He was soaring high about the white snow covered mountain tops. He was free… free from pain…free from the deep feeling of loneliness. John stretched his wings, and each beat was slow and measured- an elegant show of dignity. The wind currents dictated his path. His head and tail projected equally beyond his broad wings, held rigid and flat in flight. A soft, slightly hysterical chuckle escaped his lips… he was flying, and he had a white tail.
His arms, stretched out to each side, were his wings; his long legs, tucked together, served as his tail. He was truly free, lost in the freedom of the sheer joy of flight. John played, gliding this way and that, skyrocketing to the heavens then flipping and diving toward the ground before soaring away to skirt around the majestic mountaintops at high speeds; faster and faster he went until he collapsed in exhaustion.
Dark, wild hair hung down from John's tilted back as his head faced the sky, his limp body hovered inches above the ground, much like a puppet suspended from a string, an old worn out toy that some child had grown weary of and discarded. He forced deep breaths of clean, fresh air into his lungs to try and settle the turmoil in his mind.
He knew he was hiding, running away, detaching himself from the pain and horror of what was happening to his body in the real world. He heard his name whispered on the wind, calling him back from his quiet place. He closed his eyes and pressed his palms against his ears, shutting out the voice that was trying to draw him away from his sanctuary. 'His home,' John thought, chuckling despairingly; he'd never had a home, not like most kids, with happy parents who loved him.
He had only this imaginary home to escape to when things spiraled down that dark, painful path. One minute he would be in pain, the next would find him on a quiet, exclusive mountain range surrounded by water for miles around; he would image he was an eagle, flying high above, and sometimes… sometimes… as he soared the heavens, he would look down through the clouds to see a group of towering peaks surrounded by swirling mists, and with an eagle's vision, he would watch as a floating city materialized out of that mist. John would spend hours circling the tall spires; wings angled back against his body, he would dive toward the calm ocean, dipping his large yellow talons into the cool water, and then his wings would catch the airstreams to lift him high above the peaks, only to start all over again.
Sometimes, John would hear a woman's soft voice, singing a song, a child's lullaby that wrapped him in warmth and love, drawing him into a peaceful slumber. How he needed to hear her voice again.
Suddenly his body jerked forward, and John felt the painful tingling sensation of returning awareness running up and down his numb arms. He fought against the distant voice whispering his name; he didn't want to go back…he couldn't go back.
"Ah… you are finally awake, my pet." Duamutef uttered as he ran his finger down Sheppard's cheek, caressing the soft skin. "I was growing weary of waiting." The Goa'uld grabbed a handful of dark hair and pulled back, hard, "Do not distance yourself again, infant, or I may have to turn my attention to your friend." Duamutef twisted his captive's face toward a dark corner of the room.
"You son of a bitch," Sheppard choked between dry, cracked lips. He could barely make out the outline of Dunne's body, held suspended by chains that imprisoned his arms and legs, the limbs stretched out against the walls. Hazel eyes locked together and John had to turn his face away in shame, not wanting to see the look of hurt seep into JD's face at his betrayal, and desertion. "I promise… I promise…don't hurt him because of me." A single tear escaped red swollen eyes to trail down a black and blue cheek, "God, I'm sorry, kid. I won't go away again. I… I won't leave you here alone."
JD struggled against his chains; arching his back away from the wall, he choked back his anguished cries. "John… John…" JD desperately called out to the man suspended in the middle of the room. Sheppard was a mess, his arms were tied behind his back; a thick rope was attached to John's swollen wrists and then draped over a hook attached to the ceiling. The Goa'uld had pulled the rope taut, leaving the major suspended by his arms, his feet dangling inches off the floor.
JD called out again, "John… look at me." But the major refused to meet his eyes. Instead, he lowered his head until his chin touched his naked chest, mumbling unintelligibly, his body language submissive to the Goa'uld as he awaited the next round of torture.
JD began to panic; he was losing Sheppard, the older man was giving in to the pain. He banged his head against the wall, in rhythm with Sheppard's defeated muttering. How long had he been hanging? Hours? Days? JD couldn't remember. Panicked, JD realized that he was losing track of time. He tried to remember all that happened since their abduction.
He remembered screaming until his throat was raw; remembered struggling against the chains; remembered shouting at the top of his lungs as Duamutef stripped the major of what was left of his black undershirt, leaving the unconscious man's torso bare; he continued screaming his outrage until he hyperventilated and finally, blessedly, passed out. The Goa'uld's voice drew JD's attention back toward the middle of the room.
"Good, you are both awake," Duamutef laughed hauntingly. "Shame on you for sleeping through the last experiment, child. The infant begged for your help until his throat was raw. He became quite upset when I told him that you had abandoned him, returning to your friends through the Stargate. Poor thing, he cried himself to sleep," he told JD nonchalantly as he walked over to what looked like a medicine cabinet.
Duamutef glanced over his shoulder at his victim's bloated stomach; he sniffed the air and curled his lip at the stench coming from the major. One more dose and the 'infant' should be ready for the next phase of preparation. He reached in, taking out a glass tube filled with a pale blue liquid. Duamutef swirled the blue fluid around before pouring it into a large glass. He sat the vial down and reached back into the cabinet, grabbing another vial, this one golden in color. Picking up the glass, Duamutef held it out in front of him as he slowly poured half of the golden fluid into the glass.
As the Duamutef turned to face Sheppard, JD's shoulders tensed at the evil expression on the Goa'uld's face as he glided over to his victim. "Open your mouth, infant, time for your medication again," he demanded, holding the glass up to the major's lips.
