Dark Element
Dark One

A dark world leads to the discovery of an Ancient long imprisoned by his own people. The team is placed in grave danger when Beckett sets him free.

When Teyla and Ronon made it to the surface of the earth, the reason for the sudden flood became all too apparent. A nearby stream had broken over the surface of a stone wall nearby and was threatening to do so again as the Lanteans staggered from the air shaft. At the top Ronon had fought like a champion to remove yet another rusted grate, and then a massive tree branch that had fallen over the hole that promised them freedom.

By the time they had made it out from the treacherous shaft, both Teyla and Ronon were already pushed well beyond exhaustion. But the fun was far from over. A storm unlike either of them had ever seen before in their lives colored the sky a sickly green and filled it with terrifying flashes of light. As they stood there in stunned disbelief at the fact that they were going to have to continue the fight for survival, a bolt of lightening crashed somewhere in the surrounding forest nearby.

Under the circumstances, standing out in the open was suicide.

There was a structure nearby, presumably where they would find the top of the lift they had run into on the inside of the prison. As another flood washed over the wall, Teyla and Ronon bolted for the small building. Unfortunately, the door would not open. It was sealed and no matter how hard Ronon pulled, wouldn't budge. They had to settle for what bare cover they could get, huddled together beneath the awning.

The rain pelted them mercilessly. Lightening pierced the air, destroying anything it struck, and thunder made the earth groan and shudder. It was there, in desperation, that Teyla had tried her radio in the hope that someone could and would answer, be it from their team or a rescue team that Atlantis--alerted to trouble, by now, by their crew's lack of communication--may have sent. As it was, the two stranded Lanteans felt as though they were alone in the universe when the radio remained uselessly dead.

That had been an uncounted number of hours ago. Now Ronon and Teyla walked side by side, soaked to the bone, tired and without any inclination to either speak or even contemplate their situation. What was it Sheppard had said to her once? Teyla searched her tired memory. Oh, yeah.

No rest for the righteous.

The storm had died down, but not by much. The wind howled and the rain still fell, but at least the ferocity of the lightening had stopped. And so they trudged on in search of a nameless something that would point them in the right direction.

And something they found. They discovered this planet was not uninhabited sometime around dusk when a break in the forest revealed a city in their path. Both Teyla and Ronon looked at one another, but neither spoke. Neither wanted to awaken from the dream of hope before them.

In town no one was out; who would be in such a storm as this? There were lights in windows, though, to testify to the promise of life. And down a muddy, paved street someone caught their eye from behind a cracked open shutter. Ronon had tried to flag down his attention, but the onlooker closed shut the shutter without so much as another glance.

So they walked wearily on until, at last, they found a building resembling a public gathering place. Teyla entered first and closed her eyes in appreciation of the sudden warmth that washed over her. There was a fire in a hearth nearby, tables and chairs, and the scent of something cooking. "What are you two doing out in the rain?" a voice asked.

Teyla opened her eyes. "We got lost," she admitted, though held back from where until they learned more about this planet's people. She followed the direction of the voice and saw a man standing behind a bar, wiping it down. He watched them curiously as she asked, "May we sit?"

"Of course." He motioned to a table near the fire. "You two must be from another province. I haven't seen either of you in here before." He cleared the table of a tall, glass mug that had been left. "My name's Torin. You travelers sure picked the absolute worst time to get lost, let me tell you. This one's for the history books," he motioned towards the ceiling, implying the storm, "but I'm sure you don't need me to tell you that. Edana, get them something warm to eat."

"We have no way of paying," Teyla warned him.

Torin shook his head. "I don't think little things like money are going to matter all that much tomorrow."

Another voice, this one irritated and less cordial, snapped like a whip from across the room. "I'm telling you, this is nothing more than a storm. Quit scaring everyone with your doomsday messages."

"And I'm telling you, the Dark One is awake again. I know it and I don't need your science talk to tell me otherwise." Torin retorted gruffly, taking plates from a woman that appeared bearing trays. He sighed. "I don't mean to scare you lot, of course. It's just you ought to be prepared. Did you see the lights in the temple?"

"Temple?" Ronon repeated, taking a draught from a mug that had been placed beside him. He gave Teyla an almost imperceptible nod, signifying the drink was safe.

Torin stared at him for a long moment. Teyla took that opportunity to insert herself into the conversation. "We do not know of the temple in our province."

