The Tatterdemalion

A/N …Thank you for all your reviews and messages, very much appreciated!...

(sheppardlover928 - at last, here is the answer to why the Wraith wanted a Clone … da da daaaa.)

Hope 2021 is a better year for everyone.

Chaptr. 11 – Saving Sheppard

John Sheppard knew he was falling. Even though, when he hit the ground, disbelief shocked him into wondering how he had ended up lying on the forest floor. Trying to raise himself up again brought pain filled memories to the surface and it became all too clear when a strangled moan escaped out of his open mouth that he was hurt and in pain. Throw in tired to the bone and light headed and his present state was summed up. A gentle shake of his shoulder and he turned his weary head towards the shape in front of him.

"Colonel, please, get up!"

He heard him, knew that somehow his words were important, but the comfy pillow of moss under his head lulled him into thinking he was lying on a nice comfy bed back in Atlantis under Carson and his team's ministrations.

"It's not far to go now." Girvan said knowing he was lying but reckoned the man lying on the ground at his feet needed a little incentive.

Reality bit hard and Sheppard allowed his bleary eyes to look up at the young lad and managed a smirk.

"Think you said that a while back." He struggled to raise his shoulders, hand hanging over his torn side. He shrugged aside Girvan's offered help of a hand up, knowing the boy was himself wounded in the shoulder and he needed the other one to lean on occasionally…hell, all the time, so he struggled up unaided.

"Must have tripped on something. Come on let's go."

Girvan looked behind him to see what Sheppard had fallen over but could see nothing but dense moss and a collection of leaves and needles. He sighed and knew that Sheppard would not hold out much longer if he was falling down due to his weakened state. His own pain aside, it was vital they made it to Bartok's old cabin before it got dark and he hoped his Uncle was already there waiting on them, no doubt wondering what had happened to them. Girvan was still annoyed at himself that he had got them lost for a good few minutes until he picked up the path again and reckoned it had been too late to make their way to the place Bartok had arranged to meet Sheppard, but that had been at least an hour ago so he steadied Sheppard as he stood and watched him trying to hide a grimace but they both knew he was unsuccessful at it so Girvan just gently smiled his way and made a show of offering his undamaged shoulder as a support once more.

"Thanks Girvan. You are a good lad. You remind me of somebody I know."

"Really, who?"

"His name is Jinto and…" but a wrong move of his foot sent pain coursing through his body and took his words away. Girvan waited patiently until the worst was over and watched as Sheppard's face went even paler. After a couple of minutes, he could see he had recovered enough to move but neither spoke after that, just conserving their energy for the journey ahead.

Sheppard knew he was in trouble. The boy believed the worst of his pain stemmed from the wound in his side and he let him believe that if it made the problem solvable once they got shelter and could tend their wounds, but it was more than that; way more than that. Every part of his outside body hurt it seemed, but the pain he felt inside was growing unbearable, sapping him of energy quicker than he would have thought possible given his high threshold for pain. What was worrying him, he admitted, was that he had no idea what was happening to him. It was like all his organs were on fire and pulsating in time with his heart, which was doing its own cartwheels in his chest. It stole his breath, his mind went numb with pain and blurred his vision and deafened his ears. If he could only lie down.

Much of the forest was flat to walk on and Girvan guided Sheppard, who now seemed to walk with his eyes scrunched shut in pain, onwards towards the cabin, which was thankfully in sight.

He had grown worried about Sheppard's lack of communication and had ended up wrapping his good arm around his waist but he didn't have the strength to hold him much longer as the man became more reliant on this new way of walking, so it was with a sigh of relief when he noticed smoke streaming out of the chimney of the cabin. Bartok was surely there waiting on them.

"We are here." He panted. "Sheppard. We are here. My Uncle will make you well." Girvan comforted the hurting man.

Sheppard for his part nodded and allowed Girvan to pull him up the couple of steps towards the cabins door. "Bartok!" Girvan shouted, surprised to hear how dry his voice sounded. He coughed and sighed with relief when Bartok came rushing out, fear in his eyes.

"You're here, thank goodness. I thought … oh never mind what I thought." Hand to his mouth he noticed Sheppard for the first time and the state he was in and as he turned to ask Girvan what had happened, he noticed how he favoured his shoulder.

