A/N: Team whumpin' time! This chapter's a doozy.
Ch. 26
Rage
'How fine you look when dressed in rage...'
The Cheshire Cat, American McGee's Alice
Perfectionism was back, and it made John's skin crawl when he stepped from the gate and onto the short, dew-crisp grass. It was the worse kind of subterfuge, because it was all natural, like a pretty little dream before the darkness. It recalled to John a book he once read, borrowed from one of McKay's slaves – a fantasy addict – because War and Peace was putting him to sleep. He didn't recall the title since it was only one as part of a series. What he remembered most about it was a hell-world dimension of perpetual spring – like Sriot – until any form of shadows or darkness touched it. Then trees would become tentacled monsters, Bambi-like deer slavering demon dogs, and grass bloodsucking worms, or some such as.
Oh yes, that was Sriot – no offense to the residents intended. It wasn't their fault the dark woods harbored genetic demons like Diavante.
Again, John shuddered. His eyes traveled to the DHD.
" Not much rain," he said.
McKay, scanning their surroundings in a squinty-eyed manner, looked up at the sky. " Huh?"
John jerked his head at the DHD, smeared and splotched with hand-prints darker than the element making up the DHD, tricky to notice unless one knew what to look for. McKay shifted his scrutinizing to the device, even moving in close, then blanched.
" Oh crap, is that yours?"
The hand print size looked about right. " Yep. Someone should think about taking a little Windex to that before it freaks out the locals."
McKay looked over at John in alarm. " That's not funny."
John pulled his sunglasses from his pocket and preoccupied himself with cleaning the lenses using the edge of his shirt. " As long as that bloods mine, it is." He placed the shades on, then shoved his hands into his pockets, feeling positively exposed without his jacket or vest. It had been his idea to come without both, in part because he wanted to be more recognizable were Krissa in a position to spot him, and in part in case something had him going to critter mode. He didn't want to loose another jacket, and there was no reason to ruin a perfectly good vest by any means other than weapons fire. Besides, the weather was good, warm enough for a long sleeved shirt. He had his nine millimeter, knife, and – of course – critter mode.
Except that he hated critter mode.
A hand touched him lightly on the arm, drawing his attention from the DHD to a concerned Teyla.
" Are you certain you wish to do this?" The polite way of saying 'you're not gonna flip out, are you?' John smiled but had to keep his jaw clamped tight to stop himself from laughing.
" Positive." So positive that he'd actually got Kate to back him up on it when he noticed the doubt creeping into Elizabeth's eyes. It had been him and Kate against Weir and Beckett – kind of. Speed healing had John back – at most - to eighty or so percent, give or take. A few aches, a few twinges, but nothing more. Topping that, John wasn't unnaturally ravenous so much. But Beckett, being the mother hen that he was, seemed unable to ever give an absolute all clear. He always had to hesitate, force further test after test after test. But the Scottish doc's influence hadn't been up to par as of late, and he caved sooner than even John had expected.
Seems the unease critter mode created did have an advantage. Still, even with getting what he wanted, John didn't like the means to the end it had taken to get it. He didn't want people nervous around him, not even remotely.
Then again, maybe Carson saw no threat to a simple visit involving nothing more than searching for a missing girl.
It was too hard to say, but John went with the latter in order to stem down the guilt.
Elizabeth's consent was thanks to Heightmeyer, who saw therapeutic merit in John's return to the world that nearly killed him. But in all truth, there had been no reluctance in John's decision to return. He had a promise to keep, and like hell any Post Traumatic Stress was going to get in the way of that.
Still, being on Sriot, without P-90, vest, and jacket, made him feel like an 'eat me' sign had been pinned to his back. And visions of a giant, serrated fanged maw still danced in his head.
" Let's do this," he said, and led the way back over the hills to the peaceful little town nestled in the valley. Teyla, Ronon, and McKay followed with Lorne and four marines spread out taking point. John was struck by the sudden urge to get the trek over and done with by bounding over the hills on all fours at a dead run. It was an urge he suppressed with a swallow and a chuckle.
" What?" McKay prodded. " What's so funny?"
John shook his head. " Nothing you'd understand."
McKay, huffing and puffing as he tried to keep up with John's longer and more energetic strides, shook his head. " Try me."
" Can't. Don't really get it myself."
Rodney's hand shot up toward John's forehead, and he flinched away.
" What the crap McKay!"
Rodney rolled his eyes. " I'm making sure you don't have a fever."
" Carson put you up to it?"
" No... Maybe. Look, it's your own fault. Stop laughing for no reason and I won't play Beckett. This isn't exactly an ideal place or time to go all funny in the head."
John chuckled again, which had Rodney tensing.
" What! What now?"
John twitched his head. " McKay, your choice of medical jargon has always been good for a laugh. 'Funny in the head'..."
McKay glowered. " Jargon aside," he replied huffily, " it's the blatant truth and you know it."
" Actually, you've been saying it enough since the day we met to get me to actually start believing it. Seriously, Rodney, I'm find. It's just a screwed-up universe having me come back here – making me question my own sanity. So I don't blame you for the funny-head remark. But you know what? I'm freakin' glad I came back. It's a beautiful day, the sun is shining, the weather's warm..." he patted his nine-mil tucked safely in its thigh holster. " And if Master Diavante rears his bloated head, I can fill it with a few bullets, maybe even tear something out for good measure. So... It's all good, Rodney." And he patted the physicist's shoulder for emphasis.
