Thank's so much for the reviews and the alerts, as they really do encourage me to keep writing.

As for John? Well he wasn't doing too well when we last left him, and the poor soul still has the test of courage ahead...

DAMAGED

CHAPTER 3

"Off world activation."

Richard Woolsey heard the familiar alert, felt the tremors as the Stargate roared into life, but only rose to the whoosh of the event horizon as it cast its brilliant blue reflection through his window. From the balcony outside his office, he could easily see the 'gate room below, and stared out anxiously, then discovering it was only Major Lorne and his team returning from their survey mission to P95 X42, he swallowed his disappointment.

Not that he wasn't pleased to see their safe return, but he was more concerned with the fate of Colonel Sheppard. Over twenty-four hours had now passed since he foolishly went off world while under par, and according to Ronon, committed himself to undertake something called 'a test of courage' in order to secure the release of an abused deaf child.

Both concerned and angry at his reckless action, Richard sadly realised that their honeymoon period was over. He'd read the colonel's file before joining Atlantis, so knew how headstrong Sheppard could be, even countermanding Weir on at least one occasion. Though he also remembered only too well, the time the colonel had saved him after the replicators had taken over Atlantis. Sheppard, who was based at the SGC at the time, had flagrantly disobeyed General Landry's command to stand down, then risked both his life and career by leading a dangerous rescue mission, not just to save the city, but also General O'Neill and, of course, himself.

While Richard freely admitted Sheppard saved his life, the reality was he only avoided court marshal because Weir had pleaded his case. That, plus the fact his actions also prevented a replicator invasion of Earth. Truth be told, it was this type of bravery that made it difficult to stay annoyed at the man. The sometimes errant colonel a true force of nature, willing to sacrifice his life for his people and it seemed now, for a child he'd only just met.

Beckett had already been to see him, unbidden, and tendered his resignation. The conscientious Scot burdened with guilt for being persuaded to allow his patient to go off world when he was clearly unfit. He hadn't accepted of course. Carson was too good a physician to let go, plus the poor man was already clearly upset…much harder on himself than Richard could ever have been. In any case, on this occasion he couldn't fault Sheppard's reason for wanting to take the mission.

Richard was a private man, with few friends, and even they were unaware he was the product of a broken home. His formative years spend mostly in boarding school with vacations shuttled between parents - Hamptons in the summer with mummy, and Thanksgiving in New York where father ran a successful law firm. Yet even then he barely saw them, usually palmed off to the housekeeper or nanny, their affection shown in the form of gifts he neither wanted nor needed. A salve to their conscience, he supposed, the naked truth being neither of his parents wanted him, too busy with their own lives to be bothered entertaining a child.

Many times over the years, he wondered why he was conceived, but there was never a definitive answer. Richard didn't know, but guessed it was a poor plan to patch a marriage that was already clearly on the rocks, as he was an only child and his parents parted company shortly after he was born.

Divorce was, of course, nothing new, not then or now, and he realised many would consider him pathetic for considering himself hard done by. After all, he'd lived a privileged life and received everything he needed - clothes, toys, cars. Money no object for the rich kid with wealthy parents, except he was never given the thing he wanted most…love.

Abuse took a variety of forms, and while Richard could never lay physical torment on the memory of his parents, he would never forget the mental anguish he suffered as a child. For years he'd wondered what he'd done wrong, feeling guilt for unknown actions that may have caused them to send him away, believing it was his fault they didn't want him.

Of course, he'd since grown up to forge a successful career. That was probably the only time he was grateful for their money, although ironically enough, it was having so much time alone to study that helped him to reap the rewards. It was also the only time he received any praise, both parents happy to boast about their brilliant son and bask in the reflective lime light, though he remembered clearly them choosing to schmooze with the dean rather than stand by his side during his graduation. Nevertheless, he'd eventually managed, if not to forgive, then at least accept his parents' failings were down to weakness, not malice. Sadly, they were selfish people who would probably never realise what they had done.

