Disclaimer: Stargate Atlantis and its characters belong to their appropriate proprietors, creators and owners. No copyright infringement is intended. This story was created for entertainment purposes only. No profit has been made from this. Only original characters and storyline belong to the author.
Title:
Uncommon Alliance
by
Stargalaxy
Chapter 14
They came for him twice more, and each time Rodney would make the same slip by calling him John and each time, Sheppard would know that it was another Wraith trick by refusing to give the enemy what they wanted. At the third attempt, something changed, it was as if the Wraith sensed that there was something wrong with their version of McKay that they needed to try something new. So when the team came to his rescue again, instead of making their way out of the lab, his team was captured and to Sheppard's horror, tortured before his eyes, in a most horrifying and painful manner. McKay was the first to die, followed by Teyla and then Ronon. It had been terribly hard for Sheppard to watch each of his team die one by one, and to make matters worse, this time he wasn't even sure whether it was real or not.
Despair set in and he felt himself reaching the limits of his endurance, he could feel himself slowly cracking at the seams in mind as well as in body. His lifeline came in the unlikely form of a Wraith-like voice whispering in his head, "They're not your people, Sheppard…" It took several moments for him to recognise the voice as belonging to the nameless Wraith. He didn't know how it did it, but somehow the Wraith prisoner back in its cell had managed to connect to his psyche. The voice was weak and he heard it only once, but it was enough for him to snap out of his growing madness to recognise truth from lies. Yet, he lost count of how many times and how many hours or days had passed where he had been forced to watch different versions of his team mates being tortured and killed, with Rodney always being the first to die.
At other times, his team came to his rescue but they always turned out wrong. Soon he began to dread seeing them, for he knew that they were illusions implanted by the Wraith to extract information from him. But even knowing it still didn't make it any easier especially when you experienced touch, taste, smell, sight and sound that all felt so real. There were times when he was questioned and his mind would explode with waves of pain and his nose would start to bleed, and he would shout and scream until his throat was raw. But somehow, he suspected that he never gave them the information they wanted for his team would return for him again and again to torment him. Sometimes they would be killed in front of his eyes and at other times they would attack and beat him up so badly that he would hear their screams of abuse echo in his ears as he was rendered unconscious. Little by little, Sheppard began to lose hope and with the loss of hope, he began to lose his will to survive.
---
Sheppard sighed, feeling the comforting presence of the cold hard floor of his cell again. At last, they had returned him back there. As if in a dream, he heard Daffy say to the two Wraith worshippers who had carried his limp and bruised body back to his cell that he was to be left with enough food and water to recuperate his strength before his next visit to the lab. He had almost cried out in relief to know that at last, Daffy was allowing him a little reprieve. During his time in the lab, not only had he been plagued with Wraith mind hallucinations, but Daffy had also taken more of his blood sample to be examined and analysed. He didn't remember eating or drinking, but he suspected that he was fed intravenously by the various IV lines that he occasionally found himself attached to.
Jerking awake when your body was in a world of pain was no picnic. Sheppard uttered a soft moan, squeezing his eyes shut, wishing he could wash away the nightmares of the past few days. He didn't want to move, for he knew that moving would awake the pain, something that he had experienced enough of lately to last a lifetime. Against his will, his body trembled uncontrollably. He tried to tell himself that it was the cold, but he knew that it was more than that. Everything felt wrong; things were a blur and he felt too exhausted, too tired and worn down to do anything else but to lie there where they had left him on the cold stone floor with a thin blanket now covering his shivering form. His mind floated in a dream-like state from which he did not wish to surface. Yet, when he closed his eyes, he would suddenly jerk awake again when he saw Rodney's face pleading with him for help just before they cut him open. Eyes snapping open, he would wake up panting, his heartbeat racing, his chest, ribs and right thigh burning with pain.
"Sheppard?" he heard the nameless Wraith call his name from its cell. "You have been gone for a long time. I feared that you would not return." The Wraith's voice sounded weak, strangely hollow, just like when he first encountered it when he was in Kolya's cell.
Sheppard did not reply immediately; his huddled form remained still while he continued to breathe harshly. He heard the Wraith move, approaching the cell window as it tried to look at him. Lying where he was, he could feel the Wraith looking at him in concern where it stood. For some crazy inconceivable reason, he felt comforted by its presence. He seemed to recall hearing its voice in his head while he watched his team being killed one by one.
"Sheppard?" the husky low voice called him again. "Ah, my friend... What did they do to you?"
He closed his eyes, took a heavy swallow and continued to breathe harshly. He wished he could wipe his memories away. He wished he could sleep forever and never wake up. Yet the Wraith in the other cell began speaking again, forcing him to focus on the present.