Rodney flinched. " Crap, you are funny in the head. And what makes you think a creature you described as looking like an ink-stain can be taken down? Huh? If he's half-ascended..."
John's attention span decreased rapidly. Not that he didn't want to listen to what Rodney had to say, he just didn't want to answer the question and end up getting an earful.
He'd never said anything about killing Divante, just satisfying a sadistic need even if it proved futile. John had no intention of going the way of Savine. He would fight to the last breath and last drop of blood before he let Diavante swallow him whole.
Plus, as much as he hated to admit it, he was scared about being back on Sriot. Instinct was shrieking at him to turn and high-tail it off this overly pretty rock of doom, and the constant fearful babble was pissing him off. So, yes, he was entitled to being a 'little funny in the head'. It wasn't like he was going to teeter into irrationally psychotic any time soon.
They crested the hill overlooking Gen, and crested down into the valley, following the road and knocking John upside the head with a bad case of deja-vu. The only thing missing was a wagon, furry horse, and Beckett. They entered the town that greeted them with warm smiles, welcome-backs, and questions concerning any luck seeking out the girl Krissa. John set to work spreading the word of his presence as it were. He spoke with the Guardians, store owners, and a few town officials they chanced across.
Even when midday came, John still had steam enough to keep going, but not certain members of his team. McKay veered toward a fruit stand with chocolate bar in hand, ready for trade, but John snagged him by the collar of his jacket.
" Whoa! Where do you think you're going?"
Rodney pointed at the chocolate, then at the stand. " I – I was just going to snag a little snack. Hypoglycemic, remember? Chocolate doesn't always cut it."
John looked at the bar, then at the cart of multicolored fruit. Saliva pooled quick, nearly leaking from his lips. " Yeah... a snack..." He released McKay to follow him across the street. John looked up at the clatter of numerous footfalls marching their way, and saw rounding the bend a small gaggle of men in the prim suits of officials. Taking the lead was a tall, fair-haired man with a thin, sharp-featured face that looked almost pinched. The man and his entourage slowed on seeing John. The blond man raised a stiff finger aimed directly at the Colonel.
" You! Are you the one they call Sheppard?"
Instinct was practically threatening John now. Adrenaline filled his veins like fire, and he had to shove his hand back into his pockets to hide their trembling.
" Um..." he gulped, feeling sweat tickle annoyingly down his back. " Who – who wants to know?" He winced at the way his voice cracked.
The blond leader hurried forward. " Where is my daughter!" And he shoved John back. " What happened to my Krissa! Where is she! Why do you seek her!" He shoved John again, harder this time. Ronon, always nearby, growled and advanced until John raised his hand for the Satedan to stop.
" You'd be Mr. Ameens, then," John said, keeping his hand up and the runner at bay. " Yeah, I'm John Sheppard. Listen, I don't know where your daughter is. That's why I'm here. I'm trying to look for her. And, since apparently you are too, I guess it's safe to say you have no idea where she is..."
" What happened to her!" Mr. Ameens snarled, taking another menacing step toward John. John felt the change prickling within him, but he shoved it aside like an overly eager dog trying to go for a lick at the face.
" I don't know, Mr. Ameens. That's what I'm trying to find out. I was one of your daughter's protectors and we got separated trying to escape from Diavante's home. Savine was coming after her, we had to leave fast. I mean, on the plus side, Savine's dead, but I'm afraid so is Bren. Krissa and I got separated when Diavante came after us..."
John trailed at the spark of fear he noticed in Mr. Ameens eyes. In fact, John was struck by the oddity of any lack of reaction on Mr. Ameens part say for that little flicker that kept coming and going like an ember that wouldn't die.
Taking notice, bringing it to light, John focused on that bit of fear until he could practically smell it – even feel it – oozing off the man in cold waves. It rippled from behind as well, from the small throng of men standing idly by, their only movement the occasional shifting of feet.
" Um..." John stammered. " I was... hoping that Krissa might just be in hiding. Because – if she is – I just wanted to let her know that I'm all right, and that I hope that she's all right. And to tell her that the offer I made her still stands..."
Mr. Ameens' next shove sent John sprawling onto his back.
" Get out," Ameens hissed. " Get out of here, all of you. Now, while you can. I will find my daughter. You need not worry about her. So go, now!"
With that said, Ameens turned on his heels and stalked away with the male gaggle trailing. John stared after them, wondering, considering, his mind going fast and furious as it worked the situation out. He felt a light thump on his shoulder, and turned his ponderous head to see McKay's hand reaching down for him. John took it to be hefted to his feet.
McKay looked from John to the men vanishing back around the bend. " W-what was that all about?"
John, dusting himself off by slapping his pants, narrowed his eyes. " I don't know." He recalled the fear, the stench of it, the feel of it.
Ronon came up beside John. " Overstayed welcome?"
John shrugged. " Never seemed to be a problem before." He looked at Lorne. " Has it?"
Lorne shook his head. " No sir. We've talked to Mr. Ameens before. He was worried, said he wanted to start a search of his own, but was never hostile, never said we couldn't help."
John nodded. " We should head back to the gate, let dad cool down a little, come back tomorrow and try again..."
Maybe it was paranoia all over again – John wouldn't be surprised – but something felt off, and paranoia or not it would be stupid not to give in to those nagging urges of worry. John was sick of learning that little lesson the hard way.
They stayed long enough to trade for fruit from a bewildered vendor who kept apologizing for Ameens' actions. They snacked on fruit while heading back, feeling no qualms on tossing away the bio-degradable cores along the way. Paranoia danced about Sheppard's brain, and tried to get the change to join the party. It prickled along his skin, and sent chills up and down his spine, making him shiver.