"That Wraith Sheppard called the Commander, almost killed me, zapped my shoulder but Sheppard stepped in and saved my life Bartok, but he was injured as well. He hasn't answered me in a while now and I'm really worried."

Bartok rushed to hold up Sheppard but also touched his arm in kindness. "I'll see to your shoulder in a minute but I want to get you both in the warmth first." Together they manhandled Sheppard into the cabin and foregoing the warmer chairs beside the roaring fire, Bartok shuffled Sheppard over and down onto the couch and took in his clammy skin that was way too pale for a living being. He lifted his legs up and onto the couch, raising them slightly under a cushion. Not forgetting Girvan, he motioned for him to sit down in one of the chairs and help himself to a warm cup of broth that was staying warm nicely in a pot sitting on the hearth. Turning his full attention to Sheppard he started to take off his cloak and noticed the seeping wound and tutted. The Atlantean certainly didn't need that along with everything else that was going on in his body. He was lifting up his shirt when he felt a weak grasp of his wrist from Sheppard's hand.

"Please. Please…don't"

"Ssshh, don't move. You are safe now." Bartok reached over him so he was directly looking into his eyes. Eyes that were starting to open and take in his surroundings.

"Bartok! … Where am …I?"

"You are at my cabin, Girvan brought you here. Can you describe how you are feeling for me Sheppard?"

"I…it's too much Bart'k. Wha'…wrong w'me? I need s'thng for the pain…"

Bartok's voice was low and soothing but worry was etched in amongst it when he watched the man's eyes slowly close again.. "Sheppard, can you hear me?" When Sheppard didn't reply but scrunched his face up, Bartok clasped his arm. "Sheppard?"

"I hear you… Doc." The short sentence wheezed out of his mouth and Sheppard knew with a certainty he was very ill.

"I'll not lie to you Sheppard, what they have tried to do to you is horrible, it should never have gone this far and I am sorry I have been party to it. I have some medications here that will hopefully reverse the drugs they have been pumping into you but I do not know of the outcome…do you understand what I am saying my friend?"

Sheppard slowly nodded. "Just…do…it. But first, I need…to…know…"

For a few seconds Sheppard didn't continue and Bartok gently shook him awake. "What? What is it Sheppard?"

"Why?.. With…a…clone…they already had…the…ATA…gene, took my blood.. Why…my organs…and…?"

Bartok held his shaking hands together between his, trying to put some heat in them, knowing the man's strength was at an end.

'Sshh, save your strength." He took a breath. His next answer might shock Sheppard . The realisation of what they had put together was extreme and Bartok was just realising what a powerful direction this could have went if they had continued their plans with the man. Still could, if he survived and they hunted him down.

So he answered him at last, owing him that at least.

"They wanted a King, Sheppard. Michael envisaged it. Lately the Wraith had not acted as one and had acted differently, some not even bowing down to their Queen and the more powerful of the Queens' got together to form a plan of survival, so when Michael worked his way through their trust, he told them of his plan and assured them that he would be able to secure them with what he had come up with; something new, not to replace the Queens', but one ruler that could take over, working with the Queens' to form a new, stronger Wraith to be born in time." Bartok rushed all the words out hoping Sheppard would get the answer he so desperately needed before he fell unconscious. He noticed his furrowed brow, processing the information and squeezed his arm to continue.

"A King made with the strength of the Wraith and your ATA gene mixed together along with whatever Michael clone had studied, my enzyme and also what I had discovered about crimson, with all these powers, Michael felt he could establish a new race, stronger than anything ever seen before. A few of the Wraith's scientists, hungry for dominance, got together after Michaels demise to continue his ideas. Your clone, Sheppard, was intended to be the new King but unfortunately he was weaker than they had hoped so a plan was made to capture you and your organs would be…well, you know the rest." Bartok stopped talking as he could see the strain on Sheppard's face to remain awake.

Sheppard listened to Bartok as through a tunnel, his hearing starting to fail him. So many other questions he wanted to ask but his strength was running out. Whatever drugs they had gave him to boost the transplant of his organs were in fact now killing him so he didn't baulk when he watched Bartok get ready an injection.

Bartok pressed the plunger into his arm and released its contents slowly and patted his leg, looking down at him with as soothing a face he could muster. "Just relax into it Sheppard."

