Chapter Two: Manifestation of Phantoms

Atlantis – 0300 hrs Digital Data Lab

Teyla stood in the doorway for a full five minutes before taking a seat next to John, only then did he notice her. Running a hand through scruffier than usual hair he grinned but it never reached his eyes. Teyla had noticed that a lot lately and not just from John.

"Hey."

"Hey," she answered, never having quite understood the greeting but adaptation was an important survival skill and Teyla was a survivor; they all were in their own way but such a life left marks. John's mark was his obsession with lost colleagues, nothing new, but definitely worse since they had lost Major Lorne.

He was going through hours of intelligence footage of Wraith outposts, hive ships and a hundred other photos their various contacts had provided. It was not just evidence of Lorne he looked for, others had gone missing, too many and it weighed heavily on the conscience of this man.

She could tell him he needed to rest or that he should trust that the analysts had already checked; but she did not do that.

"Could you use some help John?"

He just nodded with a grateful expression and moved a computer screen in her direction. What she would have given for just one quip or smart remark from him right now. Even they were few and far between, he barely went on missions anymore and even his arguments with Rodney were without passion.

Wraith Hive Ship

He sat in the dark and desperately tried to work out how many days it had been. Did it really matter any more? He had to believe it did. When not being interrogated he was kept here in the dark. He had to assume a day was the time between tortures, if the Wraith even operated on a 'daily' cycle; they were biological so it had to be a logical deduction that they did.

Thinking so fiercely on the problem had almost made Lorne forget about the constant dull ache in his arm, and in four of his fingers, and the sharp pain in his ribs every time he breathed. The Queen seemed fond of breaking bones and took the greatest pleasure in it. Although he had tried to set them with pieces of his uniform and the soul of his boot for the arm Lorne knew it was hopeless. They were going to heal slowly and badly. He figured that's why she had gone after his fingers, to stop him patching the injuries up.

She wanted not only to physically destroy him but mentally, to lose hope and give up, and then provide all the information she wanted. Was Atlantis really destroyed? What was the capability of his force? Who were their allies (like they had any)? What did they know of the Wraith? What was the exact location of Earth?

He could have told her any of the former, since it would have changed by now, but not Earth, never that and so he told her nothing. His fear was to give in just a little would be his undoing. Lorne had already followed all the exercises to at least endure the torture: compartmentalise emotion, embrace the pain and laugh at your captor.

He was failing though and had to resort to going within himself, deep down where the pain and the torment were mere echoes, but the danger was he would start to lose parts of himself if it continued too long.

The imprisonment had continued with no rescue; a week turned into two, then three and then time began to uncoil. It was like a slow moving snake, he knew something was wrong but could not pinpoint the source. Then Lorne realised he had lost count of the day, he knew which week but was it two or three days? The snake uncoiled even more and with the loss of days it soon became weeks.

Then at last the serpent was fully uncoiled and struck, he had not even a clue as to how much time had passed: days, weeks, months? The injuries helped in a perverse kind of way, the pain and various breakages letting him know it had only been weeks since his tibia had been fractured, no more than a month since his collar bone and surely only a week since every bone in is left foot.

The breaks provided another torment that was not physical pain: delusions. As the marrow seeped into his bloodstream his hold on sanity slipped. It started with just talking to himself, not so unusual since the only conversation he had was with the Wraith Queen, and they were not something he relished.

He tried singing but even Lorne had to admit his voice in tempo was a torture unto itself. Then jokes, but really he did not know any good ones; Parrish always did, botanists really could be crude after a few drinks. He filed verbal mission reports, edited of course since he was still sane enough to know the Wraith could be listening. It was a shock the first time Colonel Sheppard actually answered one report.

"Not good enough do it again," and if he squinted into the darkness Evan believed he could almost see the Colonel. He refused to talk back, knowing that this was madness. But the voices continued: Sheppard, Weir, McKay, dozens of other Atlantis personnel… but not Parrish. Perhaps his subconscious was waiting to use David as a slam dunk, as a final fall into absolute dribbling insanity.

He never answered back until one 'day' after a particularly gruelling session where the Queen had dislocated his shoulder twice, he returned to his cell and gave his report. There was no answer from Sheppard; there was no sound at all. Breathing in short pained rasps Lorne peered into the darkness, the lack of voices worse than knowing he was finally stark raving mad.

He had read the report on McKay's deep sea adventure and knew that in times of great stress even the most intelligent of people could conjure up phantoms. He had accepted that but took comfort from the fact that it was just his own mind trying to cope; if there was no more phantoms then maybe even his subconscious had given up.

"Hello," he whispered. "Somebody… please?" Lorne did not want to lose it but he felt the tears well up at his isolation; truly feeling it for the first time. Every time he woke, which was frequent since he could never sleep for long with no bed and no knowledge of when the next session would start; every time he thought 'this is it this is the day they rescue me'. If he was honest then yes, sometimes that thought was 'today I die' and it was a comforting thought.

