Thanks for the lovely reviews to the last chapter, I am really pleased I managed to surprise you all! Hope you enjoy the one ahead, and thanks as always to my fab beta, shepsgirl72 - all mistakes are mine.

COLLABORATIONS

CHAPTER 12

The soft light from the lanterns chased away the darkness, shining their warm, rosy glow upon the long rectangular tables set out in the courtyard below. Laid upon the finest white linen were platters of pure gold, heavy with the finest cuts of meat, exotic fruits, all the colours of the rainbow and jugs of ruby wine filled to the brim. Around the tables, the faithful sat enjoying the fruits of their labours. They too looked their best, wearing their scarlet ceremonial robes with pride, laughing and joking with their brothers, possibly for the last time. If any man was afraid of what the next day would bring, no one gave a sign, as they ate and drank their fill, until the sun rose on another day and they would go into the fields, some never to return.

Frama watched as the faithful enjoyed themselves, and felt nothing but sadness. The old monk knew every man, cared for them when they were sick, but tomorrow when they went out to the fields, many of their number would become dried out corpses, scattered on the barren fields…sacrificed to the Wraith. He was glad they didn't know about Malen, for nothing should sadden their hearts and make their last time together a mournful occasion. Tonight was about celebration, giving thanks for the lives they were going to save by their act of selfless sacrifice, and Frama knew his old friend wouldn't have had it any other way.

The old monk thought of Malen. He couldn't get the memory of the monk's cold, dead body lying in a pool of blood out his head. But he was wise enough to realise that in many ways his friend had brought his early demise upon himself. Once a good man, a caring Father, he had become corrupt, too interested in serving his Wraith masters than caring for his flocks needs. For many years Malen kept any profits from the men's labour for his own ends, shamelessly collecting worthless bits of scrap in order that he could ingratiate himself with the Wraith, leaving those who really served, the faithful…men who gave up their lives, the blandest of diet and the cheapest of mead.

Nonetheless, even he was surprised at how far the kind man he once knew had fallen. Frama was appalled by the torture inflicted upon the two strangers who came to them in need. Violence had never been the way of this order, at least not until recently. Discipline he knew was necessary on occasion to keep order, especially when dealing with young men. But the cruel manner, sadistic even, in which his old friend, the man he thought he knew, treated these strangers, shocked him to the core.

Satisfied with his efforts, pleased to see everyone enjoying the feast, Frama nodded to the other Monks and went inside to tend his patient. Why Malen had the pleasant young man whipped mystified him; he had been a monk for many years and this was the first he'd ever heard of the purification ritual. Normally, he knew of every activity taking place within the monastery, but this time, he'd known nothing of the intended punishment. When Phailim came and asked for some paraffin, he did think it odd at the time, but was too busy to ask why…it was only later he heard the horrific screams...

Whether or not the punishment was deserved didn't justify the man's treatment afterwards. When asked by the Father Confessor to care for the wounded man, he was appalled to see tears streaming down his ashen face…which was no wonder, as his back was a mass of mutilated flesh, covered in burns. And, while the wounds were clean, nothing had been given to ease his torment. However, even the request in itself was strange. The old man had been around Wraith for most of his life, and while he wasn't afraid of them, he had never in all that time known any Wraith to care about a human. This was unusual to be sure, but none of his business. At least he was glad to be able to help, and give the miserable man something to ease his suffering, leaving him asleep, free from pain for the time being.

ooooOoooo

Once everyone was occupied, the monks and the faithful busy at the feast, and his men out searching for Kolya, the large Wraith made his way back into the infirmary.

"Are you ready to leave…Sheppard?"

John was lying prone on the bed with Brother Frama by his side, the old monk in the process of changing the dressings on his wounds. He turned to see his weird ally looking strangely at him, a mixture of anger and concern, then realised he probably looked as bad as he felt…if that were possible.

Frama stood up, confused at the implication of the Father Confessors words. "Father, I don't understand…I thought this man's name was Kolya?" He looked at John then back at the Wraith in confusion. "In any case, regardless of who he is, this man is too sick to go anywhere."

Even as those words were spoken, John swore through gritted teeth, and struggled into an unsteady sitting position at the edge of the bed. He felt the room spinning, as every small movement was torture. But rise he must, so taking short, shallow breaths he managed to stay put...for now.

"It's alright, Brother Frama. The Father Confessor and I have known each other for some time. He is going to help me escape. So please, if you could… help me up?"

"Father...this man can barely move, let alone walk...please, may I be allowed to help him?" Frama smiled when Todd nodded his agreement. "First, Mr Sheppard…we need to get you something to wear… to avoid suspicion in case we are challenged. Here, take my habit."

His pain spiked, as the old monk helped him slip the garment over his head, and he hissed as the torturous rough material chaffed against his wounds.

