Strange Bedfellows
A/N: Wonder why Shep feels so guilty? This chapter answers that. Ah, the angst!
This one took a while to fix up, so sorry for the delay. Plus, I'll be going to a lot of doctors in the next few weeks, so no promises on the speedy updates. :( Thanks for all the... um... words of encouragement that were strategically placed between the words of hate? LOL. Despite what you all think, I do NOT intentionally end chapters in cliffies (well, most of them anyway), it just sort of writes itself that way. And yes, Hergon will get his soon enough and John can take plenty more, haha. And there is and ending in sight, I just have to figure out the pace to it.
Chapter 14: Demons
Click. The sound of the 9 mm's hammer hitting the empty magazine echoed throughout the room.
What the hell? John thought. He knew there were six rounds left in his gun. He should be dead by now - not that he was complaining.
Hergon stared bewilderedly at the weapon. He and the rest of the Klaans had taken it apart several hours ago in order to garner a better understanding of how it worked. Because of their lack of expertise in anything technological, they had only succeeded in removing the magazine by depressing the lever and had counted the bullets. What the other switches and buttons did, Hergon did not know. It didn't matter; convinced he had the basic grasp of the handgun's capabilities, the Klaan leader had reinserted the magazine and brought in Major Sheppard for a little payback. What he didn't realize, however, was that he had to cock the gun after reloading it.
Which was why Hergon was now looking at the Beretta and wondering why his plan had not worked. He had pulled the trigger just as he had seen Major Sheppard do. Why was it not firing?
John noticed at that moment that there was no bullet loaded into the chamber. The dumb shit didn't cock it, he thought with a smile. He cleared his throat and in his best helpful voice said, "You have to chamber a round first," knowing damn well the Klaans had no idea what the hell that meant or how to do it. For now.
Hergon threw the Beretta down in disgust and pulled out the major's own knife instead. It wouldn't nearly be as painful, but it would have to do for now. Pressing the blade against his prisoner's throat, he said, "You are quite the lucky man, Sheppard. It seems your death has been postponed for the time being."
Bullshit, John thought. As long as Hergon's information still eluded him, he wasn't going to kill his prisoners just yet - especially since John had him believing he was the leader of Atlantis. Elizabeth, on the other hand….
"But do not think, Major, that you are excused of your crime," Hergon continued, moving the knife slowly to his arm.
John kept his eyes locked on Hergon's, knowing that if he followed the knife's path as he was tempted to do, it would be a sign of fear. It would be exactly what Hergon would want him to do.
"Rest assured, we will think of more… creative ways to discipline you," the commander said, drawing the blade a few inches over John's skin.
A sharp intake of breath was the only reaction Sheppard had to the wound, much to Hergon's displeasure. "Return him to his cell, for the time being," he ordered, disappointed he had not received a grander response to the pain.
-
John bit his tongue in an effort to stay awake. It had worked the first few times, but the pain no longer kept the darkness at bay. He didn't know if it was simply because of the lack of sleep he had received over the past three days or because of the blood loss.
Glancing down at his left bicep, he eyed the two-inch long gash. It had bled copiously in the moments after Hergon had cut him, but thankfully the blood flow was now down to a trickle. John doubted that it was too serious or that deep, and he had certainly had worse before, but still, he needed to get a bandage over it fast. With his hands still fixed firmly behind his back, however, it would be impossible. He wagered that Hergon had intentionally left his hands in that position. Hergon's sick smile didn't escape John as the man had lowered the knife to his throat. It would be an image that would be staying with him for a long while, haunting all his dreams.
He needed something to do, something to keep him from dozing off. Glancing in Elizabeth's direction, he noticed she was still in shutdown mode, still in the same curled-up position and still murmuring. John decided that in order to do anything productive, he would need the use of his hands. And while he couldn't get the full use of them, he could at least put them in a somewhat more favorable position.
Rolling to the ground, John swung his arms under his butt and brought his feet over and through them. It tore at his ribs and recently-injured arm, but at least his hands were now in front of him. And while it wasn't the most graceful of maneuvers, his hands were now able to unlace his shoe. He attempted to tie his shoelace around his arm as a sort of temporary tourniquet, but with his hands bound, he wasn't able to encircle his arm with the string. Shit. This sucks.
