TITLE: A Price Too High
AUTHOR: Wraithfodder
Copyright Disclaimer: See part 1.
SUMMARY: Sheppard must strike an agreement to free his friends, but is he ready to pay the price asked?
And here's the final part:)
PART 7
Sheppard dragged himself into the infirmary. He stifled a yawn. He'd barely gotten any sleep what with Hetcha and her handiwork. He could use an aspirin, if nothing else, but what he really wanted was a nice hot shower and then at least twelve hours passed out on a bed so he could forget that the whole damned mission had ever happened. Oh hell, the aspirin could wait. He turned to leave and was nearly flattened by McKay and Ronon, both of whom blocked the exit like hostile linebackers for the opposing team.
"Where are you going?" McKay sounded nervous. In fact, McKay had been acting weird ever since he'd woken him up that morning. Of course, Sheppard had tossed a fruit at him.
"To my room."
"But Beckett should see you first," insisted McKay.
Sheppard just yawned. "Oh come on, all Carson's gonna do is give me two aspirin and tell me to drink plenty of fluids."
McKay looked like a canary just got lodged in his throat.
"Rodney?" Sheppard asked.
"Aspirin?" the scientist croaked.
"You need some?" Sheppard wondered if McKay had a headache. In fact, the man looked sick now.
"No!"
"All right, who needs to see me?" Beckett's brogue interrupted the tense atmosphere as the physician approach the trio.
Sheppard pointed at McKay while, much to his surprise, both McKay and Ronon pointed at him.
Beckett arched his eyebrows in confusion. "It seems Mr. Dex isn't in need of a doctor, but the two of you are, and the reasons would be…?"
"I'm fine," McKay blurted.
Sheppard doubted that. He sat on one of the exam beds, figuring that resistance was futile. "Just give me some aspirin, doc, and send me on my way. It's nothing. Just a cold."
"A cold?" McKay nearly screamed. "And Rodney has lost his mind," Sheppard snapped, drawing down his eyebrows in a severe line. "You've been acting whacko ever since you got out of jail."
"Jail?" repeated Beckett worriedly. "Just what kind of jail?"
"A very plush one," Sheppard glared at McKay. "I was there for a while and it wasn't bad. And it was a private jail, just him and Ronon."
"Aspirin isn't going to cut it," McKay muttered darkly under his breath.
"Would somebody like to tell me what's going on?" asked Beckett.
McKay sucked in a deep breath. "Colonel, we know what happened."
Sheppard just stared at the scientist and former weapons specialist. McKay looked deadly serious and Ronon looked, scarily, almost sympathetic. "What?" he nearly stammered.
"For god's sake, Sheppard, even a blind man could see that woman had designs on you!"
Crap. Sheppard scrabbled for a response to that too true accusation. "Uh, how…?"
McKay crossed his arms against his chest, but honestly didn't look as self-assured as normal. "Well, for one thing, your T-shirt's on inside out."
Sheppard then decided denial was the best strategy. "I'm not talking about it and so help me if you tell anybody, I'll wring your neck, Rodney." If it got out into Atlantis, it would get on to the Daedalus and then the next thing he knew, the news would hit Earth. He'd never live it down.
"Another woman then?" Beckett said curiously, studying the T-shirt's label. Sheppard swatted the man's hand away.
"Excuse me." Sheppard was getting sick of this. "Since when did I get this undeserved reputation about women? Cripes, Carson, I'm sure you've seen more action than me since we've gotten to this galaxy."
Beckett had the good graces to turn a slight shade of pink, and Sheppard didn't mind the poke at the physician. The Scot had certainly been a happier man since hooking up with Lieutenant Cadman.
"Look, Colonel," continued McKay, now sounding like some daytime reality show shrink. "It won't go beyond us, but you should still let Beckett--"
"What?" argued Sheppard, hoping to gain control of the situation before it got out of control. "Look, I had a tetanus booster just last month."
"As if a booster could cover…" McKay seemed to drift off in horror.
"What?" Beckett interrupted. "Who did what to whom? I'm confused."
"Well, at least talk to Kate," McKay tried to offer.
"What on earth for?" countered Sheppard. "It might have been humiliating at first but it wasn't like it was anything traumatic."
McKay's jaw practically unhinged.
