John jogged East underneath the hospital, pleased with his ruse even as he realized it would only give him a few minutes of a head start. He would have to change his course soon, pick a less direct route to the Stargate. But, he hoped he could at least clear the East Wing before that became imperative. He simply hoped he'd find something like that helpful little fire escape sign that could give him an idea of where he actually was going. He was headed towards a governmental district. Government buildings always had signs and directories, didn't they?
John shoved the rest of the sandwich he'd stolen into his mouth then fussed again with the grimy handkerchief he'd tied around his upper left arm over the ragged gouge in his flesh. His belt was back around his waist.
The main, Eastbound hall he was following ended at a solid, concrete block wall, dimly lit by more orange bulbs. The corridor that paralleled the wall retreated into dimness in both directions and John paused. He needed to go North, so he looked off to the left. Catching sight of a glowing doorway that looked suspiciously like a stairwell entrance, he smiled and jogged towards the light. A familiar little square of a map confirmed that he had reached the end of the East Wing and he started upwards again after a long careful listen for footsteps and voices.
Unlike the West stairwell, this one was brightly lit and John approached the main floor's landing with great caution. Cheerful voices sent him scurrying back down a level to avoid the couple that entered soon after. They immediately went upstairs, and John scrubbed his face. If this Wing was this crowded, he'd never make it through the main part of the building, and the basements clearly didn't connect to other buildings like the upper hallways seemed to.
He started to fidget and suddenly wished he had his jumper. Not only could the little craft skim over the rooftops directly into the Stargate, it could blast any resistance out of the way once he got there. He rubbed his hands on his pants and ducked again as another local began to tap up the stairs. A curious idea was tickling his thoughts and he suddenly poked out his head, and began jogging up the stairs himself.
He listened carefully and climbed so as not to overtake the previous climbers, then raced past the 1st floor landing, then the 2nd. He paused once again as someone entered just above him from the 3rd floor, breathed a sigh of relief as they also headed upwards and marveled at his luck. Landing after landing, he kept climbing. By the 6th floor, his sore thigh was trembling with each step and he was pressing his elbow tightly into the taped ribs, breathing quickly to avoid breathing deeply.
One more flight of stairs brought him face to – feet ? – with a whole group of descending orange-coated, scientist-types and he froze mid-step, turning his chest to the wall and looking away to avoid any probing glances. The men and women in the group were chatting calmly, unalarmed, and the first one scooted over just a bit to move around John. The rest followed suit and kept going. John began to climb slowly again himself so as not to draw curious attention, and then he was past, exhaling in relief and trying to tell his heart that it needn't pound quite so hard.
"Do you know what all the fuss is about?" One of the voices asked casually, the words drifting up and sounding hollow among the stairwell's echoes. John, now safely around the next turn, paused to listen in.
"You mean all the security types buzzing around and nosing into all the rooms? Quite annoying actually, and I plan to tell Director Niklas as much the second I see him next."
"I heard that the government was hiding a captured terrorist in the building, and that he escaped!" The third voice sounded eager to contribute to the conversation, but John didn't hear what the voice's friends thought about this declaration. The group had passed on into the 5th floor hallway and out of earshot.
John smirked. So, now HE was the terrorist. That was certainly good political spin he thought. Then he sighed and forced his aching body up more stairs. The overheard conversation proved, if anything, that he needed to get out of the building, and soon.
When he reached the 7th level, the lights over the flight of steps that continued upwards were dimmed again and John gasped in relief. He'd reached the top, or almost, and he turned into them, with weary determination. He was looking for roof access -- it might not be as good as the view from a jumper, but he'd have a bird's-eye view of some of the area at least. John thanked his luck again when the stairs ended in an empty, attic-like but huge space. A creaky set of metal stairs climbed up to a skylight and John heaved himself higher, pushed open the grimy frosted glass cover above his head, then was soon blinking in bright, late morning sunlight.
The building he was standing on was the tallest around by a couple of floors, and a light, but desiccatingly dry and chilly breeze sucked the moisture out of his lungs and dried the sweat off his brow. John suddenly shivered as the air cooled his sweat-damp T-shirt. No wonder these people stay indoors, he thought.
He lowered the cover and started to walk over the crunchy gravel roof towards its edge when he suddenly hopped a few steps, picking up his feet in a prance at the feeling of sharp prickles against his soles. He lifted one heel and was shocked to see filthy used-to-be-white socks sticking out from under the equally dirty grey slacks. He froze with his foot in the air before him. He had been walking this whole time in socks? He'd climbed countless stairs and run the full length of the building without noticing? Fuckin' Yippee ki yi yay!
As if the discovery had flipped a switch from his mind to his body, he suddenly shuddered violently and wrapped his arms around himself against the chill. His arm throbbed under the grimy cloth, and his side ached with every movement and every breath. Still huddling into himself, he limped over to the edge of the roof and leaned on his hands over the low ledge.
