Chapter seven

Fevered dreams.

Dreams of dark worlds.

Dreams of abandonment and loss.

Dreams of his enemies.

Dreams of the Wraith hunting him through mist laden forests, catching him and feeding.

Feeding although he struggled to push them away, struggled to repel the demonic faces that leered at him through the swirling tendrils of smoky fog.

Faces that grimaced, all black teeth shining in the dappled moonlight.

Faces that mocked him as he lay with his hands pulled up to his chest.

Faces that knew no mercy, no pity, no humour, no passion.

Faces, faces, faces….and finally death!

Sheppard jerked harshly awake to the sound of the lock on his cell turning. Any return from unconsciousness was unpleasant, but to waken in a foreign cell without the comforting bleep of monitors, without the sickly sterile smell of disinfectant and with the aching realisation that the pain that had driven him under was still ominously present; nothing could be worse.

His sweat caked eyes cracked open slightly, protesting at the sudden influx of bright light from the dust covered fitting above and he turned his body towards the source of the familiar sound. That minute movement of his abused body sent a spear of agony spiking through his chest again, setting a throbbing tempo as his heart pounded behind his bruising ribs. He closed his eyes against the pain, riding through the torment and trying desperately to control uncontrollable nerve endings. His breath came in harsh gasps, his chest heavy. The weight that had sat on the left side of his chest earlier had now increased, and as he lay in the cell, he could feel the unyielding resistance each time he pulled in a breath.

Another sound penetrated his dulled senses and he once more turned his face to the doorway and opened his eyes. The blurred figure sharpened slowly into focus and Sheppard could just make out Stower standing in the doorway of the cell, his face an impassive mask as he had watched Sheppard's struggle towards consciousness.

"Ah, good!" he walked over to the side of the low bed and Sheppard stared up at him from his prone position, "you are still with us then Lantean, I have to admit to having felt a little bit concerned that I would have to forsake a large portion of my bounty if you died before the client arrived, but," he smiled down at Sheppard, showing brown tinted teeth through thick lips, "you must be stronger than you look…Good!"

Sheppard licked his dry lips, " n-not easy t'kill…", he panted at the effort that those few words cost him, "been t-there, ..ahh!.. d-done that.."

"Really! Well to have attracted such a powerful enemy as the Wraith, you must have done something very wrong, or very stupid!!" Stower laughed at his joke and crouched beside Sheppard's shivering body, "You are worth a lot to my client Lantean, I have to ask myself what he would want with a soldier such as yourself, someone so, how shall we say, 'ordinary' ...I had expected someone altogether more.. 'extraordinary', but then who am I to second guess my clients."

As Stower rose back onto his feet and headed back towards the direction of the cell door, Sheppard took as deep a breath as he could muster and with an enormous effort pushed himself onto his side, then moved slowly towards the edge of the bunk and threw his legs over the side. The movements completely shattered his already well surpassed pain threshold and he closed his eyes as his body threatened to send him pitching down into the black once more. He sat on the edge of the bed shivering, struggling desperately to maintain his composure as the fiery tendrils of pain wove through his ribcage and down his back. He knew that Stower had stopped in the doorway and he wanted to prove to him that he was no 'ordinary' soldier, and that he had an inner strength that couldn't be beaten down.

"Lantean! Do you have a death wish, or are you just plain stupid!"

Sheppard lifted his head and looked straight up at Stower, "S-stubborn, ..just p-plain stubborn.."

"Yes, there is no denying 'that', is there!" Stower shook his head as he crossed the room and then returned to Sheppard's cell with a metallic cup filled with water.

"Here, drink," he held the cup out towards Sheppard and waited. Sheppard looked up and held the bounty hunters gaze for several seconds before his eyes fixed on the proffered cup of water. He balanced himself as best as he could on the edge of the bed and stretched his right hand out towards the cup; his left pulled tightly in to his side, protecting his injury. His hand was shaking uncontrollably as he took the cup and the water splashed over the edges of the metal container, but Sheppard was determined that he would show no weakness and finally managed to bring the cup to his lips, closing his eyes as he took the sweet liquid down. His shaking hand meant that much of the liquid spilt on the floor, but enough found its way into his mouth to slake his thirst.

"Yes Lantean, stubborn you are!"

Sheppard placed the now empty cup down on the bed beside him and allowed his body to keel over, back onto the rough blankets that were his only source of warmth. He felt incredibly cold and he couldn't stop the tremors from travelling up and down his body as the cool night air brought texture to his exposed sweat covered skin. The sweat that ran off his chest and stomach soaked deeply into his shirt and then off and into the blanket below him, mingling with the older unidentifiable stains that resided there already. He clutched weakly at the dirty covering and pulled it over his shoulder, desperate to find solace in the meagre warmth that the blanket provided.

As he lay, he could feel the water that he had imbibed sitting in his belly like a lead weight, not settling as he had so desperately wanted, not providing the sustenance that his body needed. His stomach rebelled again and it took all of his concentration to keep the bile from hitting the back of his throat once more. He swallowed wildly in a last gasp attempt to prevent himself from retching and finally, slowly the feeling subsided and he allowed himself to relax back onto the rough covers.

As his hand had pulled the cover up to his shoulder, his fingers had brushed briefly against the still present com link wrapped around his ear. Had Stower been so arrogant as to leave it there, or had he forgotten to remove it; either way, Shepprd's finger touched the earpiece gently as he watched Stower turning away from him.

