Chapt 4
A/N: sorry it took time to write, and I hope the team-scene is not too fluffy or I don't know, I thought it feels good to read lighter matters after such a violent fic, but I can be wrong :S
So here's the last chapter:
Minutes later some of the caveman-like guards came back into the cell room, hands on the vest they took from the colonel when they captured him and on the few items they removed from its pocket in order to try to study those. They dropped it all on the floor near the door and waited while the captor faced back the colonel.
But as he was watching them bringing the items, Sheppard tried to stand up yet only succeeded to roll on his knees with much pain and efforts that kept his head swimming, and he still was clutching tightly his madly abused arm.
"So, on which of your items is it written, stranger?" The bald man asked simply.
Atlantis's CO took some seconds to gather his thoughts and try to think clearly and fast of what to do next. Right, he was able to do it; he was able to keep on with his little game and with this confused look –partially true since he was not doing so well anyway. So he lied:
"I… I must see, I can't tell from here, I don't r'member…"
He slurred and drawled, carefully taking his able hand off the floor to stay to more still he could on his knees. Oh, crap; he was kind of swaying even standing low like this… But at least he will be even more convincing this way.
"Bring him closer." The bald man suddenly commanded his guards, and this time he did not seem to take the time to ponder on the request…
Was the captor getting too confident? That would be a great victory for Sheppard –though he lost track of his counting: was the good guys winning?- and the occasion to manipulate this alien in order, well: in order to escape of course!
Nevertheless, John did not have the possibility to ponder further on that subject: he was brutally gripped by the arms by two strong sets of hairy hands and, before he could even complain or protect his injured shoulder, was as harshly yanked off the floor to his feet.
Of course it was awfully agonizing; the pulling on an already injured limb was so excruciating and sudden the man would have crumbled and sagged to the floor, the jolt of pain flaring into his nerves –in his entire arm and even to the back and chest, and the effects of pulling on broken ribs are not even mentioned- being sufficient to suck all his strengths…. Sufficient to worsen his dizziness as well.
To tell the truth, the very moment the guards started to lift Sheppard's weight, he immediately wailed with agony, choking his cry quickly enough when his sudden limpness surprised both grunts enough to make them drop their captive. Released, Colonel Sheppard slumped again to the ground, threatened even more to fall into unconsciousness, gripping as usual his aching shoulder until his knuckles turned white.
"Be more careful, he won't help us if you distract him so much." The captor's voice told flatly the guards, sounding far away to the human lost on a sea of suffering.
John guessed the distraction referred to hurting the crap out of his already abused shoulder, why not! This was going too far and he had enough of this sick little game, they were idiots, he felt he could not be their punching bag anymore and his head –among other part of his body- hurt like a bitch: it was time to resume acting and get to the point.
Clenching his teeth, the Atlantis's CO carefully sat up once again, tried to dissimulate the fact he was panting and nauseous, and snapped the more intelligible he could:
"You bunch of suck'rs! You can't be careful!" He gulped, closed his eyes a second or two, and then kept on: "I nno…I know" He paused to sight, frustrated by his own slurring, then tried again: "I remember now where it's written!"
Sheppard could see –when he managed to focus on his enemy- that the lousy M. Clean seemed even more pleased than what he used to show as he faced his captive. Of course he was even more excited knowing he was getting to his goal, just as every bad guy foreseeing their victory and the success of their evil plan to take over the world…
Ok, concussion talking here, John had to concentrate on staying alert.
"Really? Then describe the object to me and we will see." The bald alien said, intensely watching the pilot.
This was his chance, and he thought the faster his fogged brain could before answering, his eyes closed in an effort to concentrate and to forget the headache and the throbbing in his entire being:
"It's… kind of round and hard and… b… black. t'holds in the palm. There were some in m… my TAC vest, the black sleeveless thing… »
"You heard him? Find it. » The sadistic alien told his guards, though he did not even take a look at them. His eerie eyes were still on the colonel.
Sheppard held the gaze defiantly, smug to the very end even if he could barely stay still when being sitting on the ground, even with the darkness of unconsciousness seeming so tempting, and even if he knew he was soon going to take the upper hand in this fight when he will have his secret weapon in hands…
Because, of course, he just asked them for his grenades, the ones he decided to bring this mission, not knowing he was going to actually need them. Or maybe he should have asked for his C4? No, maybe not: it was harder to set without being suspected of trying to harm his captors.
Slowly, one of the goons dressed in brown made his way to the pile of gears the others had dropped in front of the only door in his cell room and Sheppard was very tempted to watch him with a victorious gaze. But he remained still to fight the pain and to try to keep himself from fainting, the fact he should maybe think of what exactly he was going to do with the grenades only brushing past his confused mind.
