A/N - As always, many thanks to those of you who took time out to review. Remember this is my first fic so feedback is really helpful. Now I'm rather worried about your reactions to the ending of this chapter I hope you're not too disappointed in me...
Chapter 7
Masks
How long he'd been unconscious he couldn't tell. Moving really wasn't an option, his limbs wouldn't respond the way he wanted them to and he'd discovered a whole new kind of exhaustion. So he simply lay there, concentrating on each painful breath. A boot nudged him in the ribs, making him moan, and he felt hands around his wrists; he was dragged across the floor and rolled onto his mattress. Feeling a hand against the clammy skin of his forehead, he winced away from the touch. He opened his eyes and, through blurred vision, he could see Iestyn crouched. He opened his eyes and was met with a blurred vision of Iestyn crouched down beside him, assessing his injuries with an impatient expression.
"If he wants to keep you alive he really should not have tried to break your head open on the floor," the guard sighed in annoyance.
"You the good cop?" Iestyn cast him a puzzled glance. "Bad cop, good cop; one scares you, the other befriends you, tricks you into talking." John explained. "You're definitely the good cop."
"Good? I just tortured you." Iestyn dipped a cloth into a bucket that reeked of disinfectant and held it over the wound on the back of Sheppard's head.
"I'm not taking it personally." He drew in a sharp breath as the cloth was pressed into the wound, a hot stab of pain shooting through his head, and he felt the cold liquid run down his neck. As the cloth was replaced in the bucket John gestured to it. "Why?"
"I don't want you dying of an infected wound before we break you."
"That's…nice."
"Well, I am the good cop." Amusement flickered in the commander's eyes as he got up to leave.
"Wait. Why did he call me a heretic?"
"You do not know?" Iestyn sounded incredulous.
"No."
"Because you occupy the Sacred City and dishonour the memories of the Ancestors."
Sheppard groaned. He had little time for organised religion; he'd seen first hand the atrocities carried out in the name of God. They'd met people in the Pegasus Galaxy before who had worshipped the Ancients, but they had always been peaceful and they'd never before met any fanatical enough to attempt to do this.
"And what you're doing doesn't dishonour them?"
"We have right on our side."
"That's what they always say." Gently, and with a great deal of effort, he rolled himself over to relieve the pressure on his most painful injuries. "We're not occupying it, Atlantis is our home."
"Not for much longer." John felt his blood run cold at the certainty in Iestyn's voice. "You don't have long to rest, make the most of it."
ooOoo
Lieutenant Jacob's team had returned without incident. Elizabeth watched from the control room balcony as Colonel Caldwell apprised them of the situation, their military stoicism masking their shock and grief; she knew how they felt, she wore a similar mask herself. Lorne's team had been due to make contact an hour later, that deadline had passed 40 minutes ago.
Since Colonel Sheppard's disappearance, she had come to rely on Lorne a great deal. Although Caldwell had become familiar with the way things were done on Atlantis and was up to date on all the reports and procedures, unlike the Major, he hadn't been out in the field and he didn't know every serviceman and woman by name. Lorne did. His experience and natural affability made him indispensable when it came down to the everyday running of the city and she had hoped his presence would ease the change of command.
There were more people in the control room than necessary but much of the senior staff, both military and civilian, had found an excuse to be there. Carson had arranged for a med team to be standing by as soon as he learned that the team was late checking in. Rodney was busying himself at a console, searching through the database trying to find any connections between the planets where the ambushes had taken place, so far without much luck. Frischmann sat beside him, asking occasional questions, and remarkably McKay had only snapped at her a couple of times.
ooOoo
This time, when they came for him, one of the guards carried a syringe in his hand. Panic swelled in his gut and John dropped to the floor and crawled into the corner, trying to escape the needle. When they came toward him, he kicked out, but he was grabbed by the ankles and dragged out flat on the floor, screaming, kicking and punching. His old injuries exploded in pain but he still fought. Two guards held down his thrashing legs while Iestyn put a knee in his chest and held his shoulders flat to the hard stone floor; he felt his arm pulled out straight and the barely detectable sting of the needle. Looking up in to the eyes of the commander he thought he saw a hint of regret.
His mind was so fogged he could barely hold together a coherent thought; he sat huddled in the corner of the cell, his body jerking uncontrollably. They'd bound his hands in front of him and the bonds cut deeper into his wrist with each involuntary jolt of his muscles.
Iestyn sat facing him, patient and relaxed. "What is the population of Atlantis?" The commander reached into his pocket and pulled out Sheppard's tattered wristband; he toyed with it in his fingers before stretching it over his own wrist. Sheppard watched the piece of black fabric, wanting to rip the man's arm off to get to it. "What is the ratio of military to civilian, what harm can it do to tell me that?"
"Six to one."
"See, that was not so difficult was it? Such a shame that it was a lie. If you had told me the truth I would have let you have this back." Iestyn pulled the sweatband off his wrist and held it up. "It means a lot to you doesn't it? What does it signify?" Sheppard said nothing; it held no significance to anyone but him. "If you tell us how to infiltrate the city with minimum casualties, we will let the civilians go free." Iestyn had a habit of changing the direction of his questioning suddenly, John knew this was a tactic designed to confuse him and all the while the commander spoke in his calm, soothing voice.
"You already killed Weir and McKay." Something flickered across the commander's eyes, something he couldn't read.
"That was necessary, they were not ordinary civilians. Was she not the leader of your people, the one who sanctioned your actions?"
"Actions?"
"You awoke the Wraith."
"Accident." He mentally winced at the word but it was true; he had accidentally awakened a race of life-sucking aliens that terrorised an entire galaxy. It was the sort of thing that could only happen to him.
