STARGATE ATLANTIS

PRIMIS : THE HURTING

A/N… What can I say but sorry for the delay in this latest chapter coming to your devices! You can put the blame on my new Hungarian Vizsla puppy taking all of my attention!

SGA SGA SGA

The light from the evening sun shone brightly through the cockpit window of the small Cessna plane John was flying with Teyla by his side, up and over the magnificent Grand Canyon in all its glory.

"I know you said I would love this; but, John…this is so beautiful!"

John felt happy showing Teyla one of his most favourite spots to fly over.

He soared as high as he could to give her the most spectacular panoramic sights, marvelling at the huge appreciative grins on her face.

"So did you eat any of the fruit?" She finally asked of him; her face basking in the deep orange light.

"Fruit?" Puzzled, he turned to look at her, but she was no longer sitting in the chair. He spun round, letting go of the controls for only a second, but the plane nose-dived and he couldn't remember how to bring it up.

"Teyla!" John screamed. "Something isn't right!"

"John. John. COLONEL!" Carson held John's face tight, trying to bring his focus to his undivided attention. "It's okay. Everything is okay. You were dreaming." Yeah, a drug induced nightmare that I gave you! Then, "John?" one last time, sadly and slowly now that he could see his friend become more aware of his surroundings. "Just a dream." He repeated whilst reaching for the metal bowl he had been provided with.

As expected, John's return to consciousness after the near overdose of narcotics, was met with the most awful side effect of nausea, followed swiftly by the emptying of his stomach's contents. Carson held him through the bouts until all he was left with was some dry heaves, and Carson knew from experience that that was actually what he hated the most when being sick. John groaned slightly holding his head and stomach, making Ronon wince with frustration at his inability to hold his friend through it if required of him.

"S…sick?" John whispered, struggling to get a grip of his situation.

"My fault in a way, son. You've had too many pain killers in too short a time." Carson bowed his head. He suspected that John was getting more and more reliant on the concoction of medication that was keeping him alive, so much so, he worried that there was not much more he could do for him and time was running out to find him a cure – or least an explanation as to what was going on.

John yanked his head away from the foul smelling bowl and grimaced. "Again?" Carson asked.

"No. Just keep it away from me, please, it's not helping."

Carson walked out of John's cell and placed the offending bowl on the floor in front of Stron, who did not look amused, but kept still beside the open door.

That was when John noticed it was fully open. "What the, he…?"

"Santana was kind enough to let me care for you. He…well he, uh, let me have one of your pain killer vials to help you, but I had just given you a dose of morphine before-hand…and I…"

"Bloody hell, Carson. Are you trying to kill me?"

Carson took offense. "No I bloody well am not! I'm trying to help you in an impossible situation!"

Chastised, and truly sorry for his outburst, John attempted a weak smile. "Sorry, doc."

Ever forgiving, Carson smiled back. "Not to worry, I understand what you must have been thinking. Now, tell me…and the truth mind…how are you feeling?"

"Like I've been turned inside out and then stomped on…and that's after the truck hit me."

Carson shared a worried look with Ronon, who had remained a quiet observer, leaning into the bars on John's side. "You look like hell." He finally said to his friend, not best pleased at his condition, but managed a consolidating smile his way.

"Gee, thanks, buddy." John said, and then accepted Carson's help into a sitting position on his cot. "…although I'm not nearly in as much pain as I was earlier; thanks to you, Carson." He smiled with a grimace.

"I take no delight in drugging you to the eyeballs, John, but I needed to make you feel better. I just wish I could do more for you now."

Then, John noticed something. "Where's Rodney?" His heart started hammering in his chest.

"Took him away, then that Santana guy came and watched you for a while. He's away now."

John lifted a weary arm to point. "And him?"

"Silent guard. Santana's right hand man I would hazard a guess..." Ronon interjected; all the time staring at the giant.

"Right." was all John could come up with.

"I'm allowed to stay for a while and look after you in your cell." Carson said, taking a seat beside John and began to do some basic health checks on him, only to have his patient pull back. "John." He said, staring him in the face.