There was nothing jagged with which he could possibly cut his restraints with either. It seemed he was stuck in this position.
John laid his head back against the wall, ready to sleep just come and overtake him. He didn't care anymore. He wasn't going home. And neither was Elizabeth, unless the Klaans decided to be in a charitable mood - which he doubted. There was no way they were going to accept his offer. But then again, if they wanted the information badly enough….
His thoughts were interrupted. Something in the cell was different. Opening his eyes, he immediately searched the cell, half-expecting to see a Wraith. He scanned it a second time: there was the door, still closed, the hallway beyond, Elizabeth in the corner…. That was it. Elizabeth had stopped mumbling to herself and an empty silence had engulfed the room. She now had her head up and was staring at the far wall. But her eyes were lucid; they had lost the hazy quality that had plagued them ever since… the incident with Kropol.
"Elizabeth?" John tried cautiously. He hope to receive an answer that wasn't hostile.
Her head snapped around to him, obviously surprised by his presence. She looked as if she had seen him for the first time. Then slowly, a look of recognition dawned on her features. "John?"
He exhaled heavily and a smile played across his features, the first Elizabeth had seen in days.
"You have no idea how glad I am to see you back to being… you," he confessed. Figuring it was now safe to approach her, he slid the short distance over to her side.
"What do you mean? John, what happened?" she asked.
His smile fell from his face, replaced by a look of confusion. "You mean you don't remember?"
"Remember what?" Alarm began to creep up in her. Elizabeth didn't like not knowing what was going on. It made her feel like she wasn't in control, like she was weak.
John fumbled for the words. He didn't want to tell her what had happened, what had nearly happened to her. He didn't know if she could take it, but mostly he didn't know if he could take telling her. Her subconscious was probably blocking out the memories, and for good reason.
"Oh, uh… nothing really," he tried, but as soon as she gave him 'the look,' John knew she had him. "Well, what's the last thing you remember?"
Elizabeth squinted in thought. She spoke slowly and deliberately as she tried to recall. "I remember… oh my God, John, what happened to your arm?"
He was annoyed at her, annoyed because here she was, yet again looking out for the well being of her people instead of that of her own. It was so like Elizabeth Weir. Despite himself, he had to grin; she often had that affect on him. Thankful for the opportunity to avoid the subject of the Kropol episode, he answered her. "I, ah, ran into a door? A pointy one?" he tried, hoping that would suffice. When it was obvious by the look on her face that it wouldn't, he continued cautiously. "Hergon took a knife to my arm… well, he was pissed at me, let's just say that." John inwardly winced, knowing what the inevitable question would be.
"What? Why?" As she spoke, Elizabeth ripped of part of the sleeve of her shirt - it was torn anyway - and wrapped it around his arm. She tied it tightly, earning a flinch from John. "Sorry," she offered. "And why on earth is your shoestring unlaced? You know, you should really think about double knotting-"
John stopped her with a hand on her shoulder. "Liz… you really don't remember anything?"
She ceases re-lacing his shoe and looked up into his earnest eyes. The way he had asked her, so softly and delicately…. Is he afraid I'm going to break or something? "Please, John, just tell me!" she cried exasperatedly.
John sighed. He didn't want to do this. "I… I was being taken back from the room and… I heard screams… I wasn't sure who it was… well, I knew it was you, but there was this other voice also, and of course since I didn't-"
"John. Please." She noticed his eyes darted around the room as he spoke.
He paused. "Elizabeth, you were almost raped."
Her eyebrows arched in confusion. "What?" she breathed.
"Kropol, he was on top of you when I came in. They made me watch as he hit you… hey, you okay?" He saw as her eyes began to tear up and her mouth was slightly open. She was no longer at him but was instead staring off into space.
"I remember… oh God…" she whispered as she instinctively huddled into a protective ball again.
"Hey, hey, it's okay," he assured her. He encircled her with his bound arms and pulled her into a protective embrace. "You're alright. I'm right here."
