The fighters were anxious. There hadn't been a single fight in over a week, which meant the fight bosses were working up to something big and whatever it was, the fighters knew that it wouldn't be good. Because of this knowledge, the atmosphere in the cells had changed dramatically.
The fighters had a peculiar relationship with each other, while on the one hand they all kept each other at a distance, always knowing they might end up fighting one another, and they didn't want to have to kill someone they had grown attached to, but on the other hand they would offer comfort and friendship, help ease the emotional and physical pain that someone was suffering if they were able.
The suspense had caused this weird behaviour to increase, until the fighters wouldn't speak to each other, wouldn't even try and look at the people opposite them, didn't try to sneak touches whenever they could. They were all just waiting, breathlessly, for whatever disaster was coming.
Even he was feeling the tension as he chewed on his food bar. He'd couldn't remember the last time he'd gone this long without a fight he hated the waiting. It was the calm before the storm, he knew that, and knowing that the storm was coming did nothing to calm him. The endless waiting, with nothing but his thoughts to distract him, was torture.
The door banged open, and he heard several guards walk in. Against his will he tensed up, pressing up against the wall, trying to disappear into the shadows. There were six of them in total, and they stopped right in front of his cell. They were all smirking or grinning, and that was a Bad Sign. He attempted to glare at them, but it wasn't as strong as usual. There was a cold, uneasy feeling in his gut, causing him to shiver slightly.
A brown haired guard unlocked the door, and two others stepped inside, weapons held at the ready. For the first time since he'd gotten there, he considered resisting them. He didn't want to go into the Pit tonight, every instinct he had was screaming at him not to go into the Pit.
"Come on, 'Lantean, don't want to keep the crowd waiting." A blonde haired guard spoke. Still uneasy he forced his muscles to relax. Standing up he walked out of the cell with his head bowed. He could feel the other fighters watching as he walked past the cells, but he never raised his eyes to look at them.
The Pit slowly came into view. Steping inside he was greeted by the sound of cheers and encouragement, but ignored them, walking to the far side, before turning around to face the entrance. When no other fighter was herded inside after him, the feeling of unease grew.
"Ladies and gentlemen, we have a special treat for you tonight," Forza announced, his voice amplified electronically until it boomed. "This last week has been spent preparing for this fight, for it truly will be grand. Tonight, you will witness the 'Lantean face off against one of his own kind! Watch as the bonds of friendship are ripped apart by blood and the will to survive! Cheer as they forget all ties that bind them together as they go one-on-one in a battle to the death!"
Air rushed out of his lungs almost as if he'd been punched in the stomach. He stared up at Forza in disbelief, no longer hearing all the eager proclamations the man was making to the rowdy crowd.
His mind was racing, trying to figure out who they might possibly have captured. Would he really have to kill a friend? That was the last thing he wanted to believe, he didn't want to accept it. His friends were - had been - all he had, they were his family, he couldn't just murder one of them. He didn't even want to fight them; he wouldn't do it.
But he had no other choice, he either fought, or got tortured. He wondered if family was really worth being tortured for. It was painful to admit that, he had thought he would do anything for his family, but when it came right down to it, he just didn't know if that was true.
What it really came down to was whether he valued his life or his family more. He had once thought that he'd die for his family, but when faced with the situation of his life or their's, he selfishly had to choose himself.
Sighing he closed his eyes and whispered a quick prayer asking forgivness. Hearing the door to the Pit open, he didn't open his eyes. There was a grunt, followed by the sound of someone falling to their knees. The grunt almost sounded familiar, but he couldn't be sure, it was definitly male though he knew that much. He heard the weapons being thrown into the Pit, but didn't hear the other person picking up anything.
Carefully listening for his opponet gave him no answers to who it could be. Frustrated he knew he had to open his eyes, had to fight, had to give the crowd what they wanted. Slowly opening his eyes, looking down at the floor he could see the person's knees and thighs, and instantly recognised the tan pants. Breath catching in his throat, he refused to believe that they had managed to catch….
Whirling around he glared up at Forza. The bastard was actually smirking and looking very satisfied with himself. He wanted to punch that smug grin off the sadistic bastard's face, and considered trying to climb up the walls, but knew that he would just get hurt.
