A/N Thanks to Gigajules for the beta! I'd just like to point out that this is not a deathfic. Please feel free to leave feedback and concrit!
Not Alone - Chapter 2
John led the way into the village centre square and saw the headman and about two dozen villagers waiting to meet them.
"Greetings. We are pleased to return to your village." Teyla said warmly, as they all stepped forward to give the appropriate greeting. It was similar to the Athosian greeting, but stopped short of touching foreheads. John couldn't say why, but he found the difference unsettling. Once the greetings were finished, the crowd of villagers dispersed and went about their business, and Headman Chilik smiled at them.
"Please, come in and refresh yourselves. We have many things to discuss." He stretched out his hand, palm outward towards his house, in invitation to enter.
John took point again, and led them towards the door. He stepped into the room and found himself facing the wrong end of twenty-odd Genii rifles. It was a combination of the change in his posture, the narrow doorway, and Ronon and Teyla's skill that saved the rest of the team from walking straight into the room. Teyla darted down and to the left, and Ronon darted down and to the right, dragging a very startled physicist with him. John did his best to block the door without getting shot. He managed to cause a brief bottleneck as the Genii grabbed him and dragged him further into the room, three of them pinning him to the ground after relieving him of his guns and knife, while the rest poured out after his team.
Kolya moved forward from the shadows where he'd previously stood unnoticed, and squatted down in front of John. The Genii holding him to the floor gave him just enough leeway to raise his head slightly and see the man in front of him.
"Kolya!" John spat the name out like a curse, startling himself with the intensity of it. Kolya grinned back at him.
"Sheppard." He purred.
John was sure they were going to have a long and unpleasant chat soon, so he contented himself with demanding "How did you.." His face was shoved back into the floor so hard he bit his lip and couldn't finish.
"Find you?" Kolya asked in a self satisfied voice. John didn't have to see his face to know he was gloating.
"Some of those reward pictures Cowen spread around are still in circulation, it appears. It was pure coincidence that one of my men trades with this village. Headman Chilik will be rewarded well for supplying us with the information. And you, Sheppard," the tone changed to one of unbridled malice. "You will pay for the death of my men. Fifty five men, Colonel. Fifty five men dead. They were robbed of the chance to die like warriors because of your cowardly actions when you raised that shield. I'm afraid you must pay for that."
John tasted the grit on the floor as he tried to respond, but his face was pressed too firmly into the dirt. There was a change of pressure on his head as the goon let go and Kolya grabbed a handful of his hair and yanked his head up. John found himself staring into hate-filled eyes.
"Did you know, Sheppard, that one of those men was my nephew?" Kolya asked him softly, almost conversationally - except for the bitterness that cut like razorblades. A new definition of screwed flashed through John's mind before his vision exploded into black and red, his hearing rang and pain erupted as Kolya viciously slammed his head back down into the floor. The salty taste of blood filled his mouth and he struggled to keep conscious.
Kolya straightened and went to the window that faced out toward the stargate side of the village. Judging from the direction of the commotion outside, John assumed his team had judged it best to head for the stargate and return with a rescue party. He resigned himself to the prospect of an unpleasant, and probably quite painful, evening and started to think of possible strategies to make Kolya keep him alive and on this planet long enough for his team to return.
The sounds of struggle outside died down, and Kolya's boots filled John's limited visual range, as the guard once again grabbed his cheek and firmly planted his face against the dirt floor.
"Excuse me a moment, Colonel." He said.
John didn't like the sound of that. He didn't sound upset or concerned at all that John's team had gotten away. That meant one of two things. One, Kolya didn't consider it a problem, which John found disconcerting, or two, they didn't escape. John strained his hearing for a clue as to what was going on outside. He heard the distant murmer of voice but wasn't able to ascertain anything, one way or another.
Then he heard something that he knew would echo down through his nightmares for the rest of his days. Three distinct bullet shots, one after another. From a Beretta 9mm. In the few moments that followed, John heard nothing but his own heartbeat and the strange whirlwind sound of his own blood pounding in his ears. Images rose unbidden of the executions he's witnessed in Afghanistan, only this time it was Rodney he saw crumple to the ground. Ronon's body he saw jerk as the bullet slammed point blank into the back of his skull. Teyla... Oh God. He shut his eyes but the visions didn't go away.
Kolya walked back inside and, in a tone that dripped hatred and malice, said, "Now, Sheppard, we are alone." He drew back his boot and kicked John viciously in the side.
Pain and anger and horror washed over John, and he went berserk. There was no other term for it. He heard a high pitched keening noise, and the small rational part of his mind cowering against the overwhelming rush of adrenaline was appalled to realise that he was making it. The force of Kolya's kick caused one of the Genii holding him to shift his grip slightly and John seized the opportunity before it passed him by. He shifted his weight and jerked his shoulder upwards, throwing the other man off balance and toppling him into the other two. He rolled over and grabbed the closest assailant by the hair and forced the Genii's head down while he bought his knee up in a sharp jab to the man's face, then rolled clear of the melee and scrambled to his feet. John's training came to the fore, but it was powered by grief and insane fury. The three Genii soldiers would have had more luck holding onto frenzied Rattlesnakes. It also would have increased their survival rate.
John's vision was a haze of red, and he didn't even see the soldiers as people, just as blurry, inconsequential objects between him and Kolya. A blur on his left; he lashed out with a fist and the dark figure fell back choking from a crushed windpipe. The second Genii had taken advantage of John's divided attention and a fist filled John's vision before it snapped his head back and his right cheekbone flared with a leaden, throbbing pain. John roared and launched himself in the direction the blow had come from, his vision swimming as he punched meaty resistance until it stopped moving underneath him.
He swung around to look for the third Genii soldier. One glance revealed the man either concussed or dead where he had fallen from John's knee to his face, a trickle of blood running from his ear and oozing into the dirt floor.
