This is primarily Shep whump, though I couldn't avoid a bit of whump of some other characters. You'll find out soon enough why Rodney, being that he does have the gene though artificially, hasn't fallen into a trap yet. Another little clue: anything that happens in the corridors ultimately affects on Sheppard in some form or another. We're nearing the climax of the story, so you shouldn't be confused for too much longer!
--//--
He was still bleeding from somewhere above his hairline: quite heavily in fact. He lay curled on his side, begging the pain to ease in his aching and confused mind.
The rain was constant now. There was even the occasional hailstone in the mix, stinging him wherever his skin was exposed to the elements. Sheppard brought his hands up to his head, protectively sheltering his face.
A brief and rather selfish thought crossed his mind. What the hell did I do to deserve this? Only to quickly be replaced by: better me than my team.
He could handle this. He had to.
Though his mind wanted nothing more than a whole lot of painkillers and some rest, Sheppard struggled to make sense of his situation.
The problem here was that he didn't know what to expect. There was no definitive pattern. It was like a bad dream repeating itself, only the key elements continued to twist and morph into new forms of torment. Or perhaps a bad film that had been sliced up, then pieced back together in the wrong order.
There was no way to gain control of the situation, to his detriment. He had tried with his team, ordering them to stay alive, but he had no way of maintaining that control.
His strength was waning: more so, his mind.
Open your eyes.
Carson's words meandered into his thoughts. What the hell was that supposed to mean? He enjoyed the occasional mind teaser, but this was way beyond teasing…this was torture. He wasn't seeing anything more than was there. There had to be something more to it. Goddamnit. Where was McKay when you needed him?
The rain had saturated the ground beneath him to the point that it had now become muddy and increasingly colder. The chill seeped through his BDUs, seemingly to his very bones, invading upon any warmth that might remain.
The hailstones were growing larger, the stings becoming bites upon his skin. He knew what was supposed to happen next. He was going to see dead people.
Thunder rolled overhead just as lightning illuminated the darkening scenery.
He bolted upright at the scream that sliced through the storm, piercing into his very heart. Hands planted on either side of him in mud, eyes wide, chest heaving, Sheppard sat alert, scanning through the intermixing rain and hail around him. As he looked from left to right frantically, rain flung from his flattening spikes of hair. Swiping away at the blood trickling down his face, Sheppard stumbled upwards. He swayed dangerously to the left but ignored the dizziness.
Darkness was settling like a thick veil, consuming light faster than the rain was falling. His heart was pounding in his chest. He began to run, feet slipping time and again in the slick mud.
Lightning revealed a figure standing just yards ahead of him, facing away, but looking upwards. It was a woman with blonde hair. He called out to her, but the heavy rain overpowered his voice. He quickened his pace.
Just as he was within arm's reach, his eye caught two other figures. One was cowered beside a boulder to his right the other was standing to his left. None of these figures saw him, nor heard him approach.
A sound accompanied the next roll of thunder. Puddles were interrupted, mud and water splashing amongst many feet.
A dreaded feeling stirred within Sheppard and he saw the three figures around him turn to face what was behind them all. He couldn't quite make out their faces. It was like a dream…the faces were there, but it was like he just couldn't look directly at them.
To his dismay, he realized that they didn't seem to see him either. The closest thing he could think of to compare it to were two repelling magnets, unable to connect.
The terror though, he could sense from all three. Fear quickened his already racing heart. He didn't want to see them again.
But since when did John Sheppard allow fear to win?
He turned, gathering up as much piss and vinegar in his glare as he could to face them.
The pale faces emerged: Kolya, Sumner, a queen wraith or two, peppered between a dozen Genii, some snarling Wraith, and even a few shadowed that he could not identify.
They were all snarling, hungered, and dead as a doornail.
Sheppard clenched his fists both to keep them from shaking, and to reign in some courage.
Like a sudden downburst of air, the dead surged forward like a storm expelling its energy upon the earth. Sheppard stiffened and readied his body for the expected assault, whatever it may be. Instead, an icy chill rushed through him, knocking him flat on his back. Stunned, he shook his head to clear it of the buzzing that had taken resident in his ears. Blinking harshly as the hard rain poured down on him, Sheppard heard screams behind him.
His heart skipped a beat. Those were screams of pain. He flipped onto his stomach, his hand automatically reaching for a 9mil that wasn't in its holster upon his leg.
Lightning flickered enough for him to catch glimpses of the scene before him.
The three figures he had come upon were huddled together on their knees. They had their arms around each other, cowering protectively against the crowd pressing in on them. The dead were taunting them, hissing and hollering.
Sheppard had to do something. He maneuvered to lift himself up, only to find that his legs wouldn't move. Glancing over his shoulder he found there was nothing visibly pressing him to the ground. Yet he couldn't even twitch a toe.
He growled, pounding a fist into the mud. The three figures were screaming, begging for help. The dead, ghosts or whatever one might call them, were leaning in, smiles of victory upon those eerie white faces. Sheppard did not know what to expect: he did not know what the dead were capable of. And for that, he feared for the lives of the three innocents cowering beneath them.
A muscle twitched below his eye as he lay seething just yards from the others. He strained his muscles, pulling at dead weight. He gave up with a frustrated holler and breathed heavily, his chin lowering into the mud as his strength gave out.
He simply couldn't help them.
--tbc--