However, out of a sudden, the pilot heard a faint creaking sound and, when he turned his head and finally focused on the guard near the door –that froze when he heard as well- it opened brutally, hitting the follower square in the face. The guard collapsed and Sheppard heard Mr. Electric Eel gasping.
But, as if an attacking door wasn't surprising enough by itself, a flurry of brown -just like a tall biped panther, thought John- jumped into the room and immediately went for the guards.
Another figure came in right then, also attacking the cavemen-like goons and, before the colonel could even understand what was going on, more than half the guards –taken by utter surprise- were knocked unconscious by those two mysterious heroes.
"Teyla?! Ronon?!"
Atlantis's CO exclaimed –and his voice sounded so restrained and weak it was strange- when he understood at last what was going on… Of course he was supposed to understand because the Athosian and the Satedan fighters had taken the remaining goons down by the time Sheppard's brain processed what he was seeing!
Yet again, the surprises where not all already revealed: as John was swaying and struggling to try to get to his feet, the bald captor –realising he was alone and not standing a chance against the rescue party- decided to at last react.
Mr Clean suddenly ran for his captive and, before Ronon could take out his gun, he grabbed the human by the throat in a typical hostage taking posture, squeezing John's bad shoulder to prevent any fight by causing this utter pain.
"Stand back and do not attempt anything against me or to help him! I warn you: being that close to your friend, I could send into his weakened body a strong enough electric bolt to incurably damage his brain, his nerves and his spinal cord in a split second!"
The alien with spooky eyes said out loud, ignoring Sheppard groans and feeble but vain struggle to flinch his injured shoulder away from the iron grasp and the intense pain the pressure caused.
Ronon and Teyla instinctively grabbed their weapon and aimed at the bald man, but none of them shot since they could not risk causing their beloved leader's painful death.
Though they were obviously unhappy with the situation, but even more by the look Sheppard had. The man was very pale; there was dried blood on the side of his head that had flowed as well on his cheek, along his hairline and in his neck; he seemed confused, a bit more panicked than he used to and about to lose consciousness; his eyes were vaguely unfocused; his shoulder was clearly aching and his breathing looked fast and shallow… In addition, those lines of pain on his face were unmistakable and the fact being hurt made him right away oblivious to his surrounding was quite alarming to them.
"He does not look well; we cannot allow it to happen even if this man is telling the truth about his abilities." Emagan subtly told the Satedan and stated; to make sure he was being as careful as she was.
"Get your hands off him and surrender: we control your entire camp, you can't get away." Ronon growled loud enough at the bald man, clearly eager to get rid of the sadistic captor.
"What is going on now; who's the hostage this time? I thought you said they still have no real weapons!"
A voice said from the corridor with annoyance but concern as well, and right after another man came in: he probably was listening from outside the room for a while with his two team-mates, but did not attacked when the two warriors broke in and fought hand to hand.
"McKay?..."
Slurred hoarsely the still light headed Sheppard, as it seemed he was finally able to see through the fatigue and the pain that were blinding him and could now consider his surrounding.
That at least reassured the woman and the tall man, but as for the scientist, the sight of his colonel was only scandalizing him. Rodney's eyes widened and his jaw dropped open with shock at John's pathetic stance and look; the Canadian muted for a second or two before he exclaimed with alarm and dismay:
"Oh god, what happened to him?! They had enough time to torture him?! It's…"
"Quiet, all of you!!" Interrupted angrily Mr Clean, already loosing his cool.
The mad alien's skin seemed to slowly turn somehow darker -as if his anger was causing this- as he was slowly stepping aside and going carefully for the door now that he had a shield. Hey were getting closer to the giant abacus that has been used to calculate John's deserved punishments, closer to the exit as well. Ronon, Teyla and McKay though were not going not step even closer, afraid it might cause the bald alien to perform his previous sadistic threats.
As for the colonel, he was clawing at the hands holding him and pressing on his injured shoulder -even if those alien hands were the only thing keeping him standing on his feet anyway- now aware he really should help his friends and team in order to rescue himself before the situation would become too catastrophic. That was his fight against his probably severe concussion after all…
"Quiet?! But what are you going to do with him anyway?!" McKay exclaimed with the tone he usually keep for Sheppard when he is too carelessly poking at his scientific equipments in his lab.
As his only answer, Mr Clean squeezed a bit more the abused shoulder and was rewarded by John's telling yelp and recoiling. However, maybe the captor's intentions were to intimidate those threatening him with their guns by forcing them to hear their leader's desperate and hurt cry, but it was also what triggered the colonel, what cleared his mind just enough so he could react on impulse…
In fact, he squirmed and twisted under the firm grip and, using his very last strengths, he turned to face his damned captor and, in a swift gesture, he poked at the alien's eerie fish eyes with only two fingers. Immediately, the bald man let go his prey and shrieked with agony, clasping his probably pierced eyes and backing up as if it could protect him against his rebellious captive.
