Madacran
Chapter Fourteen
Yes. Yes. Take the filth away. Let him die in the desert.
There is a grave in the desert, blown to dust by the hot winds.
See how he stands. Perfection. Pure art. Tanned skin. Toned muscles. Thick black hair. Olive eyes that smile.
Except... except Selemon can never own him. Never. Jocimus denies him.
'Brother, why have we come here?'
Jocimus is bored with him.
There is a place in the desert where Selemon took his lovers. An oasis.
And Jocimus writhes and twists, bound to the bed of the villa. And Jocimus denies him. Curses him. Says he will tell. Mama?
'No. No. That is not the option. The option, Jocimus is to say that you love me. Say that you love me. That is all I desire. Say it. Say it, Jocimus.'
Perfection.
The words that come from the mouth of Jocimus are not perfection.
Let the desert make Joherner perfect.
-oAo-
At first, Rodney thought he wasn't there. Too late? Or wrong cell. The guards must have made some mistake. For heaven's sake, how hard could it possibly be to remember where they'd put their single solitary prisoner? Hmm?
He looked back down the corridor, sure the other cells had been empty. The senators not loyal to Selemon had all been beheaded yesterday in the little courtyard where the stinking body of some hapless slave still swung in the breeze. This was Madacran's equivalent to Death Row, he guessed.
He checked through the bars of the cell again and his eyes found his friend in the shadows. Sheppard was lying so incredibly still in a far corner, it was little wonder that Rodney had missed him. Sleeping or something, and Rodney's head instantly put away, what that 'something' might be.
He felt loathe to disturb Sheppard. It wasn't like Rodney was the bearer of good news or anything. It wasn't as if he was here to free Sheppard. He wished he could, wished he could descend upon the guards, sword drawn, despatching them skilfully into the next dimension like... like Zorro. Well, possibly the wrong movie, but that sort of valour was right. Not that Rodney was lacking in valour. It'd been scary enough actually getting himself here.
Their last good-bye.
And he'd lost count of those times on Madacran when he thought that Sheppard was dead and then found out he wasn't. Actually, now he came to think of it, that had happened a lot on Atlantis too. No. This was really going to be their ultimate final last goodbye. He was convinced of it. The law of averages had just played out. This was it. And life was so unfair.
"Sheppard!" His low call coming out all sibilant through the bars. It was way too loud he was sure. And he gulped so noisily with the tension that he was forced to check the corridor again, making sure he hadn't been heard. Though these prison guards knew he was here. Selemon didn't, and Selemon had spies everywhere.
He whispered Sheppard's name again and still the figure all huddled up in the corner didn't move.
Please don't let him be dead. Though... perhaps it'd be better if he had expired. And Rodney wished, oh so wished he'd had the courage to use that knife in Selemon's room... but... nononono... with a knife... with his bare hands... it'd be... it'd be like... butchering... he couldn't have done it... Sheppard... or even Selemon... it just wasn't in him to do it...
Rodney pressed his face hard up close to the bars. Frantically, shifting from one gap to another, trying to gauge whether there was breathing there, down on the floor, knocking his nose on the metal, letting out an ow! Rubbing the skin and his eyes that watered.
Sheppard stirred with the sound. And Rodney's heart sunk. His eyes could water for a different reason. They'd chained his friend again. He heard the metallic clinking as Sheppard twisted to sit up, to lean his back to the wall. And there was something like half a sigh, half a hiss, like he was in pain. Sheppard was out of the darkness of the floor now and the poor light from the corridor revealed too much skin. He was still naked. And Rodney felt himself redden. Which was stupid. He'd seen Sheppard in his buckskin in the decontamination showers on Atlantis, hadn't he? Seen him on the floor of Selemon's throne room? And in... the gyroscope? Yes, and all those times he'd done the decent thing and had averted his eyes.
"I'm sorry, I didn't mean to wake you." As if... as if at a time like this, Rodney was concerned whether Sheppard got his beauty sleep or not.