"You fucking bastard!" He growled. "I'm not fighting him. I'm not fucking fighting him!"
Forza laughed. "It seems our champion here has some defiance left in him," he said to the lady next to him, before turning back to glare down at his prize fighter. "You will fight 'Lantean, and you will make a good show of it before killing him, or so help me I will make you deeply regret it."
Icy fear stabbed at his heart, but he didn't let it show. Turning away from Forza he realised that the time had come to make the ultimate decision, no more stalling: would he kill one of his best friends friend? Sighing in resignation his shoulders slumped, the anger and fear draining out of his body to puddle on the floor, leaving him… empty.
"I'm sorry Rodney." He whispered, finally looking his friend square in the eyes.
"John, what's going on? What's happening? Who are these people? Where are we? Where have you been these past months? We've been looking everywhere for you." Rodney frantically searched his friend's face for some answers.
"I'm sorry, Rodney, god I'm sorry. I wish it didn't have to go down this way, but it's preferable to the alternitive."
"Wish what didn't have to go down? Damn it John, talk to me, tell me what the hell's going on!"
"Short version this is called the Pit, think of a dogfight, but with humans instead of dogs. I've been here fighting for my life ever since these bastards caught me on MX-2368. The rules are pretty simple, and really cliché: two fighters enter, only one leaves. Esentially we have to fight until one of us is dead."
"What? This is insane John, you can stay and fight if you want but I'm getting out of here right now." Rodney struggled to his feet and turned to face the door. John sighed as he watched Rodney futilely attempted to open the door.
"Give it up Rodney." John forcefully pulled Rodney away from the door. "We're trapped. If we don't fight-"
"So we have a choice?" Rodney asked, her eyes desperately pleading with John to say yes.
"Not much of one. If we refuse to fight, we'll be tortured, which trust me is bad enough. It's better to just fight, less painful believe me."
"Tough I don't care if it's better, I'm not fucking fighting you. So you'd just better start using that Mensa passing brain of yours and figure a way outta here." Rodney stared John in the eyes, defiantly. John felt a surge of pity wash through his body, and looked down at the weapons scattered on the ground.
"Look I promise to make it quick, but Rodney you have to decide if you want me to just kill you, or if you're going to fight me."
Rodney looked at John, all hope draining from his eyes, leaving only the fear behind, and the uncertainty. "John, I can't…"
"Trust me if there was any other way I'd gladly take it Rodney. If you want, I can make your death quick and painless. If you want to fight me and see if you can win that's fine, but if you don't fight me, you'll regret it for hours, maybe days. But if you do fight me, know that I promise to give you one helluva fight. All friendship ends right here, right now if you decide to fight."
Rodney shook his head. "I won't fight you, god damn it! I won't fucking do it and if you're so willing to fight and kill me then I guess you're not the John Sheppard I thought I knew so just get it over with."
"You're right I'm not the John Sheppard you knew, any more." John whispered quietly to himself.
Deciding to just end this torture John picked up a knife from the floor, gripping the black handle tightly. Taking a step forward, John couldn't force himself to go any further. His friend looked so defeated, but never took his eyes off of John's.
John knew he should just kill Rodney, save them both a world of pain, but… Rodney didn't deserve this, someone as brilliant as Rodney didn't desever to have his life cut short. John couldn't kill that brilliance. He knew he should, his mind was screaming at him to do it, but his heart… his heart was telling him not to.
Frustrated at how Rodney could bring both the best and the worst out of him, John let the knife slip from his fingers. John turned to look up at Forza, knowing that he was making a huge mistake but also doing the right thing.
"Don't do this, 'Lantean." Forza could see the defiance in John's eyes. It angered him that he was about to loose the best fighter he'd ever had because of something as trival as friendship.
When neither John nor Rodney made to move Forza signled and a group of guards stormed into The Pit, John watched them come impassively. A small voice whispered that he'd saved his friend, and yet doomed him at the same time. John smiled at the irony of the entire situation, he wouldn't/couldn't out right kill his best friend, so instead condemned him to hours of torture. That made a bucket load of sense.
A/N: When the whisper of an idea hit me for this story I'd originally planed to have John and Rodney's places reversed, but after going back over what I'd written already and what you guys had to say I decided it made more sense to have John be the one who was captured first. Let me know what you think please, thank you.