"When you were taken, I was concerned. I feared the worse. But then I sensed your pain; I could feel you were sinking into madness and despair--"
At those words, Sheppard opened his eyes, his mind felt fragile and sore as if it had been kicked and stomped on in a football field. "S-so that … w-was you?" he gasped out weakly in a whisper. "N-not a dream? H-how?"
The Wraith chuckled softly. "Not a dream, Sheppard, it was me. You have received the Gift of Life, which means we are linked in more ways than one. Sometimes, when the need is great, I can sense your pain. I was uncertain whether I could reach your mind, and it is good to know that you heard me." The Wraith moved; the voice going slightly muffled as if it was sitting back down in its darkened corner.
"I fear you will not survive another encounter in the lab again, Sheppard. If you plan for an escape, you must do it soon. I too grow weaker each day. Soon, I will not be able to help you."
The Wraith's ominous words brought Sheppard out from his dream-like state. He forced himself to sit up, clenching his teeth and grimacing as ribs seemed to grind painfully together and waves of pain hit him as his body protested at the movement. "What—" he swallowed, trying to get a decent breath before attempting to speak again, "What… are t-they … d-doing to you?" he finally asked, his hands seemed unable to stop their shaking.
"What your kind were doing to me before," the Wraith stated. "They have not fed me since my capture. I am starving, Sheppard. My hunger burns within me as it did once."
That did not sound good. Sheppard knew that if they were to make good their escape, they needed each other's help. The Colonel lifted his weary head, moving his body to a sitting position. "Kolya's n-not my kind!" he said vehemently. Even now, heated anger pulsed deep within him over what the Genii had done to him. He hated the Genii as much as he hated Daffy the Wraith. Yet the nameless Wraith's words troubled him. He knew that with both of them weakened, the harder their chances for escape would be.
"He is human, that is enough," the Wraith in the other cell replied.
Sheppard shook his head. "There are… m-many things … that you do n-not know … about humans," he replied wearily. "We are… all n-not… alike."
---
When he next awoke, he felt slightly better, a little stronger; it looked like what little sleep that he managed to get had helped. With shaky fingers, his hands dug into his vest pocket, searching for some pain meds and hoping that his captors still left them in there. Much to his relief, he found a few aspirin tablets. He downed two and swallowed them with some lukewarm water that his captors had placed in his cell. Wearily his gaze skirted to the tin plate left there, now filled with another piece of mouldy bread. Looking at it reminded him of Snacks. The fact that his little winged friend had not stolen it while he was asleep troubled him.
Wearily, he looked up towards the ceiling at all the spotted dark holes there. As he eyed them, he thought he detected a soft shuffling sound. Hope flared. Could it be Snacks? he wondered. He pursed his lips together and gave a soft bird whistle, the same whistle that he had used before to call his little friend to him. There were more shuffling sounds above him but no mouse-like head with beady eyes popped itself out to look at him. Grimacing and clenching his teeth, Sheppard used the wall behind him to help him stand. For the moment, everything swayed alarmingly - a roar filled his ears and his vision blurred to black. He would have fallen if he hadn't had the wall behind him to hold him up. After gulping down several nauseous swallows, he opened his eyes and made his way towards the wall. Looking up, he gave a soft whistle again; there were more shuffling sounds and he thought he detected as a soft forlorn chirp. Sheppard frowned. Was Snacks hurt? He recalled Daffy and the other Wraiths shooting at it, so in all possibility it could be. If it was, that meant that it needed help. Thoughts of his own body's distress fled his mind.
Sheppard chewed on his lower lip and looked around his cell again, hoping to see something that would allow him to get to the hole in the ceiling. There was nothing. Sighing, he stared at the wall in front of him; his hands moving to touch the rough surface, at the broken cracks and hollowed crevices scattered here and there. An idea formed and his heart beat quickened, adrenalin flowed and loaned him strength. It was worth a try. It had been some time since he had done any rock climbing, not since he was a teenager in high school, but looking at the random small holes and crevices on the wall, Sheppard thought that he could use them as handholds to make his way to the top. The ceiling wasn't too high, which meant that he wouldn't have to climb far, only enough to make his way to where he suspected Snacks was holed up. Fortunately, the hole where he suspected the little creature to be in was relatively close to the wall.
Making up his mind, Sheppard bent down to break a piece of mouldy bread from the plate on the floor, peeling it into several small pieces and placing them within easy reach of his pocket. He figured that he needed something to lure his little friend out into the open especially if Snacks was hiding there. His gaze went to the wall again, studying it and plotting out the best route, noting the positions of hand and foot holds that he could use to get to his destination. Once he had them memorised in his mind, he took a deep breath, steeling himself for what was to come. He refused to think of his own body's aches and pains but instead reached up towards the first hole that he spotted on the wall, placing a hand in it. With a release of breath, he pulled himself up while his foot edged itself into a stony crack with a larger gap at the bottom.