The major jerked his head from side-to-side, keeping his mouth clenched shut. His face reddening, Sheppard closed his eyes in shame at the odor coming from his lower body from the seepage of his already strained stomach. He felt Duamutef grab his jaw and John silently cried as the Goa'uld shoved his thumb inside his lips, forcing clenched jaws apart.
John tried unsuccessfully to spit out the cool, thick liquid the Goa'uld was pouring down his throat. "Oh, no you don't." Duamutef snickered, violently shoving the major's head backwards by his dark hair, clamping the man's mouth shut with his other hand. The substance soon hit his inflamed stomach, turning it sour once again and he doubled over, retching.
Duamutef's hauntingly double layered chuckle echoed around the small room and his eyes flashed white, amused at the panicked, tear-filled eyes on his victim as his body betrayed him with uncontrollable bowel movements, "Good, good… you are feeling the effects of the sugary milk," he told his victim as the major stopped struggling against his hold to hang limp, guilt-ridden and shamed, his world shattering at the humiliation.
JD continued to struggle against the chains, feeling helpless and powerless to help his friend. The opaque metal chafed his bare chest and left irritated, raw skin on his wrists and ankles as well. Breathing hard, JD called out to his friend again, "John, don't you dare give up. Chris is coming; he won't leave us here, not like this. Damnit John, look at me." But the pilot refused or was incapable of turning his head toward him.
"John, you know that Chris has abandoned you, just like he did before, when you called to him." Duamutef whispered into the major's ear. "The mighty warrior has no time to waste on a pitiful, weak excuse of a child playing warrior." The Goa'uld ran a pale, slender finger of his host down Sheppard's exposed chest, all the way to his belly button. "Your family has forsaken you, left you alone on a world full of vipers. They cast your newborn body out as yesterday's garbage," Duamutef's voice was low, gentle, but his words clawed through John's soul. The parasite swirled his finger around the pale navel, feeling his victim's body tremble. Eyes glowing white, Duamutef lowered his head, and soon his lips followed the same path of his finger, leaving a trail of wet saliva.
"You taste like honey, my infant," his lustful voice sent tremors down both soldiers spine. Duamutef's eyes glowed brighter as he looked up into red, watery eyes of his victim. He could not resist those sulky red lips of his infant, calling to him. He violently gripped the major's hips, leaving finger impressions in the pale flesh, pulling him toward the host's body; he locked their lips together. The major's body thrashed about as Duamutef ravished the boy's mouth.
"You bitch… leave him alone… stop it… you fucking BITCH!" the boy chained to the wall yelled at the top of his lungs. This was bad…so very bad, JD thought to himself. "Chris is going to kick your ass… then reach down and pull your maggotbreathed, slimy butt out of the woman he loves." JD was on a roll and, invigorated, continued rambling, "and… and that's just the start of what he'll do to you if you put your perverted hands on John again." Pulling away from the wall in rage, the metal bit further into JD's flesh, blood ran from his wrists, streaking his arms and sides with red lines, "Hey maggotbreath, I'm talking to you."
Duamutef stood back from the major, his host's body taking in deep breaths; he turned to lock his glowing eyes on the irritating boy chained to the wall. His tongue flickered out, wetting his host's thin, pink lips seductively, "You will be most helpful, my boy." The Goa'uld released his grip on John's hips, leaving the soldier's body swaying back and forth.
"Why are you doing this?" JD yelled at the retreating Goa'uld, confused as to why the snake was torturing them. The alien hadn't even asked them any questions and he was getting sick and tired of the Goa'uld calling Sheppard 'his infant'. The soldier was in his middle thirties for crying out loud, not a toddler in diapers.
"Because I can, child," Duamutef told him as he walked back over to the medicine cabinet. This time both of his hands shuffled the jars and bottles around until his eyes found what he was looking for. The Goa'uld pulled out a large round jar, opening the lid; Duamutef brought the jar up to his nose to smell the contents. Snickering, he dipped two fingers into the thick, syrupy, golden substance, rolling it between his fingers as he walked back toward his prey.
"What are you up to, maggotbreath?" JD screamed, as Duamutef rubbed the golden gel over Sheppard's face. "What is that stuff?" The younger boy continued to demand.
Duamutef, eyes narrowed, grinned as he bent down and whispered into Sheppard's ear, "No matter what happens, infant, do not disassociate yourself… or the boy will take your place. And his suffering will be greater than anything you have gone through. Or even imagine." His voice lowered, "Do you understand me, my infant?" Duamutef smiled at the defeated nod of Sheppard's head.
"John… John… don't listen to the maggotbreath; he's lying; whatever he's saying is a lie; everything coming out of that mouth is a lie." JD screamed at his friend. He closed his eyes hoping to stop the tears from running down his checks. "John, please don't listen to him, do whatever you have to do to survive this nightmare. Don't worry about me… I'll… I'll be okay. Please, John."
"Oh, you will be okay, my child." JD's eyes snapped open wide to find the Goa'uld was standing right in his face. "I command your help, child." Duamutef demanded as he released the chains around the boy with a flicker of his wrist.
"No. No. I won't help you." JD whispered as his body slid down the wall to land on his backside.
"You will help me or I'll…"
JD cut the Goa'uld off. "Do what you want with me, I won't help you hurt my friend," JD choked out, rubbing at his raw wrists. "Why are you doing this?" he asked again. Looking up, his hazel eyes pleaded for a reason for all the pain and suffering the two of them were going through.