" Colonel, are you all right?" Teyla asked.
John nodded stiffly. " Yeah it's just..." He looked over at her. " Did you get the feeling that Ameens was really nervous? I mean not about us, just in general."
" He was very agitated, yes," Teyla replied. " But that seemed more out of anger than unease."
John rubbed the back of his neck to massage away the crawling sensation. " I don't know, maybe it was just me. Something seemed off about the whole deal. Then again he could just be pissed at me and didn't want to miss the opportunity to chew into me. Either that or he knows where Krissa is and sees our search as a danger, a chance she might be given away. I can understand it if it's the latter. We could very well be making things worse..."
Or he could be pissed. John couldn't say, and the lack of knowing was already starting to tear him apart. He couldn't just call off the search. Look where doing that had gotten Mathers' remains? And Krissa was still alive, so the outcome had far more weighing on it.
John felt suddenly very, very tired. He sniffed, and caught on the air a strange scent he couldn't quite place because it hadn't been part of the menagerie of smells before. They were nearing the gate, and John slowed. He might have felt drained, but it was a momentary lapse of energy quickly erased by another surge of adrenaline.
Eyes, he felt eyes on them. John's heart became a hammer against his chest. He slowed, and the others slowed with him until he stopped.
Ronon quirked an eyebrow. " Sheppard?"
John's eyes flitted over the little valley where the gate sat like a lonely fragment of some long-lost structure. Several of Lorne's men were already moving on ahead to secure the perimeter of the gate. John rubbed at his neck a little harder.
" Something doesn't feel right. Maybe..." the rest was lost to him when something cold struck his back, and darkness slapped itself over his eyes before he even hit the ground.
SGASGASGASGASGA
John awoke to a familiarity that was scaring the hell out of him. Excruciating pain in his spine, the scent of cooking fires and unwashed bodies, and accented babble. Even in a haze, it came together, and terror-born instinct had him pushing away the darkness and bolting upright with a gasp. Hands grabbed him by the shoulder, and he jerked away from them to scrambled back until his spine hit something solid.
" Sheppard! Whoa, hey! Relax, calm down..."
The voice cut through the muddle, and John cleared his head with a twitch until McKay's face swam into focus. McKay's bruised, blood-smeared face. John's heart crawled back out of his throat, but refused to slow down, and because of it he was panting fast.
" McKay! What the hell!" he shot his ahead around, panic swelling in his chest until he couldn't breathe.
They weren't in a barn. It was a cage, some kind of make-shift cage surrounded by three boarded walls, with thick, gnarled bars making up the forth wall to John's right. Beyond the bars was a forest going gray with a day descending toward twilight. Camp fires cut through the waning light, flickering and coiling oily smoke. And there were people, lots and lots of people. They wore uniforms, every one, two kinds of uniforms so sickeningly familiar to John that he couldn't have stopped the oncoming cringe even if he had been aware of it.
One uniform – Genii. The other – Cyladran.
John's heart clamored back into his throat, and he swallowed to shove it back down. " Oh you've got to be kidding me."
He looked back at McKay's dirtied and pale face.
" What – what happened?"
" Ambush. First you go down, then Ronon, Teyla, Lorne, a couple of his men. Of course – since they seemed to be going in terms of threat..." he said with minor disgust, " they took me down last. Mind you I managed to get off a couple of rounds... all... misses – but one of them tackled me, which I guess'll teach them to leave any man standing – not that I wanted to get zapped mind you..."
" McKay!" John snapped more forcefully than intended.
McKay exhaled a shuddering breath. " Anyways, we were attacked, knocked out, and now here we are."
John looked passed Rodney to see Teyla and Ronon against the back wall, attempting to massage away the affects of the stunners. John would have done the same, except that he didn't care, because outside milled two of Atlantis' biggest enemies. All that was missing was the wraith, and the hysterical part of John's mind kept waiting expectantly for them to come sauntering in.
And, oh boy, wouldn't it be quite the shin-dig then. A nice, cozy ' Anti-Sheppard and team' support group. Oh how Sheppard wronged us. Off with his head then!
John turned his head back toward the bars. " Genii and Cys, huh? Crap I had so better be dreaming."
" You okay?"
John's head snapped back to Rodney. " Um, not really, McKay. Have you looked outside the cage lately?" he spat. Really not a good time to be taking everything out on Rodney, but he seemed unable to help himself.
" No, Colonel, I've gone suddenly blind," Rodney shot back. John tended to forget about Rodney's emotional shield called sarcasm. " I'm aware of the situation! I meant physically fine. You're shaking, like you're cold or something." Rodney's expression softened. " You're not sick or – you know..." he jerked his head toward the enemies prowling around beyond the cage, " getting in a biting, clawing, ripping ,tearing mood?"
John released an unsteady breath and shook his head. He was surprised to see Rodney deflate, then scowl.
" Oh well that's just freakin' great! The one time that little talent could come in handy and it's taking a nap. Come on, Colonel, just go were, rip up these bars, and..."
Something banged against the bars, and both John and McKay whipped their gazes around to see a face that had bile shooting into John's throat.
Nightmare of nightmares – Menk was crouched before the bars with a tin cup in one hand, and he was smirking.
" John," he said pleasantly. " Meetin' again I see. Bet you thought yourself cleansed of me."
