A/N I thank you all again who are following this awful journey of John Sheppard and his team. This chapter could be seen as graphic, so you are warned before you eat that sandwich.....:D
I know it has been a long time between chapters and I am afraid that it is not something I can control at this time. I will not promise a quick chapter eleven, but I do promise that it is worth hanging around for! ;)
Thank you for all the comments on chapter 10, you have no idea how much it means.
Massive thanks go to my beta JBPiggy, whose edits of my chapters only makes them better.
Please continue to comment, and I will continue to write when I can and get the final few chapters to you.
Chapter 10.
Rodney's final words, the absolution he offered, were what gave him the strength he needed to break her hold. The tearing of his soul as he witnessed the light fading from the quirky, annoying, scientist that had become his friend. The forgiveness that he had even on his death bed. All added fuel to the fire already burning within him.
He could feel her struggling to reassert her authority but the adrenalin coursing through him kept her at bay. With her tucked away, cursing and screaming, struggling to maintain control of the others whilst regain her foothold in a dark recess of his mind, he knelt beside his friend's motionless body watching the ever increasing crimson stain spread. McKay's eyes were closed, slack mouth offering no hint of its usual animation.
Sheppard gently reached out, whispering his name, hand hovering just by Rodney's neck, too afraid to finalize his darkest thought. He was so white, so deathly pale that John felt his chest hitch with a terrible sob that shook his entire body. He lowered his hand, shaking his head in disbelief and grief.
He can't be dead, not like this, not after all we've been through. He thought, not wanting to accept the truth but seeing no alternative.
He needed to know for sure. He owed Rodney that much. Slowly his trembling hand reached over to seek out what he knew would not, could not, be there. His hand was a hairs breadth from the awful truth when an almighty roar ripped through the air. Turning he saw Ronon and Lorne fall to their knees as Drin and Daleer broke free from Carsa's control. The roar had come from Ronon, who even now struggled to his feet, his eyes blazing with unsuppressed rage.
John looked once more at Rodney, the grief and the guilt warring for control. His mouth opened in a heart wrenching roar, raw pain echoing across the rooftops.
Before the echoes died, Sheppard was on his feet racing across the roof. He knew he would never be able to maintain the fragile hold he had over the White Death. She would always be there, hounding him, haunting him. There was only one way to stop her and he was hell bent on doing just that.
He ran as fast as he could. His control was slipping and he had to do this before she stopped him. He could feel her clawing at his mind, trying to crush it, mold it, to her will. He just needed a few more moments.
He left the ground, leaping over the edge of the roof into the void between that building and the next. She screamed in his head but oddly he was at peace as he fell through the cold air. She could do what she wanted to him now, for he knew that her demise was imminent.
He heard Ronon shouting his name, shock and pain weaving through his voice, from above. Faces appeared at the edge of the roof, silhouetted against the bright blue sky. He wished he could have said a proper goodbye but he knew they would understand his choice.
Closing his eyes he smiled. Her screams were like music to his ears after the hell she had put him through.
As he fell he his body was buffeted this way and that, spinning and tumbling end over end in a nauseating flight. Opening his eyes again, he caught a glimpse of a building rushing to greet him and on instinct he braced for the impact. Smashing into the building brought a world of pain, a resonating crunch made him yell out as his shoulder dislocated and a bone in his arm shattered, puncturing the skin in a spray of blood. His leg caught on an outcropping, ripping fabric and skin, warmth flooding his trouser leg as blood flowed thickly from the wound.
Although slowing his descent, the building could not stop his momentum completely. His body tumbled down the slightly slanting roof and fell over the edge. As darkness encroached he could see the ground rushing to meet him and a moment of pure peace came over him. She could not hurt anyone ever again. He went to his death willingly if that was the price it took. Closing his eyes he waited for the inevitable, neither scared nor anxious, just accepting.
The fall seemed to be taking longer, maybe time had warped. People say that at the moment of death your whole life flashes before your eyes. Well maybe this was about to happen. Time slowing to cram in all that has occurred in one lifetime into the space of a few brief seconds.
His mind drifted to thoughts of Atlantis, the only place he had ever really called home. He thought of the people he was leaving behind, his team, his colleagues. He thought of the people that had gone before him. Those that he had lost. The freshest of whom being Rodney McKay, more brother than his real one had ever been. Tears flowed freely as he grieved for him and others, the wind wiping them away as he fell.
His stomach suddenly lurched. The sensation of rapid deceleration all too familiar to the pilot. His eyes opened and searched for the thing that dare interrupt his noble sacrifice. Seconds later his eyes fell on a Graiden ship hovering above him. Primal rage escaped in a deafening scream.
As the ships tractor beam pulled him up through the air She began to laugh. Mocking him and his inadequate nobility.
