Blood Rituals – Pain
by Angel Ruse

Sheppard, Beckett, McKay and Teyla gate to a world with a deadly secret—will Sheppard and Beckett become the victims of genetic exploitation? Sheppard and Carson whump. No Slash.

John opened his eyes. Immediately he knew there was something seriously wrong. His head pounded and his ears were fuzzy. He didn't see Carson anywhere, nor did he see that scamp Atius. His guards were still present, however. But he didn't care. He was frozen to the bone and so tense he felt he could close in upon himself and still not find relief.

As he pushed himself up into a seated position, John found his hands shaking terribly. His eyes went dark for a frightening moment as the blood rushed to his head. "I…" he whispered, but couldn't get his thoughts straight enough to form the words right. When he could see again he noticed the guards watching him uncertainly.

Sheppard threw his legs over the side of the cot and got to his feet. Immediately he went down to his knees, too dizzy to keep balance. "Carson?" he breathed, looking for the entrance to the lab. The two guards rushed towards him as he started to move towards the doorway.

"What do you think you're doing?" one of them hissed, jerked him up by his shirt. The Colonel fell into his arms as he took another step towards the lab.

His distress must have startled his captors, for they grabbed his shoulders and instead of hauling him back to his bunk, took him to the lab he sought. When the door opened John vaguely heard Carson talking in ragged tones, saying, "Look, you bloody fool, if you would just…" and then, "John?"

Sheppard collapsed then. He was still painfully conscious of what was wrong with him, but he had no energy to pick himself up. "Sweet god, he's white as a sheet," Beckett exclaimed, bending over his prone form as the guards stretched him out on the floor. "Give me the steroid!"

"Beckett, so help me," Atius hissed from somewhere else in the room, John couldn't figure out where. His head swam in the promise of sweet blackness.

But the doctor wouldn't let the other man finish. "Just give it to me and we'll talk about this later!" There was a note of finality to Carson's voice that must have spurred Atius into action, because in the next moment Sheppard felt his thigh being stabbed by what—in his confused state—felt like a needle twice the normal size. He groaned and tried to bat the offender away, but Carson held his arm down, saying, "I know you're not likin' this, lad, but you'll like it even less if I don't. Just stay calm. All ya have ta do is wait it out, and you'll be fine. It won't kill ya. Your body just has ta fight until the ruddy drug is out of your system."

"I don't," Sheppard whispered, not even sure what he was saying. "I can't." He looked blearily into Carson's blue eyes and gripped his coat.

"You can," Carson told him firmly. "Don't you worry about it. Just a little discomfort, then you'll be as right as rain."

The Colonel took a deep breath as the cool air in the room seared across his sweat-drenched skin. "It hurts," he groaned, closing his eyes to shield them from the light. He had never felt so battered in his life. He had never felt such acute fear of death, either.

"Pulse?" Atius inquired, standing above.

Beckett pressed his fingers along Sheppard's wrist. "Racing. Give it a moment, will you?"

A few more labored breaths and though he was shaking like a leaf, Sheppard calmed down. He felt by no means or stretch of the imagination capable of movement, but the intensity of his panic faded some as his friend soothed him with encouraging words. He put his hand on Carson's arm and squeezed, trying to inquire about his state, but he couldn't be sure the doctor understood. He could see Carson's skin was sallow, his hair moistened by sweat.

"You're lucky the steroid isn't killing him," the Khon'Suan observed in dark tones. "If the catalyst had reacted to it…"

"Look who's talkin' about takin' precautions," Beckett spat in reply. "I know what I'm doin'."

John shook his head and said, "Doc," trying to get him to let it go, but the doctor was too angry.

"You're lucky waitin' around didn't kill him," he snapped at Atius. "I told ya this was goin' to happen, but you're so concerned with that catalyst and your pride…"

"Dr. Beckett!" Atius yelled, quieting the startled Lantean. Sheppard opened his eyes, wanting to draw attention away from their argument, but it was too late. Atius was fuming. "I have tried to be polite to you, but you do not seem very receptive. Perhaps you need to be taught to hold your tongue. Colonel Sheppard will be fine."

Carson turned his attention back onto his patient. "John, how are ya feelin', son?" he asked, so concerned he missed the order Atius gave his guards to take him away. "Ya gave me a right bloody scare."

"Doc, don't," Sheppard breathed, shaking his head. He could see a dangerous glint in Atius' eyes. "Don't argue." He wanted to warn the doctor how dangerous their situation was becoming, but he just couldn't think of all the words he needed to say it.