"I was awake already," said Sheppard, low and hoarse from his corner.
And now Rodney's heart not only sunk, but was splitting in two. Sheppard had curved himself to the wall, pressing his forehead hard to the surface. If the tight grimace was anything to go by, attempting to ease the hurt he was feeling. Rodney caught a glimpse of the grazes and cuts that criss-crossed his chest and face and swallowed hard. Selemon had taken great delight in informing Rodney, amongst all those other things, that he'd turned Sheppard over to the guards... with residual cer moton still in his blood...
"You were?"
"Yeah."
"I honestly thought you weren't." And he was here to argue that moot point?
"Well... I was."
"I guess you would know, huh?"
"Yeah, Rodney," and Sheppard shifted, grunting with the effort.
"You ok? Oh sorry, stupid question!" and Rodney slapped his forehead and walked off a pace or two. "Sorry! You're not ok! I can see that you're not ok."
Sheppard coughed into the wall. The chains and his whole body shook with the effort. And that answered Rodney's question too. It reduced Sheppard to a sort of panting for breath. How was he ever going to cope with... tomorrow? And Rodney found himself wishing once more that Sheppard was dead already and could be spared the ordeal. And how many times had that happened on Madacran too?
"Why- " and Sheppard broke off, coughing again. It had to be broken ribs. Or the after effects of the drug. Like cold turkey? Or simply the cold of the cell. Perhaps Sheppard could die of a chill before the morning. Rodney was sure that if this was him, he'd soon die of a chill. And he shivered. Perhaps though Sheppard coughed for all three reasons.
"Why did you come, Rodney?" The tone blank and flat. And Rodney's heart now shattered into quarters. Because Sheppard was doing his usual Sheppard thing. Hiding. No, not actually hiding... concealing-his-feelings-type-hiding... and... and... not even wanting Rodney to be there.
'Cats go off to hide when they're ready to die,' his father had told him once, when Muffy, their ginger tom was ailing and had gone missing. 'They like to be alone.'
Well, tomorrow... tomorrow Sheppard was going to get none of that seclusion. Why was Rodney here? He was here to will Sheppard to die? Perhaps when he told Sheppard, explained about tomorrow, Sheppard would die of a heart attack. Because even that would be an improvement on tomorrow.
"I should have brought you something to eat." A quick change of subject. Because, actually, the last thing that Rodney wanted to tell Sheppard was about tomorrow. He again paced the corridor a little. Shook his head a little. Shaking out all thoughts of tomorrow.
"I... I couldn't eat."
"No?" Rodney stopped pacing and eyed up the dark corner that held his friend. "So, they haven't fed you?" he guessed. Not even a last meal. And he suspected they'd not even given Sheppard water. Sheppard's voice had a scratchy quality.
"Not... no... Not much..."
"I should have brought you water." And he looked down the corridor yet again, wondering whether he could go and find some.
"You know, Rodney... it'd be better if you got me out of here..." And he supposed that was as near as Sheppard was going to get to asking for help.
"I... can't," and Rodney's voice choked on the whisper.
"I know. I know you can't."
"Don't... don't think I haven't tried! Please... don't think that."
"I didn't... I didn't... Not for a minute."
"They watch me all of the time! There are hundreds of guards round the place. Seems Selemon is paranoiac of an assassination attempt. My face is too well known. As soon as I go somewhere where I shouldn't, I'm stopped! And I haven't any weapons!" His voice had raised a whole octave, he was feeling that desperate. He doubted Sheppard could ever come close to this level of desperation, however bad he was feeling.
"What do I do? What do I do? Tell what to do, and I'll do it!" And he was appealing to Sheppard through the bars, eyes flitting for his friend's expression in the obscurity of the cell. "If I thought it'd do any good, you know... you know I'd... I'd... lay down... "And this was difficult to say but he knew that it was true. "You know, I'd give up my life for you. I would do that. I could do that. Honest I could. I could get a weapon. But a one-man attack? A one-man Rodney McKay attack? How far would I get? But I'd do it-"
"No!" And Sheppard had pushed himself upright, sending his manacles clanking. He staggered over to the bars where he slumped a shoulder heavily against the wall, heaving in deep breaths. And Rodney knew that this was all painful for him. Both literally and metaphorically. In the dim light of the corridor oil lamps, Rodney saw the defeat, the sorrow in his eyes.
