This is my first SG Atlantis fic. So, I'm a bit nervous about posting this story. The T-Rating is due to some violence and angst.

The characters don't belong to me and I earn no money writing this story.

This wasn't betaed.

Please read and review. Hope, you enjoy.

No Way Out

by bakasi

Sheppard lay on the floor. Two men sat on his arms, pinning him down quite effectively. He was helpless against their firm grip, but he struggled anyway. Their hold on him only tightened. He knew that they wouldn't let him go, not until they had what they wanted. His gut twisted into a tight knot as he saw the woman approach. She was quite beautiful. He couldn't help but notice that, even in his current predicament. Her body was scarcely dressed by a gown with thin straps. It did little to cover her slender frame and ample cleavage. She brushed the straps over her shoulders and the gown fell to the floor in one fluid motion. Then she kneeled down, an evil smirk on her lips as she closed in on him. Her hands began touching him in places he'd rather not be touched by a perfect stranger. He intensified his attempts to free himself of the firm grip that held him on the floor. As he looked past the woman, he saw other females, dressed just as scarcely as the first one. They stood in a row, the second one already getting ready to have her way with him.

Sheppard woke up gasping for breath. His body, it seemed, was still pinned down and he fought against the restraints keeping him immobile. Panic washed over him and he struggled like a madman, trying to free himself. With a heavy thumb he finally tumbled out of his bed and suddenly was no longer bound by the sheets he had entangled himself in. It took Sheppard a moment to register that he was safe in his quarters. No evil guys were holding him down, no women were approaching him.

He checked the watch on his night stand. It was almost 4 a.m. Sheppard closed his eyes and ran a wary hand through his damp hair that was plastered to his head. It had only been a nightmare. He breathed a sigh of relief and stripped himself off the last remains of the sheets that were wrapped around him. He shivered as the cool air of his quarters met his sweat soaked skin. His various bruises made themselves known. His entire body was sore. With some difficulty, Sheppard picked himself up from the floor and made his way to the bathroom.

Stripping off his shirt, he stopped in front of the mirror and had a look at himself. His eyes were blood-shot, with dark circles surrounding them. His chest and abdomen were covered in a collection of blacks and blues. It was a good thing they hadn't appeared until after Carson had given him his post-mission check-up. He really wouldn't have wanted to explain them to the Scottish doctor.

Sheppard splashed his face with some cold water to get rid of the last remnants of his nightmare. There really was just one positive thing about having suffered from a nightmare. He'd at least gotten some sleep. Still, he was bone tired. Every joint and muscle in his body was aching, as if he'd recently run a marathon. He felt completely wiped out.

Strangely, at the same time he was so agitated and on edge that he'd have given anything to go for a jog and burn off some of the nervous energy. He stared into the mirror for another long moment, considering if he should just try that method. Maybe it would help him feel better, at least a bit more like himself. The short nights, filled with nightmares, were beginning to take a toll on him.

Deciding that working himself out was worth a try, he turned around and dressed himself for running. Minutes later, he stepped out into the dark corridors of Atlantis. There really was only one good thing about waking up at this ungodly hour. At least he wasn't going to accidentally run into Ronon. The last thing he needed was for someone to witness his complete lack of physical strength. Knowing the Satedan, Ronon would simply pick him up and carry him straight to the infirmary.

Sheppard began a very light jog. But he made it no farther than a few hundered yards before he had to admit that he just wasn't up to anything more strenuous than walking. When he stopped, his legs were shaking and threatening to buckle underneath him. Sheppard steadied himself against the wall and felt a comforting tingle radiating off the city.

"Damn, what's going on with me?" he muttered to himself. "Ancient tech has never wiped me out like this before." The city's hum shifted a bit and Sheppard couldn't help but think that it disagreed with his analysis. He felt the strange need to defend himself. "I know I've been tired before. But it's been three days. I should be feeling better by now."

"Well, yeah, maybe you would if you'd had a single night of decent sleep," a mocking voice in his head replied. Sheppard wasn't quite sure if that voice belonged to Atlantis or to himself.

He pushed himself off the wall and shuffled back to his quarters. Perhaps he would start feeling better, if he took a shower and grabbed something to eat. The nightmares were going to fade in a couple of days and he would be his old self again. Until then, all he had to do was stay under the radar of Dr. Beckett if he didn't want to find himself in the infirmary for a more thorough check-up.

Sheppard entered his room and headed straight for the shower. He heaved a sigh, before he undressed and stepped under the comforting stream of hot water. Somehow, he would get through the day. All he needed to do was stay out of Beckett's reach and he would be fine.

A few hours later, Sheppard suppressed a jawn as he strolled into the conference room. He'd tried to eat some breakfast in the mess hall, but he hadn't managed to down more than a few bites. It would have to do. At least the coffee had helped a bit.

Dr. Weir, Zelenka, Beckett and his team mates were already waiting. McKay was typing away at his laptop, occasionally taking a sip out of his own cup of coffee. Ronon was testing one of his knifes for sharpness while Teyla let her gaze drift across the room. When her eyes met Sheppard's, she smiled at him. He did the same, trying to cover how very tired he still felt.

He could only hope that her lack of a frown meant that he was convincing. He eyed Dr. Becket for a brief moment. But the doctor seemed oblivious to any signs of Sheppard's weariness, so he was probably safe for the time being. Sheppard did his best to appear casual as he flopped down on his seat next to McKay and leaned back.

Rodney looked up from his work. "There was nothing wrong with the chair."