So, despite his irritation at the actions of his military commander, he understood what he was trying to do. He just prayed Sheppard was successful in saving the boy, and returned alive. As for him, he would make sure the child was given the home he deserved, although the little boy was already lucky, because at least he'd found people who cared. Richard only wished there had been a man like John around for him when he was a child.

ooooOoooo

Someone was hammering, a loud banging noise, which at first John thought was the little man with the mallet who'd been pounding on his brain for the last two days. Relieved when he cracked open an eye to find Teyla sitting by his side, her eyes closed, hands covering her ears, and flinching with each crashing blow.

She looked worried, but needn't have, as he was feeling fine. Well, maybe fine was a slight exaggeration as the headache from hell was still around, only slightly muted after some much need rest. Thankfully though, his burns were certainly less painful than before, as were his muscles, which while still sore, at least felt a little easier.

In fact, he felt much better than he should be under the circumstances, which was really strange, especially given the condition he was in after the gruelling hours he'd spent restrained, subjected to the elements. Too well in fact, even with the benefit of some sleep. There was something weird about the whole feeling good thing, though when he moved his hand, the short, sharp pain told him why…an IV.

"Teyla?" John prised his dry gritty eyes open all the way, surprised to hear his voice crack slightly. He sounded rough.

On hearing him awake, he saw her turn and break into a smile, but he wasn't happy."What's going on?" he asked, accusingly lifting his hand with the IV still attached.

"Carson left his kit with me, and told me to do whatever I deemed necessary to help you." she said, her chin tilted as she gave him a defiant look, and although John was annoyed as her actions could have soured the deal, he was still grateful for her concern.

"Thanks… but we both know that was a risky thing to do. Anyway, I take it you've not received any other visits from our friendly neighbourhood chief?" he asked, curious, as he deftly removed the needle and bag, then hid it by burying it into the sand.

Teyla shook her head. "No, although the young men returned a couple of hours ago, then shortly afterwards started building the structure outside."

John pushed himself up on his side, wincing as the motion pulled on his burns, and clenching his teeth as his muscles, stretched back for hours on end, were still aching.

"Let me see…" he asked, then instantly regretted his curiosity. Horrified as Teyla pulled back the flap to reveal two large wooden poles placed vertically, attached by a bar along the top, with yet another bar placed horizontally, just a foot from the bottom.

It was hard to see any details from his position, but he was pretty sure there were also leather restrains attached to either end of the bottom bar, and John felt sick to his stomach, already guessing what this challenge was likely to be.

He didn't want to keep looking, but somehow he just couldn't tear his eyes away. Suddenly frightened of what he'd agreed to take on, John wondered if he would be strong enough to survive the challenge, let alone save the kid.

Then almost as if she could read his mind, Teyla closed the flap and turned to face him. "John. I know you might not feel like it, but you really must try to eat something to preserve your strength for the challenge ahead." She handed over some cold broth and bread, and while he knew she was right, he had no appetite for the simple meal, so put it to the side untouched.

"Please, John…you must try." Teyla lifted the bowl again, and for her sake, he took it and actually managed a couple of mouthfuls, but noticed she didn't protest again when he put it down, and drank his fill of the water instead.

"Teyla. I may not have another chance to speak to you properly once Falack comes to get me, so I need to make sure you understand what you have to do," he said quietly, his voice fading away.

"I know what I have to do," she raged. "I have to stand by and watch while you are punished, just because you are trying to do a good thing." Teyla's angry eyes locked with his, as she shuffled where she sat, clearly agitated.

Then he watched helpless as first one tear fell, then another, then the floodgates opened and they fell unhindered, streaming down her face. "This is my fault, John and it should be me undergoing this 'test'," she sobbed. "It was at my request you came here and got into this situation, and it was me, not you, who suggested we take him to Atlantis."

John let out a long sigh and tried to grab her hand, but she pulled it away, clearly not wanting to be comforted. "None of this is your fault, Teyla. You did the right thing…you usually do," he smiled "but when this is all over, I need you to get Elient away from here as soon as possible. My rescue can come later."

"But, John…"

He interrupted, not liking what he was about to say, even before the words came out of his mouth. "You're a strong woman, Teyla, but even you can't manage a wounded man and a child, over five miles of desert. I want you to get the boy away from these people, then come back for me."