"Rodney, people get paid to do this every day back on earth," Sheppard continued. "Sure, it sucked at first but after a while you just zone out and if I hadn't done it, you wouldn't have gotten into that stupid building, where, I might remind you, you still didn't find a working ZPM. You know, next time, I hope you bear an uncanny resemblance to some ruler's spouse so you can be subject to her quirky behavior."
"Good lord!" hissed Beckett.
Sheppard looked up from where he'd been staring at the sheets beneath him. Rodney was standing there looking almost as white as the sheets. "Rodney?" Sheppard instantly hopped off the bed, regretting that quick action as a certain pain made itself known.
Beckett pushed Rodney onto a nearby bed, ordering him to breath steadily before the man began to hyperventilate. Sheppard pushed himself past Ronon to stand over Rodney. "What the hell is going on?"
"How? I mean…" stammered McKay.
"Just what the blazes is goin' on here?" demanded Beckett.
"It's the drugs, isn't it?" blurted McKay, grabbing onto Beckett and pointing at Sheppard.. "He's in PTDD or whatever from the shock."
"What drugs?" Now Sheppard was totally confused as well.
"From the needles," supplied Ronon.
Great, now Dex was in on this confusing conspiracy. Shock? PTDD? Was McKay talking about PTSD?
"Where they drugged you and then that woman—" spat Rodney.
And the room went deadly silent as everybody digested the words and implications thereof. Everybody stared at him in horror, except Ronon, who seemed the strongest of the trio. In a sharp moment of clarity, Sheppard suddenly realized where this was all headed. It wasn't as though he had entertained the same panicked thoughts when Hetcha had dragged out that metal studded strap, only to discover shortly thereafter that it wasn't some weird instrument of S&M orgies, but simply a tape measurer. He really wanted to forget that truly embarrassing moment – for everyone involved - when he'd discovered precisely what they wanted him for.
He felt an odd sensation in his throat. "Damn."
"What?" Beckett asked cautiously.
"Audran gave me her damn cold. She was sneezing all over me last night," admitted Sheppard. "I bet in a day I'll sound like her, too. My throat's getting scratchy."
"That's all you're concerned about?" Rodney protested.
"Nothing like what you think happened... happened," countered Sheppard.
"But you—" began McKay, obviously at a loss for words. A true first.. "Didn't she, I, well, have her, um, take advan—"
"NO!" snapped Sheppard. Oh, that didn't do his throat much good at all. "Where on earth did you get an idea like that?"
"From the guards, who told us about the needles and that whenever her husband is out of town, she drags up men to her to room to do whatever she wants to … do with… them," he trailed off.
"Well, obviously the guards aren't very accurate in relaying gossip," argued Sheppard. Now he was getting a headache.
"So, she didn't force you to have sex with her?" came Ronon's blunt query.
"No," Sheppard repeated very sternly, mostly for Beckett's benefit as the man probably had a gazillion embarrassing tests for sexually transmitted diseases. "And for the record, Audran is faithful to her husband."
"Then what the hell was all that about pain and needles and why didn't you want any of us touching you?" Rodney's panicked voice had dissipated, perhaps because he'd spent the last day worried about an assault that had never taken place, and was now peeved at wasting that much energy and emotion.
Oh great. He'd thought they knew what had happened but now obviously they didn't know but if he didn't tell them the truth, it would still be a huge mess of horrid speculation. Sheppard muttered something under his breath, hoping that would shut them all up.
"I didn't catch that," said Rodney tersely.
Beckett crossed his arms. "Neither did I."
"SEWING NEEDLES," Sheppard ground out.
"Huh?" replied Rodney.
"Are you deaf?" Sheppard shot back.
"No, just very, very confused. I need a drink," replied the scientist pitifully as he lay back down on the bed. "Or something."
"So you were tortured with sewing needles?" prodded Ronon curiously.
Sheppard wanted to bang his head on a table, but none were immediately available.
"The guards were saying how you resembled her husband so that's why they took you?" said Ronon.
"I'm the same size," said Sheppard with a wisp of a sigh.
"Size?" remarked Rodney, sitting back up.
"Get your mind out of the gutter," Sheppard snapped back, although he was sure that wasn't the size that Rodney had meant but at least the scientist had clamped his mouth shut for the time being. He sat on the other exam bed. "I'm his exact size, as in…" Sheppard grimaced, as if someone was driving bamboo shoots under his fingernails. "Inseam."