Duamutef squatted down, eye level with the boy, searching the child's face. This boy, this innocent child was a part of him. He would never permanently hurt him. He snickered. Not that he would tell the youth that; no, that was information the child could use against him. Hiding his amusement, the Goa'uld whispered softly, "You will help me, or I'll do what you both fear the most… I'll rape the major in front of you and then force you to do the same."
"No…no…I wouldn't," the boy's body shuddered.
"You will…if that is what it takes to break my infant." The Goa'uld's eyes grew brighter, "Yes, Sheppard is my infant now, and you have made sure of that. Each time you panic, you call out his guardian's name, this 'Chris'." The image that appeared in Duamutef's mind slowly merged with his memory of another Lantian, Danaus. "I know now who the infant's guardian is; this woman belongs to him, and has been attempting to hide his face from me. Oh, it is so very sweet; you, and now she, have betrayed him and my infant."
"I would never do that." JD groaned, gently swinging his head side to side in denial.
Taking no notice of the boy huddled at his feet, the Goa'uld eyes flashed in anticipation of the confrontation with his infant's guardian; they would be coming, the two guardians, and with the guardian, would come the infant's mother. Yes, this Chris Larabee will be a challenging opponent. "In fact, you have already helped me." The Goa'uld explained. "Each time you call out to this Chris, you remind Sheppard of his mother's abandonment, and reinforce his feeling of betrayal from the one who should be protecting him."
"Chris would never betray John," JD angrily replied.
"Then where is he?" the Goa'uld smiled.
"He's coming," JD said faithfully, his trust and allegiance to Larabee was as strong as his religious beliefs. Chris Larabee was coming, no maggotbreath Goa'uld, was going to take someone away from the tall blond. Not and walk away without a little blood being drawn by the volatile team leader.
"You have been in my hands for two months, now." Duamutef glanced around the room, hands out in question. "I do not see him," he said sarcastically.
"You…you're lying. We haven't been here that long; you're lying," the boy murmured in confusion, "only a day…two…at the most. You're lying, you got to be lying."
"You are positive?" Duamutef's eyes flashed, and he spoke harshly, his double layered voice vibrated through JD's confused mind. "Take another look at my infant, and tell me again how long he has endured his torment."
JD took a closer look at Sheppard's body. His face and chest was covered in bruises and Dunne had to assume that John's arms were dislocated, judging by the way he was hanging. From the odor, the pilot had developed severe diarrhea from the liquid he had been forced to ingest. But what scared the ex-Delta soldier the most, was the vacant stare emanating from his friend's hazel eyes. As if John could feel the young man's eyes on him, dazed hazel eyes sluggishly refocused on the younger man and shined with flakes of gold, dark eyelids descended twice, before the major's weary eyelids closed and did not open again.
"You're lying, maggotbreath." JD's eyes twinkled at Sheppard's lop sided grin. Only two days held in capture, the major was still with him.
'Ah, the infant was still awake,' Duamutef observed, his child and the infant were gaining strength from each other. This would definitely not do. The Goa'uld's eyes narrowed in thought before he spoke again, "You heard my infant's cry back on Earth." He paused, watching the child shake his head in denial, "Yes. You felt his fear…his pain… when I shot him. Do not deny it. You came running into the gateroom…desperate…out of breath…charging to the rescue. But you are not his guardian."
"No…no, I… I… was just wandering around the base. I heard the gunfire." JD stared into Mary's pale blue eyes, confused in the change in attack.
"Deny your heritage all you want, child. You heard a Lantian infant in distress and you came running to protect that child." Duamutef raised his voice, making sure it carried to his infant, "But my infant's guardian…He also heard my infant call out in terror. He should have beaten down the doors to reach his charge, but what did he do? This Chris Larabee turned his back, abandoning the one who was destined to become his younger brother."
"No… Chris wouldn't do that. You're lying," JD yelled back at the Goa'uld, but he couldn't stop the tears from running down his face. His idol, the man he looked up to most, would never turn his back on anyone in trouble, especially a child. The young man's eyes snapped to the soldier hanging in the middle of the room, his eyes brows went up. Memories of Sheppard's first day played out in his mind, the horsing around, the playful teasing, getting into trouble, Larabee staring the major down as the pilot pouted like a kid caught with his hand in the cookie jar. It was as if the major had found his place in life and was starting to open up.
"Yes… now you understand," Duamutef snickered, "Major John Sheppard is a Lantian infant, the youngest son born into the oldest and most powerful Ancient warrior clan." The Goa'uld reached out and grabbed JD's face, "Even you, my child, have the Ancient warrior blood; not as strong as my infant, but you have the royal bloodline of Lucetius running through your veins. Now, stand up, it is time break my infant." The Goa'uld released his grip on the boy and backed off, allowing JD to stand on wobbly legs.
"If this is true, why don't you just take John as a host? That's what you want, right? To possess an Ancient body? What's stopping you? Why this extended torture?" the Delta asked. Frantically, JD searched his knowledge about the parasites. Not even Jack O'Neill could stop a Goa'uld from taking a host… so what did this Goa'uld desire? Someone else? JD's voice had hitched as he remembered the Goa'uld's frustration at the major's defiance, but still, why torture him? JD knew from his advanced Delta training that the Goa'uld was attempting to undermine and destroy John's belief of his validity as a human being, using humiliation, both physical and mental with sadistic glee; attempting to demolish the unspoken trust he and John had in each other.