Carson looked a bit sheepish. He might have said something in reply, but the two Khon'Suan guards were at his back. They heaved Beckett to his feet roughly. "You'd do this to me?" he asked Atius, who was watching with a hard expression. "Colonel Sheppard needs critical care right now..."

"He'll get it," Atius replied coldly. "I am a doctor."

"You're not a doctor!" Carson hissed back at him.

The Khon'Suan scientist motioned towards the door. "Take him to the gardens."

Anger infused Sheppard as he watched his friend get dragged away. Atius came to his side, reaching to help him up, but John didn't want his hands on him and growled, "Don't…touch me!"

"Don't be stupid," the doctor replied wearily. "The floor is cold. You will die if you remain down there." Sheppard was hauled onto another cot. Atius draped a blanket over him to combat the chill in the room, then looked at his shaking form a moment. "We cannot neutralize the catalyst, or rather I will now allow it to be done by artificial means. Your Ancient gene is protecting your genetic makeup by destroying the catalyst anyway, so our best option is to allow it to proceed. The steroid Dr. Beckett gave you should keep you stable enough to fight it off, but you won't be feeling yourself for a while yet." He reached for some sort of device that he wrapped around the Colonel's wrist. "This will take your temperature."

"They gonna kill him?" Sheppard asked, unwilling to acknowledge the Khon'Suan's ministrations.

Atius watched the alien thermometer work. "I think you have a fever," he said absently, placing his hand on Sheppard's forehead. "Our temperature readings are gauged differently. I cannot remember what Beckett said the norm converted to. You feel very warm, though."

John shivered beneath his blanket. "Answer me!" he wanted to shout, but couldn't find the voice.

Another foreign device was snapped around the back of Sheppard's neck. He could feel a coolness radiating off of it and in his fevered stated it only served to increase his trembling. Trying desperately to find a position that provided warmth and failing, he settled on his side. At this point he could only put faith in his companions.

Atius never replied to his question.

The halls he traversed on stumbling feet were mournfully grey and quiet. Beckett didn't know where they were taking him or for what purpose, but despite the innocuous sound of Atius ordering him to be taken to the gardens he didn't think it was for tea. His captors would not speak a word as they forced him along.

At the top of a very old and cracked flight of stone stairs there was a large, heavy looking door. One of the guards shoved it open and the other dragged Carson out into the cool air. A line of glow lamps led the way through the grove that gave this place its name. It was dark and shadowy, the kind of path one took his final walk down. He hesitated there at the threshold between the small fortress and nature. Would this be his final walk? "If ya kill me…" he started, but a dagger blade pressed into his skin just behind his kidney convinced him to go along with this until he could find an opportunity.

"Move," the guard at his left said, poking him with the sharp tip.

Carson wrapped his arms around himself as it began to rain softly. He took the first step and hoped he could figure out a way out of this by the time he reached the end of the path. A flash of lightening made him blink. Thunder cracked in the distance. It was perfect weather, he reflected irritably, wiping water from his eyes. Nothing could top this moment off better than if he heard a woman scream.

Or moving shapes in the dark. He turned his head towards what he thought was a shadow dancing in his vision. There was nothing there but trees and shadows. His imagination was really playing with him, or maybe it was the drug Atius had forced on him. For all the hope giving a lesser dose would give it certainly didn't hold all the side effects at bay. Carson was nauseated and dizzy.

Yet in the darkness he could swear he heard something. It was as faint as breathing, but like a chilling song at the same time, the moaning in the black of night. It was then one of his captors decided to say something other than an order. Leaning close to the doctor's ear, the Khon'Suan whispered, "They hunger."

Were these Iryll's dark ones? Despite the sudden gnawing at his stomach at that statement, Carson refused to show his fear and say anything in response. He kept his eyes straight and jaw set as they led him through the mud to a small clearing. There he looked around for clues as to what his doom would be. Dead bushes littered the sides of the clearing and crushed, dirtied flower petals made a path towards a stone block in the center.

It was now or never. He couldn't just let them murder him without a fight. One of the Khon'Suans wrapped his hands around Carson's arm and the doctor used the element of surprise to swing his fists back into the man's stomach as hard as he could. The guard groaned and crashed to the mud.

The other one sent the handle of his knife into Carson's jaw in retribution. For a moment he saw stars, but he knew he couldn't stand around to count them all. The doctor ducked another brutal punch, then threw himself into his attacker. The two men rolled to the ground, sliding in the wet dirt. Carson climbed the other man, straddling his stomach to hold him down. The guard had a blade in his hand and swung it indiscriminately at the doctor.