John sighed, but relented. "Go on then, do your stuff."

"I will!" Carson playful said, squinting his eyes.

John smirked and rested his head against the wall, closing his eyes.

Only a couple of minutes passed, until Ronon sat down and leaned into the bars closest his friend.

"What were you dreaming about? You shouted out something to do with fruit?"

John opened tired eyes. "I did?" John steadied a suddenly spinning room with a hand on the mattress and tried to recall his dream through the horrid sensations. The drugs were spiralling round and round his inner body, coiling and curling around the recesses of his mind until everything began to take on a purple blue hue in his mind's eye.

"Fruit." He whispered again, almost wistfully, now ignoring his friends and wanting the spinning to stop. Again, Carson and Ronon shared a look. "It's the drug cocktail talking, He must feel confused." Carson explained. "The head wound was not serious, thank goodness, so it isn't that, and so far he has left his arm alone, thank goodness!"

"Nah. I haven't said anything before, but several times when he has been sleeping since he got back, he has woken up gibbering about fruit; Teyla said it too. It's got me thinking about the planet he was originally taken from – the one with the lovely tasting fruit that Torren especially loved."

"What's your thoughts?"

"His subconscious really. Is it trying to tell him something about the fruit? Something to benefit him?"

"Or is it just a memory, Ronon?"

Ronon turned to watch John. "I dunno, doc. But I want to go back there when we get out of here; see if there is anything about the fruit that's beneficial to his health."

"The mind is a marvellous thing, you are right not to just dismiss this idea. John's own is maybe trying to tell us something."

"He sleeping?"

Carson wiped the sweat from his friend's forehead, avoiding the small white bandage over his new wound. John never flinched, so he nodded. "Aye. Best thing for him too."

"He's not doing too well, is he?" Ronon finally asked.

Carson slowly shook his head. "Whatever is killing him…is! He's sleeping too much – even with a bloody cocktail of drugs going through him – he is shutting down. Worry about Teyla and Torren is not helping him either. Ronon, what must Teyla be going through!"

Neither men could think of anything to say after that, so just settled themselves into a restful position and just watched the slow rise and fall of John's chest.

For now, it was all they could do.

SGA SGA SGA

Santana pondered over the tender care provided to the leader of this small band of men. He had heard snatches of what was going on in the cell through the eyes of his fellow Carakan, but a personal visit can speak volumes to the decisions he makes on a daily basis, so he would go visit them again shortly.

Amitiyaz had been the planet of the Wraith's home world for so long, he had never thought they would leave it. He had been too late to witness the hive ship departing; so he never got what he sought. Again! Perhaps this group, having the ancient gene, could help him in ways he never thought possible. He needed an alliance with them, not start a war.

Santana had a secret quest; one that made him steadfast and reliable in the Carakan wars so he could remain in a position to have all the latest facts and information. The High Command did not even realise that he had a hidden agenda following the Wraith around. No wonder he was revered amongst his Clan and detested greatly by the others wanting to take his position. He was fearless, driven and one day, very soon, he would get his reward for all the patience he possessed.

SGA SGA SGA

"Your man, Colonel Sheppard. He is dying, you say?"

Carson stood, along with a surprisingly reunited Rodney, in front of Santana's large desk.

"You're a genius, too then, to figure that out!" Rodney spat, and then getting a dig in his ribs from Carson.

"A genius, you say." Santana reached forward for a large ornate knife, letting the man in front of him vent his anger; hidden secrets came out that way.

Rodney, Carson was pleased, now remained mute; just jutting his chin out as far as it would go.

Santana shook his head at the rather unsophisticated scientist, and turned his attention back to the doctor.

"What ails him?"

Carson took a second to answer him. "I wish I knew exactly. He had an unfortunate run in with some Wraith some time ago…we, uh…we just got him back. He…"

Santana cut Carson off. "Where was he?" His hope and suspicions piquing suddenly.

"Amitiyaz."

Santana breathed clean, fresh air for the first time in decades.

"Just how long was he there for?"