"It won't work Colonel ..the radio, the signal has been jammed," Stower waved a small box over his shoulder without even looking back at the cell, "one of my more fortunate trades. Unfortunately for you, as soon as Stavin advised me of the situation in Makill's office, I activated the jamming mechanism. It is only short range, but quite sufficient for my needs, so once more, I really don't think that you should be expecting a rescue from your 'friends' any time soon."

"What have you done t-to my t-team…" Sheppards teeth chattered as the shock overwhelming his body and the cold both took effect, "where are t-they."

"Where!... Where indeed," Stower turned back towards the cell doorway, " I expect they are all still contentedly ensconced in the separate meetings that I arranged. Do you really think that all the meetings were arranged at the same time in different locations by accident!! I needed you to be alone Colonel, and I needed to make sure that your companions were out of the way. They have no idea where you are, or that you are not now sharing a warming drink with Makill! I needed it to be that way and that was what was arranged!" Stower smiled at Sheppard's shocked expression, "Being head of security has its advantages Lantean."

Sheppard closed his eyes in disbelief as he heard the lock turn once more on the cell door and Stower's footsteps head towards the shielded doorway.

He had always assumed that they had been in control of the events of that evening, but as he thought back, he started to remember how happy Stower had seemed to be in helping with the organization of the individual meetings.

As Sheppard opened his eyes once more and turned his face towards the centre of the tower, he saw the bounty hunter stoop towards a low shelf and retrieve a packet of cigarettes from a box placed there. The control panel that operated the shield over the doorway sat on a small table beside the shelf and Stower picked it up and pointed it at the blank wall space. The door reappeared, just as it had done before and Stower walked towards the entrance, glanced through the doorway cautiously before stepping partially through and standing against the wall to light the cigarette he held in his fingers. Sheppard studied the man as he stood in the soft glow of the evening moon. He was a stockily built, tall man; easily as tall as Ronon, but wider in the girth. His face was fleshy and shook as he spoke, obviously a product of the 'finer things' that he had boasted so much about earlier. His clothing spoke of a man well used to manual work, in that there were no fine cloths, just functional and well worn leather and cottons. He stood poised and alert in the doorway as he savoured the cigarette and Sheppard could see that he would not be an easy man to catch unawares; his eyes were constantly on the move, never still.

The cigarette finished, it was ground out against the side wall of the silo and Stower took a final look around before returning inside and once more closing the shield behind him. He wandered over to the desk that was positioned against one of the cell walls and sat in the wooden swivel chair placed under its scratched surface. The chair groaned in protest at the man's weight, but Stower was oblivious to the protestations of the frame as he twisted the chair under the desk. As he stooped to pick up a sheaf of papers that lay on the desk top, Sheppard heard the familiar sound of the radio com-link buzzing for attention. Stower pulled the small radio from his jacket pocket and pushed the send/receive button on its side. There was a pause as the voice on the other end spoke and then,

"Yes,"

"Ah, well I'm glad you're early, good.."

"No, no problems that we couldn't handle..."

"Not exactly ..there was an unfortunate incident with Stavin.."

"No, nothing that I haven't already dealt with…"

"Oh yes, he's still alive…stubborn character this one…."

"Yes….fine.."

Stower turned the radio off, replaced it in the pocket of his jacket and turned to face Sheppard, "I'm lucky, my client has arrived early and he will be here shortly. He wishes to check personally that his 'package' is still transportable.." Stower laughed as he returned to sit back into the wooden chair. "He was quite concerned that you were not in the most, how shall we put it, desirable condition, but then he had to concede that at least you are still alive, which was his only real stipulation in the agreement."

Sheppard closed his eyes as he thought once more about the identity of his nemesis. Stower was certainly not going to be forthcoming with the name, so Sheppard knew that he was going to have to wait until the door opened to find out who was willing to pay so much for his head.

Stower shifted uncomfortably in the office chair, his bulk not sitting comfortably within the confines of its small frame. He shuffled idly through the papers that sat strewn haphazardly on the wooden surface and Sheppard could see that he wasn't a man used to sitting idle as he tapped his fingers on the table top whilst reading. Sheppard felt another tremor course through his body and he tried to pull the blanket further up his cold body. The fibres from the blanket were loose and as the cover brushed against his face, he felt the dust that the movement caused filter into his nose and mouth. As the dust hit his chest, he could feel the irritation building and he knew that he was not going to be able to prevent himself from coughing.

When it came, he was wholly unprepared.

The cough racked through his body and he felt the warm slew of blood leech into his mouth and spatter against the blanket under his face. The deep burning that the cough generated side swiped his senses and he once more felt himself losing control.

His vision darkened, with only tightly swirling patterns of light pricking tiny holes in the all consuming darkness. His hearing disappeared, the roaring of his blood rendering him oblivious to any other sound around him. He didn't notice Stower head for the door or press the control device for the shield. He didn't see the doorway reappear or the figure who stood silhouetted in the half light, and it wasn't until he opened his tear filled eyes, his arms wrapped tightly around his tortured chest, that he saw the blurred figure for himself.

There was something about the silhouette that prodded at Sheppard's mind, but the pain dancing flamenco behind his eyes inhibited his concentration. What was it that was so familiar. What was it about the outline of the man in front of him.

Then it hit him.

The long black coat that swept the floor as the figure moved into the room and the white stained skin of the hands that hung loosely at his sides.

Sheppard's eyes moved up slowly to look into the eyes of the 'client' and he knew then and there that there was no hope left, he knew he was dead.

The face smiled at him, black teeth glimmering,

"Hello Colonel Sheppard, so good to see you again"