"Excuse me, colonel," interrupted Beckett. "But did I hear ye say inseam?"
"Yes, there it is. It's out!" Sheppard waved an arm dramatically. "You get this story once, it does not get blabbed anywhere else, do I make myself clear?"
A bunch of heads nodded, albeit reluctantly.
"When Audran's husband is away, he apparently gave her blanket permission to just about snatch any guy off the street—"
"That sounds horrible," said Beckett, shocked.
"Can I finish this story before I change my mind?" Sheppard said flatly. "Okay, apparently he hates being fitted for royal robes and all that crap. So hey, guess what? I'm his size. Inseam, neck size, even waist; which is why Audran kept checking me out. They say everybody has a double somewhere in the universe but they don't warn you of the dangers. Anyway, the only other two guys who fit the bill in town hightailed it to the hills to farm goats or something when he left on a trip, so when we strolled into town…"
"Ah," said McKay, as though a lightbulb had just gone off over his head. "So that's why everybody kept looking at you."
"Yeah, so after a bit of miscommunication, I got turned into a… what do you call those things they sew clothes on?"
"Mannequin?" said Beckett.
"Dummy," added Rodney with a hint of a grin.
"Don't make me come over there and smack you," warned Sheppard. "The reason why her husband refuses to have any more royal clothes made is that their royal seamstress, Hetcha, can't see worth a damn up close and stabs people with needles." He winced in memory of her misplaced jabs in his body. "Anyway, she stabbed him in one spot that is really, really sensitive." Everybody's face registered a sympathy wince, so he didn't need to supply the gory details.
"If she's that much of a danger, why do they let her sew?" asked Beckett.
"Royal lineage or whatever," sighed Sheppard. "I must have a dozen holes in my backside and legs from her."
"We'll need to take some blood from ye, Colonel," said Beckett, "plus give you some antibiotics."
"No problem, doc," agreed Sheppard. "As long as you stay away from my backside. It's been punctured enough." Beckett frowned as he mulled over the location, no doubt.
"It's because they're really, really fond of stitchery all over the pants," explained Sheppard. "Which is why he got stabbed in the—"
"We have the picture, colonel," Beckett cut in quickly.
"Oh by the way, I told her you'd be visiting tomorrow."
"Excuse me?" exclaimed Beckett.
"With Lorne. That damned Hetcha is a menace. She needs glasses," said Sheppard. "I told Audran you could do that, and believe me, lots of guys with my inseam and collar size will thank you profusely."
"God, we'd thought…" trailed off McKay, starting to look uncomfortable. "With what the guards said and all."
Sheppard managed a smile. "Well, I didn't get the full story until after I tried to escape from her guards."
"That must have been a sight," said Rodney with the beginning of a smirk.
"Oh yeah, a real laugh riot, Rodney," remarked Sheppard. "They really need to work on who tells who what where instead of blindly leading visitors up to a room and telling 'em to strip."
Rodney's eyes bulged.
"Not all the way," Sheppard corrected rapidly. Thank god they'd let him keep his shorts. In fact, Audran had insisted on it, blushing a definite shade of pink. Or maybe that had just been the result of that medicine she kept taking. Sheppard sneezed again. "Damn."
"Just what kind of illness did she have, colonel?" asked Beckett.
"Mostly sore throat and stuffed nose," Sheppard recalled. "She was taking some kind of local herbal medicine that gave her that deep voice and I'm pretty sure made her sorta, well, spacey."
"So that's why she kept looking at you like that," said Rodney.
"Like what?"
"Never mind." Ronon shook his head.
Best forgotten as far as he was concerned, until someone opened his mouth again.
"So, this means your virtue remains intact?" snarked Rodney with a big grin.
"Ronon," said Sheppard dryly.
"Yeah?"
"He's too far away."
Smack!
"That's abuse!" cried Rodney, rubbing the back of his head where Ronon had hit him.
"No," countered Sheppard with a smirk. "That's…."
"Delegation?" supplied Beckett, shaking his head at the whole mess.
"Yeah, that's the word."