Carson wondered at the man's sudden interest in John's welfare, but perhaps he could help him if he knew more about his condition.

"He had been away for over a year, not all that time on Amitiyaz…he escaped with some friends and …"

"…and he doesn't need to know all the details!" Rodney said, suddenly wanting Carson to shut up.

Carson bristled, but backed down, just hoped he was sending a pleading glare for help Santana's way.

Santana rose from his chair and walked around his desk until his hip was perched on the other side and facing both Carson and Rodney; and with no weapon drawn. With a look, he dismissed the two guards that were at the door.

With the door finally closing shut behind them, the two friends gaped at the larger man watching them studiously, wondering at the lack of security.

"I am interested to hear of your leader's time away. What did he see? Is that where he got ill?"

"You'll have to ask him yourself what he saw; he remains quiet on the subject…but yes, something happened to him there that had made him very ill indeed. He was given a tracker, and a …?"

"They made him a runner?"

Rodney was getting frustrated with the conversation. Santana seemed to have a knack of ignoring what they asked or said, and just carried on with his own questions.

Carson took what he could. "Not …exactly. They implanted something into him along with a tracker. The tracker is out, but they also had put some type of slow release liquid into him that leaked from the implant; the only information on it we have, is that, unfortunately, it somehow was released all at once…and it is slowly killing him; his body is rejecting it, and I cannot find an answer to what it is, or how to help him, but it causing him great pain and discomfort….well, you can see that for yourself."

Santana fell all the blood run out of him as he listened, and in equal doses he felt elated and worried sick.

Carson watched the emotions playing out on Santana's face, noticing how much paler the already pale man looked. He exchanged a glance with Rodney, but they both remained quiet, watching the play of emotions on Santana's face settle at last, and wondering what on earth they had said that had aroused this reaction out of him.

Santana felt as though he had received a stomach blow, as the wind seemed to be taken out of him. He knew he should at least move; speak even, but he was lost in the hope that he suddenly had a piece of a puzzle to help him after all these decades of hope.

Finally, he coughed and drew in some much needed oxygen. He could see Carson watching him – with what? Concern?

He coughed again.

"I know of what you speak…"

Carson was off his chair. Santana stood up and his formidable size backed Carson down into his chair once again, gripping the arm rests so tight. "You do? You can help him?"

"Speak up, man?" Rodney was losing patience. Carson cut him off with a glare. "If it is at all possible for you to help our friend, then we will be more than happy."

Santana returned to his old self. He smirked. "Enough to join my clan?"

That silenced the friends, until Carson stood up. "If it saves his life…then, yes! Although we were hoping for more of a deal. I think we could help each other out. We are interested to know more about your history, and in return, I am sure we can help you with medicines, and…" Carson shot a glance at Rodney, then stood up slowly. "Just…help us if you can." He replied.

Santana considered them for a moment. "What you speak of is something that is unique to each Hive's queen. I understand your sentiments, but, even if I wanted to, I cannot cure him. That – I'm afraid is down to the generosity of the queen he left behind."

"In what way? What did she do to him?"

"She would be trying to bond with his mind. It's a delicate procedure that the wraith have tried over the years to produce in a human; a 'recipe', if you like, left behind by the ancients for their use, but it back fired on them and the wraith adapted it for themselves. For your man to be given his dose so quickly would be very dangerous to his health indeed. It should be done slowly and with the queen's close proximately at the same time. Most certainly that is why he is dying – his body would reject the poison without it being monitored closely, and the pain it causes his head without the queen's control of him will only get more and more intolerable."

"He has massive headaches already." Rodney came right up to Santana. "Tell us what to do." He probed in a rare show of emotions that caused him to plead.

"The mind meld is not for everyone. She must have thought him a suitable candidate to try the risky and almost discontinued method. Am I missing something with you people? Is his gene so very strong that she would try this with him?"

Carson ignored his questions this time. "What does this…mind meld…do?" Ever the physician.

"She would try to see what he sees through his own eyes. He would be a 'spy' for her without even knowing it. A very dangerous weapon indeed as she could gain access to where he lived…and well, you get the idea.