He soon discovered that the task that he set himself was more difficult than he anticipated. His weakened state and various injuries were causing him problems. However, he refused to be defeated. He knew that this was a one shot deal; if he fell, he didn't think he would have strength to get up much less try it again, at least not for a while. But time was running out for him, and he needed to feel in control, to take action and to do something. For now, ensuring that Snacks was okay was first priority. He knew that he had a high pain threshold, so he pushed the agony to the back of his mind, while he forced his body to move upwards.
He decided to take it one step at a time, first one secure foothold then another solid handhold. Slowly, he managed to make his way to his destination. Twice he almost fell, but each time he managed to recover his balance enough to inch his way forward. Fortunately, he didn't have very far to go, just high enough to reach the ceiling hole. As he reached closer to his destination, he spotted one of the metal framed spotlights hanging near by. It looked firm and solid enough to take his weight. He knew that his grip on the rough wall was not going to last forever. Coming to a decision, he swung out a hand and managed to hook his arm around the metal frame of the spotlight, giving him better balance and support to remain where he was. His body, especially his ribs and chest protested, but the metal light held his weight much to his relief. Now that he was more secure, he concentrated on the ceiling hole above him.
"Snacks…?" he whispered softly, his eyes focused into the depths of the dark hole. He heard more shuffling sounds coming closer this time. He noticed that the hole looked like a mini cave, all rough at the edges as if sharp claws or something acidic bit into it. The hole did not go straight up, but instead slanted sideways, reminding Sheppard of overhead pipes. He couldn't see how deep it went, but from what he could make out of it, it looked deep enough to carry one furry little creature from one chamber to another. With his right hand still holding onto the metal spotlight, his other hand moved to take out a small piece of mouldy bread and place it just at the entrance of the hole. He gave another soft whistle resulting in more scurried movements sounding above him. He waited for a while before he was finally rewarded by a small furry head with beady eyes peering down at him. It was Snacks, he could recognise that face anywhere. The little winged beast reached out, twitched its tiny pink nose and snatched the small piece of bread that he left as bait and began munching on it immediately with its tiny paws.
Sheppard smiled and gasped out a sigh of relief. Seeing that his little friend was still alive released an unexpected flood of emotions deep within him. The back of his eyes felt hot and heavy, but he refused to allow the tears to fall. After everything that he had been through, seeing Snacks alive was like a gift he had not expected. Yet he wondered why it had taken Snacks so long to reach him. Was it injured? He needed to lure the creature out into the open in order to examine it.
Still smiling at his little furry friend, Sheppard carefully took out another small piece of bread, but this time, he placed it at the palm of his hand. Snacks, he saw, eyed it hungrily. Its little nose twitched rapidly and he could hear its cat-like tail thumping up and down excitedly like a dog's. He placed one hand out towards it, while his other hand held on tight to the metal spotlight.
"Here, Snacks!" he called it. It didn't need an invitation twice, with a leap and bound, it scrambled for the bread in his hand. However, to Sheppard's horror, Snacks miscalculated, resulting with it losing its balance and almost falling out from its hole. Several small objects, including a shinny powerbar wrapper, which were obviously Snacks' collection of shinny treasures, tumbled out of the hole onto the cell floor below.
Sheppard instinctively reached out to grab Snacks, stalling its fall as it began shrieking out in fright and almost lost his balance as a result. Fortunately, his grip on the metal spotlight prevented him from falling to the floor. He immediately saw the misshapen left wing while the other eagle-like wing expanded and tried to flap in a futile lopsided panicky manner. With its injury it couldn't fly, which was why it didn't come for the food left on the ground in Sheppard's cell. Somehow Snacks must have made it back to one of the ceiling holes before its wing was injured.
As Sheppard grabbed Snacks' furry little body to prevent it from falling, the little creature instantly grabbed onto his arm, holding onto it for dear life. Tiny sharp claws bit into the flesh of his arm painfully through his sleeve making the pilot clench his teeth but he didn't complain. However, Snacks didn't stay there for long, for it quickly scrambled up Sheppard's arm, making its ways towards the back of his neck where it curled itself snugly around his shoulders, holding on tight, its soft furry body still trembling slightly in fright. A small smile formed on his lips and Sheppard lifted his free hand to pet the little creature, feeling soft fur under his fingers and smooth feathers of its wings as he tried to comfort the little trembling body. Then, his focus moved back to his precarious situation. With a frown and pursed lips, he carefully moved his left hand back to grab a firm handhold on the wall, while his legs began to lower himself back to the bottom of his cell again.
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To be continued
