A/N: So many reviews. The muses are running out of places to store them. They, in turn, return the favor with whump.
Ch. 14
Ultimatum
Colonel Sheppard?
The only response is the shallow breathing in the darkness, too deep to be human. Too deep to be anything recognizable.
John?
The breathing is exchanged with a low, liquid purr... followed by a soft, inhuman chuckle.
No, little human.
A hiss, a scrape, and the darkness detaches without definable shape, except for the gaping maw coming right at her...
Teyla bolted upright in her bed, sucking in air through a constricted throat, and shivering from a thick sheen of sweat covering her arms, face, and neck. The undefinable shape was all around her, flashing always out of the corner of her eyes. She needed light, and recognizable shapes, now. She lunged sideways, snatching up her flashlight from her pack by the bed and clicking it on. The beam cut solid through the darkness to dance off the walls and across the floor, putting unknown shapes into form little by little.
There was nothing else in the room; nothing moving and nothing breathing except for her. She clicked off the light and dropped it by her pack, but had no intentions of going back to sleep.
sssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssss
Teyla and Lorne walked down the street like a couple on a stroll with Stewart lagging a little behind, keeping a more open eye on the few stray people wandering around. All three had their little wanted papers out, flashing them to whoever passed by. It was another chilly, gray day, the kind that made Teyla's heartache. Sheppard could still be in this weather.
Teyla was surprised at herself. The dreams had been growing progressively worse, and yet instead of exhausted, they left her wired and extra alert. Lt. Stewart may have been watching their backs, but the way Teyla kept glancing around at every minuscule sensation or noise was keeping her own back watched just fine. It was a useful development in some ways, keeping her on her feet and her senses more sharply attuned, but it felt wrong to her. It was verging on paranoia, leaving her feeling as though she were being watched or followed. Then there was that feeling, akin to what she felt when the wraith were near, yet altered in a way she couldn't explain.
There was something on this world, but it wasn't wraith, and she didn't know whether to worry about whatever it might be, or start contemplating future sessions with Dr. Heightmeyer. It divided her in two; part screaming for her to get off this planet, and part refusing to budge unless Sheppard left with her.
They they turned onto another small neighborhood street of shops and rickety homes. They entered the shops, flashing John's picture, and even knocked on a few doors to homes. People appeared from around corners, and almost seemingly out of nowhere, like nocturnal creatures risking the light for some unknown reason. Though in the case of these coat-ladened people, the reason became obvious when they asked the three Lanteans to confirm their promise of a reward for finding 'this Sheppard fellow' as they called him. It was a repeat of the last couple of days, with useless tid-bits of information pointing them in every conceivable direction. It was getting to the point where Teyla didn't even want to hear them.
They did encounter a group of children who confessed to chasing away an off-worlder that looked remarkably like John, and sounded quite proud of themselves for doing so, until Lorne told them that chasing him off rather than helping him had denied these children the reward. The children slunk off, muttering, pouting, and tossing dirty looks over their dirty shoulders. A thin, stringy haired boy who'd yet to say anything hovered behind, peering over Teyla's arm at the picture. Teyla turned enough for the boy to get a better view.
" Have you seen this man?" she asked. The boy squinted thoughtfully.
" I – I may have." The boy pointed his grimy finger at the paper. " He looks familiar." Then moved his finger to his mouth to nibble on his nail. " There was this man a while back who helped me escape from the Gylen boys... a-a while back – I don't remember when exactly. He just hopped in out of no where and started beatin' on them, yellin' at me to run, so I did." He looked up at Teyla apologetically. " I know I shouldn't of done that. Should have helped him in some way. But I had food I needed to bring home to my ma and couldn't let the Gylen's get it again. I went back to where I'd seen him, but he weren't there."
Teyla tried to shove back the flooding tide of hope that got her heart pounding, but she couldn't. " Could you show us this spot, please?" she said.
The boy nodded, then went from timid to timidly suspicious. " Wh-what did he do, anyways? This man? Why're you after him?"
Teyla had to smile at the boy. It was the first time they'd come across anyone showing any sort of consideration for Sheppard's well being.
" We wish to ask him some questions, that is all. We have no intentions of hurting him."
The boy's eyebrows lowered sharply over his eyes. " How do I know that? Maybe you're lookin' to torture him."
Teyla couldn't argue with that logical peice of thinking, so adjusted the back story a little. " Actually, we have been ordered not to harm him. He must be brought back unscathed so that we can trade him for one of our men. Our hope is that this will remedy what was actually a very grave misunderstanding."