Deep down, JD knew the snake was telling the truth about John and him being related. They shared the same color of eyes, the same bone structure. The snake was going to use their blood relationship; a relationship that otherwise, ultimately, could save the major, to destroy him. "Kill me now. I won't help you destroy a good man."
"You have already helped shatter his soul, my child." Duamutef stated
JD searched his mind for some reason behind the physical and mental torture John was going through. What was the Goa'uld after? A thought stuck him suddenly and JD snapped his head toward his silent friend. The major was an Ancient, and the Ancients were telepathic, right? JD had felt the strength of John's mind as it intertwined with his that first time when they had called out for Chris' help; now, he felt that strength within himself once again. 'Okay, I'm half Ancient,' he thought. Hope filled JD's eyes for the first time in two days as he concentrated on sending one word, mind to mind, "JOHN."
The major's body jerked, forcing a groan of pain from swollen lips, fire blazed in the eyes as they snapped open, locking onto JD as he shook his head, refusing to answer back in kind. "John's the bait. Who are you really after?" JD's smile widened, revealing the white teeth, as he added, "…maggotbreath." His lopsided grin matched the major's as he sought to goad the creature into focusing on him for a while and allow the major a brief respite.
"Be careful in what you call me, my child," Duamutef said angrily, his voice carried over his shoulder as he added, "This knowledge will not save you, my infant. The old one is hovering, awakening, waiting for Dux of Antiquitas to return. Can you feel her, my infant? Minerva is confused, sensing the bloodline of Lucetius, sensing an infant abandoned by its mother."
"Stop telling him that he was abandoned by his mother," demanded JD. Lowering his voice and speaking softly as if to a young child, Dunne offered, "John, you know there had to be a good reason why your mother left you. Maybe… maybe she was ill like my mother, and died." The young man's eyes watered at the memory of his mother's death. "You're not alone anymore, you have Chris to look after you now and… and… Buck and I will be there to help… and… and… there's the others. Vin… you like Vin, right. He talks more once you get to know him, and then there's Ezra, he can teach you to play cards and win," JD edged closer to the man suspended in the middle of the room as he spoke. "And Nathan, he'll look after you when you're sick. Oh, we can't forget Josiah, he'll pick you up when you're hurt and keep you safe even as he's whispering soothing words to your soul."
Matching tracks of tearstains ran down the two soldier's cheeks. "Please John, hold on… I know in my heart Chris is coming, he heard us… he heard us, just hang on a little while longer and we'll go home."
JD watched as the major silently mouthed, 'Home, want to go home… to family.'
"We are wasting time. Refuse to obey, child and it will not be you that suffers. You will only prolong my infant's pain. Decide what you will do, quickly." Grabbing JD by the scruff of his neck, the Goa'uld propelled him further across the room to stand in front of Sheppard's limp body. "Do not speak; only do what you are told." Duamutef pulled Dunne around to look into his eyes, "Failure to follow my command, child, will only lead to more suffering. Do you understand?"
He waited until the young man nodded his head in compliance. "My infant, open up those pretty eyes of yours." Duamutef gently patted John's sticky, gel-covered cheek until he saw a slit of green under the dark eyelashes. "Remember our little chat about hiding, my infant," he warned, pulling JD into Sheppard's line of vision.
John's dazed eyes opened fully as he took in the Goa'uld unspoken threat. The implied violence to the younger man fueled Sheppard's resolve and he called on his remaining reserves to taunt the creature yet again, "Leave him out of this, you bitch." The black of Sheppard's eyes dilated, "Or is that bastard? I can't seem to be able to decide. I could call you snakehead; oh…but I just remembered…that one is taken, so I'll just call you maggotbreath," he smirked, his voice raspy from screaming. His vision cleared enough to see JD's face, "Hey, kid," the smile on his lips never reached his eyes, "long time, no see, you okay? Love the new name. 'Maggotbreath'. I couldn't 'a come up with one better… done good, kid," Sheppard looked out under his dark eyelashes, and not liking the look in the kid's hazel eyes, asked, "JD?"
"Here, my child, help me rub this gel over the major." Duamutef held out the open jar of golden gel toward JD. At his hesitation, the Goa'uld's eyes flashed white in anger. JD grabbed the jar, and started rubbing the sticky gel on John's chest before Duamutef could finish raising his hand in the act of hitting Sheppard across the face, "good, good."
"JD?" John asked. Confused, he jerked his chest back as the sticky syrup was rubbed across his shoulder blades and down his back. He shivered as JD silently circled around him, continuing to apply the sticky substance to his exposed skin. JD took a step away from the trembling body of his friend and stood without a sound next to the possessed female pilot. "What…what are you doing, kid?" JD's shoulders slumped at the turmoil that laced John's questions.
Dunne jerked away from the voice so close at his shoulder, "Child, you are not finished." The young man snapped his head around to stare at the Goa'uld; in one hand, he held a much larger jar of gel, and in the other… in the other was a long, narrow knife, the type a hunter would use to gut his kill. The young soldier could not help but wonder where the two items had come from.
"The gel must be rubbed all over the infant's body. Remove the rest of the major's clothing." The light reflected off the raised knife, instantly sending JD into action.
JD's fingers shook as he placed them on the major's belt; it took him a couple of tries before he could release the buckle. The kid didn't know who was shaking more, Sheppard or himself.
"JD… what… what are you doing," Sheppard demanded to know, jerking back when he felt the kid's hands on his fly, pulling the zipper down. "Answer me damnit."
