Chapter 2

John woke slowly and opened his eyes cautiously. He allowed his vision to clear before he began to test what trouble he had found himself in now. Standing a little way to his right was a familiar figure, with his back to him. Oh, God, he had to be hallucinating. The man was dead. He had killed him. He was sitting on the ground, legs out in front of him, tied up (again!), and his back against a tall tree. His hands were down by his sides, but he couldn't move them and he realised that he was trussed up like some sacrificial lamb.

'So, you're awake John,' snarled Kolya.

'You're dead. I killed you. Beckett confirmed it.' This could not be happening. It must have been the bang on the head.

Kolya brought his pock-marked face close to John's and he could smell hot, rancid breath on his face. 'You're not the only one to have made use of Ancient technology, John.'

Although John knew it didn't make sense, he had to trust his eyes. He remembered back to those nightmare hours, when Kolya had last tortured him. The buried memory of the fear and pain he had felt then came back to him with a rush. He clearly remembered the hard, cold look in Kolya's eyes as he ordered the Wraith to 'take your fill', and the way it felt to have his life drained from him. Never in his life had he hated a man nor wanted to take revenge quite so desperately, but when the opportunity arose, he had not blinked. He had shot him in the heart. But now, here he was and John had no doubt what was coming next.

'You're going to help me take Atlantis, John. It's about half a day's walk to the ocean and another two days by sea. But, you're going to fly the jumper.'

'And how the hell do you expect to get into Atlantis. You'll be dead before you're even half a mile away?' John could not help the smug smirk that crossed his face.

'Well, that's where you come in. Now, tell me your IDC?'

John stayed silent. He had no idea how Kolya intended to try to get the code from him, but he knew it wouldn't be pleasant. He stared at the man, as bravely as he could and watched as he slowly stretched black leather gloves onto his large hands. The first punch is always the worst, and he felt a sharp pain as his lip split and he tasted the metallic flavour of his own blood. Kolya was merciless. Blow after blow rained down on John. He was vaguely aware of a sharp crack as several ribs broke, but somehow managed to shake off the pain he knew he should be feeling. He could take this; he had suffered far worse and there was no damn way the bastard would break him. He hadn't before and he wouldn't now.

Finally, the attack stopped and Kolya pulled away. 'You're stronger than any man I know, John,' he growled, an ugly smile across his face which told of worse to come. 'Two men to me now,' he ordered through his radio, then pushed his face into John's. 'You have failed, Johnny Boy. You're friends are as good as dead.'

The punishment hadn't been that great, yet for the first time since he had arrived in the Pegasus Galaxy, John truly began to doubt. He understood Kolya's words to be true. Yes, he had failed his friends. He had failed everyone. He had woken the Wraith and they had killed tens of thousands of people. Their blood was on in his hands. He had given the order to re-activate the replicator attack code on the Wraith and more innocent people had died, including Elizabeth. Carson had died and he hadn't done anything to stop it. And now, all his friends would die and it was his fault. Kolya would take his final revenge on him. Teyla. Ronon and Rodney, they would all die because of him. Because, he had failed to kill Kolya . And Cat, his beloved Cat, whose last words to him were so bitter because he had failed her too, she would die. He would never see any of them again.

He numbly felt the ties loosened and two large Genii soldiers pushed him onto his knees in front of Kolya, arms stretched to either side. The pain from being tied up made his eyes water and when they cleared he looked in horror at the machete Kolya was holding.

'I am going to take the jumper to Atlantis. You can't stop me. In fact, you're going to give me a hand.' John's breath hitched as he suddenly grasped what was about to happen. He glanced to his left and watched as the light glinted upon the raised knife, then screwed his eyes shut and tried to prepare for the pain. There was a ghastly sound of flesh and bone tearing, followed by the most excruciating pain he had ever felt, just before he fell into blessed unconsciousness.

Coming too was not what he expected. He remembered another time when he thought he would wake up dead, only this time he had really wished it. He knew that he was not in good shape and could hardly raise his head he felt so weak. Slowly, he raised his left hand, praying that he had been dreaming, but knowing from the throbbing agony that he had not. The stump was bound tightly with white bandages and he briefly wondered why there was not more blood. Once again, he felt rather than saw Kolya's presence at his side.