The boy stared at Teyla hard for a moment longer, then bodily relaxed, accepting the explanation though not enough to lose all misgivings. " Well... I suppose I can show you. It's not far. Follow me."
The boy headed off without waiting. Teyla tapped Lorne on the shoulder and motioned for him to follow with a jerk of her head. The boy led the three Atlanteans through alleys and down back-ways until they came to a fenced-off dead end next to a small food shop.
" This was where the Gylen boys cornered me and the man saved me." He walked over to the wall and pointed down. Teyla, Lorne, and Lt. Stewart joined him.
Teyla crouched to touch her fingertips to a fleck of dark stains soaked into the cobblestones. " How many men attacked you?" she asked the boy.
" About..." The boy held up four fingers. " This many."
" Are they... fighters, of some kind?"
The boy's eyes went round. " Oh, they're nasty hitters. Pounded me good, almost to death, a few times 'cause I wouldn't hand over my food. And they don't even need it. They're big enough already."
Teyla's heart felt as though small, hairline cracks were spreading over it. " And the man that saved you – did he look well?"
" You mean was he sick? I'm – I'm not really sure. He had a beard, so I don't even know if it's the fellow you're looking for. He was kind of dirty. Had a cut on his shoulder, I remember that. He was standing over me at the time so I saw his back, and there was blood. I remember that 'cause I thought to myself that he isn't gonna last if he's hurt."
The cracks webbed, growing painful, chips falling away from her heart.
Lorne turned suddenly and rushed into the small food shop behind him. A few minutes later he reemerged.
" Guy in the shop says he saw the fight. Said the four boys knocked him down and started kicking him. Then some old lady rushed out and chased the boys off. He said the lady had some big guy put Sheppard into a wagon and they rode off."
Teyla straightened from her crouch. " Did the man say who this lady was?"
Lorne shook his head. " No, he'd never seen her before." He then placed his fists on his hips and glanced down at the ground. " He said... that the only reason he could think of for this woman taking him was to drop him off at one of the local morgues. It's a policy of the city that if a body's found, then whoever has the means needs to take it to a morgue, or... he said that some don't even do that. Just dump it in the river."
Teyla's heart shattered, her chest tightened, and tears stung behind her eyes. She swallowed several times and waited until the constriction let up enough to allow her to breathe a little easier.
" Perhaps..." her voice was small and rough, so she cleared it. " Perhaps – since this woman was kind enough to chase off Sheppard's attackers – she took him to a morgue."
" Chances are she could have taken him to a doctor," Lorne said. " I mean, if you're going to risk your butt saving a stranger, you're not going to ditch him if he's alive. The way that store owner told it, that woman didn't sound like the type of person to haul a dead body into her wagon just to dump it in the river. I mean, yeah, we should check the morgues, but we should also check any local hospitals or whatever passes for one. Come on, Teyla; just because half the population has a stick up their ass concerning off-worlders doesn't mean everyone does."
Lorne's attempt at remaining positive was a little crude, but it did the trick. He had a point. Why save someone just to get rid of them? Someone had helped Sheppard, or at least Teyla hope they had, and right now she preferred clinging to hope, no matter how fragile that hope, than endure the pain she'd felt only a moment ago.
She inclined her head, taking a deep breath and releasing it slowly to calm the rest of her shattered nerves. " You are right, Major."
Lorne smiled. " Damn right I'm right. Plus we now have a hell of a lot more to report to Col. Caldwell."
Even better. Anything that could be used to extend the search was worth it for that alone.
They thanked the boy by giving him a small bar of nickel, as well as told him where to find them should he learn anything more. The boy, in return, pointed them to the nearest morgue, as well as the nearest medical station.
SGA
It had been three days since the fight with Jorsek and his boys, with no retaliation to show for it. Not that it was anything to relax about. John knew better than to do that. But he wasn't exactly glancing over his shoulder every five seconds either. If he went outside, he stayed in the back where Maj could see him. Any excursions beyond the yard had to be done either in the presence of Maj or Gidel.
" Why hasn't the committee come a'callin'?" Sheppard had asked on day two during dinner.
" Jorsek is no fool," Maj had answered. " He won't take the chance. Oh, he can fabricate a neat little white lie when needed, but with two different versions of the same incident being told, the council will have no choice but to deepen the investigation. And in turn, that investigation could very well uncover Leyn's dirty secret."
" I still find it nauseatingly mind-boggling that Jorsek is so uptight about what happens to his own people that he lets a pervert get away with molesting children. Kind of makes me wonder what his other buddies are getting away with."