Remaining silent as instructed, JD gently placed his hands on John's waistband and slowly rolled the trousers past the major's slim hips, past his knees and down to his ankles, leaving the soldier trembling in his underpants. JD closed his eyes, turning his nose away from the stench of Sheppard's earlier weakness. He felt the Goa'uld's hot breath against his ear as the parasite whispered, "Quickly, before I become restless." Once again, the knife in the Goa'uld's hand spurred him on and he ripped the gray underpants down to join the major's trousers, pooling around rope-captured ankles.
Tears ran down JD's face as the Goa'uld handed him the jar. He could only shut his eyes as John cried out as his gel covered hands coated the older man's hips. The major's body bucked away as JD continued, rubbing the syrup down both thighs to his ankles. Next, JD rubbed the golden gel between the major's trembling legs, and then circled around and dropped to his knees, head lowered to his chest as one hand quickly covered the major's bare buttocks; he held the other hand to his heart, rubbing as it broke and shattered in empathy for the other man and the indignation that he was being forced to endure.
Never once did JD look up at the major as he continued to smear the gel over Sheppard's naked body; the thought of that long knife gutting the pilot kept him going until the jar was empty. He was squatted in front of his friend, absorbed in covering his feet with the gel when Atlantis' lights flickered on and off.
The Goa'uld's double layered voice snapped JD's eyes open, looking up, "Infant… remember your promise, no retreating." The young man raised a gel covered hand to his mouth, tasting the sweet honey that coated the back of his hand, stopping his cry of outrage, at the sight of his friend's eyes. Once full of mischief, the hazel eyes of the major were now dull, lifeless.
Sheppard blinked, his wet eyelashes shimmered in the flickering light as he stopped himself from withdrawing. "Pro mmmisse…" John stuttered through trembling lips, "donnn' t hhurrrrrtt the kidddddddd. Dooooooo yooouurrr wwwwooorsstttttt, mmmmmagggggotbbbbbbrrrrreath."
JD's face was ashen as his tears flowed openly. Even now, the major was trying to protect him. Ashamed, the young man turned his face away from the sight of the major's naked body.
"Nooottt, youuuuuuuuurrrrr faulttttttt. Mmmmagggggotbbbbbbrrrrreath mmaadeee youuuu JJJJDDDDDD. Myyyyyyyy ffaullltt, nnnnnottt sstttttrronnng eennoougggggghhh. Pllllllleeeassse lllllooooooookk aatt mmmeee," John's face was red under the golden gel, but he never took his eyes off his friend.
JD turned and locked eyes with the major, and mouthed at the same time he sent telepathically, 'hold on, Chris is coming.'
"Hoooooollllllldddd onnnnnnnn," John stuttered.
"No…no this just will not do." Duamutef grabbed Dunne by his hair, pulling him backward, toward the door. "Keep your eyes on me, my infant," the major's eyes widened at the sight of a very sharp knife being held against JD's throat. "Remember your promise."
Swallowing his desire to vomit, John nodded his head, gluing his hazel eyes on the Goa'uld as he pulled JD out the doorway and sealed it shut. Keeping his body still, Sheppard's eyes never left the door until he heard a sharp clicking noise.
The clicking grew louder; he was not alone in the room. Sheppard caught motion out of the corner of his left eye; his breathing was fast and shallow as he watched the creature move from the shadows. Glowing red eyes caught his attention and he stared as a long-legged, black spider, the size of a small, yappy terrier inched toward him. A buzzing noise soon emanated around the chamber, accompanying the sounds of clicking and then, more movement. John's eyes locked on the biggest spider. With each step, the arachnid's long, delicate legs clicked against the floor until it reached the trousers pooling around his ankles. John sucked in a deep breath, clenching his mouth closed to stop the scream of terror as the spider began to climb his left leg, clawing its way up and latching onto his bare hip. Blood ran down John's leg from the deep cuts left by the spider's sharp pinchers.
Soon, more spiders and insects of all sizes appeared from the shadows. Attracted by the smell of blood and odor of the sweet honey, they encircled the major's body. John's eyes turned back to the doorway, knowing the Goa'uld was holding JD at knifepoint. He couldn't cry out, not at the risk of Dunne being hurt; he hadn't cried out when the first spider sunk its sharp pinchers in the flesh on his hip, he could hold out, suck it up, be tough as the old man used to say. The major chewed his bottom lip until it bled as the insects bit and stung his exposed flesh, but never cried out.
JD lowered his head against the door, his fists pounding the cold surface in frustration. "Goddammit, let go of me," the young man yelled over his shoulder at the Goa'uld, no longer caring about his own life as John's silent cries of terror and pain echoed in his mind, "What are you doing to him?"
"Would you like to see?" Duamutef pulled JD back from the door as it slid open, revealing a dark, moving mass covering Sheppard's body, eating and licking at the honey syrup. Blood soaked the major's trousers and the surrounding floor.
Sheppard remained silent as the arachnids continued to gouge out chucks of his flesh, chewing on skin and muscle along his leg. John fought the buildup of growing horror, knowing if he looked down he would see the white of his femur. Pain filled his being as he was eaten alive, he wanted to yell, scream at the top of his lungs for it to stop. His body jerked involuntary forward, as an insect bit into his right buttock. John's stomach rebelled; he clenched his mouth shut, knowing if he puked, slimy, slippery, crawling invertebrate of all sizes would enter his mouth.
John's eyes snapped open wide in terror as something large and slimy slithered between his legs. A bloodcurdling cry of terror vibrated around the chamber and Sheppard's stomach muscles reacted violently with a series of contractions as his mouth filled with bugs. This time when his stomach rebelled, John did not try to stop the contents of his stomach from escaping. He barely heard the double layer voice speaking softly to him, "my infant, I can help you. Just reach out with your mind and I shall save you from this terror."
