Stargate Atlantis: Sleep Before I Do

By: Shadow Chaser

Disclaimer: Stargate SG-1 & Stargate Atlantis and its characters are the property of Stargate (II) Productions, Showtime/Viacom, MGM/UA, Double Secret Productions, Gekko Productions, AcmeShark Productions, and Scifi Channel. This story is for amusement only and I didn't get any money for it. No copyright infringement is intended.

Category: Action Adventure, Drama, H/C

Pairing: Hints of Shep/Weir, hints of Ronon/Teyla, and hints of Shep/Teyla.

Notes: We're nearing the final act of the story! At this time I would like to thank all of those who have reviewed, put me on favorite lists, C2s, author alerts, and even those who have just read the story for pure enjoyment or curiosity. Thank you for making my day! Again, I welcome your comments, criticisms, and questions!

This is a short chapter due to the nature of me wanting to set up for a bigger nail biting ending. Also, this chapter is a bit…on the bloody side – not quite R rated, but close enough that I need to remind kiddies who read this, there is a reason why my story is rated M (oh yeah, and an f-word that pops up in there).

Story:

Chapter 9 - Manipulation

They trudged through the undergrowth, prodded on none too gently by the bulbous-shaped heads of the za'kutus as John learned from Apollo through their trek. He kept his eyes on the woodland ground in front of him, fighting internally with his warring emotions of dread, despair, and anger. Hopelessness was not one of them as he refused to allow himself to completely give up hope that they, or at least what was left of his team, would get out of this god-forsaken mess.

Teyla…

Her body, crumpled against the wall, blood oozing a terrible red out of the blast wound she had received in the stomach; her high-pitched cry of pain when Taethos had fired the bolt into her. He didn't even know if she was alive and was afraid that with such a wound, her life was literally bleeding away already. How long had it been since the sick Furling forced him and Apollo to walk out of the compound and into the woods? He remembered the despair and echoed cry of denial from Ronon who had pulled against his own restraints, desperately trying to get out of them to see to their wounded team member.

John squeezed his eyes shut for a second, trying to dispel any thoughts of Teyla dead. He would not allow himself to think that he had failed her, failed one of his teammates again; like how he had failed to rescue his friend Captain Ethan Holland in the mission that eventually got him a court martial, a few months of jail time before his reassignment to the farthest outpost on Earth, McMurdo in Antarctica.

He would never admit it, least to Teyla herself, but every time she had gotten hurt or injured in one of their off-world missions or even in defense of Atlantis herself, he had felt a spike of fear for her safety and well-being. He knew the feelings he had for her ran deeper than anything, a slow smoldering ember of…lust, love, he couldn't even identify it himself, but he also knew that slow burning – whatever it was – fueled the implicit trust he had for her. She was a warrior, strong, loyal, so many things that he could call her and to see her injured, dying even, tore at him and enflamed the anger he held for Taethos.

John opened his eyes as he continued to trudge through the underbrush. He wanted nothing more than to rip Taethos' throat out for what he had done to him, to his men, hell, he did not even known if anyone else was alive save for Teyla and Ronon. Shooting Kolya was a secondary priority as far as he was concerned, but Taethos' actions had simmered the deep, dark anger within him. Furling or not, he would be damned if Apollo looked to stop him from making Taethos pay.

The once-diminutive Furling must have felt some of his phantom anger as he caught his eyes and gave a small shake of his head; a very human-like gesture considering he had discovered that they were shapeshifters and their human-like forms weren't even their real forms. He snorted silently, looking away as the brush began to thin away and revealed the familiar entrance to the catacombs where the Wraith'gul was located. He wasn't stupid enough to risk death by za'kutus or a potential swipe of one of the Furlings' huge claws.

In the team's initial visit to M3R-154, Rodney had been so excited about finding this place that he had even ignored his protests about how the place made him feel completely uneasy. That uneasiness now was amplified once more and he could feel the hairs on the back of his neck standing up. A part of him just wanted to skirt away for reasons that he couldn't even identify.

As they had been walking to the Wraith'gul he had gotten the gist of what it was from Apollo's quiet murmurs. It had been a weapon designed by the Ancients as a last resort – designed to destroy all human life within the Pegasus galaxy, thereby starving the Wraith of their food source. However, as far as Apollo knew, it had never been used and was left buried under legends when the Ancients departed for their original home galaxy.