"But you know of the Dark One, right?" the barkeep pressed curiously. He looked surprised when they shook their heads. "Well, I guess the old legends do die out. We're right close to it, so it's a bit hard to forget. 'Course, it's been eons. No one's really sure what the Temple was used for, really, and no one can get in—"

"—yet," the waspish voice called from across the room.

Torin rolled his eyes. "Hush, Cullen. Anyway, legend says it was devoted to some dark demon what sought to overthrow the Ancestors with his great power. Even used the soul of his lover to power his magic. Cold thought. Anyway, the Ancestors stopped him eventually, though no one's really sure how anymore. But it was said he could command the storms, move mountains and kill with a thought."

By this time the local that was presumably Cullen had made his way to the table. He was relatively young, with pale hair and soft, green eyes. His skin was soft like a scholar's, not a farmer's. The scholar flopped down beside Teyla with a mug in his hand. "And if you believe that, you're a fool," he said with a smart smile. "If there were such a being and he were truly awake, don't you think he would be doing something other than sitting around that temple all alone?"

Shifting uncomfortably, Teyla looked to Torin. "What makes you believe this Dark One is awake, anyway?"

"The storm," he said simply, motioning upwards. "What else? I've never in all my years heard of anything like what's going on out there. We're lucky the Ancestors protect our fair city, else we'd be in as much trouble as the rest of the land. And not only that, but don't let young Cullen fool you. He heard something up by the Temple's eastern complex, before the storm started. Tell 'em, Cullen."

They looked to the scholar, who had flushed and looked embarrassed. "I was probably hallucinating. After all, I had taken some of your spiced potatoes up there with me for lunch."

Torin smacked him on the shoulder. "Ha ha, boy. Out with it."

Cullen paled at having to answer, looking less sure of himself. "All right, already. I heard a man scream."

Immediately Teyla and Ronon exchanged startled glances. If this temple was indeed the Ancient outpost it could mean very real trouble for their friends. McKay had sounded afraid. "Where is this temple, Cullen?" Teyla asked gently.

He shrugged. "The section I heard the scream come from is a day from here."

"A day?" Ronon repeated, shaking his head. One whole day could be too late, if that scream had come from either of their teammates.

Cullen nodded gravely. "Could be more if this storm doesn't let up. We could try for it tomorrow, but I'll warn you it isn't the nicest place in the world."

"Be that as it may, I believe we will take you up on your offer," Teyla replied, feeling worry begin to well up inside her.

When John woke up he had expected to be in the cell with McKay fussing over his prone form, or at very least cursing him for kicking the door shut. This was not the case. He opened his eyes, finding himself surrounded by warmth and pleasant, subdued illumination. He was in some sort of room. An actual room, not just some creepy, lonely cell. He was reclined in a comfortable chair, head back and legs draped along a footstool.

For a moment he could pretend he was at home on Atlantis. He had fallen asleep in his quarters and Dr. Weir was wondering where he was. Any minute now he would get up and go about his duties.

A voice shattered the illusion. "You know, the main problem with manipulating energy is that the effects do not last very long if they are forced upon a subject." Aerien was nearby, sounding tired and thoughtful.

Sheppard lifted his head off the back of the chair. He noted then that his hands and ankles were bound. "I'm sorry to hear that," he mocked, searching the room for weapons.

"I'm sure you are," the Ancient replied softly. He was standing at a table across from the Colonel, his hands dipping into a drawer. In his grasp was a large needle from which a thick, black thread dangled. A dark smile crossed the Ancient's lips as he approached.

John shrank back into his chair quickly, hissing, "Oh hell, don't you dare touch me with that!"

Aerien laughed softly at his struggles. He shoved Sheppard onto his side—the uninjured side—and held the weakened Lantean down. When the needle stabbed into his flesh he cried out. An instinctive jerk away brought him more pain. The Ancient had no mercy on him. He drove on, marring flesh and quite probably John's psyche (he felt this was entirely probable, given the circumstances), as he stitched the wounds he had created. And every stitch caused the Colonel to moan in torment.

When it was done John slumped against the chair. He was becoming quite intimate with pain, so it was nothing new to him that he lay there in agony, barely able to remain conscious. His eyes wearily tracked Aerien's movements to a couch nearby. "Where are we, anyway?" he asked, deciding that any bit of information could prove useful at some point."

"This was Aila's home, near the gardens where she spent her free time. The place is filled with her spirit, I think. I find it agreeable to be here." Those pale eyes regarded Sheppard without expression as he then asked, "Are you hungry?"