" Mmm," said Maj. " There was talk once of Fysek Goreth having been the one who murdered Jek Moriss several years back. Jek's body had been found by the river, but had been so mutilated by wild animals that most settled for blaming wild animals – or the brigands. But Jek and Fysek had always been at eachother's throats. Jek had been able to purchase the good land plot on the west end of the village, and Fysek had been jealous. It had been Fysek's own blasted fault. The man's a terrible procrastinator." Then Maj sighed. " Now he's sitting in Jek's old home."
So John knew good and well that his beef with Jorsek was far from over. It helped even less that Maj had yet to tell him not to worry.
On the upside, John's strength was returning to its usual level. It showed each time he practiced with the blades, and the usual point where he tired was being pushed farther and farther back. Going from whip-thin to whip lean, which was making him feel a lot less self-conscious. John never considered himself much of a vain person, but everyone in this town had yet to let up on watching him like a hawk, and predators of any species noticed weakness first.
With an increase in strength and energy came the persistence to help out where John could. Pulling in wood, chopping it, helping Maj clean out the barn and tend to the animals. She had chicken-like creatures that looked more like black Guinny fowl with a crest of feathers that stood up when the birds became alarmed. There were creatures that must have been the Iothian version of pigs, small as pigs, but gray as hippos with almost rodent like faces. They were ugly, and dumb as sheep, coming only to Maj but nearly killing eachother trying to pack into the corner of their pen when John walked into sight. The Iothian version of sheep, however, were smarter, friendlier, and with long shaggy hair instead of curly wool. The males had three pairs of horns – two curling back, two sideways, and the smaller pair at the jaw curled forward. And their fur was soft, like rabbit fur. Good for making blankets and rugs, Maj said. Wool and milk was all the creatures were good for. Under all that fluff, the creatures were quite lean, tough, and not good eating.
John liked the sheep. They didn't run from him like the pigs, and didn't nip at him like the lyret. The only setback was the way they liked to rub into his leg, thumping his calf and thighs with their rock-solid horns. It left John with quite an impressive collection of bruises.
On day three of having not seen Jorsek since the fight (even when heading into town) Maj and John awoke early to get the barn chores over with.
" I've got claim on a blanket made by Anesa Inel, and you don't dally about when it comes time to pick up a blanket woven by Anesa. The woman has skills that could be deemed unnatural. Her blankets are in such demand that if you're not there at the time appointed to pick up your request, she sells it to another. Not out of strife, mind you, but she likes to sell off all that she makes before starting anything new. And she doesn't put up with procrastinators. Her closets used to get cluttered with unclaimed blankets. So I'll deal with the Orephs and you the Lyret."
John stumbled to a halt. " What?" Then lurched forward to catch up. " Maj, I don't know if you've noticed, but that lyret of yours has a goal to take me out one chunk of skin at a time."
Maj waved a dismissive hand. " Nonsense. He's just testing you. You be the one to feed him and he'll be your friend for life. Do mind your fingers, though."
Maj heaved the barn door open and they stepped into the musky interior with its stalls and bales of dry-green hay. Maj headed on to the back where the hippo-pigs were. The furry sheep grunted excitedly, and the large, tawny male rose up to drape its forelegs over the stall gate.
" Patience you over-sized furballs," John muttered. The lyret arched its neck over the stall door and snorted at John. John pried the lid off the large barrel where the six-legged lizard's feed was kept. He took the small bucket from off its hook and scooped up the gray granules. The lyret stretched its neck toward John, then its tongue when it became hindered by the post. The long, snake-like tongue slathered the sleeve of John's coat with pale green saliva. John jerked his arm away in disgust.
" Gettin' a little too friendly there, aren't we Godzilla?" John lugged the heavy bucket up to sit on the edge of the door and tilted it forward for the lyret to eat. " Look, I'm human, you're not... and we're both males... it would never work between us." He patted the thing's neck solid muscle neck. The lyret was too busy being a glutton to take the time to nip. The lizard ate fast, licking the bucket clean and nearly pulling it from John's grasp in the process. When it was done, it shoved the bucket away with it's nose and turned to head out the narrow door into its paddock.
John set the feed bucket on the hook and headed outside around the barn to the spigot sticking out of the ground and the bucket hanging on it. He twisted the spigot on, filled the bucket, and poured the water into the lyret's quarter full trough. The lyret dipped its head into the trough and lapped noisily.