He only had to reach out, John's dark covered head lowered; he was exhausted, cold and terrified out of his mind. His soul was weary of fighting, weary of repeatedly being abandoned by the ones who were supposed to protect him. No one would care if he just let go. His real mother deserted him at birth. His foster father had convinced a young John that it was his fault that Maria Sheppard had died, stepping between man and child, taking the blow meant for the three year old. Uncle George had turned his back on him, grieving his sister's death, relinquishing baby John into a crazed Colonel Norman Sheppard's control.
His life had tumbled into a continuous nightmare, one event after another, until Uncle George had finally came to his rescue, and helped him enter the Air Force Academy and fulfill his dream of flying. He was happy for a while, until the Colonel reentered his life, turning it into a living hell, turning and twisting John into his ideal of a perfect soldier.
It took awhile, but he got away from the Colonel again after the incident in Afghanistan, and with the help of General George Hammond, John found himself buried in the wastelands of McMurdo, loving the remoteness, the isolation. He was satisfied with his life, he kept telling himself, he was flying, and that was all that mattered. That all changed six months ago after he received a call requesting a favor, just one little favor, and John couldn't refuse. Dammit he was happy alone in the cold wasteland; for the first time in a long while, he was free, isolated from his nightmares, he was content. Life was not fair.
So, Sheppard had turned his back on that sanctuary and answered the call that had him flying back into the hellhole called Afghanistan. He had watched and waited there in the desert, under the resentful eye of the commander, emerging at the appropriate time to back up the Special Op's team sent in to rescue General Jack O'Neill, who managed to get himself kidnapped along with Doctor Daniel Jackson.
His mission had been to facilitate the rescue of O'Neill; that failing, he had direct orders from the General, not to leave Jack O'Neill in the hands of the enemy… alive. It was an easy mission, a run and grab. The terrorists were amateurs; a war-experienced Navy Seal commander, a man good at his job and one that rarely failed in his mission, led the Special Op's team.
Sheppard had been instantly attracted to the tall, moody blond haired commander. For the first time in his life, John felt a warm feeling, a kindredship, deep down in his gut that he had never experienced before. When Commander Larabee had ordered him to stay with the chopper, he felt a need to obey the man, that Larabee was only looking out for him. For the first time he felt ashamed, when the man had glared into his eyes, mad as hell, chewing his ass off, all because John had disobeyed his order to stay safely hidden with the helicopter, out of harms way. He was hurt when Larabee had turned his back on him in anger. Unknown to Sheppard, Chris was trying to control his irrational, and totally alien, fear of losing the younger man, not understanding the instant connection to the young pilot.
Why did O'Neill have to show up at McMurdo and recognize him? He had been safe, alone, but secure from the nightmares of his life. Tears leaked out of John's closed eyelids as he broke down; it wasn't true, he had been unhappy, lonely, only the flying kept him sane. After meeting Larabee, John didn't want to be alone anymore; he was hurt, confused and wanted to go home, home to his family, home to his newly discovered 'world', a good world, with friends that accepted you and trusted you, brothers. But the brother hadn't wanted him; no one wanted him, only the Goa'uld. John's openly cried, his spirit broken by that revelation.
From where he was being held, JD could almost make out the frown lines around his friend's eyes; Sheppard was clenching them close so tight. The pilot was losing his battle against the Goa'uld, giving up. He could feel the feeling of resignation within the pilot and JD struggled against the system lord what-to-be, ignoring the threat of the knife at his throat. "John Sheppard, don't you dare give up. Chris Larabee is coming through the gate any minute now. Don't you dare give up." JD yelled to his shattered friend, praying that Larabee wouldn't make a liar out of him.
JD heard John whimper, and yelled out, telepathically, "John, hold on… Chris is coming."
Sheppard's body jerked in response to JD's voice speaking to him in his mind, opening his eyes, mouthed through blood covered lips, asking, "Chris is coming for me?"
"I promise, John. Chris will be leading the cavalry through the gate any moment; we are going home." JD spoke out loud to his friend, praying that he would be able to keep his promise. "Close your eyes, John, rest," tears welled up in the younger man's hazel eyes. He was letting Sheppard know that it was okay to let go, to run and hide, the pilot deserved the peace of his dream world.
"Chris is coming for me." John voice sound young, and full of hope. His eyes closed, willing himself to a dream state, to wait for Chris.
"How dare you defy me!" Duamutef growled.
Sheppard's eyes jerked open at the menacing words to see JD and the Goa'uld standing before him. The two men's eyes bore into each other.
"This is your fault, infant, it is your hand that holds the knife," the Goa'uld twisted the knife, slashing JD's throat open and letting the young man's body fall to the floor, his lifeless eyes locked onto the major's.
John's eyes flashed golden and, tilting his head back, Sheppard opened his mind and screamed for his guardian.
"CCCCCCCCCHHHHHHHHHHRRIIIIIISSSSSSSSSS."
The six men strode into the bright sunlight and froze at the sight of weapons coming to bear on them by a band of ten men surrounded the mouth of the cavern. One man stood with a pistol to the head of the woman as she stood in the grasp of another man.
The Delta team responded immediately with their own weapons raising, creating the proverbial 'Mexican standoff'.
"Well, we seem to have reached an impasse, Larabee." The man pressed the gun tighter against Valeria's temple.