Memories flooded back into Elizabeth's mind and hit her full force: the hurt, the fear, the pain. Regardless of how hard she tried, she had not been able to get Kropol off of her. Suddenly, the ache from her swollen knee returned with all its might. Remembering the knife pressed to her throat, she instinctively reached a hand to her neck. She felt a rivulet of dried blood caked on her skin. And as she saw her hands, she noticed her hands were stained red with Kropol's blood.
After a few moments, she asked quietly, "What happened to him?" Why had her memory blocked that part out as well?
"I shot him, and he fell on top of you," he explained, matching the volume of her voice with his own, knowing that the experience had terrified her. Hell, it had terrified him. "I wish I could have gotten there sooner."
She buried her head into him and began to cry as those scenes replayed in her mind as well. Elizabeth remembered how Kropol had fell slowly, landing hard atop her. The dead weight had been enormous, pinning her down to the floor and trapping her underneath the corpse. She remembered she had panicked and crawled into the corner once she had gotten free, but the memories ended there. Thankfully.
Elizabeth sat there in his arms for what seemed like eternity, just crying. Why am I crying? I don't cry. She couldn't afford to show her emotions in her line of work; it meant weakness and weakness meant giving in. But she felt so safe with him there, like nothing in the world could hurt her.
Stifling her sobs, she vowed to stop crying - "suck it up" as Sheppard would say to his team. She wasn't weak; she had never had been and wasn't about to start now. There - she had had her few moments of lamentation, but that was all she allowed herself. Maybe it came from commanding an expedition of mostly military members, but Elizabeth had always felt she needed to stay strong. And now was certainly no exception. Still, she chose to remain tucked away in his embrace, her shelter. She could stay there forever.
Elizabeth was able to piece the rest together on her own. She figured John had been punsihed because he had killed Kropol to save her. "I'm sorry," she confessed.
"Don't be. I'm not." He began to stroke her hair.
"I can't wait until we get out of here."
"Yeah…" John responded sadly. He didn't tell her about his proposal he made to Hergon. If she knew, she would never let him go through with it. She would have insisted on staying with him, and he couldn't have that. John knew he'd never be able to live with himself.
They sat in silence until Elizabeth suddenly spoke. "John, can I ask you… a personal question?"
"Sure, anything."
She chose her words carefully. "Why are you so committed to the safety of others? Why the loyalty?" As soon as she said it, she feared she had been too blunt, be she needed to know. Sure, she had met other military men, but none as loyal as this.
Although she couldn't see his face, she felt his body stiffen at her question. There was no answer for the longest time. She wished she knew what he was thinking at that moment.
Then, unexpectedly, "You read my file. You know what happened," he said almost bitterly, and immediately he wished he hadn't.
Elizabeth pulled away and sat up, looking at him questioningly. Of course she had read his file, just as she had for every member of the expedition. His stuck out because of the supposed 'black mark' against his record - something both Colonel Sumner and General O'Neil had made an issue of. Disobeying a direct order was a crime bordering on sin in the military's book, never mind the fact that he had saved the lives of two Army Rangers. Still, it didn't explain what she needed to know. There was something more to John Sheppard.
"You know about the whole incident in Afghanistan then," he posed.
She nodded in response, waiting for him to continue.
"And you know how I saved the lives of two servicemen."
Again she nodded. Elizabeth could tell by the way he spoke that it was a subject he didn't like to talk about. Come to think of it, I don't recall him ever bringing it up in Atlantis to anyone.
"I suppose they left the part out about how a third one died, right?" He judged by her silence and the look of shock on her face that they in fact had. He smiled sadly. "Yeah, the military doesn't like that part to get out too much."
"John, what are you talking about?" She had never read this before; it was news to her.
He took a deep breath and prepared himself for the plunge into his past. - a past he had been running from for years. "I had been stationed in Afghanistan for six months and my tour was almost over. In fact, I was supposed to ship out the very next day. Most of the time I would run transport missions, ferrying units of Rangers to and from the line. Occasionally I would get called on to take out an enemy ground target or run a recon mission. Either way, they decided I was pretty damn good, I guess, because I was the head of our squadron. Best pilot in the Force, they said."