"So it is true," Taethos' towering form cast a shadow over him as he stepped forward, staring at him from the side with a smile full of sharp teeth, "even one such as yourself, Colonel, feel as skittish as an ily'ni on his first day of taming. And this proves the translations correctly that one who has the gene of the Alin'thus needs to activate it."

The Furling turned to Apollo, "Now I see why you have all but avoided this place since we established our base here."

John frowned and looked at the man, a bit confused. Was he saying that Apollo had the gene of the Ancients? But that wasn't possible, was it? Apollo was a Furling or so Teyla had said and the man himself had even said he was Akiesios, the short Furling who had treated him when he had first regained consciousness before becoming Kolya's personal punching bag.

"I will not destroy my own people," Apollo stood defiantly, his arms crossed over his chest, glaring up at Taethos, "you'll have to kill me before you force me to operate the Wraith'gul."

Several of the Furlings growled their displeasure at Apollo's answer and raised their weapons slightly, but Taethos only laughed, a sinister rumble from deep within his throat. "So overtly dramatic, you think I am like those parasites the Goa'uld?"

"Why not?!" Apollo uncrossed his arms and clenched his fists, baring his teeth at Taethos, looking a bit eerily like his cat-like form in John's opinion, even though he was still human. "Power hungry, deceptive tactics, you dishonor your own kind by deceiving the second-born children! You plot to overthrow the High Council, you are no better than a Goa'uld."

John was expecting Taethos to hit Apollo across his face like he had done when they were in the medical ward but surprisingly the menacing Furling only smiled and shook his head. "Such a child, Arileon," Taethos sneered the man's title, or rank, John couldn't exactly tell, "I would have thought one such trained as yourself would be more prone to discipline like the good Colonel here."

"I've had disciplinary issues," John muttered mostly under his breath before a sharp blinding pain raked across his face, and he tasted the coppery metallic liquid of blood pouring into his mouth. He mostly caught himself on his knees and hands as he fell to the ground, stunned by the blow before he reached up with his right hand and felt four bleeding lines of tenderness down his cheek and jaw line. He winced as his fingers came in contact with the wound and glared up at Taethos who had a smirk on his feline face.

"No one told you to speak, Colonel," the Furling replied in a simple tone, as if admonishing a child.

"Fuck you," John swore at the Furling, bracing himself for another hit that was sure to come as he pressed his palm against the wound, ignoring the stinging needles of pain, but none came as the Furling just chuckled before gesturing to a couple of the guards around him.

John found himself hauled up by his armpits, gritting his teeth as he kept his hand on the wound, knowing that Carson would have a complete meltdown at how much dirt and bacteria he was probably putting into his wound by just keep his dirt-covered hand compressed to staunch the blood flow. Held fast by the two Furlings whose barely retracted claws dug into his the ragged remnants of his jacket and tac vest, he glared at Taethos, daring him to do anything to him.

His team, his men, had done nothing but examine the Wraith'gul whose purpose was unknown to them at that time, offer trade agreements with the locals and had seemingly the goodwill of everyone involved. How the hell were they supposed to know that the Furlings would go ape shit over the Wraith'gul? Taethos had even offered to guide them to it during their initial trip and had even shown them the place. John now knew better, it had been a trap and a test; the Furling wanted to know if any of them had the gene; which meant he had been notified by Kolya of the Atlantis expedition having several members who had the Ancient gene.

But that still did not explain Apollo's situation. From what he could tell and piece together, it seemed like Arileon was probably a military rank, judging from the body armor the man wore, and if he could guess, Apollo was probably on an undercover mission for whoever he worked for and had to blow his own cover to save them. Except it had failed and now they were both prisoners at Taethos' mercy. His frustration and anger grew at the situation.

"Let him go, Taethos," Apollo grounded out, "let them all go through the chapp'ai and I will do anything you want, including whomever you wish to kill."

"And let the chapp'ai's connection die for just that moment it takes for another to activate it? I think not," with a wordless gesture, two more Klisan'thus grabbed onto Apollo, the man fighting slightly against their grips.

Taethos slowly shifted to his human form, this time, dressed in almost the exact same body armor Apollo was wearing, but with a few more pips on his shoulders and smiled, making his nearly dissolving cat-like features blending with his human face to produce the most horrific image of a demented, skeletal Cheshire Cat that John knew would haunt his dreams for a long time – if he survived. He almost did not recognize the village leader that had initially greeted his team dressed in the simple robes of a shepherd aside from his beard and rakish-looking face.

