Strange Bedfellows

A/N: Sorry for the delay and thanks for your patience. I figured out why my computer decides to die randomly... it overheats. So as I am writing this, my laptop is sitting on a bag of frozen veegetables, thus fixing my computer but ruining my meal. See what a good author I am? Sacrifing my dinner for you guys all in the name of writing... what a bunch of crap, lol!

I'm still not pleased with this chapter, but I figured you guys have waited long enough, so here it is. The pace starts to pick up in the next one and in the chapter after that, and following those will be a turning point or climax - I'm not really sure which.

Also, due to the number of reviews I've been getting (not that I'm complaining :)) I have to stop replying personally to each one unless someone poses a question. PLEASE don't take offense to this and don't let it stop you from on, I need 5 more to get 100! The 100th reviewer gets... a new car! Wait, this isn't Oprah... I read each and every single one, and believe me, they are great. And hilarious! Apparently, everyone hates Bates, lol. Maybe I'll through a Kavanagh chapter in there for good measure...

Some of you have been telling me of problems getting chapter to come up. The only thing I can tell you is to type in http: URL box and replace the with the chapter number. It works for me when I have problems. If not, leave your email and I'll email you the chapter. :)

Chapter 11: Name, Rank, Serial Number

A dreamless sleep. Elizabeth was surprised; she had thought for sure she would have had at least a dozen nightmares about this place, but instead she had found peace in empty oblivion. She had slept through the night and wondered if John was able to get any shuteye at all. Opening her eyes, she realized she was no longer in his arms but instead lying on the cold floor, his jacket wrapped over her like a blanket. Apparently, someone tucked me in, she thought to herself as a smile played across her face.

Elizabeth rose to a sitting position and looked around the cell for John. He wasn't there. Neither was Tiny, missing from his usual guard position outside their entrance. The combination of those two couldn't be a good thing, Elizabeth realized. Glancing at her watch, which read 09:00, it dawned on her that she had no idea how long he had been missing for. She fought to keep the panic from once again welling up inside her as different scenarios played in her head, none of which she wanted to consider as a viable possibility.

Rising to her feet, Elizabeth walked to the entrance of the cell and peered down the hallway. She could see nothing, yet her ears picked up the sound of a door being slammed shut in the distance, followed by hisses and yelling. She couldn't make out the words, but from the tone of the voices alone, they were undeniably threats. Elizabeth clutched his jacket tighter. Soon, footsteps replaced the hostile noises.

Unlike before, she stood her ground, refusing to back feebly into the corner. Seconds later, Tiny appeared in front of the cell pushing a stumbling John along. Hergon was there as well, doing nothing but watching as the entertainment unfolded before his eyes. The Wraith shoved John through the entrance, and he would have fell to the floor had it not been for Elizabeth's quick thinking. Luckily, she was able to catch him before his face met the ground.

Hergon looked on, his ever-present smug expression still displayed on his face, as Elizabeth struggled to lower the man to the floor. Satisfied that the semi-conscious pilot was propped up in the corner well enough not to topple over, she turned her head and threw an accusatory glance at the Klaan commander. She was pleased to see the damage she had caused him warranted at least a few bandages. Elizabeth wished she had a scathing insult to hurl at him, but her mind was more preoccupied with the condition of the man in front of her. It was always John who had the witty retorts… now she wished she could see some of that same fortitude instead of this shell of his former self.

Kneeling down and running a hand through his blood- and sweat-caked hair, she uncovered a gash several inches long just above his right ear. The bleeding seemed to have stop, but a dried river of crimson trailed down the side of his face. There were bruises, too, along his arm and it appeared a black eye was beginning to form.

Noticing her concern, he gave her a small reassuring smile. "I'm okay," he attempted to say, but his throat was so parched no sound escaped.

She frowned; he obviously wasn't okay. And although his eyes may have told her not to worry, the occasional grimace that played upon his features when he thought she wasn't looking told her otherwise.

"If you wish this to stop," Hergon proposed, "you simply need to give us the information we seek. It is as easy as that, Dr. Weir."

She closed her eyes. Had she not promised John, she wondered if she would give Hergon his precious information just to see this torment stop. Of course, there was no guarantee he would release them. In fact, Elizabeth presumed he would continue to use them until he carried out his entire plan. Whatever that may be…

Taking her silence as an act of non-cooperation, Hergon smiled and said, "Very well. If you change your mind, you know where to find me." He turned and walked away confidently.

Turning her attention back to John, she watched his eyes trail Hergon down the hall. A look of contempt registered on his countenance. He did not even flinch as she placed a hand on his forehead. He felt warm.

"Hey, are you okay?" she asked, not sure if she wanted to hear the answer.

John turned back to her. "Yeah, I'm fine. I just need to rest, that's all." At least my voice is beginning to work, he thought.