Elizabeth noticed he smiled at the memory, and she couldn't help but smile as well. She had never heard him talk of his career before Atlantis; it was obvious he missed what he did. He was staring off into space, his eyes taking on a glassy quality as he recounted the story. He seemed a million miles away.
"Anyway," he continued, "two months before the end of my deployment, this new kid gets assigned to my squad. And I mean new - fresh out of the flight school. Second Lieutenant Bobby Lilam, but most of us called him Doogie because he looked like the kid from Doogie Howser, M.D.. A lot of the guys picked on him, you know, for being new. But I was kind of like a big brother to him I guess, watching his back all the time. He said he didn't have a big brother back home and I never had a family, so it kind of worked out.
"So I took Doogie under my wing. At first, he was an awful pilot. God awful," John said, smiling once again. "But I showed him a few things and soon enough he was flying right there with the best of us. I got him out of a few scrapes here and there and he even saved my ass, too, once. The thing I remember most about Doogie was how he always talked about his girl back home. Said he was going to marry her when he got back, start a family….
"The day before I was supposed to leave for the States, the rest of the squadron and I got word Doogie's chopper had been shot down near a remote village outside Kabul. He had been picking up some Rangers who had been on a recon mission when an RPG had hit the rear rotor. Intel suggested he and the two Rangers were taken hostage."
Elizabeth was beginning to see where this was headed, but she didn't know if she wanted to hear it.
He took a deep breath and continued. "Two of our squad members, including myself, were dispatched to search the area where they were believed to be taken. The only problem was that area was the size of Rhode Island. It could have taken days to search. So I went to our CO and told him I had estimated their location from the flight path, wind direction, fuel consumption, etc., but the bastard told me to continue the search as ordered. Actually, he specifically ordered me not to go to those coordinates. It was almost as if he didn't want to find Doogie.
"The next day, my wingman and I continued the search, wasting time we could have spent on a rescue mission. It was driving me crazy: sitting there, knowing where he probably was and not being able to do anything about it. I had two Marines with me, as usual, and I quickly pitched a plan to them. They agreed without question, so I made up my mind. I told my wingman I saw fuel leaking from the starboard side of his helo and ordered him back to base. Of course, there was no fuel leak…. The way I figured it, there would be repercussions, and I didn't want anyone involved that didn't need to be. It was bad enough I had the two Marines mixed up in it, but at least I could claim I had ordered them to go along with my plan. In any case, I turned toward the projected coordinates and turned my radio off. As soon as base saw what I was doing on radar, I knew they would try to stop me.
"Sure enough, about one kilometer from where I had calculated, sat a small building. It was in the middle of nowhere with no other structures in sight. It had to be the spot. I guess the rebels heard us because they came out firing with machine guns. I took them out with my machine gun and shacked the two outer building with a couple of sidewinders. After I set our chopper down, the two Marines ran in to get Doogie and the Rangers. I could hear a firefight over the radio. Apparently, they didn't want to give up their prized American hostages without a fight. One of the Marines told me to power up, they would be coming in hot.
"Several minutes later, the Marines came running out of the building with two bodies being dragged behind them. They were firing wildly at an unseen enemy still inside the building. When they got in with the two Rangers, I could see they had taken a few hits themselves. But more importantly, I didn't see Doogie."
Elizabeth saw how it pained him to tell her. His voice became more strained with every word.
"I wanted to go back in there for him, but I had four badly wounded men on board who needed serious medical attention. So I left him. I left Doogie."
She now saw his hands shaking. Were those tears in his eyes? Elizabeth offered her support by placing a hand on his shoulder, but he didn't even notice. Instead, he blinked back the tears and continued on.
"We took off, taking heavy fire as we left. We were hit pretty good, but I was able to keep it together until we got back to base. My plan was to drop off the wounded and head back immediately to get Doogie, alone if I had to, but I was stopped on the tarmac. My CO came out right there with base security and threw me in the brig. I spent an entire fucking week in there, Elizabeth, while I could have been out there getting his ass home."
He paused and looked at the woman in front of him. John wondered why he was opening up to her. What made her different from anyone else? He had never opened up to anyone in his life, yet here she was, someone had had met only months ago but had felt like he knew for his entire life…. Her eyes told him it was alright to continue, that he could trust her.
