Unable to get away from the negotiations for very long like the day before John discretely handed the scans with the information Elizabeth had given him over to Ronon. He had every confidence in his team to come up with a workable plan to rescue Elizabeth.
By the time the meeting had adjourned for the day John had been about ready to throttle someone. He was almost convinced that Jerick was toying with him, that the man knew what John thought of him and was going out of his way to be even more obnoxious and arrogant than ever. When the meeting finally broke up John couldn't get out of there fast enough.
--
Elizabeth was ready to go out of her mind. She needed to see John. Needed to touch him, to feel his arms around her. To be reassured that yes, she was getting out of there. That it was going to be over.
The women's quarters had emptied out right around lunch break, and then again at afternoon workday's end, when the men who worked for the government bureaucracy in the building called in for a quick fuck. The day before, the fact that she didn't have to answer the call, that she might well get out of here without ever being raped again, had delighted her.
Today the absence of the other women was a pain in itself. They distracted her from her racing thoughts, from her desperate need. She paced frantically up and down the rows, biting her fingernails to the quick.
Finally, after far too long, the signal rang to allow them out. The guards didn't bother to escort them this time – they'd be check pointed as they reached the cameras outside the guests' quarters, and if they took too long about getting there their implants would activate automatically.
Up three floors, and then she was on the floor where John's quarters were. Just another corner to turn, and a set of doors to go through, and then she'd be right there in the hallway. Turning the corner strong hands grabbed her and pulled her into a conference room. Training at not being allowed to fight back against anyone who wanted to do anything to her kept her from struggling for the only moment where it might have done any good. As soon as she was in the conference room, she managed to twist her head around to see her attacker: Fensil.
"Hello Elizabeth." He spoke in a sleazy tone.
"No please don't sir." Elizabeth gasped, trying to free herself from his grasp. His hands were running all over her body, playing with her hair, fondling her breasts. "I've been gifted to another." She elbowed at him; he pulled her in closer, one arm around her middle and another slipping down into her panties, roughly groping her down there.
"So full of spirit, so fiery." Fensil breathed into Elizabeth's ear.
"You aren't supposed to have me, sir! Please, you know that it's considered a terrible insult to a guest if his woman is taken by anyone else."
"True but no one, but you and me will ever know. Because we both know what Jerick would do to you if he found out."
Elizabeth did know; she'd be tortured. Letting a man other than the one she'd been given to have her, was as bad as if she had refused a man she had been given to. Which meant that if she couldn't break free of Fensil, and he raped her, she wouldn't dare tell anyone. Not even John, for fear his outrage would make him slip. Or for fear that he wouldn't want to touch her anymore.
"Please, please let me go," she begged. "I won't tell anyone you tried to have me."
He spun her around and shoved her against the wall of the conference room, pinning her by the arms. He used his teeth to undo the tie between her breasts, pulling away her bra, and began biting and sucking at them once they were exposed. Elizabeth sagged back against the wall in defeat. She was going to be raped. She ought to be used to this, ought to be totally inured to it in fact. It had only happened, what, nearly every day for the last year now?
But she'd thought she was done with this. She'd thought she would be free, and never be raped again. She'd just learned what it meant to enjoy sex again. It was so unfair for this to happen now, just as she was almost to John, just as she was almost free.
"Oh, you're sweet," he murmured into her breasts.
"Let me go, please," she pleaded.
His hands dug cruelly into her arms, so hard she thought he might break them. She screamed, but before the sound could more than barely begin to leave her throat, he covered her lips with his, thrusting his tongue into her mouth, scraping her lips with his teeth brutally. The pain in her arms eased off. "Scream again, and I'll bite your tongue out."
"I'll do anything you want, but please, let me do it quickly. If I'm not in Colonel Sheppard's room quickly he'll get upset, and if he has anyone search for me you're going to get caught." And if she wasn't in his room quickly, the implant would turn on automatically.
Fensil dropped one arm, the weight of his body keeping her pinned against the wall. He untied her panties, forced her legs apart with a knee, and slid two hard fingers into her. "Oh, I'll fuck you quick, sweet. You needn't worry there. You're so beautiful, it makes me nearly ready to come just thinking about fucking you."
Elizabeth could feel Fensil fumbling at his crotch, and then she was impaled. Fearing that he was telling the truth about biting out her tongue, she tried not scream. She couldn't keep completely silent, she cried brokenly from the pain and the terror. She could have endured this if she hadn't been so close to being free. If she hadn't had hope.