" Already undoing my hard work, huh?" John said, hauling a second bucket full of water over. " Patience is a virtue you could really do with right now." He dumped the water into the trough, splashing the lyret that grunted and snapped its head out. The lyret shook water from its head, flecking John with icy droplets. John raised his arm in defense and stumbled back.
" Hey! Let's show a little restraint here! It's not my fault you couldn't wait to get a drink. Crap, are all your kind brats?"
The lyret snorted in reply, and resumed drinking. John filled another bucket-full and turned back. The lyret lifted its head, snorted, and scuttled backward. John smirked.
" Now we're getting the message."
Something hard struck John directly in the back of the skull. The last thing he was aware of was the lyret croaking and the heart-stopping sensation of falling before darkness slammed down over his vision.
sgasgasgasgasgasgasgasgasgasgasga
John was cold – freezing cold – and that was the first thing he noticed. Instinct told him he needed to find the covers that he'd apparently kicked off the bed. Except his arms refused to move. In fact, they protested the attempt through sharps pains in his wrist and aches in his shoulders. The pain awoke other pains, mainly the sharp cracking one in his head. Next came the sensation of something touching his face, more like patting it, hard, inciting the pain in his head into a screaming torrent of agony. John groaned, and something told him he was going to regret opening his eyes.
He opened them anyways, peeling them apart, wincing at the gray-white light stabbing through them into his brain.
" Wake up, Sheppard," a distant, echoing voice snarled.
" Make me," John snarled back. More like a moan than a snarl, really.
Wet cold hit John's face and body like a gunshot. He gasped, snapping his eyes open and trying to pull back but unable to. He blinked the film from his eyes and darted his gaze around in panic. Looking up, he saw his hands raised above his head and tied to a beam with painfully course rope. Looking down, he was shirtless, and shoe-less, water dripping from his face and down his torso to soak the waist-band of his pants. He was stretched his full length and then some, forced to stand on his toes to relieve some of the pull on his shoulders, which was nothing compared to the agonizingly uncomfortable pull on his spread ribs that made it next to impossible for him to breathe.
" Took you long enough."
John lifted his throbbing head to see Jorsek sitting indifferently on the rim of a stall wall. They were in a barn; smaller, with fewer stalls. John could hear the snuffling grunt of hippo-pigs.
" Took me long enough?" John gasped. He managed a weak, twitchy smirk. " I was expecting you to jump me days ago. Why all the reluctance to whip out the violence in front of a harmless little old lady, Jorsek?" John honestly wanted to know. He didn't doubt that Maj was beyond capable of handling herself, and she had her pro-wrestling bodied nephew to back her up. But even with Maj, Gidel, and Gidel's friend all together, it was still eight against three.
John saw two more of Jorsek's posse out of the corner of his eyes, either side. Leyn's brother, and that tall bearded man clutching a wooden bludgeon with the intent to use it if John so much as coughed.
Jorsek stood from his perch on the wall and strolled deliberately up to John. " You have two options, Sheppard."
John's smirk became a little less difficult to maintain. " Leave and never come back?"
Jorsek threw him a smirk back. " If only it was that easy. But dear old Maj wouldn't appreciate it. The option is this, keep your mouth shut about Leyn and the rest of your stay here will drag by uneventful. Don't and... use your imagination to fill in the blanks."
John nearly nodded until a warning stab of pain reminded him not to. " Niiice ultimatum there, Jorsek. And what with this not being the first time I've been trussed up like a rabbit for the skinning, the blanks have been prefilled quite nicely. Here's the thing, though. I have this little personality quirk in that I never really learn my lessons when said lessons are taught through means involving the tenderizing of my kidneys. Why? Because threats go in one ear and out the other. Especially where the safety of others are concerned. And with the safety of children presently involved, I've gone down right deaf. So here's the real deal. If Arvlan wants me to talk before your committee, then I talk. So how about you take the option of cutting your losses and turning Leyn in yourself. Saves face and spares a lot of innocent children future grief. So what say you Jorsek? Go for smart or go for stupid?"
Leyn's stringy-haired brother went rigid as an electrified blade of grass, fists curled and feet taking one wide, threatening step forward. Jorsek held out his hand to stop Leyn the younger. He then dropped his hand with a cloth-muffled slap to his thigh, and began chewing his lip thoughtfully, as though he were actually considering John's words.
Except John wasn't born yesterday. He braced himself since there wasn't much else he could do.