"No," he continued, his voice as rough as he looked. "You don't try anything that might get you killed. The only way we're..." and he broke off, "you're ever going to escape is by staying alive and that means you do nothing, you hear! You do nothing to jeopardize that."
Rodney didn't know where to look. Didn't know what to do with his hands. He felt so useless. He touched one of the bars, absently playing with the cold metal, watching his own fingers. He didn't know what to say next, but the words seem to babble out of his mouth despite himself.
"I managed to slip out once, you know. I went and looked at the jumper again. And that was only after storing up water over several days so that no one would know what I was planning. I even had to bribe Meria with... never mind... so she'd cover for me. You can only spend so long out there. It wasn't enough. I needed another hour. I needed to get out there again. And now I... you... we don't have the time... I'm sorry... oh God, I'm so sorry that I couldn't see this sooner. I should have seen this sooner. I couldn't see the wood for the trees. I saw you there in the desert, and thought... thought it was all over. And now it is, because of my... stupidity. I went blind to the fact that the jumper could be fixed. You weren't around. Usually you do a fine job of putting me right. You weren't around and half the time, I've been in Madacran, I thought you were dead. I'm sorry... I'm sorry. And... And..." he blurted it out finally, "they're coming for you at dawn."
There. He'd said it. And his eyes still wouldn't look at Sheppard... the hard earth floor, the bars to the cell, the gloom of the ceiling above them, the way the oil lamps on the wall hissed and flickered in some draught... anything but at Sheppard.
"I know. That's why you're here." And Sheppard turned his back to the wall, sort of sunk in on himself and closed his eyes.
"How could you...?" Of course, Sheppard always read him like a book.
His eyes had re-opened. "You gonna tell me... how... they're going to..." And his mouth set hard. "Finish this." And Sheppard would be expecting Rodney to say like the senators, beheaded, or like the guy hanging in the courtyard. But this was wrong. This was wrong. Rodney shouldn't be here. How did it help to know all this stuff? Rodney had just gone and made all the agony worse.
"I shouldn't be here. Why would you ever want spend your last few hours thinking about this? Some friend, I am." And he slouched off to leave.
"Rodney!" And the call of his name made him stop and reminded him of why he had come. Though he didn't think he could do that either. Good-bye. He didn't turn, however.
"I just... I just wanted to say... goodbye, that's all... I didn't..."
"It's ok. Tell me." The voice husky and so wonderfully reassuring. Like none of this was happening. Like they were back in Atlantis. Like Rodney was simply struggling with some math problem and wanted to throw the towel in. And Sheppard was there with words of encouragement. Strength. Sheppard's strength that Rodney had missed so much. Sheppard didn't deserve this. And he hadn't deserved what had happened to him in Selemon's room either.
"Romans... um... how well do you know your history?" He was still reluctant to explain. He was still going to beat around the bush. He just knew he would. Because... how do you explain this? And neither would he return to Sheppard's side, sensing more than seeing that Sheppard shook his head at the question.
"The Romans. The Romans. Madacran is the closest we've seen to the Romans. So it isn't surprising that they have the same way... of... of..." No. He couldn't tell him.
"Rodney, I'd like to know."
"Of course, there's a pre-execution scourging... just to whet the appetite. And they weren't the only ones for a predilection towards... um..." He feebly came to a halt again, and then took a deep breath, turning round to Sheppard now and let the words come in one great big torrent.