"When they finally released me for my trial back in the States, I learned they had found Doogie's body. I saw the pictures… he was tortured to death… I couldn't even recognize him…." The words got caught in hid throat but he went on. "I had my trial - actually, it wasn't much of a trial. I had been guilty if disobeying a direct order. It took them only two days to convict me. But they said since I had saved the lives of the two Rangers, they offered me a choice: twelve months in Leavenworth or a transfer to Antarctica where I would be out of their hair. Antarctica was the only place I could still fly, so there I went, to escape it all. I couldn't face anyone or anything I knew; I had to start over. Antarctica was the furthest place away from the where I had set up my life, if you can even call it that. So that's how I ended up at McMurdo: not because I disobeyed and order and saved the lives of two servicemen, but because I had left behind another.
"Later, I found out why my CO hadn't authorized a rescue mission. It turns out those Rangers weren't even supposed to be there. They were running a covert recon sortie for the U.S. government that even our allies didn't know about. Black ops. Doogie didn't know, he was just their ride. Hell, he shouldn't even have been there. He was just a kid, fresh out of flight school, as green as green could get. But the goddamn desk jockeys up in Washington didn't care. They weren't the ones on the line.
"The worst part, though, was the funeral. Having to lie to his family, to his future wife, and tell them how their son and fiancé had died during a classified mission and how I wasn't able to disclose the details. It was all bullshit.
"I was screwed up after that. Depression, anxiety, you name it. I got over it… somehow… but I still miss him so much. He was like a brother to me; he looked up to me and I failed him. When he needed me most, I failed him." John put his head in his hands and rubbed his forehead, almost as if her was trying to bore the memories out of his head.
Elizabeth was silent; she didn't know what to say, what she could say. It was obvious he hand't gotten over it. She would like to tell him that it would all be alright, but she knew he had heard those words before. They were usually just an empty promise and nothing more. The best thing for him right now, she figured, was to let him know she was there for him. And where words failed, sometime simple human contact could soothe the soul. Pulling him into a tight hug, just as he had done for her, she rocked him gently back and forth. The sound of sniffling reached her ears, and she assumed John was shedding a few tears for his lost friend. She had never seen him like this; gone was the fearless, steadfast soldier, replaced by a lost little boy who just wanted some assurance that it was all going to be okay.
Listening to his story had certainly explained a lot to Elizabeth: his loyalty to his team, his distrust of authority, and his complete disregard for the chain of command. She couldn't blame him.
John closed his eyes as his head rested on Elizabeth's shoulder. Why had I just told her all that? They were his inner demons, not hers, and he didn't want to burden her with their terror. It was his bane, his curse. John thought he had put them to rest long ago, yet here they were, haunting him again. He had made a promise to himself to never again leave anyone behind if it was in his power to do so, and this in this situation, it was in his power to do so. No, he wouldn't let what happened to Doogie - and to Colonel Sumner - happen to Elizabeth. That was, of course, if Hergon decided to accept his offer.
They sat that way for several minutes until Elizabeth spoke. "Is that what you're doing those nights when I catch you on the northern pier? Thinking about Doogie?"
He nodded. Thinking about what I had done is more like it, he thought to himself. He was on Atlantis, galaxies away from home, yet he still could not escape the nightmares. He wondered if it was some sort of cruel punishment to be reliving the Doogie's experience, only this time Elizabeth was with him. Why? She had nothing to do with it. Hopefully, though, she would be gone soon, safe back at Atlantis. He couldn't help but wonder if the same fate that befell his friend would befall him.
"It's not your fault, you know," she explained calmly.
"I know," he said with a nod. And he did, really he did, but he couldn't shake that feeling of guilt, that there was something more he could have done.
They sat there in each other's arms, each in silence. But it was enough for them, to have someone to hold them and tell them it would be just fine. Each fulfilled the other's need, the simplest of needs: to know someone else was out there. Together they sat until they fell asleep.
TBC
Gasp What, no cliffie? What has gotten into me:) Anyway, it really irritated me how the show didn't go into his backstory at all during the entire season 1, or into any character's for that matter. There's just so much there, so I took some liberties of my own. :) Hope you liked.