Desperately she tried to think of something else. This time, she actually had something pleasant to think about. She tried to block out the man raping her, tried to imagine John's mouth on hers, his hands on her breasts. John's smooth skin under her hands, his soft caresses. Gentle mouth between her legs. She relaxed despite herself, escaping into the memory. John could make this all go away. It wouldn't hurt anymore. He'd kiss her and make love to her and she'd blot out this bastard and all the other bastards. Her sobs quieted, the pain lessened. She wasn't there anymore her body wasn't being brutalized.
And then Fensil stopped, pulling out of her. "Delightful," he pronounced. "I'd get my clothes on quickly if I were you; Sheppard left the conference room at the same time I did, so he's undoubtedly frantic with worry."
As he left Elizabeth scrambled to get her clothes – what little of them there were – back on then ran out of the room, bolting toward John's quarters with desperate speed. Terror and humiliation still burned through her, driving her. She couldn't tell John this had happened, but she needed him to hold her, desperately.
--
Trying to look just as he had on the two previous evenings, John walked through the doors to his room and closed them behind him. Elizabeth wasn't there. Ice clenched around him, making him cold and light-headed. She wasn't there. Was she delayed, somehow? What if they'd found out about the plan and imprisoned her?
He didn't dare ask what had happened to her – what if she was only running late for some reason, and if he pointed out her lateness to anyone official, she might be tortured for it? In an attempt to distract himself John contacted Ronon to get an update on the rescue plan.
Finally after what seemed like an eternity there was a knock on the door. John breathed out in relief as he saw her, her chest heaving and her face flushed as if she'd been running. Her expression managed to be both blank and questioning at the same time.
He moved quickly towards her and spoke in low tones. "It's all set. We'll be getting you out tomorrow night after you arrive here."
Elizabeth tried not to but found herself bursting into tears.
John froze in mid-stride, then rushed awkwardly forward. He took her in his arms, realized she was shaking, and walked her carefully to the bed, where he sat her down and wrapped her in the bulky comforter, and took both it and her into his arms. Her loud sobs were muffled against his shoulder, and she shuddered with the force of holding back the hysteria he knew she must have been fighting all day.
He held her, not trying to urge her into silence, not trying to hurry her, just keeping her close, smoothing a light touch sometimes through her hair.
"It's been so hard," she finally managed to say, her voice painfully rough. "All day, knowing...having hope. It's been so hard. Things I thought I had gotten used to, things I thought..."
"What happened?" He asked, steeling himself.
"Nothing, really," she said, not looking at him. "I just had a run in Fensil, he wouldn't let me go until he'd felt me up."
John tightened his hold slightly. God he had to get her out of this place, if something like that could break her down so far, when she had to be so used to far worse than mere sexual harassment, then she was probably very close to the edge.
He wasn't sure what exactly he was supposed to do this wasn't really his area. Put him in a cockpit or give him a P-90 and point him in the direction of the Wraith and he would know exactly what to do but this, this was way out of his league. Struggling for something to say John froze slightly when he felt lips lightly brush the sensitive area behind his ear.
"Elizabeth what're you doing…?" John pulled back gently.
"I think it would be obvious." Elizabeth looked at him as though she'd like to have him for dinner and dessert.
While he watched, mouth growing dry, she pushed the comforter down, and pulled her bra off with a single practiced motion. He saw again her pale breasts and the smooth, soft skin, which covered her stomach. When she made to push the cover off her lap, he gently took her hands in his and tried to smile.
"You don't have to do this."
"I want to." She said, voice low and openly urgent. "I keep thinking of what it was like to be with you. I want to touch you all over and watch that thing you do with your face when you feel good, I want to put that look on your face –."
She broke off as John stood and moved away. He began to think he understood this. Elizabeth needed to assert some power here, and, having only sexual weapons at her disposal, was making use of them. He didn't feel like being her target, however, even if his body were responding to her on its own.
"You can't bring yourself to touch me anymore, can you?" Elizabeth lowered her head, wrapping her arms around herself.
John sighed and sat again, "Elizabeth I care about you…I don't want to take advantage of you. I know you say you want this, but I can't know that for sure. How do I know this is really you talking, not just your training or something else?"
"John," Elizabeth turned to pull John into a gentle kiss. "I don't know how to convince you, but I assure you this is me this is what I want." She gently but forcefully pushed him back slightly so that she could move to straddle him, moving her hips just slightly, sliding the warm silk between her legs over his quickly responsive groin.
John's hands came up to grasp her waist, keeping her steady. He was staring directly at her perfect, icily pale breasts. Her nipples were hard, and even as he tried to tear his eyes away and think of some sort of protest, she was grinding herself down over his semi-erection.