John shook his head slowly from side to side. " Oh no," he scooted along the wall, toward the back, never taking his eyes from that grinning visage he'd hoped had been resigned to bad dreams. " No, no, no, no, hell no! What the freakin' hell!"
Menk held up his hand. " John, John. Calm, now. Breathe. No need for panic. Listen, much as I wish to stay and catch up, I fear I've lingered a bit long. I'm needed back. Just waitin' around for you to wake and to tell you what's what about your situation. Seems you've been takin' what isn't yours again. Not too bright of you. You're to be our guest until that somethin' is returned – one way or the other. It'll be explained in plenty time enough, but I fear I can't stick around for it. Sorry, John. Must be off now."
Menk rose and walked out of sight on the other side of the cage. But out of sight, out of mind didn't hold true. John's heart refused to slow, his breaths ditto. And, oddly enough, the one time he wished for the change, it refused to come thanks to the shock of pain it caused to his still throbbing spine. But that didn't stop him from tearing across the gritty floor and grip the bars until his knuckles turned white.
" Menk you son of a...! Get back here! I'm going to rip off your frakin' head! Do you hear me! You're dead, Menk! I'm gonna kill you!" He felt a hand on his shoulder, a distant sensation he shrugged furiously away, except that it kept coming back.
" Colonel!"
Teyla's voice, which always managed to burrow through whatever haze John's mind was in, gentle yet firm. " Colonel, you must calm down." She tugged on his shoulder until he complied, rejoining Ronon and McKay at the back wall. But he never took his eyes from the bars.
Night came quick, with the fires blindingly brilliant in the thick darkness. People came and went, and those who drew in close enough to the cage would either laugh, throw something, or spit.
" Can you change yet?" Rodney growled, wiping spittle from his face.
John tried, only to have his spine flare uncomfortably. He grimaced, then sagged back against the wall, panting. " L – little more time. I think that stunner screwed it up." He curled his bare toes into the soft dirt, having removed his boots so they wouldn't hinder the change.
" Do you really believe they desire the sil?" Teyla asked.
" No doubt about it. Cys get their crap from Diavante, Genii probably get a little piece of that action too – one of the scientists was Genii. I'm thinking that's what Ameens was freaked out about. He knew the two were here, maybe even looking for Krissa. He was trying to warn us but couldn't, not if they'd infiltrated the town without anyone knowing. Or maybe Diavante was around. The fact is, obviously, they were waiting for us."
McKay blinked rapidly. " But - but how did they know when to come, to wait?"
" They've been waiting," Ronon growled. " Teams have been going back and forth for days." The runner looked over at John. " They were probably just waiting for you."
" But how did they know Sheppard was coming?" Rodney asked next.
John closed his eyes and tilted his head back against the wall. " Diavante," he sighed wearily.
" Wait, I thought you said he was some kind of dream reader, not a mind reader," Rodney countered.
" Yes, but Diavante had plenty of time to get to know me. I'm pretty sure he was counting on me to come back and seek out Krissa." John then opened his eyes and lifted his head. " What I don't get is everything else. Powerful blob like that, you'd think he'd just come get me himself. And what's up with the funky alliance? If it's the sil Diavante wants so bad, why not get it himself. For acting all powerful he's starting to come across as rather pathetic. Unless this is all part of something so big I can't even begin to comprehend it, in which case I'm not even going to try." He dropped his head onto his upturned knees. " We could be screwed no matter what we do. He might have caught us just to get us to escape, follow us back, follow us through the gate..."
McKay sighed. " And bring his roadies with him, utilizing the sil to keep the shield from activating. Yes, our dilemma is quite crystal clear. Damned if we do, damned if we don't..."
" What?" Ronon said.
" Earth idiom. Translated... we're screwed no matter what we do."
Someone thumped the bars. John raised his head to see a middle-aged Genii soldier with brown hair fading into gray, and square, craggy features. Behind him stood two Genii, and three Cys.
John furrowed his brow at the gathered. " What, no Koyla? Gee, you'd think he'd want to be here for this..."
The older Genii grinned. " Koyla knows you are here."
" But, what, he has more pressing matters than satisfying the need to get back at me?"
" No. It is simply not time yet. Koyla will come once the device is procured. At the moment, you are needed – whole and unharmed. After that, you are to be given over to Koyla for him to do to you as he sees fit."
John tensed, shifting. " Needed for what?"
" Needed to convince your people to relinquish the device known as the sil to us. We have already sent several of your team back to apprise your people of the situation. I would like you to make contact with them, let them know how serious a situation it is, and ask them to hand over the sil in exchange for the lives of the rest of your team."
The older Genii snapped his fingers and pointed into the cell. The two Genii removed the chains securing the door and entered as the three Cys kept their weapons trained on the group. John scrambled to his feet, only to be shoved back down. Ronon attempted the same, only to have a gun drawn on him by one Genii. Teyla and Rodney were grabbed, and dragged protesting from the cage.
Both John and Ronon scrambled to the door just as it was chained shut. John gripped the bars until his fists shook.
" What are you doing!" he snarled.
Rodney and Teyla were hauled seven feet from the cage, and dumped to the ground. The older Genii stepped to the side.
" Incentive, Colonel. We need your full cooperation. This is nothing more than a taste of what will become of your friends if the sil is not obtained."
Rodney, gaping, was grabbed by both arms and lifted to his knees.
" W-What...?" The words died on his lips when a Cy stepped in front of him and smashed him across the face with the butt of his weapon.
" Hey!" John barked. Ronon growled, tugging fiercely at the bars.