Sheppard did as he was advised and closed his eyes and let the darkness take him. He didn't know it then, but it would be over a month until he became aware enough to take in his surroundings properly. He would be very ill and taunted death several times over the weeks as Bartok fought to save his life

SGA SGA SGA

Clone John had started up a habit of drumming his fingers on his leg when he was particularly anxious and with no Bartok in sight, he was facing the anger of the Wraith alone; his fingers were drumming overtime. Alarms had echoed down the corridors when the discovery of the dead bodies and escape of their prisoner had been discovered and took up the act of innocence with a shaky start when the one Sheppard called Salty charged into his room, his teeth bared and demanding if he knew anything about it. A shake of his head, with no words, had not been enough and Salty took too long a minute staring at him as if he didn't believe him but he did back down and with a grunt stomped out of the room with Clone John following and pretending to survey the scene for the first time. He feigned annoyance; after all, they understood it was to his benefit Sheppard was found.

His life had not been his choice and he didn't want what they had in store for him, so he had been willing to orchestrate Sheppard's release from his imprisonment when Bartok said his life would not survive the growing agony of the drugs currently in his system. The problem was, his mind was constantly in turmoil with the memories of Sheppard and Michael clashing all the time and lately he could feel the madness that was Michael's seeping through involuntarily. The memories were hazy and faded quickly but he felt an uneasiness within himself and because he was getting physically weaker, his courage to stay strong was getting harder to find. Now, with no Bartok in sight at present, he had no-one to talk to and help him with his despair. The healer had been a strength to him in his decline and was a solid presence in his life. He expected him to return soon so his part in the escape would not be blown but as he had already told everyone he was called out to an emergency miles away, Clone John thought he was safe for now. But what to do? Stay?... or run? Fingers drummed frantically on his desk when he got back to his room later that day until exhausted, he lay on his bed and let sleep claim him.

SGA SGA SGA

On Atlantis, the darkness of night was the worst time for Teyla. She lay in her bed and watched the ceiling, eyes wide open not being able to sleep, John's death playing in her mind on repeat and it was hard to fall asleep even though Carson had offered some pills to help her. She had politely declined but tonight she was tempted as she was so tired but sleep would not come. Something was bothering her and she couldn't quite think what it was. She had felt like this for a few weeks now and it was wearing her down. Her eyes started to close only to jerk open again when the gruesome scene replayed in her mind yet again. Throwing her blankets off of her she swung her legs over the edge of the mattress and reached out for John's black shirt she liked to wear when she got out of bed, not only to keep her warm but she felt he was with her when she wore it. Padding gently over to the window she looked out onto the shimmering water and up to the moons, pulling the shirt closer to her body. The smell of him was fading from it and she squeezed her eyes shut remembering what he looked like in it.

Atlantis, over the last few weeks had remained in some sort of trance. No-one felt the need to move on and maybe that was what was bothering her. It was as if they were all waiting on his return, all ere in denial. Woolsey had even told the IOA and the powers that be of Sheppard's superiors that they did not need to appoint a new Military Head yet. Major Lorne he had considered for the role but before a decision could be made Lorne had advised him that he was not interested at this time as he felt he was not able to fulfil the role on a permanent basis but was quite happy to step in as Acting Commander until such time as one was appointed. Trouble was, there was no-body who could step into the rather large shoes Colonel Sheppard had left behind. Officially he was registered as MIA, presumed dead. His family had been informed but no funeral had taken place on Earth or Atlantis yet, everyone unwilling to accept the finality of it all. And why? Teyla thought. At last, with a jolt, she knew the answer… they had failed to bring back with them his body. Teyla drew in a breath and resolved that tomorrow she would go to see Woolsey and request that they would be allowed to go back to PE5 8CX to see if his remains lay where they had fallen or perhaps find out what happened to them and bring him home to her and all who loved him on Atlantis. His final home.

Decision made, and feeling a little bit better for it, Teyla got back into bed still in John's shirt. She fell asleep immediately her head hit the pillow and for the first time in weeks she did not wake again until the morning light woke her up and she remembered her thought from the night before.

Closure.

She needed it badly and John Sheppard deserved nothing less than for everyone who knew him to share their last respects. It would be hard, but bringing John's body home was something she needed to do.

SGA SGA SGA

TBC