The colony these people had built was beautiful, if a bit jumbled. Buildings seemed placed at random, and each had its own combination of architecture and composition such that each structure seemed completely unrelated to the one next to it. The whole city was densely overbuilt, and rooftop rose to rooftop in an interesting pattern of heights and shapes.
Just below, John could see a suspended, covered corridor march off from the "hospital" through a series of lush green courtyards. More covered corridors split off the main hall to connect to the jumble of buildings that bordered the courts. The Courtyard itself was the only green or ground he could see in any direction from this angle.
Pulling himself away from admiring the neighborhood, he put his mind to figuring out where he was. He could guess that the long suspended hallway was the Ministry Corridor the doctor had mentioned. But where did he go next? Which building was the Security building? His eyes fell on the stocky, block building at the far North end of the gardens. It seemed far older than the structures around it.
With sudden intensity, John squinted and stared at the blocky shape and licked his lips with anticipation. He recognized that building. From here he could just make out the intricate and deeply patterned stonework on the building's exterior walls. The ancient texture to the stone reminded John of castles he'd seen in England, and he remembered thinking he'd landed in a castle his very first moments on this planet.
Of course, he'd had 6 guys sitting on him in the only seconds he'd had to look around, but the sense of familiarity was strong. Weary hope competed with the aching doubt that was growing in his chest. He was still unsure that he really could get off this world. Not without help, and help wasn't coming. Fiercely, he forced aside the desperate lonliness that threatened to overwhelm him in every unguarded moment. He had the destination, he could see the route. He just needed be able to fly, or go invisible to get there. Yeah, he really missed his jumper.
The wind whipped around him in a frosty gust, moaning over the corners of the building as John keenly scanned the roofs that were packed into the city. The Eastmost building was almost as tall as this one. It was a bit too far to jump, but if he could make it to that roof, perhaps he could climb from roof to roof the rest of the way and skip the interior hallways altogether? Now that was a plan, he decided a bit desperately! He wouldn't exactly be invisible, but he'd certainly be off the usual paths and hidden from searching eyes.
"Colonel Sheppard. You have no idea how pleased I am to see you."
Or not.
John whipped around at the deep voice, then backed into the ledge. Niklas stood at the edge of the skylight between two ubiquitous, bulky security types with a smug sneer. "I have some idea," John retorted, utterly shocked that anyone could have found him. "I'm a little surprised to be seen."
"Your surprise is no less than mine, frankly. I seem to owe the obnoxious Dr. Fang a debt of gratitude for complaining about the disruption to his schedule your escape has caused, and most importantly, for demanding that security be sent to remove the filthy vagrant he'd just seen loitering on the stairs. I was only too happy to comply."
John looked nervously between the guards and Niklas who was looking far too pleased with himself for John's liking. "I seem to owe Dr. Fang a few words of my own," John groused. He took a quick look behind him and gulped at the seven story drop into the courtyards below. Bracing his hands on the ledge to keep them from shaking, he next studied the distance between him and the skylight back into the building.
"Perhaps if we run into him on our way back down, I'll let you speak with him," Niklas said charmingly, waving the guards forward. "In the meantime, come along with us Colonel. My men will escort you."
John leaned back further over the ledge in a terrified cringe. "Hi there, Julan," John found himself saying as he suddenly recognized one of the men advancing on him. "How's the nose feeling?"
"Hurts like hell," Julan answered, almost politely. But the revenge in his eyes was bright. "How're the ribs?"
"Hurt like hell," John admitted. "You won't get me back in a cell," he blurted out in a rush, the defiant statement frighteningly determined. Terror was rapidly turning into panic, and he blinked back visions of needles and restraints. He wouldn't go back. He would jump off the roof first.
He must have telegraphed the thought because Niklas also glanced warily at the edge that was all too close. Waving brusquely at Julan to slow up, he called out in a voice that he surely meant to be reassuring, "You need not worry, Colonel. We have no intention of taking you to hospital confinement again. Your people are also looking for you, so we will be taking you directly to the Stargate."
"And why should I believe that? Your happy-drugs didn't work, remember?" John growled, pushing off the wall to ready his stance. He willed the panic into adrenaline and felt himself almost vibrating with a frantic desperation. They wouldn't get him without a fight. He'd made a pretty good go of it with Julan before. He could definitely get by him this time with more room to maneuver. Yeah, sure. He could do that. Too bad he didn't have his belt ready…
"Because, in fact, it happens to be the truth," Niklas's smile was sly. "And because you are much too valuable to simply lock away!"
"Yeah, you told me that before. And I told you my people won't bargain for me. They're not here. They're not coming." John took a calculating look at the second guard. He was leaving his stance too narrow, John thought. He'll go down at the buckle.