In effect, if it is indeed actually working now – then the queen can see what your leader sees whenever she wants. The headaches is her attempt to accesses his mind. Perhaps he can hold her back for a time without knowing that is what is happening to him. But, in closer proximity to her, the results could be catastrophic for all that live with him or near him."

"What?" Rodney cried. "He has had terrible headaches ever since we got him home. Are you telling me that she was seeing…well, everything (aw crap, Atlantis!)?"

"The headaches are a good indicator; although with the poison coursing through his body, he will get them anyway. Although bear in mind that the fact that she has not caught up with him yet means that her poison has perhaps not worked after all. But, the fact that he is still getting such bad headaches, makes me think she tries still. She can be very stubborn." Santana dipped his head, suddenly in thought.

"He wondered why he was never let go as a runner. That would explain it. She had something different in mind for him."

"She would have to have waited a while for her serum to integrate well within him. As I said, it is a very delicate procedure. Not done very often, as it seldom fails. Your man must have escaped before it took full effect as it can take a time – that is why it is usually done slowly and gently so the victim survives..." Santana broke off.

"And now?" Rodney asked.

"Now, it slowly kills him as his body rejects it, and now I will have to get him away from here just in case it does work and she sees where his is. That would bring all sorts of trouble my way that I can ill afford with the High Council."

Rodney stuck his chin out, confused about the man in front of them. "Why? …and anyway, you are scavengers. There, taking everything left after a wraith cull. How can you follow them about like that?"

"Scavengers? Is that what you think?" Santana pressed a button on his chest. He laughed deeply. "I have more questions, but for now, my men will escort you back to your cells."

"All of us, including Major Lorne, and …"

Santana raised a hand to silence Rodney.

"Take what I give you gracefully and without greed. It will be to your benefit, and I will rethink your situation within my Clan. For now, I have to arrange for you to be moved away from here."

Carson grabbed Rodney's arm and stood waiting on their escorts. When they arrived they walked them towards the door, but all halted when Santana shouted on them to wait.

"I'll seek my healers and do what I can for your friend. Meanwhile, if his headache is severe, you must bandage his eyes shut. It is to all our benefit."

SGA SGA SGA

John was sitting leaning against the bars of his cell, arms clasped around his stomach, when Carson, Rodney, Lorne and his men were returned. Ronon stood and walked to his locked door. "Rodney?"

"Bet you thought you had seen the last of us, eh!"

"What's going on?" John worriedly asked, but too dizzy still to get up.

Carson stepped into his cell that had remained open, carrying some long pieces of cloth which puzzled him. "You are not going to like this, son. But, boy do we have a story to tell you. We can, at least, explain what's happening to you."

John felt a knot in his stomach but nodded anyway. He knew it would not be good. Not by the way Lorne avoided his eyes when they had come back. He had obviously been updated himself on the walk back.

"Before you tell me. What's the story with Santana? Things seemed to more relaxed here now. Is he going to help us?"

Rodney walked into his cell and sat on the end of John's bed. "Turns out it's to his benefit to get us away from here as you are endangering his people."

"I am! How?" John was flabbergasted.

"We'll tell you, hang on. Just know that we are getting off this frozen rock soon. We don't trust him totally, but once you hear what we now know…well, it will be sooner, rather than later."

"Well don't keep us waiting Rodney!" Ronon glowered.

SGA SGA SGA

John and Ronon processed what they now knew with dual worried expressions. Their friends' watched them remain silent as it was all digested. John's hand automatically moved to massage his forehead, and he looked at the long strip of material in Carson's hand with consternation. "I don't want to be blind-folded all the time." He said, screwing up his face in disbelief.

"Santana said…"

"I would know – Rodney – if a queen was trying to infiltrate my mind. Been there, done that – several times!"

"Unfortunately…this is different, she…"

But John had now stood up and pushed Carson's arm away from him. "I want to speak to Santana myself. Shout for a guard to bring him here." He demanded strongly, looking at Lorne.