"Huh?" Sheppard needed a moment to get what he was talking about. "But that can't be true! I have never had problems connecting with one of those chairs, neither with the one in Antarctica, nor with the one here. There was something wrong with the chair on MX-650. I could feel it."

McKay frowned. "You felt it?" He sounded incredulous. "Well, that's a reliable source, indeed. Obviously, all the hours of work I put into analyzing the data from the chair must mean nothing, if Colonel Gene-Boy here is feeling that something is wrong."

"I'm just saying that – nevermind." He broke off.

Sheppard heaved a sigh. He hated it when Rodney referred to his gene like that, particularly after the incident on MX-650. And it was no use trying to explain the connection he felt when he was operating Ancient stuff. Hell, most of the time, he didn't know what was going on between him and the city. After all, he wasn't always sure if he was just imagining the shift in the hum he got from the city. And he'd been pretty out of it after using the chair on MX-650. So perhaps McKay was right and he really couldn't know if something had actually been wrong with the chair.

"Oh, no, Sheppard." Rodney obviously wasn't going to let the matter drop. "I do mind. If you're so damn sure that the chair was malfunctioning, give me something better to work with than – I had a feeling there was something wrong."

Sheppard gritted his teeth. "That's all I can say."

"Gentlemen, please," Elizabeth interrupted them.

McKay flinched a bit and reached for his coffee, in an obvious attempt to keep himself from saying anything he might regret later.

Elizabeth cleared her throat, as if she wanted to give anther signal that the meeting had officially started. She let her gaze drift across her team. "We have exciting news. SGA-6 just returned from MX-650. The Rahelians offered us their ZPM in exchange for another visit from Colonel Sheppard."

McKay almost choked on his coffee. It was a miracle he didn't splutter it all across his laptop. "What? I thought they weren't willing to give it up. Any idea what brought on the sudden change of heart?" His face lit up and suddenly he was so full of nervous energy that he shifted on his chair.

Elizabeth just shrugged. "Beats me."

Sheppard desperately tried to keep his voice calm and indifferent, although he felt both hot and cold at the same time. "Did they tell you why they asked for me?"

Inwardly, he grimaced. He knew exactly what they wanted from him. His insides turned to ice. Sheppard hoped that none of the other expedition members noticed the beads of sweat that were pooling on his forehead or the slight tremor in his hands before he clenched them into tight fists.

"Apparently, they want to thank you for saving their people," Dr. Weir said. She smiled at him broadly, completely ignoring his discomfort. "They were a bit miffed by your hasty retreat. The Rahelians told me it's customary that the savior of the city plays a part in a certain ritual. They're willing to reconsider trading with us for the ZPM if you come to complete the ceremony."

Sheppard took a deep breath. "I don't care much for ceremonies."

Dr. Weir raised her brows. Then her expression softened. "I know, John. But surely you see the significance of this one if it's helping us to get a ZPM?"

Sheppard's jaw tightened. "Why don't we skip ceremonies and offer them something else to trade. I believe there are lots of things these people could use."

Dr. Weir shook her head. "They seemed pretty adamant about you completing that ceremony. They insisted that you come alone. I'm not sure they will accept any other offer."

"It's standard procedure that no member of this expedition goes offworld alone," Sheppard said firmly.

Six pairs of eyes fixed on him, each of them wide with surprise. That wasn't all that astonishing, since he usually didn't care much for standard procedures. Particularly, when someone offered a ZPM, seemingly on a silver platter.

McKay was the first to recover from his shock. "Did you even listen to a word she said?" His blood pressure must have gone up several notches, because his head adopted a deep shade of red. "We're talking about a ZedPM. Must I remind you that this is the one thing that could save us from certain death by the hands of the Wraith or the Genii or whatever enemy there might still be lurking out there? And you're bothering with standard procedures? Who are you and what happened to Sheppard?"

"Nothing happened to me, Rodney." Sheppard said testily. "But there are reasons, why we don't go offworld alone!"

"This is the best chance we got since coming to this galaxy. We just can't pass it up!" McKay insisted.

"I know it's not exactly standard procedure," Elizabeth amended. "But according to Rodney, Teyla and Ronon the Rahelians were a very friendly people."

"Very friendly indeed," Sheppard muttered under his breath.

"Using their chair was really hard on the Colonel. I can understand why he would be apprehensive of engaging in a ritual that we know nothing about," Teyla said softly.

"Do we know what kind of ritual we're talking about?" Beckett chimed in. "If they want him to operate the chair again, we should insist that someone is with the Colonel all the time."

Dr. Weir sighed. "I'm not sure, they will accept that. They were pretty adamant about wanting only the Colonel to visit them."

Sheppard got up from his chair. He was seething with anger. "Has anyone heard what I just said? I'm not going alone. No way."

He stormed out of the room, before anyone else had a chance to speak. Sheppard didn't want to hear what they had to say, anyway. His breath came in panting gasps and he launched into a light jog, heading for the nearest transporter. He thought the door open and almost before he had even hit the panel the transporter flashed and took him to a distant part of the city where the sensors barely worked.

Sheppard didn't stop running until his feet had taken him to a platform at the waterside. Leaning against the railing, he was trying to catch his breath. Dark spots danced before his eyes and he slowly lowered himself to a sitting position, before he collapsed.

Damn, he shouldn't feel this shaky. After all, nothing had actually happened to him. Well, nothing much. But he knew exactly, what the Rahelians had in store for him, if he once again refused to perform what they considered his duty.

And now they had offered a ZPM! Talk about pressure. Sheppard leaned his head against the cold metal of the railing and tried to bring his breathing back under control. He needed to get a grip. And he needed a good plan. His thoughts drifted to the events that had led to his current predicament.