Today was one of those days. He felt the dark walls closing in, the incredible loneliness and the fact that he had to finally comprehend… they were not coming.

He was alone.

Alone, in pain and only endless sessions of agony awaited him. Death was certainly preferable, but the Wraith had thought even of that. The only thing in his cell was a pipe that dripped water and although he had what was left of his BDUs and an undershirt it was hardly enough to strangle him.

Besides the bastards would only bring him back. They had once before when the Queen had gone too far and crushed his windpipe. He had known they could return life-force into someone, but they were like a walking sarcophagus and it was the first time they had made him scream; he thought death had finally come and then awoke with one of their claws on his throat. The Queen had laughed, telling him escape had never been an option, in any way or form.

Collapsing to his knees he let all the pain and anguish wash over him, that part of him still operating on logic knew that this was just another sign of depression; a physical reaction to his situation and from his injuries and from a lack of human contact. That logical part was enough to pull him back from the brink and he breathed deep, using calming techniques that Teyla had taught him.

"You're pathetic," a voice sneered in the dark.

"David?"

SGASGASGASGA

Thanking Teyla and seeing that she at least had some breakfast John grabbed two coffees and headed for Parrish's lab. As always the scientist was already at work, although John noticed the pile of used clothes in the corner: military issue. Parrish had taken to training with some of the soldiers early in the morning, he said it was everyone's responsibility to be ready in an attack or when on mission. John could not disagree; Rodney had done the same thing before becoming the leader of Atlantis. He still could not fire a gun without closing his eyes and how he had never shot his own team John would never know.

Nodding thanks for the coffee Parrish continued to catalogue a row of moss samples from a recent mission. The samples were blue, purple and orange. The only way John knew they were moss was because of all the time he had been spending in the lab and Parrish had a habit of prattling on about what everything was even when you made it obvious you did not care… especially when you did not care.

The botanist stopped what he was doing and took a swig of coffee then winced and shoved the mug at John who swapped it quickly.

"What do you put in it… sugar syrup?" Parrish complained.

"I have a sweet tooth, its Rodney's fault."

Parrish snorted and drank his now suitably sugar and milk free coffee, sighing happily. "The only way to truly enjoy it."

John peered at his own mug and then at Parrish's, an embarrassed look came over his face. "Don't tell the others."

"What? Would it ruin your tough guy image, too late; I've got two words for you Colonel… hair product."

"You're certainly in a good mood today David," said John as he absently ruffled his hair, its not as if he used a lot, just enough to keep it out of his eyes.

David nodded. "The mission was a success; we made some valuable trade alliances and got these wonderful samples, and no sign of Wraith."

"Mmm, they have been a little quiet lately, it's got McKay spooked."

"And what does 'McKay' think the Wraith are up to," asked David smartly, his chirpy mood rubbing off on the Colonel.

"Okay then, they've got me spooked; we've never gone this long without troubles… it's just," he waved his hands expressively. "Wrong so they must be up to something."

David stepped closer and looked over John's face; he brushed the Colonel's cheek with a moss encrusted finger. "You've been up all night again, that's a three day growth and you usually only allow two."

Wiping at the purple smudge John did not even bother to reprimand the scientist; the guy was just touchy feely and no amount of comments had stopped him. It had bothered him at first, especially since he knew Parrish was gay, but when he realised the guy was not making a move he let it go; more important things and all that. Besides, he genuinely enjoyed David's company; he could just be John instead of the military leader of Atlantis.

"Intel footage," John admitted, which made David spin around and start working on the moss again, obviously not wanting to ask because he probably already knew the answer.

Never-the-less John had a duty to tell him and if the roles had been reversed he would want to know. "Nothing, even Teyla helped but," he left it hang.

Just as John reached the door David murmured a thanks, other times he would have stayed but the Colonel had got to now the botanist's moods quite well and he knew the man just wanted to be alone, at least for now. Later John knew, he would visit again and they would talk.

Returning to the dining hall John piled up a plate and took a table in the corner; right on cue Ronon and Rodney also entered, got their food and joined him. After the usual grunts, which in their language meant 'good morning how are you today' John noticed an unusual grin on Ronon's face.

"What?"

Ronon just smirked. "Nothing man it's a good shade on you."

Sheppard just raised his eyebrows, not comprehending. McKay looked at them both then just muttered something about cavemen and army jocks before throwing a napkin at the Colonel and indicating his cheek.

Wiping at it John realised some purple had remained; its placement had made it look like blush. "You should see my lipstick," countered Sheppard wryly. "But Rodney keeps stealing it."

"Hey!" protested McKay. "How did I become the, oh yes, that's right, pick on the genius," he paused to steal a hash brown off Ronon's plate before continuing. "And it's called lip gloss, I have very dry lips – they crack, extremely unsightly and painful."

