PROTECTIVE INSTINCTS part three,
A/N Wow, all these wonderful reviews have put me in an extremely good mood. My family thank you all very much,(and so do I). Its truly wonderful to get such glowing reviews from people whose fic I look up to.
And now...a whumping we will go. Warning, bad things happen to Shep in this part.
Major Sheppard gradually became aware of beeping noises and faint voices. The sounds were familiar enough he knew he was in the infirmary. Crap, he thought. Not again. He was aware of the pins and needles feeling he got after being shot with a wraith stunner. What the hell happened? he asked himself, and tried to raise his hand to rub at the headache nestled behind his eyes, only to find his hand wouldn't move. He opened his eyes, blinking against the bright light, looking down to find himself in restraints, wrists and ankles. Movement beside him caused him to look up. Beckett was at his side, looking down at him, eyes crinkling in a warm smile.
"Hello," he said, "How are you feeling now, then?"
Sheppard took a moment to consider. "Like death warmed over," he replied bleakly. "What did I do, Doc?" he asked, tugging gently at the restraints.
"What do you remember?"
Again, Sheppard paused, casting his mind back. There were blurred images of whispering voices, the brig, Teyla…
"Teyla shot me with a stunner?" he asked, incredulously.
"Aye, she did. But she only did it to stop you from doing yourself more damage. You were fighting against us trying to get into that cell to help you, son." There was a pause. "Major, something happened to you down on that planet, something that caused you to want to be locked up. You couldn't, or wouldn't tell us then. How about now? Do you feel up to answering some questions?"
John considered. He really didn't want to talk about what had gone on there, but already he could hear the first stirrings in his mind. The whispers were coming back, and so was the pain. Absently he tried to rub at the ache in his temples, only to be stopped by the leather cuff. He tugged it briefly, frustrated.
"I think they can come off if you'd like, Major," Carson was looking at him again.
John was surprised by how certain he was that they should stay. "No." he said, strongly. "No, I think they should stay where they are. I don't feel safe thinking about them coming off." The headache spiked again, and he winced, resisting the urge to try to rub it away.
"Right, they can stay then," said Beckett, "But we can't leave you tied up for ever."
"I know, I know, it's just – I can't remember what they did to make me feel this way. I remember the rest," he closed his eyes, shuddering, remembering, "But why I feel I should be locked up? I just don't know." He pulled at the cuffs again. Harder this time.
Beckett noticed, but said nothing. Instead, he fiddled with writing down the readings from the machinery attached to Sheppard's body. After a pause, he said, "So. I would like to know what happened down there then , so I can treat you appropriately."
"Ask McKay, he was there," replied Sheppard pointing with his head to where he could see McKay sleeping in another bed. Then his voice softened. "He's ok, isn't he? He's not – like this?"
Beckett glanced round at Rodney's sleeping form. "Oh, aye, he's ok. He got a pretty nasty concussion though, because he wouldn't stop pestering the guards about where you were, but he'll be ok. And he can't tell us what happened to you, because you were held separately to them, and they didn't see you after the guards split you up."
Sheppard looked across to McKay again. "He did? A concussion? Wow."
"How about those questions then, Major?"
"Could I have a drink first? And maybe something for this headache?"
Beckett held a glass with a straw in it to John's mouth. The water tasted like nectar.
"No pills for now though," said Beckett, You've got enough chemicals circulating as it is. Tell me what happened," he invited.
Sheppard closed his eyes, and sank back into the pillows. His voice, though deceptively soft had a hard edge to it. "What do you want to know?"
"Why don't you start from the beginning?"
There was a pause, while Sheppard marshalled his thoughts, and resisted rubbing at his head again. The whispers were louder now, insistent, pain throbbed behind his eyes.
"We got through the gate alright," he began, "And it was only a short walk to where they have their community centre. We were ok until we got there…"
His voice trailed off, as he remembered the feeling of hopelessness when they had been surrounded. Men in no nonsense uniforms with projectile weapons had come out of nowhere, or so it seemed and had surrounded them. They were outnumbered, and outgunned. To make a break for it would have been suicide.