A sudden movement caught John's attention, and he looked around to see his nemesis. Kolya had stepped back out of harm's way while his three sycophants were dispatched. He'd obviously expected them to be able to control John; the shock of their defeat evident in both his face and the fact that he wasn't armed. Then again, neither was John.
The realisation that John's weapons were discarded in the corner dawned on both men simultaneously. John had only taken a step towards the weapons when a solid weight hit him from behind, and he found himself on the floor beneath Kolya. He brought his elbow up sharply and was rewarded with a gasp as it connected with the heavier man's ribs. They both scrambled to their feet, and John reeled back as he was once again punched in the face. He felt warm blood dripping from his nose, and he drew back a foot and kicked Kolya hard. Kolya doubled over, groaning and going purple as he clutched at his groin. John scooped up his Baretta and booted the other weapons out of Kolya's reach. Kolya made a desperate lunge for the weapon in spite of his pain. They wrestled briefly before John managed to bring the grip of his Beretta down on the back of Kolya's neck, the blow forcing the groggy soldier to his knees. Another Genii soldier appeared in the doorway and gave one startled yell before the Beretta barked and he toppled backward, dead before he hit the ground. John drew back his own boot and in an unconscious parody of Kolya's earlier action and kicked the man in the face; before he finally heard the sane part of his own brain screaming at him to get the hell out of there.
He leapt out the door, dived to the ground and fired at the Genii who had been attracted by the gunfire and were running towards the house. John extended the dive into a roll, came up to his knees and launched himself at the tree line. He cast an involuntary look over his shoulder, searching for a glimpse of his friends bodies, but the area was now out of his line of sight. He faced forwards again, grimly quashing all thoughts of his friends and focused instead on dodging the bullets peppering the dirt around him. He'd just made it past the edge of the trees when one of the bastards nailed him in the knee. He dragged himself towards the thickest area of foliage, and collapsed in the dusk tinted greenery. He listened to the sounds of pursuit; it didn't sound like there were many of them, but they were drawing rapidly closer. John hastily wrapped a field bandage around his knee, trying to ignore the excruciating needles of white-hot pain that shot through him, focusing instead on keeping the blackness of impending unconsciousness at bay. He reached and grasped a stout branch lying nearby, and used it to heave himself back onto his feet. If he could keep moving until nightfall, he might be able to lose them in the darkness.
oOo
Getting out of his grotto was unpleasant, to say the least. The incline he'd rolled down the previous night wasn't too high, but it was steep and he could only use one leg. He slowly clawed his way up, inhaling the earthy scent of the dirt and rock, relying on his upper body strength to pull himself up. This meant he could keep his right leg straight, but had the unfortunate side effect of scrapped fingers and knuckles, and it was hell on his ribs. One badly timed slip meant a fingernail ripped clean off.
He lay at the top of the cleft, shaking and gasping for air. He passionately longed for Carson's infirmary. For a cool, clean bed under him instead of the ever-present clay-scented mud. Carson radiating caring and empathy and solace that John could never admit to being grateful for. And morphine, numbing his pain and his mind and letting him float, letting him forget that his friends… STOP! The anger rose again and he determinedly hauled himself off the ground. He could collapse later. Right now, he had a job to do.
John looked around to get his bearings. The sun was rising to his left, so the village was in the murky mist at his two o'clock. He took a determined step, almost falling over as agony shot up his leg in hot spikes. John doubled over, bracing an arm against his good leg, as the fire in his leg spread to his stomach and caused him to lose the few bites of powerbar he'd managed to choke down earlier. He wiped his mouth with the back of his hand before straightening and slamming it against a nearby tree in frustration. He had a high threshold for pain, but he still needed to be able to walk without throwing up, dammit.
Spying a sapling nearby, he broke off a limb and deftly stripped it of leaves, then grabbed the remaining bandages from his first aid kit. He carefully wrapped his leg in a makeshift splint, pausing occasionally as the pain roiled his stomach and made his vision swim. It wouldn't lessen the pain, but hopefully it would keep his knee straight and help support his weight. He rested another moment while he dry swallowed the last of the Tylenol from the first aid kit. Another brief wave of despair momentarily overwhelmed him, and he wondered how he was going to fight when he could barely walk. He steadfastly ignored the thought, focusing instead on the many ways to kill Kolya as he broke off another branch to use as a crutch, grit his teeth and slowly limped towards the village.
John's world had reduced to the torturous effort of walking and the even more painful thoughts that circled endlessly through his mind. He couldn't report to Atlantis unless he could reach the 'gate and establish a wormhole, so that gave him approximately seven hours until Atlantis started to look for him. His team were due back at midday local time, add some leeway before Elizabeth got concerned, and then Atlantis would try to contact him. What would he say? How could he tell them that his team, his friends, were dead? That he couldn't keep them safe? That he'd failed them?
The echo of those three gunshots resonated through his memory, overlaid by the image of Kolya's hate-filled face. Elizabeth would never approve of what he was planning, so he had seven hours to find and kill Kolya. Damn, but he should have killed the motherfucker back on Dagan. Add it to the ever growing list of 'Shep fucked up' memories. Look- this was the one where he crashed his chopper and couldn't save Mitch and Dex! And this was the one where he woke the Wraith! And now- this was the one where he had aimed a gun at the bastard's head and let him go! Only to have him kill his three closest friends. And he was so tired of losing friends. He fuelled his anger, letting it surge through him. If he was lucky, his rage would drown out the persistent corner of his mind that told him if he killed Kolya in revenge, it wouldn't be the act of a soldier, it would be murder.
Disclaimer: The copyright for Stargate Atlantis belongs to MGM studios and SciFi channel. It's their playground- I'm just playing in it.