PART 8
Sheppard sat down in the mess hall with a tray of food. He'd finally gotten his appetite back after going through several days of sheer misery from that wretched bug Audran had passed on to him. He'd ended up with a stuffed nose and a throat that felt as though it had been scorched with a flame thrower, but Beckett had merely shot him up with antibiotics and told him to stay put in his quarters, drink plenty of fluids and not contaminate the rest of the base.
"You going to eat that?" Ronon sat down opposite him, his tray full of food.
"Yes, I am," retorted Sheppard happily. Gone were the days of soup and Jello. He could actually let real food slide down his throat without gagging on searing pain.
And at least he hadn't had to worry about McKay blabbing all over the base about precisely what the agreement negotiations had consisted of, because just hours later, Rodney had fallen victim to the same bug.
Ronon looked up, past Sheppard, grinning. "Better hope he doesn't throw his lunch at you."
McKay sat down next to Ronon, sparing a moment to glare intensely at Sheppard. His lunch consisted of soup and Jello, but he wasn't contagious anymore. It was just taking him longer to recover from one particular aspect of the cold, which amazingly had hit him harder than it had Sheppard, but then again, Sheppard had been bright enough (at least this time) to obey Beckett's orders and had taken it easy.
"He still blames you for sneezing on him," Ronon remarked, studying the dark glare McKay focused on Sheppard.
"I did say I was sorry," said Sheppard. He knew the sincerity of that remark had long since dried up, as hell, how many times did McKay expect him to apologize for something that really hadn't been his fault? How was he to know both the Protrans' would be so grateful as to allow Zelenka pretty much carte blanc to the stupid Sanctuary building, while Rodney sat back on base, suffering from a stupid cold?
Two more trays hit the table lightly. Teyla sat down beside Sheppard while Beckett was seated next to McKay.
"So, Rodney, feeling better today?" Beckett said with a chipper smile.
Sheppard watched McKay make some hand gestures, a primitive method of communicating since he didn't have his laptop handy and the cold had given him such a nasty case of laryngitis that he'd lost, albeit temporarily, his capacity to speak. It was both a curse and a blessing, but more so the latter.
"Doc," said Sheppard with a grin. "I think he just told you to stuff it where the sun don't shine."
"Ach, Rodney, you'll be fine in no time." Beckett patted the man reassuringly on an arm. Sheppard was sure glad McKay didn't have a fork, because he could see that Rodney was sorely tempted to stab the physician for his patronizing attitude.
"Anyway," said Beckett, pulling his hand away and oblivious to how close he came to being stabbed with a blunt spoon. "Major Lorne's team just returned from Rael."
"And how are Protran Audran and her sister?" asked Sheppard. Quite honestly, he shouldn't have been surprised to learn that Hetcha was actually Audran's sister. That's why Hetcha had been allowed to torture unsuspecting men with sewing needles for so long. Nepotism.
"They're both adjusting quite well to their new glasses," replied Beckett, digging into his scrambled eggs. "I've been asked back to check on other some of the other villagers. Apparently there is a genetic predisposition toward farsightness."
"I am surprised that you didn't notice that Audran required vision correction," spoke up Teyla. She'd been off on the Mainland for the entire disaster, tending to some Athosian business, which in some respects had been good but then again, he always wondered if she might have been able to rescue him from that awful night of being a sewing dummy. She was so much better at the diplomatic stuff than any of the rest of them. Fortunately, she didn't know the full story of what had gone on, although she knew that reading glasses were part of the barter Sheppard had arranged.
"Well," Sheppard said, ignoring the smirk that went across McKay's face. The scientist delighted in any misery Sheppard experienced at the moment. He was really being quite petty. "I just sorta figured she was really interested in the, um, stitching."
McKay snorted on his green Jello. Sheppard was so tempted to lob a French fry at the man. Even when he couldn't speak, he could still be terribly annoying.
"I'm really amazed at her handiwork considering how strong her hyperopia is," said Beckett. "Her close-up vision, that is," he added for the benefit of the lay people around him.
"So that means the farmers don't need to hide in the hills anymore," Sheppard said off-handedly.
Beckett grinned. "Aye, I'd say that several men in town have breathed a heavy sigh of relief. Also, Protran Millan returned yesterday from his trip. He sends you his thanks and apologies."
"Upping the ante on the fruit trade would be helpful," suggested Sheppard. He really had no intention of returning back to that world, despite the invite that Lorne had passed along from Audran a day ago. Any reason for visiting was purely diplomatic and scientific and he was military, therefore, not really needed. Well, Lorne and his men could cover that.