"Please John let me have this."
The need, the want, the desire, and dare he say the love John saw in Elizabeth's eyes undid him. His hands slid up with out much conscious thought to cup her breasts. So soft, so warm, like liquid ivory in his hands, their perfect weight, their incredibly sweet-looking nubs...
As Elizabeth began to pull his shirt off John tried to remind himself why he shouldn't be doing this, but pretty much all conscious thought flew out the window as her hands continued to glide over him, stopping constantly to pinch and caress every spot that made his body jerk and his blood simmer. She moved until she was kissing him, deeply, hard and aggressive, growling in the back of her throat. He kissed her back with equal passion and reached a hand down to caress her hip through the silk.
She shuddered and pressed herself against his now extremely hard cock, and suddenly he couldn't stand that there were barriers between them, however luxuriant. He rolled them over and stripped off his pants with one hand, nibbling carefully along her neck, listening for her reactions, and zeroing in on one spot near her collarbone which made her arch and hiss in pleasure. Her own hands fumbled against him as she slid off the rest of her own clothing.
Her legs wrapped around him, and she used the leverage to stroke his erection with her soft folds. He groaned and shuddered and fought the urge to grab her and thrust inside. The tension of the day had become transformed into an overwhelming desire for release, and he remembered all too clearly her sweetness around him.
This was going so fast and neither of them truly seemed to be in control. Instead, it seemed suddenly that they were competing to give to the other the most pleasure as quickly as they could, and he was biting along her shoulder and using one hand to caress her left breast as he slid his other hand smoothly into her light public hair and then deeper into the wet heat of her.
She spread her legs and pulled on his hips, and even while his fingers found her clitoris, hers guided him inside her. He pushed in as gently as he could then grunted in surprise as she raised her hips off the bed to drive him in harder. Instantly, he found a rhythm, as he thrust her cries grew in volume and intensity. His own cries joined hers, and they were soon moving against each other furiously.
Her back arched and she screamed his name as she came, squeezing herself around him and urging out his own release. He resisted with everything he had, thrusting inside her sweet warmth again and again until she came a second time, her nails digging into his back as she screamed wordlessly. Then he came tumbling into it blindly and held aloft a split-second before the fire engulfed him, contracted inside him, and then exploded, taking him completely. He didn't pass out, but he fell asleep very quickly after that.
--
The early morning light woke John. Feeling Elizabeth next to him, John felt a wave of guilt wash through him. He couldn't blame Elizabeth for anything that had happened the night before. He had after all been tortured himself and knew what it was like to crave any act of kindness, to be allowed any sort of solace or comfort.
His resolution not to further compromise his principles failed him, and more importantly, also failed Elizabeth. His attraction to her did not excuse his behavior. Last night had not been about protecting her from the Arcadians, but rather about pity for her situation. And, more telling, about his sexual needs. That disgusted John.
He would resist such impulses after he rescued Elizabeth. Then she could be properly cared for by the people trained to do so. Heightmeyer was more suited to help Elizabeth at this particular stage than he was. He knew he represented the gender that had most harmed Elizabeth; a female would be more appropriate.
Softly John ran a soothing hand along Elizabeth's arm. She startled under his hand.
"Hmm…" The gentle sound was not reflected in the tenseness of her body. She reached back and stroked his body with a practiced hand. The hand found his most sensitive region, and began softly massaging him.
"Elizabeth…" A moan escaped, as his body complimented her performance.
Her hand tightened, almost involuntarily. John moaned again. He was not getting turned on, he was not getting turned on, the thought repeated over and over in his mind. Forcibly, he brought his mind back to the current situation. He took her wrist in his hand.
Rolling over Elizabeth blushed slightly as she shook off the last traces of sleep. "Sorry, reflex."
"No harm done." John released her wrist and slid out of bed. Despite Elizabeth's upcoming rescue, this morning needed to be played perfectly. When they left this room, he couldn't concern himself with Elizabeth any longer.
He felt Elizabeth looking at him, and ignored it. They both needed to get ready for the morning. "Come on, breakfast time. Wouldn't want to miss a crucial piece of information because of low blood sugar."
Elizabeth raised an eyebrow as she slid out of bed. "You're starting to sound like Rodney."
"Hey now, there's no need to get insulting." John called as Elizabeth disappeared into the bathroom.
When she came out John had a small breakfast set out on the table. They sat at the table for a long time after the meal had been consumed. It seemed that neither wished to stand up and end the moment. Their silence lingered around them, touching their eyes, as their eyes carefully avoided the other.