"My friends are." John let out a breath. He was starved, but if he thought for any reason Aerien would feed Rodney and Carson, he would go without. It didn't seem to matter, anyway. Hunger, anguish, it was all the same.

Aerien nodded slowly. "Perhaps I will feed them. It depends largely on whether or not it would suit my purposes to do so."

"And does it 'suit your purposes to do so' with me?" John asked smartly as he tried to sit up. He couldn't. His body wouldn't cooperate. "Why?"

The questions were ignored. Aerien motioned to a plate of food on a table at John's side and watched the Colonel turn it down with a hard look. "Don't be stupid, Sheppard. You don't want to die any more than I want you to die. Refusing will neither grant your friends a meal nor make them feel any better if I let them starve. Eat and we'll talk."

In the end John decided to go along with this. He shakily took a piece of dark bread off the plate, praying it would grant him the strength to knock the living crap out of the man in front of him. "Talk, huh? Funny, you don't seem the talkative type." The bread began to quell the aching in his midsection the moment he swallowed. As small as that was, it did wonders for his outlook on the situation. He gazed at Aerien coolly. "All right, so talk. Got any beer?"

"You are quite interesting to study," Aerien said with a smile. John wasn't sure whether or not that was supposed to be some sort of twisted compliment. He said nothing to the Ancient in response, and so his enemy chose his own course of speech for the time being. "As I was saying, the problem is will. The will has much to do with the manipulation of energy. It is why ascension doesn't simply 'happen', and why telekinetic power is possible." He watched John take a drink of the water he had set out. "It is why simple faith can sometimes yield results. Flukes, of course, but manipulation of energy nonetheless."

"Fascinating," John remarked harshly as he finished off his bread. "So what are you going to do with us? What's the big goal here?"

The Ancient lifted a glass from his own table. "Beckett, I am afraid, will not survive. Not as you know him, anyway. His pure energy will grant me immense power. So bright, so untarnished." His gaze went abstract for a moment.

John felt his temper start to simmer. "Why Carson? Why not me?"

"You do not understand," the other man said almost sorrowfully, as if he pitied what little John knew. "Tell me this. Does your healer friend have a dark side to him?"

Sheppard thought about it and shook his head. "No."

"Is he cold? Could he kill without caring, if it were necessary? Does he seek vengeance against any and all enemies?"

"No." The questions made him uncomfortable. Where was this leading?"

Aerien nodded as his suspicions were confirmed. "He is innocent. Either that, or he has overcome his demons and made peace with himself and the universe as it is. Only those conditions in any given being can facilitate Ascension, you see. Your energy must be untarnished. In this state your energy is highly potent."

"You're gonna kill him because he's a good person?" John summarized incredulously. "You're insane, for one thing, and a disgusting son of a bitch for another." He found his appetite had waned to nothing, and thrust the plate away. "And is this what you're going to do to me eventually?"

"No. You, you will be around a lot longer than your unfortunate friend." There was that smile again, dark and unfeeling. John met the expression with a defiant glare, causing the Ancient amusement. "You, my friend have two purposes, the first of which is aiding me in learning how to destroy energy. This is what I'm doing to your side. This is also the cause of the storm. My attempts are creating havoc with the energy surrounding us, I am afraid. Still, what is one world compared to the infinite knowledge gained from destroying a few meaningless units of your energy? If I can do that, I can do anything I wish."

Sheppard rolled his eyes, though inside he was afraid for himself, afraid for Carson. "And McKay? What, are you going to make him your little 'Dark Apprentice' or something? Rule the galaxy as father and son?"

His reply sent chills through Sheppard. "Why would I want McKay to aid me in my doings, when the gene of my people runs so strongly through you?"

It was the Colonel's turn to laugh. "Maybe because I wouldn't help you if you promised me the galaxy and then some? Maybe because I'm going to kill you if I ever see even the smallest chance? Take your pick of a million reasons, I guarantee you'll find plenty."

Aerien nodded. "We come to your second and perhaps more immediate purpose. It is difficult, I will grant you, to work with someone so resistant as you are. But it will not be your saving grace, I'm afraid. You may have noticed that whenever I interact with any of your energies, I tend to tire afterwards, yes?" John had noticed something like that. The Ancient went on. "It is difficult for one being to handle such raw power. We simply are not built for it. The effects can even be seen in your friend. Notice how emotional he seems? The process exhausts him as well as myself. However, I believe if I have a conduit through which to transfer the power…"

"Let me guess, you'll be free to absorb the energy while the negative effects pass on to me?" John finished for him. He felt sick when Aerien confirmed it. "Wonderful. Well, first you have to get me to cooperate and..."