"Now, just sip a couple of drops from this bottle. It will take the edge off your pain, but will still keep you reasonably alert for the journey." John took the bottle off the kind old man, wanting to down the lot…but knew Brother Frama was right, he would have to try and stay focused, in order to make good his escape.

Sheppard knew the worst part was ahead…getting to his feet. His vision blurred the moment he stood upright, and he staggered...only the old man's surprisingly strong grasp, preventing a certain face plant on the floor.

"Th…ks, Brother Frama. My name is John by the way…John Sheppard." Sheppard saw Todd looking at him, the question clearly written in his features…Was he going to make it?

"See…I'm on my feet…let's go." Sheppard knew he wasn't fooling anyone, least of all Todd. But both men knew John didn't have a choice…it was either leave, or stay and be killed.

"If you are quite finished fussing over your patient, Brother Frama…we really must go." Todd came over, took Sheppard's other arm, and between the two of them they slowly led him along the corridor, down the stairs, and out the back entrance where the trucks were parked.

"This is where I must leave, Sheppard. My men will be back shortly, and as I'm sure you will agree, I cannot be seen with you. Brother Frama…would you be kind enough to take Mr Sheppard to the Ancestral Ring?" The old monk nodded his agreement. "Thank you, Brother." Todd turned back to look at John. "Brother Frama will take you as far as the Stargate, and I trust you can make your own way home from there. Oh, wait…you may want this back." Todd handed over John's sidearm.

"Why are you helping me? I though we were even?" John took the gun, and stared at Todd, puzzled.

The Wraith held his gaze. "I have found you to be a useful ally, Sheppard, and in helping you… what is it you say? Oh, yes...you owe me one. Also…no other human understands my sense of humour the way you do."

John cringed as he tried to smile. "Till the next time then."

"Till the next time…Now go quickly before my men return."

Sheppard yelped as Frama helped him into the cab of the truck, and immediately regretted his outburst when he saw the remorseful look in the monks face. "I'm sorry, my son, for your treatment at our hands. Believe me when I say, this order wasn't always like this, as for centuries this monastery was a haven of peace and solace. Please, lean on your side. Hopefully, that will help keep the pressure off your back and make the journey more bearable."

As Frama started up the engine, John realised something. "Brother, where is the third truck?"

"The other man, your imposter, Nessan Kolya stole it… after he knifed Father Malen to death."

John couldn't feel regret for the death of the sadistic monk, but realised to Brother Frama, the man may have been a friend.

"I am sorry for your loss, Brother, but is Nessan still missing?"

"The Father Confessor's men are out searching for him, however, he has probably gone through the ring by now. Please, John. I understand your concern, but we have no more time for conversation. We must go quickly while the others are occupied."

Every part of his body screamed as the old truck jarred his abused body as it rattled from side to side, driving along the rough, uneven roads. Once or twice John nearly passed out, when white hot pain tore him apart, graying his vision as the agonising journey seemed to go on forever. He lost all track of time, drifting in and out of consciousness, until unexpectedly the nightmarish journey ended, and the truck ground to a halt.

Illuminated by the bright headlights, John became aware of what Frama had already seen. Two bodies; one, a Wraith, was lying in the middle of the road. The other, a man wearing a monk's habit, lay beside the missing truck stuck in a ditch at the side of the road…Nessan.

Adrenaline cleared his foggy brain, his aches almost forgotten as John struggled to open the door, but Frama caught him arm.

"No, John…stay here. If the Wraith is still alive, he will most likely leave me alone. If not, I will signal for help. But, if they are both dead as I suspect, then there is no point in aggravating your back for nothing."

Sheppard realised Frama was right. He wasn't crazy at the idea of the old man going out there himself, but if they were dead as he hoped, then it wouldn't take both of them to check. John waited anxiously, while the old man turned over the bloody body of the Wraith and looked up, shaking his head…one down…one to go. After a moment, he saw Frama make his way over to the second body, but just as he peered over the dash to see what was happening, John sat upright, as he saw Kolya alive, if not quite himself, holding a knife to the monks throat.

"Give me your gun, Brother…or should I just help myself?" Nessan reached for the hand gun jammed into the waistband of the monk's pants, before throwing down the knife and looking around, suddenly aware of movement from the other side of the truck.

"On your feet so soon, Sheppard…but I must say you aren't looking so good." Nessan smiled.

Even in the bright headlights, Sheppard saw it wasn't just their reflection which made Kolya's hair look light. A Wraith feeding mark was clearly visible, as was the fact Nessan had aged nearly twenty years.

"You aren't looking great yourself, Kolya. How many years have you lost 15…20?"