Jorsek nodded. " Cut my losses you say?" He then took a step forward and let his eyes trail down Sheppard's strung-up frame. Jorsek placed his calloused hand – almost gently – on John's left side. He ran his hand down John's ribcage with its fading yellow bruises. John held his breath, part in disgust, and part in nervous anticipation.
" This looks like it used to be quite nasty."
Used to be. Oh crap. John clenched his jaw but kept his gaze fixed without expression on Jorsek.
Jorsek's other hand balled into a fist, and the fist shot out to connect with John's formerly injured ribs. The impact and the pain shoved the breath out of John's lungs, and for a second that felt like an hour, he couldn't pull the air in. His body attempted to instinctively curl around the injury, and made his shoulders suffer for it. His wrists writhed and squirmed trying to pull from the ropes until the once scabbed and healing skin chafed and tore. Blood slid methodically down his arms.
His body finally recalled the needed function to breathe. He sucked in a ragged, shuddering breath, and coughed.
Jorsek flashed him an insincere smile, then dropped it. " Sheppard. Need I remind you that you're a stranger here? If anything were to happen to you, the only one to be upset about it would be Maj." The poor excuse for a local sheriff walked casually around Sheppard but didn't reemerge on the other side. " Think about your position carefully, Sheppard. With all these disappearances, I could dump your body in the river and wipe my hands of you. Which is why you're in no position to make threats, but you are in a position to make a deal. Simply refuse Arvlan's request (should he request) for a witness against Leyn, and you'll continue to breathe. If not, then you leave me no choice."
Jorsek's next blow was a little more of a surprise. Two jabs, landing on each kidney.
Should have kept my mouth shut about the kidney thing. John was once again bereft of breath, and gritting his teeth hard enough for them to crack. Also once again, his wrists tried to wriggle free of the bindings, tearing more wounds and drawing warm lines of red down Sheppard's arms. Several of the thicker drops slithered over his collarbones and tickled along his twitching flanks.
Jorsek returned to the front, looking annoyingly calm, cool, and collect. He glanced up with a lifted eyebrow at John's bloody arms, then back down at John's face.
" Doesn't take much to make you a mess, does it, Sheppard?" he said. " You know, this could be taken a step further. I let you bleed to death, then leave your body on Arvlan's property. I'm well aware there would be no real proof that Arvlan was your killer, but the investigation would smear his name. The people of this village would no longer go to him to buy their meat. His livelihood would be lost, forcing him and his family to seek out a new life in some other village... or even the city."
John poured gallons of venom and fire into his gaze, the kind of gaze he would have normally held in reserve for Koyla or a mouthy wraith with too much superiority to shut up. Jorsek had officially made 'the list' - the 'the next time I see you, you're dead' list. He was about to say as much when Jorsek struck him hard in the face, twice. And they weren't measly, distractive sucker punches either. These hurt, and John felt blood oozing from his nose and lip, pooling in his mouth and running down his throat – outside and inside.
Sheppard did what any sensible, tied up, vulnerable and pissed about it torture victim would do; he gathered the blood with his spit, and sent it flying onto Jorsek's coat. John would have aimed for his face, but couldn't lift his head up enough to aim that high.
Good enough. John chuckled weakly and gave Jorsek a mock look of abashment. " Oops."
Jorsek retaliated with another blow to the face that sent Sheppard for a loop. It took a moment for the barn to stop spinning, and for the flashing lights to fade out of his vision. This time blood trailed down from his eyebrow.
When Jorsek spoke, he emphasized each word through clenched teeth. " Think – about it – carefully – Sheppard."
John wanted so badly to shake his head in order to clear it. " I can't," he gasped, and slurred, " you moron... since you keep hitting... me... like that."
Jorsek twisted his head to the side and twitched a nod at Leyn the younger. Leyn crouched to lift another bucket next to his feet, and tossed the water at John's head. John yelped with the shock of it, but was glad to know his body wasn't numb to the point that he could ignore it. Carson had stressed that when the body stopped feeling, then it was time to be excessively worried. At the moment, John was more worried about the way his pounding heart felt as though it were stumbling over itself.
A slap to the face brought John's focus beyond himself and back to Jorsek.
" Thinking clearly yet?" he coolly inquired. Jorsek's face could have been set in stone, with magma burning behind. Heated fury was uncontrolled fury; feral, wild, act-without-thought anger. And the hotter the fury, the more brainless the one furious. If you wanted someone to make a stupid mistake, foul up, show weakness, then the best course of action was to stoke that burning rage so that it consumed every conscious inch of that person until all they knew was the anger, and the need to quench it.