The lack of imminent death brought his body's injuries to the forefront of his mind. His arm throbbed as he cradled it against his chest. His shoulder a roaring agony rivaled only by the pulsing pain in his leg. As he was pulled ever higher he searched out the roof where his worst fears had become reality. Ronon and Lorne were kneeling next to Rodney's still body as Daleer shouted frantically into a communication device. He watched as Drin helped a shell-shocked Teyla to her feet, guiding her to the others. The air was getting thinner the higher he was taken. He had to close his eyes to concentrate on the breathing that was becoming increasingly difficult.
He must have blacked out at some point as the next thing he knew was the dry grass and dusty surface beneath him. Blinking his eyes into focus he took stock of his condition. The pain and the jagged edge of bone peeking out of the skin told him that his right arm was definitely broken. His shoulder had the dull throb and bone deep ache of a joint recently popped back into its socket, probably from the impact of landing. Struggling up onto the elbow of his good arm was a torture in itself, the stabbing sensation of broken ribs adding its chorus to the symphony of pain playing through his body.
What he could see of his leg was scary. The muscle just above his knee was torn almost to the bone, blood pumping sluggishly to add to the growing stain on his BDU's. His vision wavered then, going in and out of focus, although from the blood loss or a concussion he did not know. Closing his eyes, he hoped his body would give out before whoever had saved him could retrieve the White Deaths consciousness.
He heard the whoosh of a ships door opening and turned in time to see four Graiden slowly exit the ship that had foiled his plans. They seemed in no rush, knowing that their captive couldn't get away.
Sheppard's instincts kicked in and the surge of adrenaline that followed gave him strength enough to drag his broken body away from the aliens. With all his efforts focused on them and the weakening of his body, the White Death took advantage and regained control. She blocked out the pain, as it was not her own, and took over the failing body in a final attempt to escape.
She knew what Sheppard didn't. These Graiden offered salvation, but not for her. They wore the garb of Guards of State and she understood with clarity that they were here to finish what should have happened all those years ago.
She screamed at them to stay away, trying to get Sheppard's mangled leg beneath her as she prepared to meet her end on two feet. Sizing up her opponents with the educated eye of someone that has had to kill for survival, she quickly singled out the weakest of the pack. Muscles bunched as she prepared to make her move only to be stopped by a fifth guard she had not seen.
John's body, already overloaded, could take no more. Both sunk into darkness. John welcomed it, the White Death screamed and raged all the way.
"You were warned not to harm him! Get him into the ship!" he said to the others, glaring at the fifth guard. "Be gentle, remember this man does not deserve the punishment she does."
The rocking motion as the Graiden carried Sheppard into the ship roused the colonel. Seeing the four beings carrying him into the ship he began to struggle. The pain that erupted through him tore a cry from his lips, drawing his captors attention. The gentle, soothing, hand on his arm surprised him, as did the words that followed it.
"Lie still. Let us help you John Sheppard." The someone said, "Use what strength you have to remain in control. We shall do the rest."
He could hear her screaming in the recesses of his mind. Hissing and spitting words of venom at this one in particular. Throwing herself at his mental barriers, trying to break through even if it was only long enough to tear that ones throat out.
The kind hand, the words, and even her pure rage, lit a small flicker of feeling within John Sheppard. Even with the gaping hole in his heart he began to feel hope.
"We must hurry." The Graiden said, seeing the strain the internal struggle was putting on the human.
The ship was a larger version of the craft that John had stolen from Tal, slightly wider but much longer. As they entered a long narrow walkway and started heading to the rear of the ship he felt the fear well up within her, she was really terrified now, and John could not help but smile. Feeling his joy at her discomfort she flashed an image of McKay's dying and pleading face to the fore front of his mind, taking the edge of his victory and the smile from his face.
The gentle hand had remained, although offering silent strength and comfort it also gave them early warning if the colonel should lose his battle for control. The bunching of muscles followed by a sharp intake of breath made that hand tighten and others grasp various limbs. Pinning the White Death to the stretcher, the only thing left for her to do was scream profanities and spit curses at her enemies. Her mind control only worked on weak or uneducated minds. Guards of State trained for years to strengthen mental barriers. A race that has an inbuilt ability to project ones own mind, and to a certain degree their will, need people that are immune to such influences. Tested at birth for a certain gene they are then trained till no one can break through their defenses.
Rocking to and fro, bucking for her very life she managed to get a leg free and kicked out, catching the litter bearer square on the jaw. As the stretcher fell she tried to get her feet under herself forgetting that the other leg would bear no weight. As she fell to the floor John's head bounced off the wall of the narrow corridor, leaving Carsa and himself dazed making it easier for the guards to return Sheppard's body to the litter and restrain the White Death more securely.
Through the haze Sheppard watched as he was taken into a darkened room and was vaguely aware as they lifted him into a chair much like the pilots chair of one of their ships. No longer dazed, Carsa used his body to writhe and scream, punch out and seek freedom. John was screaming in pain as his arms and legs were forced into restraints, they worked quickly, binding him to the chair despite his ongoing agony. As he started to black out again, he watched from the confines of his mind, ignoring the words coming from his own mouth for they did not concern him. He instead tried to focus on what they were doing.