Nessan laughed. "Yes, well at least I'm still alive, unlike him." He motioned to another dead Wraith…with his head blown off. "It was all very disappointing really. I thought I had killed them both with the truck, but unfortunately my aim wasn't as good as I thought." Kolya hid a grimace of pain. "While I was lying stunned after the crash, one of them attacked. It took all of my rounds point blank before the menace stopped feeding. But I think the white hair quite suits me…makes me look respectable."

Sheppard wished the Wraith had finished the job, and was itching to kill the SOB himself. Except he was in no shape to mount an attack, and if he didn't do something, Brother Frama could soon be dead. Before the words left his mouth…he already regretted them.

"Look, Kolya. I know how much you're hurting, but if you just let Brother Frama go, we can both go back to Atlantis. Our docs have learned a lot about how the feeding process affects the body, and they'll do everything they can to help you…at least keep you out of pain."

"A tempting offer, but what kind of life would I have after that? Spend what time I have left in one of your prisons? No I think not. Now, Sheppard, lay down your gun or I will kill your friend."

Normally he would have taken the shot, but during the short walk from the truck, the adrenaline had faded and now he could barely stand. There was silence for a moment while they looked at each other. Then, afraid Kolya would make good his threat, he put down his gun just as the fiery bite of a bullet seared through his thigh...

Stunned, Sheppard lay on the ground clutching his leg as Nessan smiled. "Just a precaution, John. I'm not going to kill you, but equally I don't want you following me either. In any case the Wraith will be here soon to finish what I've started...if you're still alive by then. In the meantime…say goodbye to Brother Frama."

Sheppard saw Kolya raise his weapon to the old man's head. All aches forgotten, John instinctively lunged for his gun and pulled the trigger, just as Nessan pushed the monk away to take the bullet point blank in the chest.

ooooOoooo

John's head was spinning; he couldn't believe what had just happened, as he crawled over to the still man lying on the ground.

"Thank…you, Sheppard. I...wondered…Argh… what …it would take for you…Gah… to kill me."

"You planned this?"

Nessan smiled weakly. "I didn't really want…Mmmph…to shoot you. But I couldn't…couldn't…Arghhn… allow you to take me back...Gah…to spend the rest of ...my life…like this."

Frama, who had been trying to help Kolya, looked at John and shook his head.

"Y…r a good man, Sheppard. B…t…too…Nnnnghnn…weak...t…o…compassionate…danger...ous...trait...for a so..dier. D...nt…let…it …be…ur…downfall." Clutching at the dog tags. "Tak…th...m…arhhg…I ws…a fool…to…tnk…I cud…evr…tk…ur…pl…"

Sheppard watched the light leave Kolya's eyes, and saw the mask of death set on his waxen features. Kolya was dead. It was what he wanted…what the man deserved…but when the time came to take the Genii's life, it was when Nessan wanted to die…not when he was ready to kill him.

The monk saw John list to the side, as blood flowed freely from his leg. "John…Lie down…I must take care of that."

"Didn't you hear him, Brother Frama? He tricked me…the bastard tricked me! Made me kill him…on his terms. He was right…what kind of soldier am I, when I can't even tell when I'm being played?"

"Try not to talk, my son, keep your strength for the journey. Kolya was obviously a troubled soul, and you must not pay any heed to his words. Once you get home amongst your people, and your wounds have healed, I'm sure you will come to realise these were the words of a fool, and feel differently. But for now you must let me help you."

Frama tore strips from his white shirt, and bound them as tightly as he dared around John's leg.

"Thank you, Brother, for this…and for everything you've done for me. Please... please, come to Atlantis with me. They're the best kind of people, kind, generous, and there's always a welcome for a good man like you. You mustn't say here…if you do you'll…"

Frama smiled. "I know I am to die tomorrow, John, and I welcome it. It was written all over the Father Confessors face…along with the fact he was so desperate for you to leave tonight. It was many years ago I left my family to join the order, and now there is no one left, not even Malen. You remind me of my son you know, his name was Soren. He had thick dark hair too, and possessed the same strength of character you have. When he became one of the faithful some years ago I was so proud...but then he was chosen to serve. Since his death, I realised too late, the mistake I had made in choosing the life I had. However, by then I'd lived this way for so long I couldn't imagine how I could go home, or even begin to start again. So please…don't distress yourself on my account. Now, let me help you up…we must leave now as dawn is nearly upon us."

Sheppard gasped, as a sharp pain pierced through his leg. With his abused body and wounded leg, he really didn't know how he was going to do this. But the monk was right, it was now or never…

His hand was shaking as he reached up to the old man. "Okay…lets..."

Frama watched horrified, as John started to rise, then suddenly collapse and lay deathly still, upon the cold, hard dirt road.

ooooOoooo

TBC

Well, Nessan is gone. As always please review...I like to know what you think, and it gives me encouragement to keep writing.