She sighed, knowing he was lying to her. He always did when it came to his well-being. "What happened?"

He looked at her, unsure whether to answer truthfully. John looked to the floor innocently. "Nothing."

"Nothing? John, I wake up alone and find you gone for God-knows-how-long, and then you come back battered and bruised? I hardly call that 'nothing.' Now would you please tell me what went on?"

He really did not want to do this. John knew it would just be another cause for concern, and she had enough on her mind already worrying about how she was going to survive. But that stare, the same stare she used when giving an order to a less-than-enthusiastic officer (and that a less-than-enthusiastic officer was usually him), wasn't letting him get out of this one.

He sighed. "They came early in the morning when you were still sleeping," he began reluctantly. "They asked for me, so I went with them back to the same room. I was sat in a chair while Hergon waltzed around the room. He did all the talking; he wanted to know the usual: who has the gene and who leads Atlantis. But I guess he got sick of me because after a few hours they returned me here."

"You should have woken me," she chided.

"Nah, I didn't want to upset you."

What could be more upsetting than this entire situation? she thought. "What about those bruises? And that gash?"

John had purposely left that part out. He didn't want her to know the pain he had suffered; she had been through enough of her own. "They, uh, apparently didn't like my idea of cooperation. The Wraith roughed me up a little, that's all." He shrugged, as if that type of thing happened everyday. "There's more of them, by the way. I saw a dozen or so Wraith and about six more Klaans in the halls." He deliberately neglected to tell her how the Wraith threw him across the room when he told them where to shove it. His head had hit the table, destroying it and tearing a gash in his skull.

"How's your rib?" she inquired.

"Fine," he responded all too quickly.

She wasn't buying any if it. Before he had a chance to protest, she lifted up his shirt and gasped at what she saw. His skin was dark purple where he had broken his rib earlier, but on his right side there were two other similar marks, each just as gruesome as the original.

"Jesus…" she breathed, reaching out her hand to touch the bruise. As her fingers lightly brushed the area, John cringed in discomfort.

"John, I'm sorry-"

"No, it's okay. I'm good," he insisted, pushing himself up with his arms and grimacing with the exertion.

"That's not what I meant…" she whispered. "I never apologized for not believing you back there on the planet. I should have listened to you… I was so stupid-"

"Don't you ever say that. Ever," he affirmed. "You are the most intelligent person I have ever met, not to mention the most considerate and caring. And you know what? That makes you the best CO I've ever had. It takes a special person to run this expedition, Elizabeth Weir, and it's not an easy task… but you've got it. And you're doing a damn fine job at it, too. So I don't want to hear you doubting yourself ever again."

She was taken aback by his assertiveness. He still had faith in her, despite what she had gotten them both into. Surely he hadn't meant all those things he had just said?

"Besides, I wouldn't believe me either half the time," he quipped.

"How can you trust me after all this?" she asked incredulously.

John shrugged. "Easy. You're my boss," he stated and gave her one of his trademark grins.

This brought a grin to her face as well. "And the whole time when you were suspicious of Hergon… I thought you were just trying to be macho."

"You mean I wasn't being macho? Damn," he replied, pretending to take offense. "That hurts, Liz. Really."

She marveled at how he could keep his sense of humor and carefree nature about him in spite of the circumstances. Elizabeth smiled at him, glad once again to have him with her.

"We'll get out of here. You know that, right?" he asked. Ever since they had been taken, he had noticed her crushed demeanor. One of the first things he had gone through in basic training was a hostage interrogation survival course, and the single most important concept his teachers had stressed was the necessity of a positive attitude. John was beginning to fear Elizabeth didn't have that, and it worried him. Without hope, they wouldn't make it.

Elizabeth stared at him, knowing she would have to lie. "Sure," she replied in a shaky voice. Her failed attempt at nonchalance didn't go unnoticed. John squinted in doubt but let it go.

"Okay…. You hungry?" he asked.

"Starving - you wouldn't happen to have some donuts and coffee on you would you?" Elizabeth pouted.

"Ahhh, I have something better. How would you like to sink your teeth into a nice lemon-flavored Powerbar?" It was his last one. He waved it temptingly in front of her, but she looked less than thrilled. She hated Powerbars. "Come on Liz, you have to eat something."

She begrudgingly took the Powerbar from him and opened it, breaking off half to him and handing it to him.

"Thanks," he said, taking it.

"If I have to suffer, so do you," she replied with a wicked grin.

"You're getting as bad as McKay. It's a good thing he's not here or he'd be accusing me of trying to poison him with citrus-flavored energy bars."

They finished their breakfast in silence, each wondering what the rest of the day would bring. They didn't have to wonder long; Hergon and Tiny entered the cell several hours after their meal. Number Two and another Wraith stood guard outside, each armed with a Wraith Stunner.