The time forced John to leave. He finished dressing then waited for Elizabeth. She again wore the demeaning costume that the Arcadians made their sex slaves wear. Her eyes, now on him, pleaded, even as she held her body aloof.
"Hey it's gonna be ok." He reassured her. "Only a little longer to pretend, then you'll be safe."
"I know," she said, her tone soft, almost inaudible. "But it still seems a dream, and I'm afraid that it won't happen. That you'll go through that door, and then I'll never see you again. And this will have only been a nightmare, and there'll be no rescue, none at all."
Despite his best intentions not to touch her again, John gathered her into his arms. She nestled there, her shoulders shaking with unshed tears. "Shh, I promise everything will be fine. The Arcadians will never suspect a thing." He resisted the urge to kiss her.
They left the suite together. They met a pair of guards who would escort Elizabeth back to wherever it was that sex slaves went during the day. John shuddered inwardly, but reminded himself that she would soon never have to suffer torments here again. He schooled his expression to impassivity, but could not help a slight curve in his lips. Only a short time, and she would fear no more. He was certain of that.
--
Free.
She was going to be free.
No more beatings, no more implant. No more men, except perhaps for John, if she could make him want her, and what by all that was eternal had she been doing for the past year if not learning to make men want her?
Her mind raced as she walked between the guards. She'd learned so well to mask misery, to seem wholly unconcerned with the torments she suffered every night. The guards had learned the hard way not to taunt her. She never dared actively disobey them, since they did have leave to beat her for being disobedient or 'spirited,' but she could, and did, flaunt her sexuality at them and subtly taunt them with what they could not have. This, she had found, enraged them, and yet if they beat her too much they risked damaging her and losing their jobs, and if they raped her they would lose their jobs. Jerick didn't tolerate mere guardsmen availing themselves of his perks.
If they tried to make her life difficult she could redouble it on them, sneering and taunting their masculinity with her body, making them feel like insects unworthy of her, and when some of them lost control and raped her to 'teach her, her place', they lost their jobs as well. It was a tiny power, a power that could hardly be exercised without risking herself, but it was something and she'd used it many times in the past to mask the pain of what Jerick or her latest 'client' had done the previous night.
Now she had the opposite problem. She had to hide the fact that she was half-delirious with excitement, and if she didn't taunt them, they might see through her facade, might realize how happy she was. But if she did, she ran the risk of being thrown down on the floor here and raped, and she couldn't bear the thought of that again. Not after yesterday. Not so close to freedom. Not after John. So she had to be calm. She had to stare at the floor, let her eyes un-focus and be dull, let herself stumble occasionally as if with exhaustion or pain. Even though she wanted to dance, she wanted to scream, to run through the halls shouting in delight. After today, she'd be free.
At the door to the cellblock they were met by another guard. "You got her?"
"The bitch in person." One of her guards shoved her slightly, making her stumble.
The new guard grinned broadly. "Good, Jerick wants her down in Debrief."
Oh, for the love of… Elizabeth rolled her eyes. "I've reported everything Sheppard told me, sir," she said, using deferential language but with a tone that was anything but. "I'm afraid I can't help it if he's not very talkative in bed. Some men do have better things to do in bed than talk, although I can see why the Grand Patriarch might not realize that."
"That so?" The guard's grin grew wider, and Elizabeth had the sudden horrible sinking sensation that he was laughing at her.
What was this about? Did Jerick not believe the information she'd made up to give him about John, and was using it as an excuse to punish her? Not that Jerick needed to be all that creative in finding excuses, but if he intended to use the resources of Debrief rather than simply taking her to bed and beating her black and blue, this was going to be bad.
There was no point in pleading with this guard, or the two men escorting her – they wouldn't have the power to change her situation in any way. She'd save it for when she got to Debrief. If Jerick just wanted more information about John, she'd just make more things up, and make it look like she'd been more afraid of what John would do to her if she told than what Jerick would do to her. She'd have to endure some pain to pull it off believably, but things couldn't possibly get too bad…Right?
They reached Debrief – the third guard following them, for some unknown reason. She kept her head down, kept her breathing even. No need to be scared. John would get her out of there before anything too bad could happen. When she caught a glimpse of the third guard behind her in her peripheral vision, he was leering at her. That was bad. But John was coming for her. She'd just have to endure, whatever it was, until he got there.
Then they reached their destination, one of the interrogation cells. Elizabeth saw the table, and stopped breathing.