Cables were forced into the back of his hand the pain of it searing up his veins like someone had poured acid into them. The reality of the situation finally hit her and she was silent for a heartbeat. But only one.
"NO! You can not do this to me! I am your rightful leader!" She screamed over and over.
A very tall, elderly, Graiden stepped into the room, all eyes turning to him. You could have heard a pin drop in that room as the silence echoed. The White Death projected a feeling that John thought she was incapable of, love.
Sheppard's eyes must have shown what she was feeling because the Graiden shook his head, his eyes pained yet filled with rage at the same time. He placed a cool hand on Sheppard's forehead, and placed his head against it.
"Once perhaps, in another lifetime when you were not the bitter evil thing I see in this poor mans eyes."
John felt the emotions streaming through her mind. Love; remorse; grief. This lasted but a few seconds before once again her heart was filled with hate, with evil. She cursed her mate from Johns mouth, ancient words of promised pain and destruction. Hoping to hurt him as much as his words had hurt her.
"Carsa Dall, I am Rinus Dall. I have requested to serve justice upon you. You have been judged and found to be responsible for the murder of ten thousand eight hundred and seventy-seven Graiden by aiding the Wraith in a culling. You are also charged with the death of three hundred souls on Palido 10. You were once sentenced to death and I am here to witness that the sentence is carried out." Her husband said with finality.
"NO!!!!!" She screamed and turned in the chair, knowing there was no escape this time yet still refusing to accept. There had been a chance she could have survived the fall and made it to a terminal to transfer into it, but this? This was final. This was the end.
A Graiden dressed in a green suit stood off to the side behind a raised console. As he tapped a sequence on the keys before him John was suddenly back in control. It took a moment longer for him to realise that it was silent, as if Carsa had been switched off. The relief left him reeling, only just able to focus on Rinus in front of him. He was exhausted, the pain in his body hitting him in a massive rush as Carsa's control of his suffering was cut off. A long and low groan fell from his lips, the onslaught of sensations almost too much to bear.
"John Sheppard. You have held this entity within you by no fault of your own. We need to remove her from you, but can not guarantee that you will survive this." It was a statement, merely explaining. It had to be done whether he gave his consent or not.
John nodded his head. He had accepted his death as her end when he first leapt from the roof.
"Then it is with a heavy heart John Sheppard, we take the chance of your death with the certainty of hers." The sorrow in Rinus' eyes was not for his wife but for the human that had had to suffer at her hands.
More taps could be heard from the technician at the console and once again the White Death was back, writhing and screaming, her attempts to release herself from the seat in vain, causing John more damage to his already battered body.
"I WILL NOT DIE!!" She screamed. "I CAN NOT DIE! Rinus! RINUS!"
Rinus smiled sadly as he pushed the button that flooded Johns blood stream with a muscle relaxant and anesthetic, the colonels body went limp, his breathing shallow. Sheppard was vaguely aware of more screaming but did not know if it was his or hers. The drugs coursing through his blood stream stripped him of the want to care. His eyes growing heavier before finally they closed and his mind shut down.
The removal process itself was rather a simple matter, a reversal of what had put her in Johns head in the first place. An empty ships brain had been brought in contained in a jar and connected to the console the technician was working from. This brain would search for Carsa within John's mind and would extract all trace of her. Although simple in theory, more often than not, the brain that held both consciousnesses ended up damaged, sometimes from the connection to the bio-mechanical brain and sometimes due to the entity being removed damaging the mind as it is dragged out.
It was the only way to remove an entity that did not want to be removed and still offer the host a chance of survival. It was a procedure that had been developed during the long war, when one side had tried to control enemy soldiers.
This time though, it was the mind of an innocent that was at risk. Rinus knew well the repercussions if things went wrong, but he had no choice. With a sigh he gave the clone brain the order to do what it was brought here to do. He sat with bated breath as the seconds ticked by, knowing the longer it took the less likely the host would survive.
Two lights finally flashed, indicating that the White Death had been successfully transferred from John Sheppard's consciousness into the cloned brain.
Rinus did not know how he would feel at this moment when he had volunteered for this task. As he injected the nerve agent that was designed to break the connections of the neural pathways he didn't feel any sadness. Just a sense of overwhelming relief. From the time he discovered Carsa's betrayal he had felt guilt. Guilty of not noticing what she had been up to. Guilt because he survived when many perished.
When the lights flashed amber he disconnected the brain from the console before reconnecting it to a different one. This one flooded the brain with ten thousand volts effectively liquefying the brain and destroying all that was once the woman he loved.
The White Death was no more.
The Graiden rejoiced, their hair tendrils dancing with pride as they clasped hands to forearms and voiced their elation. It took a moment for them to notice that Rinus stood silently, not joining in the celebration.
His educated hands were unbinding the blood soaked and broken body of John Sheppard from the chair.
TBC.....