"The Japanese found it quite serviceable to rid themselves of the odd foreigner and Christian. It's believed the Romans copied the idea from the Carthaginians. Spartacus. You must have seen the film Spartacus? I've always said you were like Kirk, but I didn't mean that Kirk. Well, actually that only happened in the film. Spartacus died in battle, they thought. Body disappeared you know. With the Romans, it was always slaves and robbers. Nobles were always beheaded. Like the Senators yesterday. It wasn't always a Christ thing. You know, nails. Ropes. They usually used ropes you know. Nails were too precious. The... the... well, it lasted longer that way. Out in the sun. A place the other side of Madacran." He'd been rattling off facts ten to the dozen. Like he did when he was panicking. Truly panicking. Wringing his hands even.
"Rodney. The point..."
"Damn, Sheppard, are you completely brainless? I know they've knocked you about. It's crucifixion! Sheppard! They're going to... crucify you!" And no, he shouldn't have been that sharp with a condemned man... but... but... there were actual tears in Rodney's eyes now... surely he could be forgiven... huh?... huh?
"Crap, Rodney."
And Sheppard slipped down the wall till he was sitting again, drawing up his knees, resting his manacled hands across his middle.
Rodney sniffed and rubbed at his nose and eyes. "Yeah, crap." And now what could he say? What would be going through Sheppard's mind now? Crucifixion...
"I... I didn't think... I thought Selemon wanted me alive... I thought he was just going to let me rot here."
"I believe the plan is still to persuade you to swear that... um... oathy thing to him." And Rodney got himself down to the ground too and leaned on the bars. Back to John. Talking to him over his shoulder, knowing that Sheppard would prefer it that way. Not too close but close enough for some human comfort.
But the whole situation was so depressing, with no way out. What room was there ever going to be for comfort? They were both sitting there on some filthy floor... when did they ever clean this place?... resigned to the short future that lay before them.
"Selemon wants that oath now. He really didn't need your little slave rebellion. Sort of interfered with the universe domination thing he's got planned, you know? And... And... the way of all megalomaniacs, he's jealous of rivals. You know that it's rumoured that he killed his own brother and most of his peers?"
"Yeah. Heard that one."
"You could always give him what he wants-"
"No!" And Rodney jumped slightly.
"Sheppard-"
"I said no!"
"You don't have to mean it. It just buys time-" He twisted round to look at Sheppard.
"I said no! There's too many..." and Sheppard shook his head. "I can't believe you're suggesting this. There's too many other lives at stake here. Those that have been lost already... too many of them... If I give in, what would they have all died for? I'm not about to give that man his glory. It'd be like handing over the surrender of all those still left to fight."
"And you think there is anyone left?!" shrieked Rodney. Sheppard looked up surprised. Rodney bleakly returned to looking at his feet.
"I'm sorry. I just don't want to... lose a friend. It seems like it's for nothing. Everything to others. Nothing to me. Does that sound selfish?" And he cast a fleeting look back at Sheppard. "They're going to crucify the other forty nine too, your fellow rebels, well, they were going to anyway. You just make up the numbers to a round fifty, I guess. But can you ever get a carpenter here if you wanted a door fixed? Sorry... bad joke... sorry..."
A silence followed that Rodney tried to break.
"I hate Madacran," he said.
Sheppard made no reply. Rodney supposed he must hate Madacran too but he was still going to die for its people, for a cause that wasn't his own.
It was time to leave and Rodney stood without the will to do so. This was it then. The final good-bye...
"I have to go. I bribed the guards with ivis but they still weren't prepared to let me stay long. Pity it's wasn't enough to get them drunk." It showed that Rodney had been thinking along those lines.
"Yeah..."
"Tomorrow... tomorrow... I have to be there... Selemon... he... um... wants me at his side... he... he expects me to watch..." Though he couldn't... he wouldn't...
Rodney drew nearer the bars. "I could get a knife. From the kitchen. I could. I'll be right next-"
"No, Rodney. We've been through this. Promise me you'll do no such thing. Promise me you won't endanger your own life." Sheppard struggled upright again, desperate to drive his point home, and Rodney turned away, not embarrassed as such. He simply hated seeing his friend this way.
"And... and... that's an order." Tall and proud and straight as he could ever be.