Of course the pilot was about to surrender to the darkness of unconsciousness now and made an unsteady step or two before collapsing right on place in a boneless heap. He let consciousness leave him at last.
Yet the moment Ronon knew his colonel was away from the threat, he immediately shot at the blinded and howling bald man: the alien was killed instantly when the bullet stroked him on the chest, the impact of the red bolt pushing him backward and sending the body crashing into the tiles rack that was right behind him.
The shelves of this wooden display stand did no hold and soon, no matter if those were points Sheppard earned or not, all the slates shattered on the hard floor, the tiny grey pieces now scattered around the corpse of Mr Clean.
They did not need to stare at the body to know the captor was dead, so they focused on a more important matter. They were all hurrying to meet Sheppard's prone figure, Teyla immediately turning him on his back, already kneeling and starting to assess his injuries. Ronon crouched further behind her, visibly angered to see how bad his colonel has been treated; his fists clenched as if he could not find a way to let off steam. And as for McKay, he was hovering nervously around, trying to get a look at the pilot over Emagan's shoulder, sometime gasping at the blood on the side of his friend's face, protesting on a high pitched and irritating tone.
"John, can you hear me?"
Emagan tried to wake the pilot, softly pressing a comforting hand on his good shoulder, trying to get to him through the abyss of unconsciousness.
"He might quite possibly have a concussion and he maybe broke his collar bone or dislocated his shoulder, telling by how much he seemed in pain when the man was gripping him." She explained to the Canadian and the Satedan.
"But we will have to wait for the Jumper, it's going to take too much time since they went for the village! And we won't be able to carry him by ourselves back to the 'Gate the way we came: we're in a real jungle, even healthy people that do not suffer from a possibly severe head injury risk their lives only by climbing their way on the cliff side and through those giant alien brackens!"
McKay exclaimed behind them, halfway between complaining about their walk in the forest and worrying about the C.O.
"I can carry him." Ronon simply offered, glowering at the corpse of the alien captor. Dex was not the kind of man that willingly let good friends get injured by sadist minor leaders.
"We should not move him much yet. I contacted Major Lorne before entering the base ten minutes ago; he said he will be there in less than an hour with the rescue team and doctor Beckett. I suggest we wait for them, it is the only way we can make sure colonel Sheppard's injuries will not worsen." Teyla spoke.
"And if there are more of those grunts, what do we do?" The scientist asked, disapproving any solution that included doing nothing but waiting.
"M… M'kay?"
A weak and croaking voice wheezed softly for the second time, so confused and hesitating they did not recognize it at first. It was Sheppard: Rodney's annoying tone was in fact so annoying it brought the injured man back to consciousness. When the man that laid limply on the floor, standing apart from dead bodies, started to stir, the 3 rescuers felt more relieved and it showed on their face.
The disorientated Sheppard attempted to sit up, but froze, winced, flinched and shuddered from the pain to then collapse back even before McKay could gently press on his able shoulder to keep him from moving around too much.
"Stay still, colonel, the Jumper is on its way and Beckett is aboard."
Teyla told him reassuringly, smiling softly, knowing the doctor's name itself was enough for the injured man to understand. He was so pale and looked so feverish at the same time, dust sticking to the sheen of sweat covering his face and blood caking on the side of it.
"I'm good… I'm… fine…" The colonel slurred huskily with his eyes half closed, sluggishly pushing away the Canadian's hand holding him on the floor.
But the sudden movement pulled on his sore ribs and shook to his abused shoulder. He could not hold back a chocked and broken yelp before he tried to hug, to secure and to clasp tightly with his able hand both his chest and his other arm at the same time. The 3 others stayed silent a short moment, glancing at each other with concern.
But then the scientist became more irritated by the colonel's attitude than he was unnerved at the moment:
"No you're not fine; no one can call this "fine", you look horrible even with the light dimmed like in here! How many time will I need to remind you that playing at Mister I-pretend-I-don't-feel-that-huge-bleeding-hole-in-my-chest-because-it-looks-malier-if-I-act-this-way is absolutely pointless?!"
"This time doesn't count: you're there, you all seem to be doin' great, so yeah, I'm fine." Sheppard unexpectedly answered weakly.
His sheepish smile, pale skin, dried blood and lines of pain on his face making his statement sound off at first. But he was sending his friend a message they could not ignore. Again, Teyla, Ronon and Rodney exchanged a look, the Athosian soon touched, the Satedan amused and the Canadian more like astounded by this sudden show of friendship.
The pilot closed his eyes; of course he was out of it, and so dizzy he thought he was going to be sick again all over the place, of course he had that titanic headache, his broken bones and abused sinews were killing him, he was cold and stiff as if he spend days in freezing water, but, hey, they were safe, like he told them, and now it was all that mattered.