"Major Sheppard, if you please…" Hergon stated, indicating the Major should come with him.

"What? You can't be serious!" Elizabeth protested. "He can barely walk after what you did to him this morning. You can't expect him to go through anymore of this, can you?"

"Elizabeth, it's okay… I'll be fine," John reassured her. He took her hand and rubbed his thumb over her wrist, trying to convince himself as well her that they would make it out alive. Besides, he felt they could interrogate him all they wanted to if it meant Elizabeth remained untouched. And luckily for the most part, it had worked out that way. So far.

Elizabeth stood in front of John, determined not to let them get what they wanted. She didn't know what one woman could do against the force of several Wraith and men, but she was damned if she would let them take John without her finding out.

"I can assure you, Dr. Weir, that Major Sheppard will have no need for walking," Hergon told her with a vicious smirk. With that, Tiny stormed toward them, deftly pushed Elizabeth out of the way, and grabbed hold of John's collar. He brusquely jerked John upward and began dragging him toward the exit.

"No, stop!" Elizabeth cried. "Leave him alone!" Elizabeth charged at Hergon and was surprised to find the man not even flinching. She didn't care; it would make it all the easier for her to beat the man to a pulp. When she was within several feet of him, however, Number Two aimed his Stunner and fired at near point blank range. The shot hit its target; Elizabeth immediately fell to the floor, unconscious.

John had seen the entire thing. "Oh, you son of a bitch! I'm going to fucking kill you, you hear me?" He struggled with renewed strength against his captor, determined to get to Hergon, but the large Wraith was too strong.

Hergon laughed at Sheppard's threat. He also noted the obvious concern these two people had for one another, something he planned to use against them later. "So you say, Major," was the unimpressed response. "Now if you will follow me," he commanded, not waiting for a reply as he led them yet again to the interrogation room.

John struggled the entire way in vain. When they reached the windowless room he was shoved roughly into the chair once again. He took note that the table was destroyed from their last session, now splintered into large pieces on floor.

Hergon took his time, walking slowly around the room before beginning. Probably an intimidation tactic, John thought, rolling his eyes. Just like in the movies. He didn't know why Hergon bothered; he wasn't going to get anything out of him. It was silent; all he could hear was the sound of the heavy breathing of the two Wraith that flanked him.

At last, Hergon began, steepling his hands as a sign of confidence. "Major Sheppard. You know what it is I want. I propose you stop wasting your time and mine and tell me: are you Atlantis's commander or do you have the gene?"

He glowered at the Klaan commander angrily. "Major John Sheppard, United States Air Force, 306784159."

The other individuals in the room looked to one another in confusion while Hergon smiled in understanding.

"Major, please do not make more difficult than it already is. Do you have the gene?"

"Major John Sheppard, United States Air Force, 306784159," was the reply again. Name, rank, and serial number. It was all that was required to be given when taken hostage by a foreign combatant. John assumed this situation wasn't too different. Yeah, if you overlook the added bonus of life-sucking aliens…

"I can be a patient man, Major." Hergon slowly walked up to John and crouched to his height. He was barely three inches from his face, so close John could count his pocket marks. "Do you command Atlantis?" he asked in a calm, quiet voice.

John stared right back at him. After several seconds, he slowly replied with, "Major John Sheppard, United States Air Force, 306784159."

Hergon chuckled in amusement. He rose from his crouched position and glanced at up, as if contemplating something. Then, Hergon unexpectedly lashed out with his fist and connected squarely with the Major's jaw.

The blow caught him off guard, but by some miracle he was able to remain seated in the chair.

"Perhaps you would like to tell me what your job is in Atlantis instead?" Hergon asked.

"Major John Sheppard, United States Air Force, 3067-"

This time he was prepared for it, but it didn't make the punch any less powerful. This one was to his damaged ribcage. John stifled a cry of pain, Hergon was delighted to see, and attempted to regain control of his rapid breathing. He shut his eyes and concentrated on the task at hand.

Hergon thought about how to cleverly phrase the next question. "How many do you have under your command in Atlantis, Major?"

Breathing heavily, he replied with, "Major John Sheppard, United States Air Force-"

This one caught his temple. The force of the impact knocked John to the side. He blacked out for a moment and then began to see stars. The whole room was spinning; he couldn't focus. Hergon grabbed his shirt and pulled him back up to a sitting position. Not letting go, he asked, "Just how many pieces of Atlantean technology are there in the city?"