"It might work! The whole thing would fall apart if he were dead! It's not as if anyone actually likes the man!"
"And it might not. Promise me you won't try! Promise me, Rodney!" And Sheppard reached through the bars, his chains rattling and stopping him just within reach, grabbing at Rodney's arm. "Promise me!"
"What do I do then?" Rodney asked miserably, seeing but not taking in, the filthy, bruised and cut hand.
"You just have to wait some more... a while longer... rescue." But it'd been too long...
"Rescue? It isn't going to come now, is it?" Not for Sheppard for sure. "I have to go," repeated Rodney, looking down the corridor, his vision sparkling as the lamp-light caught at the moisture in his eyes. He wiped them again.
"I know, you said." And John let go, swallowing hard on his own... grief? Grief for himself that the John Sheppard luck was finally going to run out.
"I... I don't want to... say... goodbye..." said Rodney, gazing down to the floor. "Certainly not like this... no... not ever... we always struggle with this part, huh?" And he glanced up then, knowing there were memories there for the two of them of past goodbyes... of one out on a certain Atlantis pier... sharing beers...
"Rodney. It's ok. Something will turn up. It always does." Sheppard's voice scarcely a whisper.
"Sure. Always does. Gotten this far, huh? Luck's always good." And it was the hardest thing yet to sound sincere.
"Yeah. Gotten this far. So don't..." but he didn't finish. "Something will turn up. I told you. I'm not ready to say goodbye. You've not heard the last from me yet."
Rodney shook his head. "You're asking for a miracle."
"Yeah. A miracle. Here's to miracles, huh?" Sheppard reached out between the bars again and... Rodney paused, understood and took the offered hand. He saw the tears in his friend's eyes but he also saw the crooked smile too. Those assurances again. For Rodney's benefit alone. There was no hope for Sheppard. He could try and escape. Get himself killed that way. Win his mercy killing at the hands of the guards. But that would be all. Not much of an outlook, was it?
"Long may they happen, Sheppard." Rodney nodded, a brave attempt at his own smile in his eyes, on his lips. Playing along with the false optimism that neither man felt or believed in. But hoping it could be true. Hoping that luck could hang in there by the slightest thread.
Sheppard nodded back slowly, releasing his hand, allowing Rodney to leave.
"Rodney... if... you... Atlantis..." and Sheppard couldn't finish.
"I will. You know I will." Because some things just didn't need saying.
But Rodney hesitated before going, his back to Sheppard, looking down at his feet...
His thoughts were of the weapon. And he knew that if Selemon were ever to find a ZPM, if Rodney couldn't ever get the jumper to go, if rescue never ever came, then, it was going to be down to Rodney to stop Selemon somehow. Alone. Even if it meant... Well, he'd never actually promised Sheppard anything, had he? But he wouldn't tell Sheppard all this. He wouldn't put Sheppard under that sort of pressure to cave in.
"I guess... I guess, I'll see you in heaven then," murmured Rodney, walking off finally into the darkness.
-oAo-
Jaleen by the pool. 'I can help you.'
'How can you help me? No one can help me.'
He woke in the semi-light and panicked. Stiff limbs painful with the sudden movement. No. No. There were probably hours left yet.
He'd had nightmares again... of Rosie, the desert and secrids... of Jaleen... of struggling in the cage and Selemon laughing at him... of Seldric swinging in the wind... except... it was probably him swinging in the wind and there'd been nothing he could do about it.
Reality wasn't so much better.
Easing himself up to a sitting position, wincing with the pain that he felt inside, Sheppard wrapped his cold arms around him as much as the chains would allow, giving himself a hug of sorts... and remembered the way he'd pity-cried himself to sleep. Ashamed nearly. Not as much as the shame of the last couple of days... couldn't come close. Only death might ever wash that away, he felt dirtied, sullied enough.
Something would work out. Yeah. And he slid over to his side again and curled up fetal-fashion trying to instil some warmth, some... comfort from somewhere.