John preferred giving into cold anger. Cold was sharp, calculating, controlled, and therefore a hell of a lot more dangerous than heated fury. If John had ever given into heated fury, then men like Koyla and Lucius would be dead by now. But cold fury pushed for thought rather than shoving it back.
Heated fury was almost something to laugh at. Almost, except for when it was fueled by fear. Desperation made people do crazy things, and through the flames flickering in Jorsek's eyes, John spied the fear.
Sheppard cleared his throat. " No... Still a little confused here. What'd you owe Leyn anyways? He save your kid sister or something?"
Or promised to save her for last. John would have said it, but wanted more to come out of this with his teeth intact.
Jorsek pulled a knife from his belt, a very large, very Bowie like knife, and began circling Sheppard, vulture to dead carcass. " What will it take to get it through your head, Sheppard? Keep quiet, or you won't be the only one who suffers."
John felt the cold metal touch his back, right over a scar he recalled having been placed there by a whip. That particular lash had been stubborn about healing, and had stung long after the fact that it was supposed to be sealed up. He still felt phantom pains from it, mostly at night, and sometimes when the weather changed. Actually, most of his scars tended to be like that, which was why he knew each by heart.
The knife edge bit into his skin and followed the path of the scar that went from below his shoulder blade to a little ways across his spine. It was a shallow cut. Deep cuts usually grated against bone by now. John sucked in a breath through his teeth, but otherwise kept his mouth shut. When it was over, he gasped out a breath he hadn't realized he'd been holding. He saw Leyn the younger smirking with cold satisfaction. Jorsek came back around to the front, holding up the bloody knife.
" I could do this all day, Sheppard. Think you could last that long?"
John smiled, and his chest jerked in a quiet, breathy laugh. " A day? How humane of you. Most like to keep it up for three, four days tops, usually just until I pass out and won't wake up anymore."
Jorsek pressed the tip of the knife to John's sternum, and slowly pulled down, like a kid drawing pictures in the dirt using a stick. " We could test that." When he came to the tip of the sternum, Jorsek moved the knife to set it gently on a scar along John's ribs – right side this time. John held his breath as the knife sliced.
Why do I always get sadistic freaks! Why can't it ever be anyone with an aversion to blood?
John exhaled shakily when Jorsek had finished. His teeth began chattering, and each inhale made his side burn and his lungs sting.
" Man," John coughed. " You must really have a thing for Leyn... both of them... Since you're going through all the trouble just to skin me one scar at a time." That earned him a punch to his dissected chest. John pulled against his restraints trying to double up, and coughed until there was no air left in his lungs.
" Shut up!" Jorsek sneered. " Just keep your mouth shut about Leyn – swear you will on your life and the life of those who've helped you – and this can end."
The cold, the pain, and the bone rattling shivering was making it difficult for John to catch his breath. His chest heaved trying to draw in air, and the bottom of his chin was warmed by the blood from his chest.
John didn't get it. He was being tortured – for the sake of a double-dealing pervert! He'd always had the feeling that Ioth was messed up in more ways than one. Now he knew – it was purgatory, the final rest stop along the highway to hell. Had to be with all the bad-guys winning and all the good-guys being shoved farther and farther back into the wastelands. It wasn't survival of the fittest out here. It was survival of the cruelest.
Clarity struck John like another ice water bath. Not cruelty – well, yes, cruelty where cruelty was called for – cunning. Hadn't Maj said something along those lines? Survival by any means, no matter who suffered for it. John tried to lift his head and look at Jorsek straight in the eye, but seemed to have run out of the energy for it. Jorsek did the lifting for him by grabbing his chin and jerking his head up.
" Sheppard?" he said. " This isn't your business anyways. You're an off-worlder. You have no say in matters of law in our village."
John snorted, spraying a fine mist of blood and mucus. " No, but Arvlan does. And if Arvlan wants me to speak... You said so yourself, I've got no say in the matter."
Jorsek's jaw twitched and his eyes widened. He released John's head with another jerk, and stepped behind in search of another scar to reopen.
" You know, I think I get it now, Jorsek," John said. He winced when he felt the knife sinking into another whip scar on his lower back, but bit through the pain to keep talking. " This isn't about Leyn. This is about his little bother over there. You keep big brother out of the all-judgmental eye of the council, and he keeps on sticking with you as your right hand thug." The knife move to the recently healed wound on his shoulder. " Hell, I bet you torture for the sake of all your boys. You ensure they keep getting to do what they want, and they got your back for you to do whatever you want. I mean, I get it. Brute strength and the stomach to carve up another human being can be just as good of a bribe as money. Probably better, because it scares the hell out of people, keeps all the humble, backwaters settled under your thumb quite nicely."