One of them came forward from the rest. "Surrender your gun, Major," he said, pleasantly, "Or you will watch while the rest of your team is killed in front of you."
Sheppard hesitated, unwilling to give up even the smallest advantage.
"Quickly, Major, or you can have the pleasure of choosing which one shall go first."
Sheppard shrugged, then handed over his P90, indicating to his team that they follow suit. Ford was more reluctant. "Major," he began.
"Hand it over, Ford, that's an order, "
Reluctantly, Ford complied, as did Teyla, though she looked daggers at the man leading their captors.
"Major, " began Rodney, "I really don't think this is such a good idea,"
"Do you have a better one McKay? Because I'm right out at the moment."
"And the rest of the weapons you have concealed about your person," continued the officer.
Sighing, Sheppard handed over the 9mil and the knife he kept in the small of his back. He watched as Ford and Teyla did the same, even Rodney unbuckling the holster from his thigh.
The officer nodded at his men, and several of them came forward each taking one of the team and proceeding to bind their wrists, Sheppard's behind his back. Then they were frogmarched through the small town's centre until they came to an official looking building where they were escorted inside. They were taken to a large, airy office where an older, more authoritative person sat behind a desk.
"Ah, Major Sheppard, and his team. We were wondering when we'd have the pleasure of seeing you. "
Sheppard was confused. "What's with the third degree?" he asked.
"Forgive us. Your arrival means that a treaty drawn up between ourselves and- another trading partner can finally be ratified. We've been waiting a while for this."
"I thought we were here to trade."
"Indeed you are. We just didn't specify what would be traded. You see, Major Sheppard, you caused our friends a lot of grief, and they would like recompense for their grievances. We have agreed to provide them with the justice they feel they deserve, and at the same time…well, more on that later. Captain Reynar here will see that you are properly accommodated."
Jaq'an turned his attention to the rest of the team, who were looking at him with varying degrees of shock.
"Well. So this is Dr. McKay, Teyla Emmagen, and you must be Ford.
"Now, just wait a minute," began McKay, but was cut off by the same pleasantly lilting voice.
"And you are the one who can build nuclear weapons."
McKay subsided into silence, all of them suddenly realising where the information they had on them was coming from.
Sheppard spoke up again. "You know, apparently, who we are, but we are less well informed. The Genii didn't pass that information along to us."
"Please forgive my lack of manners," replied oily voice. "My name is Councillor Jaq'an, and this is Captain Reynar. Now, you will excuse me if I attend to matters of state. Captain Reynar will have you taken to more appropriate accommodations."
"That's it?" asked Sheppard.
"For now, but we will speak again at a later date, when you are, shall we say, more amenable to assisting us with our plans for the future."
"Don't bet on that," was all Sheppard had to say, before the guards hustled them out and took them down to what could only be described as the dungeon level. There they were separated, and that was almost the last that Sheppard had seen of his team, until Ford and Teyla had arrived to take him home.
Major Sheppard had been taken to a small, cold cell where his hands had been freed. He'd noticed that none of the guards had said a word to him, but that didn't bother him, he had nothing to say to them either. He knew that in a couple of hours, they would be overdue for a check in with Atlantis, and that after that, hopefully, Elizabeth would set in motion plans to get them out. He only had to hold on for a while. The trouble was, he had no idea just how long that while was going to be.
He hadn't been left alone for long before what he knew was coming had started. Two of the guards had come in to the cell, tied his hands and shackled his ankles together with a short length of chain just long enough for him to be able to take shuffling steps. Then a blindfold had been put on, and he'd been roughly marched out of the cell and into another room, which felt much larger, and colder.
He'd been forced to his knees, then without warning, his head was plunged into a tank full of icy water. He felt the ice on the surface break as his head was pushed in. Just as he thought he couldn't hold his breath any longer, his head was yanked out again by the hair, then the process was repeated, again and again.