Teyla tried to break free and run to Rodney, but was tackled and pinned to the ground by a smirking Cy straddling her back, pinning her arms in place.
" We prefer to do things one at a time," the older Genii casually explained.
Rodney was struck again, harder, and again even harder until the skin over his eyebrow split, oozing blood. Rodney spat more blood onto the ground. The Cy then holstered his weapon, balled his fist, and struck Rodney in the gut. Rodney grunted and began coughing painfully. The Cy shook his head.
" Not good enough," and this time aimed his fist at Rodney's chest. The strike was hard, and Rodney was having trouble sucking in air. He gasped, the air ripping through him in harsh, agonizing rasps.
John's heart beat with wild ferocity, his breath coming so fast it took strings of saliva with it. " Leave him alone!" he snarled. He shook the bars. He even climbed them, in a way, pulling himself up, planting his feet against them, leaning back as he put his weight into trying to pull the bars down.
The Cy slapped Rodney across the side of the physicist's limp head. Rodney spat more blood, and the Cy circled around him, predator and pray, one appraising, one cringing, shaking, and terrified about what might come next.
All with good reason. The Cy's next blow was to the back, right where Rodney had been stunned. Rodney threw his head back and screamed.
" Damnit!" John screamed with him. Teyla tried to buck the Cy off, which only resulted in her hair being grabbed and her head being pulled until her neck was bent in half. She cried out.
John's breathing was going as fast as his heart. He felt the change tickling at the back of his mind, trying to push through. His spine throbbed, pulsed with pain, pushing back, so the change pushed harder. John gritted his teeth against the battle that felt as though it were tearing his insides apart.
" Colonel, I suggest you calm down," the older Genii admonished. " We are not going to kill him. He is merely being used as an example."
Rodney could barely lift his head. Blood stretched from his mouth to stick and soak into his shirt. He did manage to bring his eyes up enough to meet with John, but they were too glazed to register anything coherent. Rodney shook with pain, and all support was from the two men holding him up.
" Rodney?" John said, still clinging to the bars with both feet and hands. Rodney blinked. John swallowed fearfully. " McKay! You hold on, you hear me? I'll get you out of this! Just..."
John's words were cut off by the Cy Striking Rodney in the face, and Rodney whimpered.
The older Genii was all happy smiles. " I suggest you keep quite, Colonel."
The abusive Cy pointed at Rodney's arm, an arm John last recalled having once been in a cast. The Man on that side held the arm up, holding at the wrist and elbow. He then unholstered his weapon, holding it at the barrel.
John numbly shook his head. " No, no, no, no, no..."
He raised the weapon. Rodney shrank back, also shaking his head.
" Oh gosh no," the physicist whimpered.
John licked suddenly dry lips, and tugged repeatedly on the bars. " No, no, no, no, no..." He hadn't listened to the warnings good enough. He should have. He could have prevented this. It was all his fault. Another Mathers, another Krissa, another freakin's failure...!
The Cy raised the weapon, John tugged harder. He adjusted his aim. John tugged even harder.
" No, no, no, leave him alone, no, no..."
The weapon fell hard and fast, striking the arm. Rodney screamed. John screamed, and threw himself against the bars, reaching out through them with one hand. Pain ripped through his spine only to dissolve as he body melded. The hand was a claw, the scream was a roar, and the bars creaked and cracked with his impact. Every head shot his way, and every eye rounded over.
" What the..."
" What happened..."
" Shoot it!"
John acted quickly, back flipping in one fluid motion to land on all fours, then running at the bars, crashing through them to continue straight on at the Cy hovering over Rodney. John leaped, tackled the Cy to the ground, Rolling and flipping the Cy into a tree using hind legs. He heard the near-imperceptible whine of a weapon, and leaped just as it fired. He bounded toward the men holding Rodney, but they dropped him to pull their own weapons. John dodged the bullets with sharp veers, twists, and finally a leap that had him landing on a Genii, while at the same time kicking out at the other. He knocked the first Cy out using his elbow. He then turned, and went for the Cy that had finally released Teyla to stand and raise his gun. John never gave him the chance to fire, but plowed into him, driving him back several feet.
Landing had the man out cold. John turned to deal with the older Genii, but the man was already crumpled lifeless on the ground with Ronon standing over him. That done, now to move on. John went to Rodney, a heap on the ground, with Teyla kneeling beside him, trying to revive him. No time. Teyla gasped when John came up behind Rodney to grab him around the waist, lift him up by going onto two legs, and dragging him swiftly over to Ronon, dropping the unconscious man into the Runner's arms.
John had never seen what a stunned Ronon looked like, but gave no time to contemplating it.
" Gate," He hissed. " run!"
Ronon shook his head. " I don't know where the gate is."
All around them the camp erupted into chaos with people shouting, grabbing weapons, and hurrying toward the cage.
No time. John stepped behind Ronon and shoved him, sending Ronon stumbling forward.
" Ask!" John hissed. He then went to Teyla, lifting her by her jacket and also shoving her forward. He then turned, and bounded toward those approaching Cys and Genii, only to leap over their heads, getting them to follow. He bounded up the trees to leap from trunk to trunk. When he came to a fire, he tore it apart, kicking and tossing dirt into it until it was snuffed out, then went back into the trees, tall as red-woods, scrabbling like a gekko to where the light of the remaining fires couldn't reach. Weapons were fired blindly into the darkness, and John dodged them all with only a few scouring his scaled flesh. He continued to leap, landing on trunks, and fires, amidst Genii and Cys, kicking, clawing, and biting out at them. Some he tackled, one group he landed among, only to leap straight up last minute for the bullets and stunners to fly at unintended targets. All this John did, never pausing, never altering. It was all patterned and precise, thoughts flowing like a storm wind, constant and straight.
