They were finally given a small hunk of bread- to share!- and a small bowl of water. They split it, though Rodney thought John gave him a slightly larger 'half'. Rodney was grateful, however, since it gave him some hope of avoiding a coma. They ate, each silent in his own thoughts.
"So, what kind of regrets do you have?" Sheppard asked, but kept his head down.
"What?"
"You asked me if I had regrets. I'm asking if you had any."
"Uh, no. I told you about my will." Which had met his daily quota for being laughed at. And he really did not want to dwell on his regrets right now. "I'm not telling you private, personal things."
"Hey, I've seen your underwear. What's more personal than that?"
"Why don't you tell me your regrets?" Rodney absolutely was not going to talk about this.
"OK, I regret coming to this stinking planet."
"Me, too." Their heads lifted as the door swung open, revealing the two guards. "Let's go. More fun and games await." He helped Sheppard stand and they followed the guard. Rodney wondered what fine entertainment they'd provide this time. What was left? They'd done Fire, Water and Air. That left Earth, Flesh, Blood and Heart. Great. Earth was next.
"Where're we goin'?"
"Back to the halls of hell. We have to finish the Seven Trials." Rodney winced as he shifted Sheppard's weight. His neck was killing him.
"Oh. Don' wanna go there." John leaned his head on Rodney's shoulder.
"No, neither do I, but we really don't have a choice. It's not like the cretins who've decided to make ritual torture a means of crime control would let us go now." He huffed. "No, once again we get to be the entertainment for the evening. Stupid idiots! And where's our rescue?"
"'M sure they're comin'." Sheppard sounded cheerful. God.
"Is this what you're like when you're drunk? Because seriously? You're really scary this way. Not in the 'I'm a super-killer soldier' way, but more in the 'strange old lady with cats and clocks' way."
They were led to the same area in the center of the cavern. The same gold robe on the same man. This time the other men wore brown robes. Oh, how original. He waited for the leader to speak, and if he stood a bit closer to Sheppard than he normally did, well, John was the one who'd grabbed his hand.
"The criminals have lived through the first three Trials. Now for the Trial of Earth." He motioned to the men in brown and they began wheeling carts of small stones to the center of the room. Stones? "They shall be beaten by the Earth itself, as a wayward child is beaten by its father. So shall they be taught the pain of disobedience."
Rodney saw the two men each grab a rock. There was no way the colonel would make it through this and three more of these things. He had a moment of indecision. He really hated pain. Truly. But he hated the thought of them both dying because one of them failed. He hurt, but he thought he was in better shape than Sheppard. He allowed John to slide to his knees, ignoring the soldier's groan of pain. He folded himself around him as best he could, and felt the first of the rocks begin to hit him. The first few barely grazed him, and he took a moment to hope their aim didn't improve. A futile hope, as it turned out. The stones began to hit his back, shoulders and legs. One hit him right on the nape of the neck and he almost fell away from John.
John wasn't helping, either. He was struggling weakly to crawl out from under Rodney. "Rodney! Let me go!"
Rodney couldn't. He wasn't willing to let them kill John. He felt John's flinch when a stone hit his bad leg. "Just stop moving...let me...I'm in better shape." Rodney shifted again, ignoring John's curses as he pulled him closer. "Try...to be...Ah!...reasonable. I have...more...padding."
Rodney could feel the edges make tiny little cuts in his skin. He knew he'd be damn sore from this later, but for now, all he was trying to do was shield John. They didn't throw the stones in any predictable rhythm, so he couldn't prepare. A rather large stone hit his hand where it covered Sheppard's temple. He was trembling so badly he didn't know how they could hit him. His mind frantically tried to wonder how much damage a body could take before it just stopped working. Finally, it ended.
"They have survived the Trial of Earth. Let us prepare them for the next Trial. The Trial of Blood." The elder's voice intoned solemnly.