Chris Larabee's mouth quirked as he stared into the captor's eyes. Finally, he motioned his men to lower their weapons.
"Excellent choice, Larabee."
"Who are you? And do you want?"
"Ah, well, that is the question isn't it? Let's just say that I work for a different branch of the government than you. Our interests are the same, only our goals vary." He dropped the pistol away from the woman's head and stepped forward, glancing at the others in Larabee's team. "I'll just relieve you of that bag, if you don't mind."
The man stepped forward and Chris moved to block his way as the others surrounded Standish and his bundle.
"And if we do mind?"
"You really don't want to do that." The man's voice lost its casual attitude, becoming low and threatening. At his signal, all of his men, except the one holding the woman, moved forward.
"It is not yours to take." The commanding voice from behind them had the captors turning.
Valeria had watched the confrontation, waiting for a chance to act. As the men moved forward, past her, she seized the opportunity, knowing that Larabee's team would react quickly.
She reached beneath the paneled coat and gripped the weapon strapped to her thigh. With a flick of her wrist, the blade extended to its full length even as she kicked back, connecting with the knee of the man holding her. Feeling his grip loosen, she stepped forward and spun around, the blade rising as she did. Her spin continued even as the severed head bounced and then rolled to a stop.
She did not see the body as it crumpled to the ground; the warrior was already charging her next victim. Gripping the handle, she whirled the blade above her head, the length carrying it in an arc over her head and descending downward to rake through the exposed stomach muscles of the nearest man, as he stood frozen, staring at the decapitated body. He made a grunting sound as his bowels tumbled out the gapping slash.
Larabee's team recovered from the gruesome sight first. While Chris, Vin, Buck, and Josiah retrieved their weapons and opened fire on the stunned assailants, Nathan pushed Ezra toward the cavern entrance and took up a defensive stance in front of the man. Ezra had placed the ZMP to the side of the entrance and now joined Nathan in the doorway, both men ready to protect the very thing they had come for should their companions fail.
The fight was intense, but short lived. Larabee's team eliminated seven men. The tenth man, the man that had spoken, met his demise on the tip of the lethal blade wielded by the woman. As the last man fell, she gazed on the battlefield, looking for any further threat. Finding none, Valeria cleaned the blade on the pant leg of her last victim before collapsing the blade into its hilt and replacing it in its sheath.
Wilmington stepped up, stopped behind Larabee's shoulder, "We got no time left, Chris, we gotta go, now. Them boys are running out of time."
Larabee turned to look over his shoulder at his old friend. There was a hint of controlled panic in the blue eyes. Knowing the man was normally cool under fire, he wondered at the intense emotion that the man was displaying, but looking into the intense blue eyes, a feeling suddenly washed over the team commander and he blanched at the reverberating cry in his mind. He instantly understood the second-in-command's urgency. The SOP leader nodded and received a nod in return.
No further words were spoken as they gathered together and left the area, leaving the remains of the men to decay and be claimed by the land.
"You son of a bitch, get him out of there," JD slammed his fists hard against the force field, sending shock waves of color floating outward from where his hand impacted the barrier. On the other side, floating in what JD could only describe as a womb, was John Sheppard. "You're killing him," JD screamed over at the woman silently watching the major's body violently convulse, suspended inside a sac of what appeared to be amniotic fluid. The major was having another full-blown grand mal seizure, his third in the last two hours. And all Dunne could do was watch, unable to reach the closed off mind of the other man any longer.
Sheppard's body convulsed for a few more seconds, before settling back down. John never cried out or regained consciousness from his ordeal. JD leaned both hands, palms flat, against the force field, lowered his head, saying a prayer, his fingers tingling from the energy running through the field. The first time JD touched the force field, he had been thrown through the air, landing against the wall of his cell. The second time, it tickled as energy ran up and down his arms. The third time was more like a lover's caress, softly brushing against his fingers.
However, no matter how hard JD pushed, begged or pleaded, the force field would not budge. Mary now circled the womb encasing the major, monitoring Sheppard's condition while laughing at his attempts. JD closed his weary eyes; the major had settled back down, his black hair floating in the fluid, eyes open, but not seeing. It was as if he was in an Ancient's version of a sensory deprivation tank…a tank from hell in Dunne's opinion.
JD had panicked at first, seeing the major's naked body floating, curled inward like an eight-week fetus. John's lips were slightly open, but his lungs failed to expand. Oxygen flowed through what looked like an umbilical cord attached to the man's abdomen. It had a red hue to at that led JD to believe that blood pumped through it and into the major's body, before returning to the placenta-like walls. JD could only guess that was where carbon dioxide and other waste products were taken and discarded.
The young man estimating that the major had been in the tank going on two days now. However, JD couldn't be sure. The major appeared to be losing weight; his eyes were circled with dark smudges, his cheekbones sunken from dehydration. Dunne had no idea that he also was suffering from lack of nourishment since the Goa'uld had not fed or offered water to either of the men since their capture. JD figured it was a way to control them, keeping them weak and on the verge of delusions. It was becoming harder to tell the real from the imagined, to remember where they were and why.
"Ah… so soon," the host, and glanced over at JD, "my infant, is starting to wander within his mind again, we must make sure his hallucination is a strong as the last one too," a wicked smile stretched out across Mary's thin lips.
Standing at the base of the sac, Mary pushed her arms into the artificial womb. The sac sealed around her upper arms as in her right hand, she gripped a syringe with her slim, long fingers. Mary's other hand resting on John's chest, her fingers playing with the dark, soft hair running down his abdomen. Sheppard's back arched upward as Mary shoved the needle into a vein in his arm. The hallucinogenic drug took effect immediately, sending John's body into a violent convulsion. Sheppard's limbs flung left and right, smacking into the inner wall of the sac.