If she'd been anywhere else she would have considered it nothing, hardly a sophisticated implement of torture. It was simply a padded table. There were shackles and chains connected to various places on the table, including the upper corners at the table's foot. It would have meant nothing, except that she'd been chained up on that table before.
When she'd first come here, Jerick had locked her in one of the guest suites and then raped her. At first she'd been too shocked to do anything, but then rage at her mistreatment had gotten the upper hand in her. So when Jerick had tried to force her to perform oral sex, she bit him, and ran. Unfortunately the door to the suite had been locked. There'd been nowhere to go, nowhere to escape to, and when Jerick had recovered he'd methodically beaten her senseless while she fought and tried to flee.
She'd lost consciousness, and awoken strapped to the table, probably in Debrief although she'd never known exactly where, with a ring gag in her mouth preventing her from biting again or making comments. And for a period that had seemed like eternity, Jerick had let what seemed like every man who worked in the building have her, in every orifice that could accommodate them.
Now she was so inured to rape that she'd put up with it simply to take out her rage on someone else. That however, didn't change the fact that, that table frightened her more than just about anything else she could have seen in that room.
She bolted. She couldn't help it – the fear had her completely, and she might have resigned herself to it, might have dully accepted the punishment coming to her if it hadn't been for John making her hope, making her think she'd never have to service another man and now this…No. The guards hadn't expected it – most of the slaves were dully resigned, or would cry, or plead for mercy. Running wasn't something they usually did.
This, of course, was because running didn't do any good. The pain from the implant seared through Elizabeth's neck, blotting the world. Her fear was so terrible she kept going, stumbling, for a few steps anyway before the pain had her muscles locked, toppling her to the floor.
She screamed and thrashed, digging fingernails into her neck, and was only distantly aware of the men lifting her, positioning her, shackling her legs apart to the high bars around the table and her arms back over her head. Then the pain stopped. Through tear-blurred eyes she could see a man in the uniform of an interrogator, standing over her, holding the remote for the implant.
The interrogator smiled. "Sunain, go get a few of your friends. The Grand Patriarch says he'd like somewhere between six to ten men to soften her up some before the questioning starts, and from what I hear, there should be no shortage of men who want at chance at this one."
"Yes sir!" The guard grinned as he left the room.
"Please," Elizabeth pleaded, trying desperately not to sob. "Please, what have I done? I haven't done anything, I told the Patriarch everything I was able to learn about Sheppard. I wasn't holding out, please, I've done nothing..."
The interrogator slapped her face, and took a ring gag off a small cart. "If you can't be bothered to tell the truth, bitch, perhaps I shouldn't let you speak in your defense at all."
As much as she may have hated it Elizabeth knew that what he was threatening her with was in some ways better for her than if he'd swung right into the questioning. If they were going to waste an hour or three 'softening her up' that was time they wouldn't actually be questioning her. The ring gag indicated that. She wouldn't have an opportunity to inadvertently betray John's plans. And John would get her out of there before the real questioning started, perhaps even before they were done with their fun.
She could endure. Nothing they'd do to her would be different from what Jerick did on at least a weekly basis, except in degree. There'd be some beating, some of the implant, a lot of rape. Nothing new. Nothing she couldn't endure.
She told herself this, but it didn't stop her from clenching her teeth when the interrogator tried to put the gag in, or keeping her teeth clenched through her screaming when he turned on the implant.
When he released the implant, she pleaded. "Please, sir," she said through clenched teeth. "I won't bite anymore. I've learned my lesson. You don't need the gag, I can make it better for them if you don't gag me, please..."
"No one trusts you, bitch. Now, open your mouth and take it, or get five minutes of the implant."
Having no choice she opened her mouth, and he hooked the gag in, forcing her mouth to remain open. She hated this. Aside from the fact that she'd be able to do nothing to control the degree of penetration and keep from gagging with her mouth held open like this, the gag deprived her of words, the only weapon she had. On the other hand it would keep her from breaking down and confessing things. Maybe it was safer this way.
The guard who'd originally given her guards the orders to bring her here walked up to the foot of the table, pulling her hips slightly off the edge and undoing her panties. She knew, with a sick sense of fear that she'd pay now for all the times she'd taunted the guards. Now that Jerick had given them permission to have her, in order to punish her, they'd only be too eager to rape her as brutally as they could manage.
But it was nothing Jerick himself hadn't done to her. Nothing a hundred other men hadn't done, except perhaps in degree. She gasped as the guard rammed into her, but didn't cry out. Endure. She would endure, and John would save her, and all this would be over. Endure.