Rodney groaned and rolled away from Sheppard. John's eyes blazed with fever and he trembled. I'm not doing so well, myself. He was exhausted, his stomach was clenching angrily in hunger. One piece of bread wasn't much when faced with the kind of ordeal he was undergoing. He was one large lump of pain. He wished desperately for a drink of water.
"McKay, you are such an idiot!" John was shaking, yes, but now Rodney could see it wasn't all pain and illness. No, the way his mouth was a thin slash of anger told the scientist that he was royally pissed. "Don't. Ever. Do. That. Again."
Rodney stared at him, wordless. Didn't the stupid man realize that he was one of his best friends? Carson was one thing, but Sheppard was not just his friend, he was his team-mate. He wasn't good at examining his feelings, much less talking about them, but he was pretty sure that he kind of felt like John was his brother. He was also a little hurt that apparently John didn't understand that.
He looked up when he heard a clanking noise. Shit! The two men had placed poles into the holes of the pit. Two manacles hung from each. What the hell were they going to have to do now? He carefully looked over at John, who'd rolled to his back. The Air Force colonel was tough, but he couldn't take much more. If he was honest with himself, Rodney would have to admit he couldn't take much more of this, either. His whole body was one large ache. He barely noticed his cheek, what with the variety of ills to choose from.
When the men bent to lift Sheppard, Rodney grabbed the one closest. It was a weak grab, but it was enough to gain the attention of the leader. "Hey!"
"You are interfering with the Trials!"
"Can't you just wait a bit? I mean, you'll still get your kicks later, but can't you let him rest again, or something?" Rodney still had the arm of the guy in the robe. If he let go, he'd probably fall over, he though sourly.
"We cannot change the rules. You must participate in the manner prescribed. There is a pause between the third and fouth Trials, and again before the last."
"At least let him eat and rest, drink some water." Rodney pleaded.
"Rodney, shut up!" John pulled at the corner of his boxers.
"Seriously, wouldn't be as much fun for you if we die in the middle. I'm sure you would rather the entertainment last as long as possible." Rodney ignored Sheppard, who had shakily risen to kneel on one leg, the other gingerly held at an angle from his body. "Give him another, uh, period of rest."
The hooded man was silent for a second. He seemed to smile. Rodney shivered. It wasn't a nice smile. At a wave from the elder, someone brought a flask to John. They wet a towel and washed some of the blood away. He was gently settled back on the ground at Rodney's feet. He hated to admit it, but the little bit of care seemed to have already done Sheppard some good.
He licked his own cracked lips. "Could I have a little water? Just a sip!"
"No. The request was only granted for him. One of you must continue as prescribed by the Ancestors." The elder seemed to smirk. "Of course, that means that instead of sharing the punishment, you shall take all of it for him while he rests."
"What?" Rodney's eyes widened. What they'd gone through had been split in half? Oh, he was so dead. "Wait, no, no, no! I didn't- that's not what I meant!"
The guards dragged him over to the post, securing the manacles. His shoulders and neck protested, his cheek hurt where it pressed against the wood. He made a noise, half grunt, half sob. He didn't do well with pain- he'd had enough pain already. He was dimly aware of John trying to take down a robed guard and receive a blow to the head for it. He was more involved in panicking.
"You shall make amends with the Trial of Blood. As you have caused one pain, so shall your blood spill in a demonstration of your own pain. Begin."
God, these people were psychotic. He had just enough time to close his eyes before the first blow fell. He wanted to scream. It stung and burned. Again. He pressed as close to the pole as he could get. Another. He gasped. Whoosh! He felt the skin of his back split. Crack! He cried out. Hiss!
The firelight shifted on his closed lids. He could hear his panting breaths, his sobbing groans. The smell of blood- his blood- filled his nose. He could taste it, too, where he had bitten his lip. The wood was rough under his fingers as they held tightly. The metal cuffs dug into his wrists. It was nearly too horrible to process. He held on to his mind with all he had. If he let go, he'd be dead, and that would mean they were both dead. Rodney McKay was not going to let that happen. He had to do this so they'd both live.