'It's over for you, John. We've managed to reverse engineer the jumper and we can now fly it to Atlantis. How does it feel to know that all our friends will die because of you? How does it feel to know that you will never see again the one you love the most? You're a failure John. You never should have come here? Whatever you were running from has leapt up and bitten you well and truly in the ass. You even failed your mother, didn't you John? You will die a slow death, tied to this tree, knowing all of this.'

At that, he turned his back on John and spoke again into his radio. Suddenly, the ties became lose and John managed to crawl away, unnoticed. He was too dazed and far gone even to wonder why it had been so easy and, leaning against a tree, he managed to tuck his maimed left hand into his shirt and staggered into the dense undergrowth. Using the rope that had tied him, he managed to rig up a trap and he lay in wait. He didn't have to wait too long. A large soldier ran straight towards him, the rope caught his leg and he was catapulted upside down. Somehow, Kolya had not found the knife that John kept strapped to his side, and he slit the soldier's throat in one movement. Now, he had a gun. Two more soldiers ran towards him and he deftly took them both out, before heading back through the undergrowth, his pace so fast that he nearly fell down the steep ravine that opened up in front of him. With nowhere else to go, he turned and was hit by a hard body. The force of the hit catapulted him over the edge and he just about managed to get a hand hold with his one good hand as he crashed heavily into the rock, his shoulder nearly pulled out of its socket.

There was no way he could survive this, hanging with only one good hand, the other maimed arm still tucked into his shirt. If he could pray, he would have, but he simply said a silent goodbye to all those he had loved and to the love of his life, Cat. Damn it, he would not die in despair. He tried to think good thoughts as he felt the his hand begin to slip from the rock edge above: the first time he saw her, as she caught his eye in the gate room; he loved that directness and the beauty of her blue eyes; the night on the pier, their first night together, the growing knowledge of her body and the way feelings had stirred in him that he didn't know he had; waking up next to her, feeling her softness and warmth against him and making love, sometimes gently and sometimes with a strength of passion that had surprised him; how much he loved her. Yes, he wanted to die thinking about love, not hate, despair or revenge. His fingertips ached and he knew it was time to finally let go.

'I have no intention of letting you die, John. Use your other hand and pull yourself up.' The voice sounded like Kolya's but there was an unfamiliar neutrality in the tone.

Hesitantly, he pulled his left arm, hand?, from his jacket and flexed his fingers. 'What the...' With some difficulty, he turned himself around and pulled himself up the rock edge with two strong arms. Kolya waited patiently at the top for him. John tested his body as he stiffly stood up. He felt fine. He put his left hand to his lips, but there was no sign of the swelling he was sure must be there. His left side still ached painfully, and was tender to the touch, but then he hadn't imagined the sickening jolt as he flew over the cliff edge. Or, at least he didn't think he had.

In a state of confusion, he met the eyes of the man in front of him. Some kind of explanation was being offered, but he was so dazed that he couldn't take it in. Something about seeding and necessity and survival washed over him, but made no sense, but the words, 'military man' and 'distraction' came through clearly enough.

'That's what you call a distraction?' His voice sounded weirdly dislocated. 'You could have just wrecked the jumper.'

'You would have seen through the illusion, John. We had to find another way.'

Why would they do this? Why would they torture him? He didn't, couldn't understand why.

'You tortured yourself, John. Every day you torture yourself. You chose the direction of your hallucination. I had very little to do with it.'

So, there it was. He really was that sick. The guilt that he shut out, that he tried to bury, had finally manifested itself. He could have laughed at the irony of it. He prided himself on his ability to keep a lid on his feelings and boxed away the bad things, the horrors that he had experienced. He had done it all his life, from the moment he saw his mother's dead face and knew that he could do nothing to bring her back. All he knew now was that he had to get back to Atlantis, to his friends and to Cat.

Angrily, he turned his back on the AI and stormed towards the direction of the jumper, hardly noticing the two scientists, sitting by the hatch. He vaguely heard one of them say something about wondering where he had been and felt a passing irritation that they hadn't bothered to come and find him, then he hit his hand down hard on the controls and felt the hatch close. He had to get home. That's all he knew.