"Wrong." The Ancient smiled. "I already have your cooperation."

"Oh yeah? How do you figure?"

Aerien's gaze turned menacing. "Because if you don't, I will destroy Atlantis. Search yourself. You know I have the power to do it."

"Bull," John hissed, staring Aerien down with a hard gaze. He felt his wrists go cold, however, as his body reacted to a sudden nervous flash that drove through him. "You wouldn't dare destroy the last city of your people."

The Ancient sat forward in his chair, hands curling down the arms of it as he grinned. "Try me." He rose from his seat and held the energy weapon up. "Get up."

John looked at the man as if he had just gone insane. "Get up?" he repeated in disbelief. "Did you happen to notice that I'm half dying, here?"

Aerien considered the options, then fiddled with the disruptor. "I'm setting this to kill. If you do not comply, I will go and I will murder McKay. If you still do not comply, I will kill you. Then I will do things to Beckett that would turn even your hard-trained stomach to ash. Make no mistake, Sheppard, I will learn the secrets of energy. I gave my soul for it, I gave the life of my lover for it. Get. Up."

Quite simply, John didn't know how far he was going to make it as he eased himself up. His body quaked at the strain of movement thrust upon it, but Aerien's threat was very real. Jaw set, Sheppard pulled himself to his feet and nearly fell over right then and there. His head spun and his ears fizzled with static from the blood rushing through him.

One single word kept him conscious, an order from the pit of Hell as far as he was concerned. "Move." Aerien pressed the nose of his weapon to John's head.

And so John moved, with no promise with each step that he could make another. He followed Aerien through the simple quarters and outside—the first bit of fresh air it felt like he'd had in ages. He savored it, but it was gone all too soon as they entered the dark complex of horrors.

At some point during the journey his legs finally gave out. By the time Aerien eased his rag doll form halfway onto a gurney in the laboratory, he could neither recall crumbling to the floor in the hall, nor Aerien's subsequent aid the rest of the way. His mind was in a haze.

"Colonel?" McKay was at the front of his cell, staring out with a worried expression. "God, you look like crap. What did he to do you?"

Sheppard tried to muster up some sort of reply, but found even that too taxing. The Ancient had no mercy for his ragged state. He pulled the Colonel's upper body off the bed and urged him towards the back of the room. Instinctively, John turned towards the cell with McKay in it.

Aerien laughed and shoved him towards Beckett's cell instead. There, at the door, he unlocked the cuffs around John's wrists and opened the door to his friend. "I won't do this," John growled, staring the Ancient in the face.

"You will." Aerien dragged him into the cell.

John looked over the small, oppressive room. Carson was sitting on his bunk, gazing at them both with confusion written on his expression. His eyes softened as he stood up. "John? Lad, are you a'right? What's he done ta ya?"

Sheppard swallowed hard, shaking his head. "Aerien…"

"John?"

The Ancient stepped up behind Sheppard. "Your hands. Place them on Beckett's temples."

It was then Carson understood something was going to happen to him. He took a step back, saying, "John, what's goin' on?"

"You're going to have to kill me, Aerien," John said to the Ancient, unable to answer Carson. "I can't do this. I won't." The doctor was watching Aerien with a look of renewed horror on his face.

"What does he want?" he asked softly.

John tightened his fists. "He wants to use me as a conduit so that stealing your energy doesn't affect him." The doctor paled at the suggestion and shook his head, looking from side to side for any means of escape. Sheppard continued in grave tones, "Don't worry. I won't let him hurt you. Aerien, take your energy from me. You said willpower was the problem. Well, I'm willing."

The cell door slammed shut. Both Sheppard and Beckett turned their gazes towards the Ancient as he ripped a tool and syringe filled with gold liquid off a nearby table and stormed in with McKay. "Hey, whoa, you're gonna attack me with a friggen scalpel?" he said defensively as Aerien approached.

The Ancient laughed and lunged for him. Taken off guard, McKay quickly found himself shoved against the bars where his friends would get a prime view of whatever was going to happen. Aerien pressed him face forward with a cruel pleasure written in his intent eyes.