JD bit his lip and silently cried out as the image running through Sheppard's mind once again hovered over the artificial womb as a holographic display.
John's blood burned as the drug flowed through his veins, seemingly boiling him alive. He took a deep breath and sucked in liquid. Panicked eyes shot open. He was drowning; his fingers clawed at the transparent bubble serving as his tomb. His lungs hurt from lack of air and opening his mouth, John swallowed the bitter fluid, causing his throat to constrict and seal. Exhausted, John's world darkened and he began to relax until the sound of JD's voice forced him to open his eyes and try once more to escape his watery tomb. Sheppard swung his arm back, his hand folded into a fist, and punched the wall of the sac, over and over, until he finally breached the wall lining.
John's body followed his arm through the shattered membrane as the womb flushed Sheppard out like a newborn baby, depositing him onto the cold floor on his stomach. He shivered as he took in that first breath of air, his lungs burning. Arms trembling, John pushed himself up to his hands and knees, retching as his body forced the unwanted fluid from his system. Sitting back, his knees tucked under, John glanced around the darkened room; he wiped his mouth with his hand, flinging the wet substance hanging for his chin across the cell.
Taking a deep breath, he slowly released it, hoping to calm his fast beating heart. John forced himself to relax, placing his hands on his thighs, only to snatch them around his chest when he realized he didn't have a stitch of clothing on. Rocking back and forth, the major waited for his eyes to adjust to his dark surroundings.
Jerking his head around, he caught a glance of motion out of the corner of his right eye. His body shifted, facing the moving shadow. "JD?" John hesitantly called out.
"John."
The major instantly reacted to the hand grabbing his shoulder; his dominant hand grabbed the offending wrist, bending thumb and fingers while twisting the hand at the same time, forcing a howl of pain from his attacker. Next, he swung his elbow back and up, connecting with his attacker's chin. With his assailant down, and rolling in pain, John scrambled to the nearest corner, squeezing his back against the wall, both knees pulled to his chest and his arms wrapped around his head. His body trembled as his exhausted mind flashed back to his time spent in captivity, surrounded by the enemy in the hellhole terrorists called Afghanistan. Rocking back and forth, Sheppard waited for the attack to begin.
"Goddammit, Sheppard, that hurt." JD yelled between painful breaths, cradling his swollen wrist to his chest. The boy sent John a hateful look before climbing to his feet, "You son of a bitch, you did that on purpose." JD strolled over to stand before the major, glaring down, his eyes dark and angry, his hands balled into fists at his hips. Seemingly forgetting about his injured waist, the ex-Delta team member smacked Sheppard on the side of the head.
John's head snapped hard against the wall; dazed, Sheppard's body swayed as he tilted his head, looking up into JD's face. Hazel eyes met two dark holes of hatred and John sucked in his breath, "Sorry, didn't know it was you, kid," the major stuttered out. "I wouldn't hurt you for the world, JD."
"Sure, bet that's what you tell all your men." JD hands waved around the cell, "Don't worry, I'll watch your back. Yeah, right, you'll watch my back. More like you'll stab a knife between my shoulder blades as soon as I turn my back on you." The younger soldier kicked the major's legs out from under him, sending John's butt to the floor, "You're nothing but a worthless piece of shit," kicking the major until the defenseless man lay curled against the wall, hands over his head, knees drawn up to protect his private parts.
"Sorry…sorry, God I'm sorry," John murmured painfully.
"Oh, you'll be sorry, pretty boy," Sheppard squeezed his trembling body tighter against the wall as a pale hand caressed his cheek.
"No…no…no," the tortured pilot chanted.
"John," Delicate fingers ran down his chest, "you need to stop hiding." Confused and pain filled eyes peeked out from under trembling arms.
"Mary?" bewildered, John rubbed his eyes, one moment it was JD, yelling and kicking at his defenseless body. Now, the female pilot knelt before him, seductively circling her delicate fingers over his chest and down his abdomen. "what…what are you doing?" his body stiffened, as she ran her hand down his thigh then back up between his legs. "stop…stop…this isn't right. Chris…"
Mary bent over and locked her lips over John's, sucking away his breath, "Oh my sweet infant, Chris gave you to me."
Shaking his head in denial, Sheppard fought the hands grabbing his legs, pulling them away from his body. He cried out in horror as he felt the weight of the woman straddling his lower hips. "Yes, my infant, cry out," she raked her fingernails down his thighs, leaving a trail of blood. Sheppard screamed out in terror, "Again my infant, I want to hear your sweet voice crying out in terror." This time, her nails clawed their way down his chest, carving into his skin.
"No…no…no…" John cried, fighting against the weight holding his body down.
A deep, double layered laugh echoed around the cell, "You will be mine, infant." John caught the white flash of Mary's eyes before his world tilted and refocused.
"Not happening… oh god," John beseeched, JD young male body now replaced the woman's. Sheppard cried as rough, strong hands ran over his body until they settled on his ankles. "JD no…promised, to take care of each other, don't do this," John begged as his legs were pushed up to his chest.
"I lied," JD whispered into Sheppard's ear, "you're not worth saving."
John's eyes rolled back and, tilting his head, he cried out, "Matris, commodo, succurro mihi" as JD lowered his body over the terrified pilot, "Planto is subsisto, commodo, matris, planto lemma subsisto."