Only when the last fire was snuffed and chaos was absolute did he head back to the cage. His team was gone, as they should be. John sniffed the air, and followed the scent of humans and blood.
SGASGASGASGASGA
Rodney came back to the world, and wished he hadn't. Pain swam in his head, throbbed in his chest, and made his stomach do incomprehensible acrobats. Adding to that was darkness, a head rush, and the pain flaring from jostles and bumps.
" Wha..." he slurred, and wished the darkness away so he could see what it was he had his face against. Something smooth, like leather...
" R-Ronon?" His mind could work fast when it wanted to.
" Stay quiet," The Satedan growled. Things snapped and rustled around Rodney. He heard, always far away but everywhere, cries, gun fire, snarls, and roaring. He forced his neck to support his unusually heavy head, but all the wishing in the world hadn't driven the darkness back.
" What's going on?" he rasped.
" I said stay quiet. We're not out yet."
" Out where?"
" Don't you ever listen?" Ronon was starting to sound pissed, and a pissed Ronon was never a happy prospect for one's health. So Rodney acquiesced and dropped his head to dangle and thump against the big man's back.
But a question kept prodding him like a pitchfork. " Where's John?"
Ronon didn't respond. McKay lifted his head, glowering though he knew good and well no one would see it.
" Where's John?"
A roar echoed from behind. Ronon grunted.
" Laying cover."
Rodney furrowed his brow. " Cover?" Then lifted it. " Oh, c-cover, yeah."
" Hurry!" he heard Teyla's voice up ahead.
" Do you even know where we're going?" the runner asked.
More twigs snapped and leaves rustled. A high-pitched whistle sounded, followed by babbling yips and a cacophony of howls way too close for Rodney's comfort. He knew those howls, and his blood took on the consistency of ice.
" Oh no..." he whimpered.
There was a snarl, then a howl, and Rodney felt the impact through Ronon's body as both men toppled to the ground. Rodney tumbled away from Ronon, rolling over moss and dirt. He heard Ronon bellow out a roar of his own, following it up with weapons fire and a yelp from the attacking creature. But even in panic, Rodney's head spun when the pain stabbed through him. Darkness grew darker, and his final thought on the whole matter...
Gee, hope that wasn't John he just shot.
Rodney awoke to blinding, brilliant gray and – once again – wished he hadn't. A spike seemed to be driving itself into his skull, and the light was the hammer. Groaning, Rodney rolled himself onto his side while digging the heel of his hands into his eye sockets. Then he lay there for several minutes, just breathing.
Ronon, howling, dropping, yelling, gunfire... It all rushed into Rodney's brain like a flood, and pain or no pain, he snapped his eyes open.
He was in a forest, a gray, dimly lit forest heavy with leaves, moss, mushrooms, loam, and absolute quiet. Not a bird sang, not even a single leaf rustled. Panic found a foot hold, and scrambled into Rodney's conscious. He struggled into an upright position on trembling arms and glanced around.
Quiet, empty... Rodney didn't mind solitude but this wasn't natural, and a lonely feeling was starting to creep up on him. To call out or not to call out, that was his real dilemma. Howls still clattered around in his skull, and he didn't trust his own voice even at a whisper at the moment. So he kept searching.
Finally, the unwanted solitude increased his terror. He cleared his aching throat, and opened his mouth.
" R-Ronon?" Timid, way too timid, like the voice of a four year old little girl. Rodney grimaced and clenched his jaw, then coughed again and sucked in a deep breath as far as his sore chest would allow.
" Ronon! Teyla!" Cracked, pathetic, but a step up from before. No answer followed, neither human or creature, so nothing to get happy or worried about yet. Rodney reached out to the nearest tree and used it as support for making the arduous climb to his feet. The world danced, spun, his legs shook, and pain pulsed through him. But he pushed through it all until he was standing with knees locked.
" Ronon! Teyla!" Much better this time, enough to have him wincing at its amplitude. Anyone and anything could have heard it.
Still no answer. Time for another tactic.
" Um... Sheppard!" He could only hope John's form resembled nothing of an erak.
A twig – more like a branch the way it resounded – snapped somewhere close by. Rodney craned his neck to look over the shrubs and clinging ferns.
" Ronon?" His voice was back to being a squeak. " Sheppard?" He shrank shivering against the tree, and flinched when another twig broke. " Anyone?"
Leaves rustled and crunched. A low, gutteral growl had Rodney's heart shooting straight to his mouth.
" Oh no," he choked, pressing further against the tree. The shrubs parted when a massive, ugly, bulky body stepped through. The erak slowed with lips pulled back from blood-stained teeth when its yellow eyes met Rodney's terrified blue ones. Rodney was positively oozing fear with each drop of sweat. He could have sworn the erak was smiling.
It stalked toward Rodney, crouching for the pounce, when a dark form dropped down from the trees to land right on top of the erak's back. A snarling, ripping, roaring frenzy erupted as the two creatures whipped around eachother, tearing and biting with blood flying. Then the new comer kicked the creature back and reached down, yanking out a knife. The two threw themselves at eachother. The erak shrieked, howled and went limp. The new comer dropped the carcass and pulled the knife from the thick throat. The creature wiped the knife off on familiar looking BDUs, then sheathed it, and turned to Rodney.
