Ok, a few people have questioned why it has taken so long for our man Sheppard to be rescued, and I assure you, there is an explanation coming. Of course the real reason is that until yesterday I had forgotten about this story and it is taking me a little while to get back into the saddle, but there's a better explanation in the story if you'll read on.
A word of warning. This chapter gets kind of dark and despairish (I like making new words) but you can blame my insomnia for that, and the fact that since this is not a deathfic I have to cram in the emotion without killing someone important (which I admit is difficult)
Anyway, enough of my prattling, on to the story!
Memories danced and slid away like small darting fish in a pond, no matter how hard he tried to catch them some kept slipping away from him. He knew he was Sheppard, although sometimes that didn't really mean much to him. He was almost always certain he was a military man. At moments of lucidity he could remember faces and names, three people, a team, a multitude of others he felt compelled to protect, even in his current state.
He knew he was a captive. And he knew that no matter what he could never tell these people what they wanted to know, even if it was something as insignificant as his own name. All other knowledge was secondary to this. It did not matter if he forgot who he was, if all memory of his team, his friends, his family was stripped from his mind, as long as he never answered The Chemical Man's questions.
His sluggish mind comprehended the fact that the pain had subsided, not completely, but then it hadn't gone away completely for some time now.
He heard the sound of a door opening, trying to decide whether it was worth attempting to lift his head to accept the water that was the only thing keeping him alive, and the only reason The Chemical Man continued to stop the torture. It was probably not worth the effort, he doubted if he could lift his head even an inch, and the guards would no doubt be forced to dribble the life giving liquid down his throat like the last however many times it had been.
But instead of a hand dragging his head up by his hair he suddenly felt his body falling from the chair that had confined him for so long. Pain flowed through his limbs as blood flow was returned, but it was dull, somewhat muted pain rather than the white hot agony that usually followed the return of circulation. For some reason he thought that should worry him, but before he had a chance to fully contemplate this thought it swam away, another silvery fish disappearing into the murky waters of his mind.
He was barely aware of hands grabbing him by the shoulders, his legs trailing along the floor as he was dragged from the interrogation room. He wondered why they were bothering to take him back to his cell, lately he had just been left in the chair for what must be days on end, so why bother letting him rest now?
It took him a while to realise that the journey was taking longer than usual, he should have been in his cell by now. He heard the squeal of an iron door nearby, felt a sudden shiver as a gust of cold air chilled him, and felt a dull flash of pain as he was unceremoniously dumped against a wall.
His nose, long used to the smells of a dungeon, caught the scent of fresh air, of grass, of dirt, all overlaid with a smell he had to admit was probably coming from him, a smell of dried blood, sweat, and less pleasant things. His fingers, long used to feeling nothing at all, scrabbled against something that felt a little bit grainy, not that he could really tell anymore, he felt like he was wearing a thick layer of cloth all over his body, all sensation was muffled.
He was outside. Why the hell would they take me outside, somehow I don't think it's for fresh air. Still musing over this new development it took him a while to notice the horridly familiar voice of The Chemical Man.
"... what your name is so I can write it on your tombstone?" The man sounded almost regretful, like an orca apologising for eating a whale calf, or a lion sighing over a dead zebra. The voice sent chills down Sheppard's spine, he managed to shake his head ever so slightly. He knew now why they had brought him out here, why he was against a wall. They were going to shoot him. Somehow the knowledge didn't particularly bother him. He didn't want to die, there were so many things he still wanted to do, people he wanted to see (not literally unfortunately), but there was nothing he could do.
Muscles wasted from weeks of confinement, mind sluggish after agony so intense that all thought was obliterated, energy gone from malnutrition, and the constant thrum of pain just below the surface prevented him from so much as moving. There wasn't much point, he was blind, weak, and no matter what he tried to tell himself he felt a coldness deep inside, fingers of ice reaching into his heart. Each breath was a struggle, with each beat his heart seemed to evaluate whether it should bother to beat again. His own body was betraying him, giving up on him. He didn't have long, he knew that now.
He didn't know how long it had been since he was captured, he had been so sure his people would come and find him at first, but hours alone, blind and in agony had erased what hope he had. Despair, unacknowledged when agony rules, had drowned his soul in the hours of respite he was granted.
"Ah well, an unmarked grave will have to suffice. I have to admit, I'm a tiny bit impressed, you have lasted longer than everyone else, but alas, I fear to further test you would serve no purpose. Good bye Stranger."
At The Chemical Man's words his heart gave a brief stutter, a half hearted fight or flight response, as he heard him give the order for his men to ready their guns. He heard a shot, someone had fired before commanded to, he didn't feel an impact, not even the dull thud that was often the only sign that you had been hit, but he assumed it was because he was too far gone to notice. As he sat there waiting to die he hear voices, breathtakingly beautiful in there familiarity.
"Throw down your weapons!" A sharp barking voice that was Lorne when he was angry.
A menacing growl that could only be Ronon as he heard the sound of weapons being dropped.
A soft yet strong voice by his side, "John, are you alright? Can you move?"
An urgent voice that seemed to flow without pause, "Well of course he's not all right! He's been here for damn near a month, just look at him all skin and bones, they probably didn't feed him well and he's covered in bruises... he looks like crap! Is he still alive? Why isn't he talking to us? What did they do to him?"
The familiar voices called to the one part of his mind not overrun by pain, the faces of his team, they had come for him. He had doubted and yet they had come. Desperate to give some sign that he was still alive, for the moment, he fought to use voice rusted and quiet from disuse. It came out as barely a whisper, which only Teyla who was right beside him heard.
"Came." His mind began to drift, he knew they would do all they could to save him. There was nothing left for him to do, so he let the darkness that had been circling the edges of his subconscious draw him down, so deep down, away from pain and fear, away from light and hope, away from though or memory.
McKay saw Sheppard go even limper than he had been before. "Oh god, is he... did he just... die?" his voice was small, barely a squeak as his concern for the man who he had somehow begun to treasure like a brother showed on his face.
Teyla bent down and placed a gentle hand on Sheppard's throat, trying to hide the sudden fear that threatened to overwhelm her.
"He is alive!" She declared with relief, though her voice was tainted with worry, "For now."
Medical teams rushed towards the fallen colonel. Lorne, relief evident in his face and voice took in the sight, the bound guards, the well dressed man who seemed to be in charge who was white with fear as Ronon glared at him with eyes hotter than any star, his CO, pale and thin after spending so much time in captivity, Sheppard's team, worry and relief warring for control of their faces.
"Alright, let's bring him home!"
Wow, reviews are gold, I got 1500 words for this one just because you all reviewed so nicely, so if you want more chapters, don't hesitate to push the button. This is the first fic I have written that is not a oneshot or a deathfic, so all feedback is appreciated.