Niklas and Julan exchanged a look and Julan inched forward again. "If you are a representative example, I really do believe that your people are just stubborn enough to refuse to trade, even for one of their own. Luckily, that is not our intention either. We simply…wish to establish the proper relationship with your people. Perhaps you can be as helpful to us as you have been to the Gellans." Julan snickered a bit at the silkily polite phrasing.
John edged further to one side, angling for the position he wanted and not really listening to Niklas. The longer the man yammered on, the longer John had to plan. "If all you wanted was help, you should have just asked. Nicely."
And with that, John lunged off the ledge and slammed his heel into the 2nd guard's stomach, throwing him back and off his feet with a satisfying whoof of surprise. Julan roared with malicious eagerness and dove towards John with outstretched arms. John simply ducked the unaffectionate embrace and threw his shoulder into Julan's. The bulky guard had the weight advantage, but John had the angle and Julan stumbled sideways to land on his hands and knees.
Grinning, John reset his own balance and turned towards the hole in the roof thinking he only needed to descend a couple of floors before he could find a window that looked out onto a neighboring roof. The grin vanished, and he skidded to a stop as two more thugs poked their heads out of the skylight and scrambled onto the roof. One of them wore a black and tan uniform, and John thought he looked familiar, but couldn't place him. The gravel crunched behind him as Julan regained his feet with an angry snarl.
He was surrounded.
John stood shivering in the cold rooftop air, gasping from exertion and terror. Panic and anxiety melted away from him, leaving behind desperate sorrow and a feeling he'd only felt once before, and never in combat: utter despair.
His friend, Julan, wouldn't be taken by surprise again. John was far too light to overcome four heavyweights outright. Not to mention that he was beaten up and exhausted. A cold shiver of dread dropped into his gut that had nothing to do with the wind.
He'd failed. There was no way out. And he wouldn't go back. The despair won out and John spun on his heel towards the edge of the roof, throwing every last bit of his energy in propelling himself forward. Elizabeth would be pissed, he thought with tired amusement.
"Stop him!" shrieked Niklas.
John darted past Julan's clumsy grab and gathered himself for a last desperate leap when the nearest guard made a lunge for John's feet. He missed, but his flailing arms fouled John's stride and he stumbled, landing hard on his knees, then rolling and skidding against the ledge on his side. It was all over.
Two guards grabbed for his arms and pinned them painfully into the gravel. John kicked wildly and another brute threw himself over John's legs. He still writhed and twisted until a savage boot in his side yanked a scream from his throat and he coughed violently from the force against his chest. Even then, the agony only held him still for a moment and he managed wrench one arm free for a second to deal out a couple of good blows. He heard Julan curse fiercely as John connected again with the man's face.
His arm was quickly captured again and held into the ground, this time with a savage twist, and John whimpered in frustration.
"Gentlemen, move off his legs, this sedative goes in the thigh." Niklas sounded annoyed.
John rolled his head towards the Director who was fiddling with a syringe. "No…no, no!" gasped John, and he abruptly stopped fighting, holding himself still in rigid terror. "No more drugs. Please, no more drugs…"
Niklas narrowed his eyes and John forced himself to sound reasonably persuasive, managing to get as far as hysterically sincere. "No more drugs. I'll…I'll go with you. I won't fight. Just… please…"
Niklas seemed to think through the offer for a moment, then fixed John with a glare. "If you are good to your word, it would be better for you to meet your people in a lucid state. Not to mention the hassle of carrying you to the Stargate…" Niklas held John's gaze for a long moment, then John nodded.
"I'll walk," he said. John didn't believe for a second that they had any intention of taking him to the Stargate, but he would play along long enough to find out what was going on. Or long enough to find a way to end this once and for all.
Niklas pocketed the syringe, then the four thugs roughly hauled John to his feet at Niklas command. John growled loudly as his body shrieked in protest at the movement. Friend Julan seemed to have finished off that rib, he thought as he felt a grinding stab with every shallow breath. While they all waited for him to get his feet under him, John looked up at Julan and cracked a weary grin when he saw the man swiping at a trickle of blood from his nose. Julan did not look happy with Niklas's decision to let John walk.
"Hey," John smirked at the disgruntled guard, "You look like you need a tissue there, big guy."
Julan twisted John's arm at the bandage and John cried out, regretting his big mouth.
"That's enough," Niklas rebuked mildly. "Colonel Sheppard, I am going to quite enjoy getting rid of you."
"When you hand me over to my people at the Stargate, you mean?" John gasped, the sarcasm heavy in his voice.
"Of course," was Niklas's silky reply.
The men hauled John forward and they began towards the skylight. John looked long and hard at Niklas as he was marched by, but he kept walking. He would cooperate. For now.