Rodney slid down the tree and shrank back when the creature slunk near. It grabbed Rodney by the collar of his jacket, and tugged, hoisting him easily and quickly to his feet. It then grabbed his shoulders, spun him around, and lightly butted him in the back with its horned head. Rodney stumbled forward several steps, and would have fallen if the creature hadn't caught him by the back of the jacket. It kept butting him onward, through the obstacles of the forest, never letting him fall, until he finally tumbled out into a clearing and a wide, pact dirt road.
Rodeny whirled around drunkenly to see the creature stepping out with him. Instead of proceeding with more head-butting, it sat back on its haunches, panting, allowing Rodney his very first good look.
BDUs, black long sleeved shirt, it could only spell...
" Sheppard?"
The creature regarded McKay with bright, solid eyes the color of hematite – silvery but somewhat prismatic. Rodney had to admit, it wasn't an ugly form to behold. Lithe as a whip, with small, polished scales, and gray and black coloring. It was the spikes, the claws, the horns, and those whip-like whiskers that kept a good few feet of space between Rodney and John. The blood dripping down the flanks, the arms, neck, head, and back through tears in the shirt and scales had Rodney moving a few steps closer.
" Um... Y-you okay?"
Blood dripped onto the road in soft pats like first rain. The creature – John – shook his head like a dog ridding its coat of water, red water. He rose to his feet effortlessly, moved up to Rodney, sat back on his haunches, and lifted a claw to point down the road.
" Goooo," he hissed. He rose again, and positioned himself behind Rodney. Rodney didn't give him a chance for another head-butt. He lifted both hands and staggered forward.
" All right, all right, I'm going! Jeez, Colonel, I don't which is worse. You as a human or you as a... thing."
John responded with a quiet hiss. He was keeping pace alongside Rodney. Even on all fours, the long limbed creature was still tall, coming up to Rodney's waist. When Rodney wavered and stumbled, John moved in closer to give the physicist something to collide into and keep upright.
Rodney felt as though he'd been shucked down the rabbit hole, landing right where the jabberwockies crept and sadistic chess pieces formed alliances. Sheppard probably would have loved the analogy, but McKay had lost the will (more like the nerve if he were being truthful with himself) to verbally engage with jabberwocky John in any form or fashion. He wanted to though, and kept swallowing, clearing his throat, and opening his mouth without a word to show for it. John showed no indications of noticing this discomfort. He stayed in creature mode, keeping pace with Rodney like a faithful mutt. McKay was ready to request John go back to his old, cocky, mouthy human self, but the soft pat of dripping blood gave him second thoughts.
Creature mode was the only thing keeping John going, if Rodney interpreted Weir's retelling of John's tale correctly. Three days of monster madness had left him out for three days once back in his natural body. There had to be something to that, and McKay was probably safe in assuming that once Sheppard was back in his normal skin, Rodney would be the one forced to provide physical support in dragging John's scrawny hide back to the gate – where ever the gate was. Rodney had to wonder if they were even on Sriot anymore.
The absolute silence was killing Rodney more so than the pains of his body. He forced himself to form articulate words, coming up with something he hoped wouldn't have Sheppard hissing in annoyance.
" You – uh – wouldn't, by any chance, know where Teyla and Ronon are, would you? Maybe this is just me being optimistic for once, but I was kind of hoping we were just separated, and that some of us weren't – you know – eaten."
The reply wasn't a hiss, but John clapping his jaws, then jerking his head up in indication of the way ahead. Or, at least, that was how Rodney translated the action. Sheppard might have just been flicking a bug off his snout.
" Um... okay..." Rodney was really starting to miss human Sheppard. He needed banter, he needed an argument, he needed to let off some steam and terror, but he sure as hell wasn't about to take anything out on the clawed creature beside him. Rodney had to bite back the request for regular Sheppard.
Suddenly, John stopped, and held out a clawed hand in front of Rodney. Rodney staggered to a halt, heart hammering, and eyes darting around wildly.
" W-w-what?"
John lifted his snout in the air and sniffed. Leaves hissed, branches snapped, and Ronon stepped out from the concealment of a bush. One hand gripped a Genii gun, the other hand was against his chest with blood dripping from the ripped sleeve of his jacket. Rodney nearly slumped to the ground in relief.
" Oh thank goodness. What the hell happened! Where were you? I thought..."
" We got separated," Ronon cut in. His answer was for Rodney, but his eyes were fixed on Sheppard. " After the erak attacked. I managed to shoot it, but another one came. It was going for you so I got it to chase after me. It never attacked. Think I know why now. Sheppard?"
Sheppard made a sound like a low, gutteral purr.
" Where's Teyla?" Rodney asked next. More bush rustling and Teyla emerged bruised, a little bloody on the side of the face, but other wise fine.
" I am here. I found Ronon not too long ago. Eraks had pursued me as well, but..." she was also transfixed with Sheppard.
Sheppard didn't indulge in the gawking. He started moving again, seemingly with or without the team, but paused to look over his shoulder and hiss.
Rodney gulped. " I, uh, think he wants us to follow him."
They did so without question, because even as a creature John was still their leader. John took the lead like a bloodhound, sniffing the ground, then the air as he went.
" So that is his other form," Teyla remarked. She pursed her lips thoughtfully, arching her eyebrows. " It is... interesting."
" It's weird," Ronon growled.
" And it's Sheppard," Rodney said between clenched teeth, " so I'd be careful what I say. Just because he looks like some kind of animal, doesn't mean he's incoherent as one."
Teyla smiled. " I find nothing threatening about him. In fact, I feel quite safe."