Ronon laughed at McKay's discomfort but his face turned serious when he looked at Sheppard again. "Teyla was gone all last night, do I have you to thank for that?"

John just tried to look innocent. "She offered to help with some intelligence photos and who was I to say no? Maybe she wanted a reason not to go to bed."

Rodney chuckled and Ronon growled, although it was a 'not really going to bite a chunk out of your arm' kind of growl, at least John hoped so.

"But seriously John," said McKay, speaking around a mouthful of Sheppard's bacon. "We have analysts for that; you have other things to do: like sleep so we have a commander who can actually function in an emergency."

John just sneered but did allow McKay to steal another strip. "I think I liked it better when you called me Colonel."

"Elizabeth always called you John," answered McKay, taking a huge gulp of Ronon's milk. "And since I'm now."

"You're not Elizabeth," said John emphatically, Rodney just shrugged evasively and eyed off a piece of Sheppard's toast, John quickly bit into it before the astrophysicist could pounce.

"You didn't find anything?" asked Ronon, getting back to the original subject while handing a grateful McKay his own heavily buttered toast.

"The usual stuff: Wraith atrocities, people dying, good breakfast table subjects," snapped the Colonel, his tone turning cold.

Ronon did not take offence; he obviously understood Sheppard's motivation and John shook his head in apology. "Sorry, it's just we've never found even one clue, one piece of evidence."

McKay looked at Sheppard sharply. "We may never, the cold fact is if he was taken by the Wraith and they probably fed on him and dumped his body in space."

"Rodney" said Ronon out the side of his mouth.

"What? Well I'm just being practical, and it makes sense that they wouldn't keep the bodies on board… although I wonder, maybe they incinerate them or use them for fuel"

"Thank-you Rodney" said John curtly and got up from the table. "I'll make sure to put that in my report."

As Sheppard left Ronon nudged McKay in the ribs. "I thought you were meant to be smart."

"I am – that has been proven on many occasions, what are you implying… oh" his mouth dropped open as he replayed the conversation in his head. "Well I was never good at the squishy sciences like psychology, I mean it has been months and maybe he should let go."

Passing Rodney another piece of toast Ronon just shook his head. "Sometimes you never let go, and I mean never."

Wraith Hive Ship

"You're not real."

"Oh come now Evan, I can be as real as you want."

Ghostly fingers slid down Lorne's spine and he had to shake his head; knowing it was just a phantom of his pain riddled mind did not prevent the small thrill he felt. It was tempting just to give in and believe that David was here, that his imprisonment was the delusion and that he was really back in Atlantis with his lover. The temptation was not enough to forget his duty however and neither could he ignore the constant pain. He could not and would not enter into this fantasy, but unfortunately Lorne was far enough gone to talk to the phantom. "You are not him… you are not David."

The fingers receded but Lorne could still feel the presence of the pseudo Parrish watching him, weighing him up.

"Doubt was always your biggest problem Evan, doubt in others… in your self," the voice shifted so that it was behind his ear and then across the room. "Here I am yet you push me away… like all the others."

Lorne curled up on the ground, not wanting to listen but he could not block Parrish out. "David would not say that," he shivered, more in pain from moving than anything else; Wraith ships were always quite warm.

"David… David could not do a lot of things, according to you," Parrish sneered, the voice now all around the major.

"I never stopped you from doing anything," stated Lorne, not yet realising he was now talking to the phantom as if it was David.

"Hah! Never! There was a lot of never in our relationship wasn't there?" It had taken on a higher tone. "Never tell anyone, never turn up unannounced, never on a mission, never touch in public, and never show any affection that anyone else could see."

"Stop it."

"Never eat together; never stay the whole night."

"That's not true."

"Too true lover, you always had to be the perfect soldier… and good little soldiers don't fuck other men"

"It's not like that," his voice wavered, the line now well and truly crossed as he both knew he wasn't talking to David but suspected he just might be, like a dream where reality and imagination have collided.

"It is always like that, your rules and your way. You claim to care for me but the only person you care about is yourself, your reputation… I was never more than a convenient lay"

"Please?" Lorne gasped. "Don't say that, I love you David."

The phantom Parrish snorted in derision. "Love! You don't know the meaning of that word; it is as alien to you as the Wraith. You just take what you want and leave nothing but destruction in your path, just like the Wraith. You're unfeeling and uncaring, selfish and without compassion, just like the Wraith. Face it… you are more Wraith than human, it is why you are here."

"No."

"Major Lorne, the biggest failure of Atlantis, for he is a Wraith at heart."

"Stop it!"

"Sucking the life out of all those around him."

"NO!" Lorne shouted in defiance and tried to strike out at the phantom, but his fists met nothing but air and he was once again left alone with only his own thoughts to torment him.

When the Wraith came to collect him for the next session they found him in a foetal position shaking uncontrollably, the Queen would be pleased.

tbc…