"An accident?" Iestyn smiled him. "Tens of thousands of lives lost - that is a most unfortunate accident. Why do you keep the city from its rightful heirs? Hmm? The Ancestors left Atlantis behind to protect their children and yet here you are, from another galaxy, stealing our birthright." Tens of thousands; the words echoed in his head, the image of Sumner kneeling before the keeper, the life draining from him, the bullet piercing through her hand and into Sumner's heart.
"They…they came from our world."
"Who?"
"Ancients…Ancestors." Iestyn stood shaking his head, anger flashing through him for the first time.
"Your heresy knows no bounds, does it?" He sighed, gesturing to the other guards. "Maybe we can persuade you to be honest with me." Once again, he found himself dragged out into the middle of the floor and pinned down. "Perhaps Braen's methods have some merit after all." Iestyn crouched down, taking hold of his hand, and Sheppard screamed at the sickening snap as his first finger was broken.
ooOoo
When the gate finally activated an hour an thirty-three minutes after the scheduled time, the tension in the control room was unbearable. Elizabeth stomach was in knots and she felt both hope and dread in equal measure. The room was utterly silent as they waited for an IDC. When the gate technician finally spoke, he had the undivided attention of everyone in the room.
"Receiving Major Lorne's IDC." There was a collective sigh as everyone released the breath they were holding, but the tension in the atmosphere didn't dissipate just yet.
"Lower the shield." She watched, her heart still in her mouth. There was no radio contact, which was a good sign, but still it seemed an age before the first members of the team came through the gate. They looked around them with puzzled expressions at the relieved faces that greeted them from the crowded control room as they each stepped through the gate unharmed. Elizabeth ran down the stairs to join them, striding out toward the gate as the wormhole shut down behind them.
"You're late, Major." Her tone was a mixture of annoyance and relief and Lorne gave her a sheepish grin; he knew how much she hated teams checking in late, it just gave her even more things to worry about.
"Yeah, sorry about that ma'am, but we ran into an old friend."
ooOoo
His footsteps echoed through the empty city. The lights came on for him but as soon as he had passed by, they died. In the control room a thick coat of dust covered every surface. The air was stale and dry. Turning toward the balcony, he saw that the doors were wide open and the dust was blowing in through them; he stepped outside but, where there should have been ocean, grey desert stretched out toward mountains. He turned back to the city but it had disappeared and he found himself back at Khandahar.
Noise flooded in around him, Black Hawks passing overhead so close he felt he could reach out and touch them. He watched as a med evac touched down on the tarmac; the medics rushed forward, dragging stretchers along behind them. He walked slowly over toward them as they busied themselves around the helicopter. A body was pulled out, bloodied to the point of being unrecognisable, its arm only hanging on by a few tendons, the flesh torn away, deep crimson soaking through the uniform; an Atlantis uniform. He watched as more bodies were pulled from the chopper, each one with horrendous injuries, each one in the same grey uniform. He looked across to the lone pilot and met his own eyes looking back.
He awoke with a shudder. Rolling over, he vomited, bring up the small amount of bread and water he had been given to eat. Turning back to lay on his mattress, he tried to remember what had happened; his left hand screamed in pain and he laid it gently on his chest, trying not to move it any more than necessary. Iestyn had talked and talked, barraged him with question after question, the drug mixed with the pain had fogged his brain so much he couldn't remember what he had said. Had he answered? He couldn't be sure, he could only remember the relief when he finally felt consciousness drifting away.
"What is the gene?" The voice in the dark startled him. He had assumed he was alone in the cell but now, looking around, he saw the shadowy figure of Iestyn sitting against the wall next to the door.
"What?"
"You spoke of a gene. What is it? What does that mean?" No matter how hard, he tried the memories wouldn't come to him. Panic rose in him when he realised he couldn't remember what he had told them.
"I don't know." A deep impatient sigh came from the other man.
"When will you learn? Do you really wish to return to your solitude? It can be arranged. I know that being alone was more of a torture to you than this; the pain gives you something to fight. I understand that. You see we are not so very different, you and I."
"I'm nothing like you."
"If that is what you wish to believe, go ahead but you are wrong." Iestyn sat in silence for a moment and Sheppard could hear the man's steady breathing. When he spoke again his voice was quieter, little more than a whisper in the dark cell. "I confess I am confused; so many things I have been told contradict themselves. We are taught to follow the orders of the council without question yet I find my head swarming with them. The Patriarchs tell us that this is the right path for us, that the prophesies have come to pass and the Ancestors are being reborn. I have seen with my own eyes that they have revived the relics in the temple…yet still I do not trust them." He paused thoughtfully. "And then there is you. You, Colonel Sheppard, are the biggest contradiction of all. I do not understand why we are keeping you alive, we will gain no strategic information from you, of that I am certain. No, there is something more, something I am not being told."
"Reborn?" Of everything that he had said, that was the one phrase that stood out. The Ancestors reborn.
"Yes, but you know that, you needed their blood to bring the city to life." Iestyn said dismissively. John wondered if any of this would make more sense if he had been able to think with a clear head and came to the conclusion it probably wouldn't. Fighting against the fog in his mind, he tried to explain. If there was even a small chance that he could convince this man he was wrong, he had to take it, though the words came slowly.
"No…I don't understand…no blood…just us."
"Us? The technology of the Ancestors can only be activated by one who carries their blood in their veins, so you must have needed them; it is claimed that you personally killed over sixty of their people."
"No… no…we never…" Past mistakes had often came back to haunt him, but this one wouldn't be put to rest. He knew now why Iestyn hadn't been allowed to kill him, because you couldn't take revenge on a dead man. It all began to fall into place and he felt a mixture of anger and fear boiling inside him. "You're…you're talking about the Genii."