John could see she was going to protest again, so he put his hand up. " No arguments. Now will you do that for me, or do I need to make it an order?" He used his best authoritative voice, but could tell by her resolute expression, his words didn't make an impact.

"Sometimes, Colonel Sheppard, orders are meant to be broken. However, if is clear that you are unable to make the journey with us, I will do what you ask…as a friend."

He was about to smile when it died on his lips, as at that moment the flap was pulled back to reveal Falack standing there, alongside two young men.

"Come with me, Colonel Sheppard. It is time to see how much courage you really have…"

ooooOoooo

It was already hot, the sun blinding, but when he raised a hand to shade his eyes, it was roughly pulled back as his arms were gripped on either side.

Once they reached the wooden posts, Falack stopped, then turning to the small crowd who had gathered, began to speak. "In accordance with the ways of our people and my authority as chief, you, John Sheppard will undertake the test of courage."

He felt dizzy and could already feel his mouth go dry, barely able to hear Falack's next words, because he was deafened, by the blood roaring through his ears. "You will be horsewhipped, twelve lashes across your chest, but during your ordeal you must not utter a sound, or succumb to the ordeal, otherwise you will have failed. Do you still wish to proceed?"

John didn't. He was already hurting and didn't want any more pain. Besides, he honestly didn't know how anyone could endure a brutal whipping without crying out. Yet to give Elient a better life, he had to try.

"Well, I would rather you just give me the boy and let us leave," John asked hopefully, but got his answer in Falack's stony expression. "However, as that's obliviously not an option…just get the hell on with it."

Held fast on either side, John could only watch as Falack secured his ankles together with a thick metal chain before attaching it to a rope, then throwing the other end over the top of the bar. As two of the men began pulling, he soon felt his body leave the ground, as the others supported his weight until he was hanging upside down, his head swaying mere inches from the sand. Then, while his aching muscles protested, each arm was roughly stretched out straight to the side, then firmly securing by the wrist to the bottom bar by the leather restraints.

In this position, the pounding in his head, which had been a constant companion for some time now, soon went from hellish to unbearable, as nausea washed through him and his vision blurred. As a result, he at first thought the man charging towards him on horseback was just an illusion, but the searing pain wasn't, as the sharp bite of the leather tore into his flesh.

His body buckled against the assault and he gasped, hoping no one had heard through the sound of the hooves as the animal thundered away. Aware he couldn't afford another slip, but already in agony and his ordeal just beginning, John didn't know how he was going to cope, but knew he must get though this…he couldn't let the boy down.

Like an earthquake, the ground shook as the palomino got closer, swirls of sand blinding, choking him as it made its second approach. This time, he heard the stiff band of leather as it whooshed, gave an almighty crack, and hit hard, the pain horrific as it ripped a long, bloody trail across his neck.

On and on the brutal assault continued, relentless and merciless in its persecution, each lash burning, ripping him apart. He jerked back shuddering, his muscles screaming in protest, but there was nowhere to go. There was no escape from his torture and he was desperate to yell or scream - get some release for his agony, but he choked back his cries and concentrated on not passing out.

Grown men weren't supposed to cry, but tears blinded him, as each fierce strike made him quiver. He was struggling to breathe as each agonizing lash was more painful than the last. Yet he couldn't give in, wouldn't, despite its relentless brutality, even though his skin was flayed open again and again. His chest was on fire as fresh wounds ripped over old, tearing him apart, ravaging his mutilated body and sending convulsions up and down his spine, while he held the screams firmly inside.

Blood streamed from his ragged lacerations, dripping into his eyes, his nose, his mouth, making him gag as the sharp metallic taste trickled down his throat. John wanted it to be over, needed it to be soon, now In unbearable agony knowing that he couldn't withstand the sadistic assault much longer.

Barely able to focus, shrouded in pain, he couldn't remember how many more strikes were to come…was it over? Then he got his answer as he heard the crack of the whip once more, felt a heavy blow to the head then nothing…as the world turned black.

ooooOoooo

Well, I hope you enjoyed the whump, and please, as always, let me know what you think.

TBC