Jorsek came around to the front, and set the knife on a scar a mite too close for comfort near John's neck. But John didn't stop, not with him being on such a roll.
" You're scared Jorsek." John gasped when the knife bit. " Come on, you can admit it. Especially what with all the people disappearing and all. Can't be lookin' too good on your permanent record that you haven't caught the kidnapper yet. Don't want people rising up and demanding your head, which is exactly what an investigation into what Leyn's been up to would do. People would start getting brave, especially the parents of all the kids he's molested."
Jorsek's knife moved to below John's collarbone, and Sheppard was starting to feel light headed. Panting breaths became labored breaths as John struggled to keep oxygen flowing into him.
" You're scared Jorsek... scared of these people. You need them, but they don't need you... They can't know that, so you scare them... and get the biggest... bad-asses you can find... to help you out... You're scared..."
The knife shot up off of John's body to his throat. Jorsek leaned in, his breath hot and foul in John's face. The man's lips twitched in a muted snarl, baring teeth, eyes wild and devoid of rational thought. John braced himself for the killing cut, and kept his eyes locked with Jorsek's. If John had to die, Jorsek would have no choice but to stare John in the eyes as he did so, unless he wanted to show off the fact that he was a coward in front of his boys.
Jorsek must have been a coward, but a smart one. The pressure on the knife eased, just a little, to prevent an accidental cut. " Shut up," he growled, his voice so low it would have been easy to miss had Jorsek not been so close.
John had to fight to keep a smile from forming. He officially had the man pegged.
Jorsek backed off, looked John up and down, and sniffed. " We'll leave him to the cold. He won't last much longer."
John coughed painfully. " Leave me just like that? People are gonna want an explanation..."
" There's a killer out there. Explanation enough."
" Maj'll know different."
" But can't prove it."
John curled his lip in a caustic smile. " What if she finds me alive?"
" Think anyone will believe what you have to say... off-worlder."
He had John there, and it made John wince. Jorsek stomped passed John, but not before giving him a shove into his freshly injured side. John bit his lip to contain the cry of pain trying to rip from his throat. Leyn the younger gave John a nod and a sneer, the bearded man a cruel grin and cold stare. The door moaned open, then moaned shut behind. The only sound became the grunt of the hippo-pigs, and the soft pat of John's blood dripping on the dusty floor.
SGA
" John, could you hand me the... John?" Maj peered over her shoulder twice to find the barn devoid of her tall, lanky charge. She straightened, and stared out the opening of the barn door. " Doesn't take that long to fill the water trough," she muttered to herself. She didn't like it, right off the cuff. She'd gotten to know John well enough from the moment he awoke. His strength was at where he should have finished filling the trough by now, and he was definitely the kind of person who would have warned her first before heading back to the house for whatever reason.
Although she had to wonder if he was the kind of person who became so profoundly curious he would wander off to investigate some strange tid-bit without telling anyone. Or perhaps he'd spotted Leyn shadowing another child. It would serve that man right if John ended up pounding him into the dirt, though the outcome for John wouldn't be pleasant once Jorsek found out.
Maj left the barn, reserving judgment for whether she should be panicked or slightly annoyed until she had gathered the facts. She made her way around the barn, and found the water bucket on its side, and her lyret pawing, snorting, and prancing in agitated circles. Now was a good time to become worried. It took a lot to upset her lyret.
Maj turned, put her pinky-fingers to either side of her lips, and let rip a long, shrill whistle. By the count of ten, Ris came flapping and gliding from around the back of the house to land skidding in front of Maj. Maj crouched to the ground, pointing at the dirt, then the bucket.
" Sniff it Ris. Come on boy, get the scent."
Ris snuffled at the ground, then the bucket, inside and out.
" That's it, Ris. Get a snoot-full. Now track'em out, Ris. Find, find!"
Ris scurried off, and Maj straightened to chase after him. Ris was quick when it came to the hunt. All one needed to do was point out a potential scent-spot, get excited about it, and Ris knew immediately what to do. This hunt led Maj through the town, down a mess of streets until they came upon old Murkal's place. Murkal was both hard of hearing and of sight, so Maj wasn't going to waste time pounding on his door to ask questions that would only be answered with a croaky 'what'. She went straight to Murkal's barn, since that was where Ris was hopping up and down, pawing at the door and chirping.