Unfortunately, the previously fallen guard recovered quicker than the time Beckett had to overcome the guard currently attacking him. Before he even knew he was in danger, the guard slammed the handle of his own short blade into the back of Carson's head, knocking him to the side. It didn't rob him of his consciousness, but he was so dizzy he couldn't think straight, much less execute a coordinated escape.

He was jerked off the saturated, earthen floor and held on his knees while one of them started yanking his jacket off his shoulders. Carson struggled to no avail, nearly throwing up in the process as his head spun. The clothing came free of his body and was tossed away.

Beckett jerked away so he could escape his captors, who laughed at the futile gesture. One of them kicked him in the hip viciously.

Carson fell to dirt with a moan, his hands splayed and sinking in the mud.

At that point he was held down on his stomach, unable to overcome both of them. They ripped the black shirt off his body, leaving him bare to the elements. The sprinkles of rain against his back were like gentle tears.

But they weren't finished. The guards forced Carson up and dragged him through the slippery mud to the stone block, shoving him down against it. He groaned as it scraped against his naked flesh. Abruptly he shoved himself backwards, trying desperately to knock his captors off balance just long enough for him to get away, but they were intent and he was still reeling from the blow to the head. He was shoved back down and the motion made him dizzy. Each guard took one of his wrists and shackled it to the top of the stone to keep him in place.

Then they left him alone in the dark. He listened to their soft chatter as they retreated back down the path they had led him down. For a long moment he remained perfectly still, trying to gather his wits for whatever was about to come. The rain soaked his skin.

It came unexpected. It felt like a lash threaded with thorns had been raked across his bare, wet skin, but he couldn't be certain He cried out and was left to recover, though he doubted it was for mercy's sake. Shivering with tension, he braced himself against the stone. Carson hovered there on his knees, chest heaving as he listened to the rainfall. He pulled uselessly at the shackles.

And then he was hit again, three times in cruel, rapid succession. Each blow made him jerk against the block. He let out a low moan and trembled in the cold when the silence in the dark returned.

Warmth dripped down his back, mixing with the cool water from the sky. His blood flowed freely down his pained flesh. But it wasn't over. When he could think again, he tensed, fully expecting to be hit again. He closed his eyes and leaned his head against the stone for support.

The blow didn't come.

Carson opened his eyes when he heard the heavy breath behind him. He tried to turn his head to see, but whoever it was kept well out of his vision. He didn't have to wait long for confirmation that his mind wasn't playing tricks on him, though. The doctor straightened when a cold hand pressed along the small of his back. He shivered as it trailed up his flesh, wiping at the warmth dripping down him. And then white fingers inserted themselves in front of his vision to show him his own blood. The hand looked human, but dead, and he shuddered in revulsion.

Another blow tore at his skin, this time coming from the creature's nails being scraped down his back. Carson clenched his teeth hard and tightened his fists as the pain coursed through him. Then the hand pawed at him again, palm tracing the muscles of his back, scooping up more of his blood. He was horrified to hear it licking the red liquid off its fingers.

Carson was afraid. It terrified him to be so helpless in so unreal a situation. He tried to keep silent, but couldn't help but gasp for air as he struggled. But he didn't want them to hear him, didn't want it to draw more of them out.

The creature pet him softly, rubbing its frigid hand through his hair as it leaned close like it was trying to comfort him. Lips pressed against his temple gently as the thorns fell against his back twice more. He made a pained noise, then whispered, "Please," not even sure these dark ones could understand speech. His fresh wounds were touched by reverent hands and he moaned.

A few more blows ended the bloodletting, leaving Carson breathless and fighting for consciousness as more hands joined the feast. He could feel them caressing his naked skin in a perversion of a calming stroke, drinking of him, and the horror of this planet became all too real.

When the feast was over they left him alive and retreated into the shadows. Carson sagged against the block. He was still awake, though just barely. Part of him expected the guards to come and take him back to Atius. Perhaps this had just been a hard lesson that he would live through and carry the scars of all his life.

But as the rain poured and the night dragged on he realized they had left him for good. He would die, but it would be a slow death.

Beckett closed his eyes and groaned in pain.

A/N: Hehehe, drive by whumping. ;-) Thank you all for the reviews. +sniffles and hands out M&Ms+

Email: angelruseATgmailDOTcom
Archive: Go for it.
Disclaimer: Don't own the fine hineys of Shep or Beckett. Don't mean I can't imagine I do.