How much he wanted to sleep now: he was so exhausted since his previous adrenalin rush died down that he knew he could not move by himself from where he was lying even if he has not been injured in the first place.
"Hey, no no no! You don't go to sleep, colonel; no sleeping on a concussion until Beckett flashes his penlight in your eyes and does his Voodoo tricks on you!"
McKay suddenly exclaimed, slightly startling John as the scientist tapped gently on his pale cheeks to get his attention and keep him awake. The colonel owlishly blinked, confused and about to fall back to sleep, granting an exasperated sigh from Rodney,
"All right, I guess it means I will have to lead a discussion if we want to keep you away from the arms of Morpheus. But I doubt you'll say anything concise so we'll be the two of us far from enjoying this." The scientist complained, rolling his eyes.
"You're going to bore him to death." Ronon commented, grinning teasingly as he was starting to forget about him previous anger since the relief washed it away.
"Ha ha, very funny, and I really appreciate your help."
McKay did sarcasms, obviously. Yet an idea suddenly struck him and he added, more enthusiast:
"Sheppard, I got something you might like to hear: did you know Ronon bluffed when he said the alien guy using you as his shield was surrounded and could not escape?"
"There were only the three of us." Ronon commented.
"What d'you mean?" John slurred, frowning.
"I knew it, when it's about guns and tactics you automatically get interested!" McKay chimed in, before keeping on with a bit of contempt in his tone: "Back at the 'Gate, when we came back on the planet to save your scrawny self, Conan's spider sense was startled and he simply asked to stop the Jumper and ran off to the forest like a rabid bloodhound tracking its prey."
"We found a path in the forest and followed it while staying in contact with the Jumper heading for the nearest village. It leaded us straight to the base where we are." Teyla explained, still smiling soothingly at her colonel.
"Oh." Sheppard simply said, fighting his exhaustion the best he could to stay awake.
"Yes, you're right: oh." Mimicked Rodney, before adding: "By the way, they did not believe me in the first place when I told them you were asking the creepy pink alien to bring you your grenades, but what do you planned to do with those anyway?"
"First the alien was more like orange… and then: y… you were listening? For how long" Sheppard managed to slur, rubbing his sore temple with his able hand in case it could help him think more clearly through the fog in his brain.
"Well not for long: we reached this door over there about when you started describing the black thing. But I had to short circuit the door to open it and, even if those grunts know nothing about basic civilised weapons, the lock was more complex to work with than crystals. Of course that wasn't even a challenge to me…"
McKay answered rising his chin with a confident pride. Seeing Sheppard massaging his temples and wincing, he then added on an accusing tone:
"So, will you tell us what you planned to do with a grenade in a tiny underground cell? You were not going to start fireworks while you were still in there, right? Because that really seems like something stupid you would gladly do…"
"I won't say anythin'." John simply grumbled tiredly. In fact, he did not have a real plan at the moment he asked for grenades. Even with a rattled brain, he knew he was never going to live through if he admitted it to Rodney.
"You have to answer: we saved you, so you own us one!" Rodney replied
But it took more time to the pilot to answer since he was at that moment trying to sit up once again, only to fail miserably and very agonizingly. He hissed at the pain that shot through his body and froze. He took the time to wait for the pain to subdue a bit before speaking, his vision too blurred to see the concerned look of his team mates:
"Yeah, you did. Thanks…"
"So?" The scientist put on.
"… What?" Slurred John, confused.
"Look at yourself: you really knocked your head hard: you don't even think about reminding me all the times you saved me!... Uh… or helped me more than saved me…" McKay exclaimed.
Sheppard looked surprised –yes, he has been indeed knocked really hard on the head- and his eyes shot open and darted on the familiar faces over him. "Hey, you're right: I saved you many times so we'… we're even, at least!" He exclaimed, but sounded a bit drunk anyway.
"No, that's too late now that I suggested you the answer, you can't come up with it! It doesn't count!" Rodney replied.
"It does count!" Protested Sheppard, looking offend… a beaten up and offended drunk judging by how he looked at the moment.
"Not at all, too late!"
"It does"
"Not a chance, I saved you!"
"I saved you more!"
"That's the past, it doesn't count!"
"'t does!"
…
And Ronon and Teyla could not help but grin at those two arguing pointlessly like spoiled kids. Not so far from them, they could hear the soft hum that the Jumper made, knowing they would soon be heading for Atlantis their home, with Sheppard still alive and doing well enough to bicker with the scientist, knowing a trip to the infirmary was going to be necessary but comforting no matter if then the pilot was going to complain about the scrubs he was going to be wearing.
Over all, that sounded like a true win for the good guys…
The Happy Ending!!! Yay!
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I really hope it wasn't so bad after all
Don't be shy, you can comment, you can tell me what do you think of this fiction, of the plot (of the whump hehe)
Anyway: thanks a lot for reading it, I love you all hehehe