John coughed. He was having a hard time breathing ever since the hit to his cracked ribs. Sucking in as much air as his diaphragm would allow, John replied, "Major… John Sheppard…United-"

Hergon swung a piece of the destroyed table at the Major's head. John saw it coming too late. He attempted to duck but he moved too slowly. The blow hit home. John was knocked off the chair and thrown to the floor by the force of the strike where he landed hard in a heap. The intensity with which he was hit caused the wind to be knocked out of him and his broken ribs screamed out in pain. Once again his vision went black, only this time it was accompanied by the loss of hearing, too. Yet he was still unmercifully conscious and without the use if his senses - a feeling he did not like. John Sheppard liked to be in control, and this was far from that. He was vulnerable.

John coughed repeatedly as he again struggled to breath. His vision was slowly returning, but along with the restoration of his hearing came an incessant ringing in his head, which currently felt as if it weighed two tons. John could do nothing but lay on his side and gasp for air like a beached fish.

"Get him up," Hergon ordered one of the Wraith. The nearest creature reached down and forcefully pulled John up by the shoulders as if he were a rag doll and shoved him back in the chair.

John tasted a bitterness in his mouth. He turned and spat out blood while his eyes remained warily fixed on Hergon, watching him for his next move. Whatever the question was, he was prepared to answer it just as he answered the others.

The commander could see he was getting nowhere with this approach, so he decided to try another tactic. "You and Dr. Weir seem quite close, Major." He stopped there and gauged his captive for a response.

John didn't say anything. It had been a statement, not a question, and John didn't know how to respond to that. He chose to remain silent and see where this went. He had a feeling he wouldn't like it.

"She is a very beautiful creature, wouldn't you say so? Such a fine, pure specimen…."

John said nothing once more but shot Hergon a scathing look as if to say, "Don't push me."

Hergon could see he was grinding on the Major's nerves, pushing him to his limit. He continued. "You know what I think I would enjoy?" He paused to give John a moment to respond but he was met with silence. "I would thoroughly enjoy taking here right here and now in this room, right in front of you so you could hear her screams of anguish as I-"

John launched himself out of the chair at the vile man. It was probably what Hergon had wanted, but John didn't care. He just wanted to get his hands around the bastard's goddamn neck…. Adrenaline his only ally, John tackled the man to the floor. His arm cocked back, ready to strike, but Hergon's team of guards were upon him. Both human and Wraith alike pulled him from their commander and shoved him to the floor. Each took turns kicking and punching him into submission, and although he tried feebly to fight back, he was vastly outnumbered. Several of the Klaans, including Kropol, began to take pieces of wood from the table - some with nails still protruding from them - and use them as bludgeons.

He could feel them at first, but soon he grew numb with pain. A few kicks to his side and his ribs screamed as if they were on fire. A punch to the head and he couldn't see straight. One to his temple and the ringing in his ears grew louder. John didn't know if he blacked out, but the next thing he knew they had mercifully stopped their torment.

Hergon was not amused by John's little stunt and he certainly did not appreciate being knocked on the floor. He looked at the pathetic sight before him and ordered, "Get up."

Either John could not here or could not will his body to work, because he remained motionless on the floor.

"Get up," he commanded once more.

Sheppard picked his head up first, a task in itself was hard enough. He then tried to prop himself up with his arms, but his limbs were shaking so badly with the Herculean task. When he finally got to his knees, Hergon laid into his midsection with his boot and sent him crumpling to the floor again.

Enjoying the torture, Hergon ordered him to rise once more.

John coughed and began to rise to his knees when Hergon kicked him a second time. He felt so weak, so heavy; he didn't know how much longer he could last. And when Hergon commanded him to get up once more, John just lied there in response. He was tired, cold, hungry, and beaten. It took all his energy just to breathe - he doubted if he could make it to his knees.

Hergon smiled; he had finally broken his prisoner. Enjoying the moment, he kneeled down beside the Major and grabbed his hair, forcing his head back into an uncomfortable position. "Now that you are ready to talk, you will tell me which one of you is the commander of Atlantis and which of you has the Ancient gene."

John marveled at his luck. Not more that several months ago he had been in Antarctica running boring transport missions. Now here he was in an alien galaxy known for its life-sucking Wraith being grilled by a human. He was in awe of the irony. John wasn't exactly sure what kind of mission he had signed up for those many months ago, but he was pretty damn sure getting interrogated by an alliance of vengeful humans and hungry vampires wasn't it.

"What is your answer?" Hergon pressed.

His mind was made. No amount of suffering could ever get it out of him. He looked Hergon squarely in the eye and said, "Major John Sheppard, United States Air Force, 306784159."

Hergon was dumbfounded by the man's insolence. Never before had he encountered someone so bold. "As you wish, Major." Hergon then slammed his head into the wall, mercifully knocking him out.

"Return him to the cell," he ordered. "We will try once more with this one, but I would like to move on to Dr. Weir. She will break soon, I am sure of it."

TBC


You wanted a whumping chapter? You got it. No, I don't know Shep's serial number, I made it up. That doesn't qualifiy as a cliffie, does it? 5 more review, come on!