At least, they'd come and fed him properly. Though half the meal still lay uneaten. He guessed that was down to Rodney. He owed him one. Sometime...
Something would work out.
Perhaps he should give Selemon what he wanted? That would give Rodney time to work on the jumper. No. Sheppard was convinced Selemon would still kill him. It'd make little difference.
Anger flared up. And he twisted over restlessly. Lifted a fist to strike the wall. The hand tugged back, restricted by its chain. This wasn't fair. He'd only ever wanted to get back home... no... Atlantis... home... yeah, and funny how his mind confused the two.
He looked at the cell from this low sideways angle. The way the fading light of the oil-lamp flickered across the ceiling.
'My days are past, my purposes are broken off; even the thoughts of my heart.' And he remembered his mother's funeral. Those words. Read from the Bible. Job. Like only yesterday. And memorial services since.
So now what? Was he supposed to put things right between himself and God? Was he ever that religious? He'd been hauled to church every Sunday as a boy. Had fidgeted in his seat. Knew about reverence and proper decorum but guessed that was as far as it went.
He'd faced death before. Heck, he'd faced a slow death before, at the hands of Todd and Kolya. Mostly, events moved so fast, like attacking a hive ship, he'd just jumped headlong in and had never really had the chance to think about it, his mind always looking for ways to escape. He guessed, he was naturally a survivor. And a guy could get so used to that. But he was just in the wrong line of work. Death, cut off in his prime was probably always going to be inevitable and he'd just accepted it.
He hoped, had faith they'd be something beyond death. 'See you in heaven,' Rodney had said. If not, well, he wouldn't know anyway. He supposed that's how things stood with him. But his conscience was clear and he guessed that was the most important thing of all.
The one regret was Rosie.
If he had his life over, he'd do a lot of things differently. But he'd definitely not do that again. Damn, he wouldn't even have allowed Kelsoe to leave Atlantis. He should have stopped him. He shouldn't have been so soft on the man. And his memories went back to those days in the jumper. Perhaps he'd been condemned to hell already over Rosie... perhaps he was being punished now and what he'd experienced at the hands of Selemon was some sort of divine retribution. It felt like it.
Death by crucifixion.
And his stomach clenched so hard at the thought that he felt he could throw up. He jerked up his knees tighter, willing the nausea and warm clamminess at his face to pass.
Hell, he so wanted this to be over...
He remembered the crucifixes he'd seen in churches and chapels the world over. Tomorrow... today, he was expected to die like... that.
And the tears welled again. God, but he was so low. And he fought them back. He'd got to do better than this. The lack of sleep, food. The abuse and the drugs. All wearing him down. Yeah, he could excuse it.
He rolled over onto his back, wincing at the way the floor scraped the skin there. Buck up, John, it was going to hurt a lot more soon.
He watched the light throw its shadows across the ceiling once more. Like the endless movement of waves across the sea. Or the dappled shade of trees. Imagine the trees rustling in the wind... And he cried silently again. Because of all that was now denied him. Friends he would never see again. And he dragged a hand across his face. Strength. He needed strength to face the morning. He allowed himself to be soothed by images on the ceiling. Listening to the trees rustling in the wind... sleeping... listening to the waves washing around Atlantis...
The aurora trees whispered overhead. Jaleen by the pool. 'I can help you.'
'How can you help me? No one can help me.'
'You are seeking something. I can help you.'
'How can you help me? No one can help me.' He didn't even know he was hunting around for anything. He guessed he might have been, glancing down at the grass at his feet.
'Your friends search for you still.'
Atlantis. And the waves crashed around the piers. Atlantis. And the city sunk beneath the sea, until every last tower disappeared from view. It was lost to him. He was never going back.
'How do I know you're not just kidding me?'
'I am in you. It is our union. As long as I am able, I cannot allow you to come to harm.'
He could stop looking now. He knew again what it felt like to have hope. Knew again what it felt like to have the strength to carry on.
'I don't deserve it,' he said. Rosie...
And saw a crucifix in his hand and knew what he had to do...
-oAo-