, he made a poor attempt to stand up. Cramps attacked his stomach, nausea surfaced unannounced and he sat frozen for a second as his body refused to cooperate. What the hell! Get up, John. GET. UP! A shadow appeared above him. Ignoring his sore muscles, he rolled, slicing his opponents flesh right above the heel, The guy went down with a cry. Sheppard was on top of him in no time. Foul breath wafted in his face as his attacker struggled to get free. Despite the grip on his wrist, John relentlessly pressed the knife down. Teyla, It was either her or this guy.
His vision swam. Damn it. No, not now.
"John!" Instead of the scrawny fellow it was Teyla who he now held at knifepoint, her brown eyes large with despair. "Colonel, please. Listen to me!" He blinked, hesitating for just a second.
It was a second too long.
Teyla slammed him full force into the wall. The blow knocking all the air out of his lungs. He gasped, trying to get up, but it was like moving in molasses. She gripped his shirt, hauling him upward against the brickwork. A part of his mind registered that this was severely un-Teyla like. "You're not her," he bit, clawing at the steel arm holding him in place.
The apparition grinned widely, dissolving and solidifying again before his eyes.
John's eyes widened.
"No, I'm not," the Wraith spoke with a hiss and pulled back to slam his feeding hand into John's chest.
Sheppard didn't hesitate and plunged the knife into the creature. This oughta kill ya. The Wraith staggered. Another thrust and it dropped like a stone.
Heaving, John slid down the wall, waiting anxiously for the writhing body to change into something else again. It didn't. Must have been severely weakened to die so soon. Trembling with fatigue, he felt heavy, he felt… sick. He belatedly realized these crappy feelings might have less to do with his recent fight and more with the swim in the swamp. This is not good. The strain to keep his eyes open became too much and he let the darkness overwhelm him.
Clouded in shadows, Llorena watched the battle from the back row of the stalls. Sheppard's victory and the sudden spark of respect for his perseverance left her surprised. Too bad. This was the only Wraith we ever caught. Perhaps we shouldn't have kept it starving.
She studied the white ragged servants who were cleaning the arena. They didn't seem at all upset by the creature's demise. Even though their ancestors might have been Wraith worshippers, these people were only their descendents and apart from holding on to the traditional clothing and face paints, they held no respect for the Wraith.
Llorena clenched her hands together and pressed them to her lips. They didn't have a Wraith anymore… but they did have something else. She felt the corners of her mouth twisting upwards with barely contained pleasure.
Oh yes. The next battle was one Sheppard couldn't win.
tbc