Ronon sniffed. " As long as he remains on our side."
Rodney gaped at this. " What the hell is that supposed to mean! This is John Sheppard we're talking about. Not counting the retrovirus, when hasn't he been on our side? If you haven't noticed, the thing's – I-I mean man's - leaking vital fluids here, and he's leaking because he saved us. I really think he deserve a little slack, whatever skin he's in."
Although Rodney could see where Ronon was coming from. He trusted the Colonel, even in critter mode, but it was hard to see that critter as John, and that kept the mind reeling with numbing shock. But that same numb was what kept Rodney's head clear enough to prevent him from taking off at a run from something that under any other circumstance he should have been terrified of.
But Teyla was right. There was something safe about having a creature like the one leading them now having their backs. Like knowing one's house was safe thanks to the pack of pit bulls living in it.
" Do we even know where we're going?" Rodney finally asked. He'd been wanting to ask, just not to Sheppard.
" This road leads straight to the gate," Ronon explained.
" You sure?"
" Very." Then he smirked that wicked grin which always made Rodney's flesh goose-up. " I asked."
" Oh," Rodney said, blanching. " Good for you. Um... how much further?"
The answer to that came when Sheppard stopped, lowered his head, hissed, and bounded forward into a run that tore up the smooth dirt path. He rounded a bend, and soon after followed the sound of shouts, gunfires, roaring, and a few screams.
Grunting, Ronon took off, and Teyla took Rodney's arm to support him as they hurried along. When they rounded the bend, they came out into a field with the gate only meters away.
It was littered with five bodies weeping blood through neck wounds. Sheppard was on the DHD – literally - clinging to it as he dialed the gate. He looked up at the team's approach.
" Run!" he barked. He hit the last symbol, and the gate flushed to life. The team broke into a faster dash, even Rodney as he shoved back the excruciating pain it caused. They could here shouts in the distance, howls, and the pop of gunfire. Sheppard remained perched on the DHD like a monkey as Ronon entered the IDC code.
The all clear was given, just as a piercing howl sounded. Rodney turned in time to see an erak charging toward them. Sheppard leaped from the DHD and collided with the creature. The two began tearing at eachother like rabid wolves, too wildly moving for Ronon to get a clear shot, and more eraks were coming.
" Move!" Ronon bellowed.
" But what about..." McKay tried to protest, but was hauled through the gate by Teyla.
They rode the wormhole home to stumble out the other side, Rodney almost dropping to his knees. Teyla moved him away from the gate, and no sooner had she hauled him to the left hand side of the chamber when two massive bodies came hurling through, the darker one colliding into the lighter, crashing to the floor, sliding, and still grappling. But John had managed to get the creature's throat into his maw, and he jerked his head back and forth – dog with a chew-toy style – until the neck snapped and blood sprayed like a fountain.
John dropped the limp body. Guns clacked as they shifted from the gate to the dark-scaled creature standing in a pooling puddle of blood. John cringed, crouching low with back curved and spikes standing on end. His mouth gaped open in a hiss as he slowly crept back to the other side of the room. When the wall obstructed him, he shrank back, hunkering against the smooth metal, painting it with blood from his own body. Soldiers converged on him, and Rodney didn't get what they were doing. This was Sheppard...
Duh, you moron, they don't know that! Realization and panic shot electric jolts through Rodney's systems. Forgetting the pain, he rushed forward, sliding to a halt across the slick floor and positioning himself between the soldiers and their physically altered and unrecognizable CO.
" Hey, hey, stop! It's Sheppard! This is Sheppard! Lower your guns now, you're freakin' him out."
Ronon and Teyla joined Rodney, allowing Rodney to turn and face the creature that was his friend. He held out both hands as one would to placate a spooked cat (which rarely worked in Rodney's experience). John hissed and bristled, but his focus was on the guns. It staggered Rodney, the clarity he saw in the metallic eyes. John was at the ready, ferocious as the cornered beast he was, but trying to fathom this new predicament, trying to understand why his own people were pointing guns at him.
" Sheppard?" Rodney said. " John?"
John looked at him, the panicked animal ferocity gone, the clarity more potent. He was questioning Rodney with look alone, asking him 'what the hell', and begging for help.
" John, just change. Just go back to human. They don't recognize you."
He could have sworn John was trembling. He looked from Rodney, to the soldiers, then back to Rodney. Rodney reached out tentatively and placed a hand on John's shoulder.
" Don't look at them, just look at me. They'll lower the guns once they know it's you. You know that."
John ponderously blinked, then collapsed into a heap. A hiss melted into a groan as the spike and scaled body eased into bloody flesh. John, human John, was lying on his side, wide-eyed and panting. He moved shaking arms beneath him, and pushed himself up onto his hands and knees, tattered shirt hanging from him like loose skin, soaked and dripping a cocktail of blood and sweat. Rodney knelt beside him, Teyla crouching beside Rodney on the right. Rodney put his hand on Sheppard's shoulder, Teyla his back. He felt tremors, the heat of fevered skin through the tears of the shirt, the warmth of oozing blood, and the stickiness of drying blood.
John looked at Rodney, then down at his blood-stained hands. He curled his fingers into a fist so tight they shook, and blood oozed from between the fingers. " This," he said, and looked back at Rodney, " is why I don't like it." Then he tilted against the wall, and slid back down it onto his side.
TBC...
SGASGASGASGASGA
A/N: The form has been witnessed by all, but it's not over yet. Still the matter of Krissa and Diavante.