Lorne obeyed his commanding officer without thought and stepped towards the double doors at the entrance to their cells.

He did not need to shout for a guard, though, as Santana himself started to walk towards them.

John wasted no time and brushed past Carson and out into the open corridor to meet him. For the first time, since they had been taken by Santana he felt strong and promoted this fact with every stride towards him, back straight, hands clenched and eyes that warned his opponent that he was in top form and in no mood for an argument.

Colonel John Sheppard stood in front of Santana, and even though he was a good half foot shorter than him, his persona and self-esteem surprised Santana by the bucket load as he had expected a weaker man to greet him.

"You should have talked to me first." John simply stated, hands now on both hips.

Santana nodded. "You are correct. I should have, but you were…not in a fit state at the time."

"And yet, you could not have waited until my pain killers had kicked in. I suspect, Santana that you like to play games with the order in which you 'interview' people."

"I…"

John held up his hand for him to stop talking, and Santana bristled. Stron stepped forward, but Santana decided to hold him back for now.

"I..." He pushed his head forward. "I am not going to lie. I find it to be a very good way of frustrating people, shall I say!" He laughed.

"Colonel Sheppard. This is a hard world we live in. Us, Carakans, have to fight clan after clan to maintain our top positions. It is a good way to break the chain of command to get others to join with me in the end."

"I'm not interested in your Clans. I'm interested in getting my men home. Now, how about we talk about what we can do to help you in return for you getting us off this ice cube?"

The two leaders sized each other up for only a few seconds when next all hell broke loose.

A blast caught them all unawares.

SGA SGA SGA

Lorne and his men took the brunt of the explosion and landed on the hard ground on top of one another in a pile of burning rocks and hot spring water let loose by the unexplained force. Rodney and Carson, shaken but not hit by the shards of loosened rock, ran to help them douse the flames with their jackets and check for injuries. Ronon, unhurt and still locked in his cell, rattled the bars and demanded his release. The cell door did open and he sprung forward towards John, at last, like a coiled spring, eager to check on him.

John had reached out to support Santana as he had been thrown forward with the blast. Tiny slivers of rock dusted their hair and their clothes. Sheppard accepted Ronon's arm to right himself with the weight of Santana leaning on him until Ronon pushed Santana back and away from him.

"Are you under attack?" John screamed at Santana, holding Ronon back now from punching Santana until he found out what was happening. He saw his downed men that were now rousing themselves in a quick look and satisfied himself that they were okay with Carson and Rodney looking after them.

Santana looked confused at this turn of events and swung around to take in the scene behind him. His hand delved into his pocket and brought out John's hand gun to face his attackers. John and Ronon both took in the fact that he had turned his back to them; obviously not seeing them as a threat. They matched his stance, with John eyeing his weapon, but playing it calm for the moment. Santana didn't flaunt his weapon towards him, but made sure John knew he was hanging on to it with a look that said all. John matched the trust and took two steps to be by his side, with Ronon flanking him in full protective mode now that he had his friend in close proximity.

"Carson?" John took time to shout through the smaller explosions that followed the larger one.

"They'll be okay, John. Superficial." Carson knew he would need to know if his men were ready to run or not. He caught John's concerned eye and nodded. Rodney helped Lorne stand steady and Carson helped the other two men stand on shaky legs.

Next came shouting and the occasional fire of a blaster that they all knew sounded like it was on stun. Santana consistently hit his call button but Stron had not sent any men to help him. He wondered which Clan was daring to attack them. He would look victorious though when the High Command heard of his latest achievements and these supposed attackers would have to crawl under the very rocks they were blowing up to hide from the fall out of their stupid actions.

Almost in blanket unity, he also noticed that Colonel Sheppard had remained calm and onside with him since the initial explosion; although he knew that Ronon was a command away from murdering him: he enjoyed the buzz he got from that.

The three men drew closer to the double doors.

Through a cacophony of noise and disturbance stepped the one armed person, John and Ronon never in a million years thought they would see here…

Teyla.

SGA SGA SGA

TO BE CONTINUED….I'll try and be quicker!