Once he was 'softened up' he'd been thrown to the floor, gasping and coughing, and then the beating started, fists, feet, rubber hose, whatever. He wasn't able to see what was coming, so was unable to prepare himself to meet what ever was headed his way. It continued until he puked, then he was hauled up again, and taken back to his cell, shivering, where the blindfold had been removed, as well as the shackles round his ankles, but his hands were left tied. There he had stayed for a while, until the guards came back and it all started again.
It had continued in this vein for how long the Major didn't know. His watch had been shattered during the first round, but it felt like hours. Days even. Then, finally he was left alone, in the dark but he couldn't sleep. He hurt too much, he was cold, couldn't stop shivering, and periodically a guard would come round and bang on the door to wake him up.
After what seemed an eternity, the guards came back. No water, no food, not that he would have kept it down, not even any questions. On went the blindfold again, together with the ankle chains and he was forced out of the cell once more. A different direction this time, he noticed as he shuffled along in an ungainly fashion.
This time he was pushed into what felt like a small box, made of metal from the way his boots sounded on it's surface, and for the first time, he felt warm. The shivering stopped, but the heat didn't. The metal quickly became hotter, and hotter until contact with it burned. Trouble was, the box was so small, he couldn't stand straight, couldn't sit, couldn't turn around. Weakened by the treatment he'd received so far, it didn't take long before he was stumbling, trying not to fall onto the hot surfaces. The air itself became hot, until it hurt to breathe. His mouth dried, his nostrils hurt, and he kept his eyes shut behind the blindfold, afraid the heat would sear the delicate surfaces. He hoped and prayed this wasn't happening to the rest of his team. Ford and Teyla might cope, but Rodney? He shook his head, and tried to think about better times. About surfing off the mainland back at Atlantis, anything except his current predicament.
Finally, the guards came back, and he went back to the cell, overheated skin feeling as if it was glowing. The cycle went on. Cold. Beatings. The hot room, sleep deprivation, until his whole world had narrowed down to this cell and what was coming next. Occasionally he was given water, but it made him dizzy, and his stomach hurt, so he drank only when the thirst was overwhelming, then tried to drink as little as possible. At one point, Captain Reynar had paid him a small visit, and spent some time telling him about several of the friends that Sheppard had killed during the Genii raid on Atlantis. After he left, it was a while before the Major was able to stand unaided.
Eventually he was taken back to the same office as he'd stood in before. Councillor Jaq'an was there, still smiling that supercilious smile of his. Sheppard longed to wipe it off. Permanently. He stood, swaying, waiting to see what little gems the Councillor was going to come out with now.
"Major Sheppard," he said, smoothly. "You don't look as well as the last time I saw you."
"Yeah?" grated out Sheppard, "Let me tell you, hospitality in the Pegasus Galaxy sucks. Big time."
"Are you ready to go home yet, Major?"
Sheppard just blinked at him, taken off guard.
"We have already returned the rest of your team. Look"
Sheppard's attention was directed to a small screen at the back of the office. He looked more closely, and saw what appeared to be McKay, Ford and Teyla going through the gate. He looked again at Jaq'an.
"You expect me to believe that?"
"Whether you believe it or not, it is true. We sent them back several hours ago. Are you ready to help us now? Then you can go back too."
"Not helping you, ever," ground out Sheppard. He couldn't believe the rest of his team were home. If they truly were, then Jaq'an was up to something, and if they were, why hadn't Elizabeth negotiated for him. He felt confused, which no doubt was exactly what these bastards wanted. He didn't notice the small nod Jaq'an gave to someone standing just behind him, only became aware of it when he felt a needle plunge into his upper arm, and his knees began to buckle.
He hit the floor, and as consciousness left him he heard Jaq'an say, "You will help us, Major, voluntarily or not." Then there was a loud buzzing noise, and everything rushed away from him spiralling into blackness.
TBC