Maj wasn't foolish enough to simply barge in. She made her way around the barn and the single window on the side wall. She had to stand on tip-toe to reach it. Inside it was too dim to make out any details. There was a silhouetted form, only one, standing in a strange position. No other forms, standing or crouched, were discernible. The barn was safe enough as far as she was concerned. She raced around to the front, and hauled the heavy door open. Ris raced in first, chirping and leaping about. Maj followed swiftly after, slowing so her eyes could adjust to the gloom.
" John?"
Ris was circling the figure's legs, but made no sounds. The barn, Maj realized, was too quiet. Murkal had orephs, lost of them, and orephs never stopped grunting even when asleep. They only went quiet when they were cornered and terrified. She did hear something, though. A soft, near inaudible pat, like water dripping from a leaking pipe.
When she was near enough to the stretched form, and her eyes adjusted enough, her hand shot to her mouth.
" Oh no!"
She broke into a run, around John's strung-up body to the front of him. Blood coated every inch of him, soaking into his pants, dripping from his face, splashing on the ground like rain. Maj's hands shook when she reached out to cup John's face by the jaw and lift. Horror and sorrow squeezed her chest until she stopped breathing. She was certain, every fiber of her, that he was dead. Her mind told her to face facts. Her heart screamed, ranted and raged out denial. John's head was limp in her hands, slick with blood that painted her palms and sliding to one side.
" No," she denied, but didn't hold to it. Her little finger slipped down his neck, right on the pulse point, and felt with that single, small appendage John's pulse thrumming slow and weak.
The breath shot out of Maj's body, as though that little pulse had reminded her that she needed to breathe.
" Oh, John..." she both sighed and sobbed. She pulled out her knife from her belt, and again had to stand on tip-toe, cutting the rope with one hand, keeping her other arm around John. The ropes gave one strand at a time until John's weight finally snapped them. The motionless body fell like a sack, and Maj had to drop her knife to catch it or else let John's head crack on the floor. It was hard lowering him gently down with the blood making his body slippery and hard to hold. The moment he was lying on the floor, Maj removed her coat and draped it over him.
After that, all else became automatic, like a dream, or a distant memory. She ran from the barn, straight to Murkal's neighbors. The Calences – good people. As the husband went with Maj to the barn, the eldest son readied their wagon. They got John aboard. The middle son even discovered John's two shirts, his coat, and bladed sticks that had been tossed behind a hay bale. Mr. Calence whipped his white lyret into a frenzy of six-legged galloping all the way back to Maj's home. The elder son was sent to fetch Gidel. Maj's large nephew arrived at a run. No questions were asked or orders given. He gathered John into his arms as though he were a child. Maj thanked Mr. Calence and son with endless heartfelt gratitude, and hurried after Gidel.
" We need to get him warmed," she said. " Take him into the washroom and set him in the wash basin."
Gidel did so, setting John gently in the tub, then left to fetch Sheppard's things and Maj's herbs. Maj removed the rest of John's clothes, flicking blood drops and smearing blood on the floor. Maj twisted the knob for the hot water, more carefully adjusting the cold water so as not to burn Sheppard. The water turned red faster than it filled. Maj dipped a cloth into the water, soaking it, then squeezing it across John's shoulders to let it run down him.
Her gut twisted at all the blood, and the wounds producing it. The bruise on his ribs that was supposed to be fading was as vivid as the day she'd first saw the injury. Bruises patched his face, swelling his eye. His skin was cold, his body shaking, and his only semi-conscious response was a sudden quiet inhale that pained him by the way his face pinched in a wince. Maj reached out, taking John's face gently, and just as gently turning it to face her.
" John?"
One eye opened, just a slit, and John took in another shuddering breath. His mouth moved, but no words came out.
Maj leaned in placing her ear close to John's mouth. " What was that?"
His breath was shallow and warm on her ear.
" M'sorry," he breathed out. Maj pulled her head away. John's eye slid back closed.
Maj's throat constricted. She'd thought, once, long ago, that she'd built up an immunity to tears. But they stung her eyes, blurred her vision, and trickled one drop at a time down her face. She slid her arm across John's back, soaking her sleeve in blood, and pulled him forward, just enough to angle him and guide his head onto her shoulder. She kept her hand on the back of his head, her other arm around his shoulders, and held him like that, rocking him back and forth.
She started humming, then sobbing.
She thought her heart had become immune to breaking. But she was wrong.
SGA
A/N: Was the whump enjoyed? It won't be the last. The future holds many grave perils for Shep.