"Actually, Radek is making good progress on securing the ZPM," Beckett added, almost with glee. "Both the Protrans seem quite taken with him. Perhaps it's the accent," mused Beckett.
Sheppard watched one of McKay's eyes twitch nervously. The scientist was really ticked off that the Czech and a few others had returned to secure what they now knew was a ZPM. "He says the power in it might sustain Atlantis' shield for half an hour," finished Beckett.
Sheppard hadn't thought it possible – Jello could be pureed. McKay was stirring his spoon into the now semi-gelatinous substance with a vengeance. Zelenka would probably pay dearly for enjoying himself so much on this mission.
"Major Lorne said the ZPM came out of the wall quite easily." Beckett was on a role, oblivious to the ensuing disaster that sat next to him.
McKay smacked his spoon into the bowl of Jello, splattering the green substance all over the table.
"Rodney, calm down," advised Sheppard, although he had to hide a smile behind the coffee cup he put to his face.
"Don't talk," Beckett sternly added as soon as McKay opened his mouth. "You want to damage your throat?"
Sheppard wondered if McKay was going to bend the spoon into a pretzel, but instead he made a few more new and totally indecipherable hand gestures.
Ronon laughed, a deep sound that turned a few heads at other tables.
McKay stopped, scowling at the larger man.
"You'd have your throat slit from ear to ear on Gaima if you used that gesture there," Ronon explained with a grin.
McKay looked somewhat unnerved at that revelation, then stared at both his hands as if realizing they could be the death of him.
"Colonel, Ronon," said Teyla. "You really should stop needling Dr. McKay when he unable to speak for himself."
The occupants at the table went dead silent, McKay excluded, who dropped the spoon from his hand. It clattered on the table. Sheppard shot a steely glance at the men around him, all of whom shook their heads. McKay, Beckett and Ronon had sworn not to leak just how disastrous, well, embarrassing, the agreement process had been. Of course, he'd threatened to make their lives hell if they did.
Teyla looked at everyone, cocking her head to the side in confusion. "Is there something wrong?"
"Um," began Sheppard. "It's just that we've never heard you use that phrase before."
Teyla's eyes widened, perhaps in horror or embarrassment. "It was something I heard Dr. Weir use when speaking to Dr. Zelenka today. It did not appear to be an insult—"
"No, no, it's fine," said Sheppard. He was glad he was sitting down as his knees felt weak. He really wished there was a two-month long mission he could immediately go on so by the time he got back, some other gossip would replace the stories that would soon be circulating throughout Atlantis.
McKay, Ronon and Beckett all looked relieved at his newfound misery, which compounded even further when Teyla finished her tea, stood up and then leaned over Sheppard. "Dr. Weir also wanted me to tell you, and that I should repeat this verbatim, that you would 'not need to make alterations to your mission report if you were to accept the Protrans' invitation as they could be valuable trading partners.'" With that, Teyla just smiled knowingly and left the table.
McKay smirked, picked up his spoon and stuck the blunt end into his balled-up fist, twisting it.
"I think he means to say you're screwed, colonel," Beckett said with a weak smile.
"Can he travel?" Sheppard suddenly asked.
"Rodney?" said Beckett. "I suppose so, as long as he doesn't try to talk. He's healthy otherwise."
"Good." Sheppard just smiled broadly, delighting in McKay's sudden discomfiture. "If I'm going back there, so are you. You can boss around Zelenka." He held up his finger as if to make a point. "Oh wait, you can't talk. That's gonna be tough."
McKay began to sputter in either horror or indignation.
Ronon leaned in on the table. "I'll go, too." He shrugged at Sheppard's confused look. "This might be too fun to miss."
"Well, won't be much to do," said Sheppard. "After all—" His next words were cut off as a large glob of Jello smacked him in the face. As it dripped off his nose, he saw McKay across the table, spoon still in hand and a victorious look on his face.
"Need a bodyguard?" asked Ronon.
"You're hired," replied Sheppard, nailing McKay right between the eyes with a French Fry.
THE END!
Thanks to everyone for your feedback!
Author's Note: This story came about from reading too many 'net discussions on how Sheppard was kissing (or more) every woman in sight (not). Hope everyone's had fun with it!