The scientist was nothing if not versed in the ways of self-preservation, however, and drew his arm forward, then sent it back into the Ancient's stomach. Aerien groaned and was knocked off balance for one shining moment, but remained on his feet despite McKay's efforts. He jerked the scientist back into the bars hard, causing him to hit his chin against the cold metal. John saw his blue eyes roll back for a second, but hopes that his friend would not have to endure pain were dashed when McKay regained his footing.

It was too late. Aerien had the needle at the scientist's throat and as it cut through his flesh McKay clawed at the bars, trying to gain enough control to fight back. In perfect health and power Aerien was too strong for him.

He jerked the needle out and it hit the floor with a plastic thump. The Ancient stepped back, allowing McKay his chance. Rodney whipped around to do just that. Unfortunately, whatever was in the needle was taking hold. He crumbled to his knees before Aerien, who kicked him the rest of the way down to the hard floor. Rodney sluggishly tried to crawl back, but his limbs would not cooperate.

Aerien knelt beside him so that his back was to the bars, blocking a great deal of the two other Lanteans' view. John saw him lift that scalpel though. "There are several points in a being's energy that are the strongest," he said softly, and then the blade disappeared out of view. Rodney groaned hard and writhed, but couldn't fight back as Aerien continued in those dulcet tones, "The side, hands, feet and head are all concentrated in the stuff of life. Do you think Sheppard will let us explore them all before he gives in?"

"B-bastard," Rodney growled and Aerien backhanded him before continuing the cutting he was doing.

"Is this what you fear, McKay?" the Ancient replied gently. "Helplessness? And this is merely physical." There was a liquid sound of flesh being ripped apart before the physicist let out a wail until any of them had ever heard him make.

"Rodney?" Carson called, moving to try and see his friend. "Stop! Don' do this ta him!"

John didn't know what to say, for once. He wasn't bad with strategy, if he said so himself, but he just didn't know what to do in this situation. Aerien was asking him to choose between McKay's misery and Beckett's life. How was he supposed to do that?

Carson chose for him. A hand touched down on Sheppard's shoulder and he looked up into the tired blue eyes of the doctor. "Whatever it is just do it, lad," Beckett said urgently, keeping his gaze locked onto Sheppard's. "It's not your fault."

"Carson…"

"I won't have Rodney's torment on my conscience, lad." The doctor swallowed and rubbed the sweat off his forehead. "Not when I can make this choice."

Aerien had stopped the torment somewhere in the middle of that conversation and listened to their words. "Shall I continue?" he asked as Sheppard deliberated.

The Colonel stood with fists clenched so hard his nails dug into his flesh. "I'll kill you for this," he promised as the Ancient glanced back at him.

The Ancient stood and gathered his tools of torture, leaving McKay on the floor. Rodney rolled to his side, facing away from his friends, curled in on himself. It didn't take long for the pain to grip him hard enough to cause him to be sick. When he was done he rolled back, eyes closed, form shivering as he lost consciousness.

Aerien rejoined Beckett and Sheppard with a no-nonsense glare. "Go on," he commanded, motioning to the doctor. Carson paled, but didn't flinch when John turned towards him.

With shaking hands John lifted his arms. Carson's eyes closed as Sheppard laid his palms against his temples. He could feel the doctor shuddering in anticipation beneath his touch. "Resist it," he hissed, conscious that Aerien was reentering the cell. "Resist it with everything in you, Carson, and he can't kill you."

The Ancient placed his hands on John's temples, standing behind him. He said nothing.

John wasn't sure he would have heard if he had. He could almost feel shadowy hands squirming through him, reaching out, and dragging pure light through him. A wave of ice broke upon the shores of his awareness, flowing through him in ways he couldn't describe. Not that he was much capable of thought, anyway. The world around them melted away, replaced by power that lifted his spirits, then left him shivering in the dark as the Ancient pulled it away from him.

He could feel Beckett's terror and suffering. He could feel pieces of what he could only assume was Carson's soul tear away and flow through him, leaving a great emptiness behind. The doctor resisted, held to his shattered being with everything he had, but that strength was crumbling like a great wall surrounding a fortress. John could see the terrible truth. Soon that strength would fade and Carson would not be able to fight anymore. The missing energy left him in despair.

And then Carson fell away from John's hands. The river of power lost its source and as the last of the light seeped through his being and into Aerien, he felt the great vastness of what had just happened. Aerien was trifling with the stuff of the universe, and the ease in which he could do it staggered John.

His last thoughts were of what might happen if this mad Ancient got his wish. The burden of exhaustion swept him away.

As always, thanks for the continued interest!! Yes, finally some McKay whump. ;-)