WARNING: there is death of children in this chapter, but it is not depicted as it happens.
CHAPTER 13: Rage
Sheppard stumbled to a halt, shock temporarily freezing his beating heart. There was his prey, lying in death, with none but the reaper himself standing above them.
The reaper spoke, his teeth sharp and his smile littered with the dirt of his evil deeds.
"You are already dead, my friend. The Wraith are coming. Yes, I know of the Wraith. They do not like us Heracs. No. They find us unappetizing. It's the poison: the key to our survival since you Ancients abandoned us. You did not care for us, you never did. We suffered greatly in your absence. You could have prevented it all." The reaper stepped closer, its rotten breath gracing his sweat-drenched face as it came to stand inches from him. "Your friends, the Wraith will find them most palatable. And as for you: I shall find great joy in taking your life."
A bony hand wrapped tightly around his neck, sufficiently cutting off his air supply. Gasping and choking, he wrapped his own fingers tightly around the hand, prying with all his might to unclench it from his neck.
Eyes of fury burned into his. Spots invaded his vision but more disturbing was the sight of tiny black insects, scurrying across the yellowed incisors of the reaper. A chill that had nothing to do with temperature crawled up his arched spine.
He couldn't seem to gather enough air. His lungs screamed in its absence. Reserved strength saved him then. He managed to wriggle himself free of the reaper's grasp. In one swift move, he thrust the base of his palm upward into the nose of the reaper, bone shards snapping and crunching under the force. The reaper's enraged face snapped backwards.
Sheppard stumbled back a few steps, gathering in as much air as his aching lungs would allow. He had won that round.
--o--
They trampled through the undergrowth: it was thicker here than any place they had encountered thus far on this forsaken planet. A blanket of black smoke hovered above the canopy, blocking out nearly all daylight. It was an eerie twilight-like trek through hostile territory.
And then, the smoke above filtered away and rays of promising light broke through. They came to a clearing by a babbling brook of murky water upon black stone.
They were not alone.
--o—
The reaper stared him down. Its face was stony, eyes flashing dangerously.
Suddenly there were others…the fighters had returned. Were they not all dead by now? Fists clenched and unclenched, muscles held rigid, and wild strands of hair shook as the last of their adrenaline pumped through their tired veins.
--o—
Teyla let out a strangled cry. Ronon growled. McKay let out a small shocked "oh". Carson swallowed harshly, tears springing to his saddened eyes.
Two very young boys, not past the age of eight, lay side by side upon the blackened ground. Skin unnaturally white; bodies unnaturally still. A stout man, dressed in white with a bloodied bone-pierced nose, stood above them, his hands dirtied with the blood of the innocent. His gaze was fixated intently upon another man pacing wildly back and forth, just a few arms length away. It was the one man they had been searching for all along.
"Sheppard."
--o--
There were four of the fighters, with many more remaining in shadow beyond them. The men stiffened and stopped in their tracks, standing in a row to face him.
The reaper was distracted by their presence. Sheppard stole the opportunity.
In a swift rush of air, he was upon the reaper, forearms wrapped around his throat, one hand pressed against its pale face. His gaze settled upon the fighters staring back at them.
With a quick thrust, he released his grip on the reaper. It toppled to the ground with a solid thump. Smiling, eyes lowered devilishly, he turned his rage onto the fighters standing silently before him.
--o--
The pilot's gaze was distant, his chest was heaving in an unnatural rhythm, and his hair was more messed and unruly than ever before. Sheppard looked on the verge of collapse. But the anger that was palpitating from him was so intense Beckett and the others found themselves cringing and taking a step back.
--o--
Sheppard maintained eye contact with the fighters as he approached them, calculating which to take out first.
--o--
Ronon made to move towards him, but both Teyla and Carson held out an arm to block his advance.
--o--
Sheppard stopped his advancement suddenly. His gaze faltered and landed upon the two young boys lying amongst the ashes.
--o--
It was at that moment that McKay and team saw something snap within their leader.
Sheppard stared at the corpses for nearly a minute, his jaw clenching harder and harder.
--o--
The fury within consumed him. His upper lip curled and his nostrils flared. His dark piercing eyes met those of the fighters. A growl grew from deep within and he charged forward.
--o—
Rodney was frozen in shock. Sheppard was attacking them. His clouded eyes were cold and angry, seeing a threat where there was none. Teyla and Lorne did their best to defend the blows, as surprisingly strong as they were, without causing further harm to the colonel. Even Ronon tried to jump in to help, though Beckett once again held him back. The good doctor himself, face cringed in anxiety, sought the right moment to jump in to intervene in any way he could.
But all Rodney could do was watch. His best friend was out of control and once again there was nothing he could do.
--o—
Rage consumed every part of his being. Nothing was familiar in this cruel existence. As cold as this world was, his most basic instinct to survive would not allow him to succumb to the overwhelming exhaustion plaguing his body. He threw punch after punch, kick after kick. He felt little to nothing from the return abuse, if any. He was on autopilot now. He would fight until there was nothing left to fight.
When he struck something solid and he could not retreat his outstretched arm, he glared at the target. Only the target was staring back at him, fierce, but soft. It grabbed a firm hold on his arm and he braced himself for whatever attack it intended to inflict. Instead, the target placed his arm over his shoulder and another arm snaked around his waist. Shocked, he struggled to find release.
--o—
The feral eyes turned towards them. Breathing heavily, as if each breath was a struggle for his lungs and heart, Sheppard wavered.
"Colonel Sheppard? Are….are you all right lad?" Carson shifted, craning his neck to try to gain some kind of connection with the man.
The colonel's eyes were focused on something just over his shoulder. The others noticed it too, and glanced back. There was nothing there.
"He's hallucinating."
--o--
Voices called to him. He thought he should recognize them, but his heart was beginning to send piercing pain through his chest and his arms were going numb, especially the right. For a moment, his gaze fell upon the bodies lying at his feet. Dead eyes pierced through him. He felt himself listing to the side, hands reaching for him just in time to gently lower him to the ground.
His gaze returned to the hazy blue sky above. Faces peered down at him. He should recognize these people but effort to do so was incredibly exhausting. His heart was racing, his body quivering. Hands were on him, reassuring him. He felt no fear now. His heart began to work harder, the beats coming slower but more forcibly. An enormous pressure descended upon his heaving chest. He found himself gasping for air for the second time in mere minutes.
--o—
"Rodney, my medical kit, please." Beckett urgently called out, reaching without looking. His gaze was trained on the colonel's eyes, which were shifting unsteadily from left to right, searching for something to anchor him to reality.
"Is he going to be all right?" Teyla asked, her voice soft yet unsteady.
"Colonel?" Beckett tapped Sheppard's cheek, vainly attempting to gain eye contact. "Colonel, please talk to me."
The colonel's eyes were glassy with pooling wetness gathering in them. Beckett glanced up at the others gathering around them. His concern was parallel to theirs. This wasn't good.
--o--
Silent tears streamed down his reddened face. His eyes were vacant: his expression broken. He lay limp, the fight in him gone. The air was simply becoming too thin: he couldn't breathe. His head twisted to the side so that now he had an unobstructed view directly into the two children's forever still faces.
Just beyond them was another face he hadn't seen in quite a while: his father. The translucent face was barely visible, but the expression was everything.
Disappointment.
--o—
Try as he might, Carson couldn't even get the colonel to acknowledge their presence. His vitals were alarming: they needed to get him back to Atlantis immediately.
Yet none of them realized how critical the situation had become. The man they had come to know had retreated to a place where nobody could follow.
John Sheppard was lost.
-------tbc-------