"Besides, there is something I would like to test before I am certain you are no longer needed," he gestured for the others to continue walking and John found himself frog-marched deeper into the catacombs, the musty cave-like system giving way to the metallic sheen of Ancient design before they came upon the main control room where Rodney had identified it as the heart of the facility.

The room glowed from the still activated panels that Rodney had turned on before all hell broke loose and John could still see scuffed dust and dirt marks where he thought the other scientists had scrambled to put their equipment away. He was moved to a side as Apollo was brought to stand before the heart of the middle console and Taethos gestured with an outstretched hand before a syringe with some kind of reddish liquid in it was put into his hand.

Taethos gave a quick squirt of the needle before jamming it into Apollo's arm, the man stiffening as the sadistic Furling dispensed the contents into his blood stream. As soon as the needle was taken out, the guards holding him stepped back and John frowned. Seconds later, Apollo shuddered, his jaw clenching in obvious pain and he looked like he was having a seizure, but was still standing upright instead of falling down to the ground.

"What did you-"

Taethos held up a hand and John barely restrained a muffled scream of pain as the he felt more than heard the snick of a set of claws puncturing his left bicep, feeling rivets of blood dripping down his arm. The claws retracted and he immediately brought his right hand from his face to cover his now deeper wound on his arm. His breath came in short shallow gasps as he swore not to make a sound, not to give into the sick pleasure he knew the Furling was getting. But he understood the message loud and clear…

Suddenly Apollo stopped shuddering and instead, lifted his head, almost sluggishly and looked around, his eyes unfocused and staring around him as if he did not recognize anything. What had Taethos injected into him to make him such a way?

"N-No…" Apollo moaned, staring above him, his voice cracking with unrestrained agony, "A'thar…n-no…no…"

Taethos stepped forward into Apollo's field of vision and John saw his head loll to stare at him, his eyes unfocused. "Your father is right here, Apollo," Taethos' tone was completely gentle, almost fatherly as he gestured to the platform on the console and John watched, half amazed, half shocked as the seemingly drugged man staggered towards the platform, nearly tripping while stepping up before halting, grabbing the console for support and purchase.

"I…I don't see him," Apollo looked around the console wildly, "I...don't…"

The freakiness of Apollo's actions was beginning to alarm John just as Taethos gestured with a wide sweep of his arm and the two Furlings that had been restraining Apollo moved forward and grabbed onto him, dragging him from the circular platform. As soon as they started to pull him away, the man started to buck and yell, screaming in some language that John couldn't identify. Two more Furlings joined in helping their comrades drag him off and away, his screams fading slowly away until there was nothing but silence.

And in that silence, John looked towards Taethos who was shaking his head. "Even a half-breed like him cannot activate the Wraith'gul. I had hoped for too much," the man shook his long hair before taking another syringe from the remaining Furling who was holding a small container of sorts and approached him.

"What did you do to him?" John demanded as he saw Taethos squirt a little of the blood-red liquid out of the needlepoint. He squirmed in the grips of his captors, trying to shy away from what he knew was inevitable, but the throbbing pain in his arm made him unable to twist very far.

"Perhaps you would fare better," Taethos gave him a congenial smile.

"What did you do to him!" he demanded as he tried to pull his arms away. Whatever was in that needle, he did not want it in him.

"If not, my men will soon break down the doors and perhaps take Major Lorne, Captain Pearson, or even Dr. McKay into custody," Taethos ignored him and one of the Furlings wrenched his left arm forward, holding it steady in a vise-like grip. His brow broke out in sweat as he tried to rip his arm away, tried to stop the needle from plunging into the fabric, through his arm into his muscles-

"Relax, Colonel, this will just hurt a pinch," Taethos looked at him with glittering dark eyes and depressed the injector.

White-hot fire coursed throughout John and he found himself falling into the darkness once more.

It burned, like a hot poker that had jammed itself into her abdomen and had been left there to pour its agonizing heat on her. The searing pain stitched across her ribs and each movement she tried to make scraped the burnt skin and layers off of her as her tac vest came loose with her movement. Her lungs screamed with her pained efforts to breathe, but even when she drew breath it was shallow and hesitant.

Her eyes were blurry, even in the dim darkness that had suddenly engulfed the medical ward she was in. She could barely see in front of her, but nonetheless, she resolutely tried to pull herself across the floor towards the corner of the ward.

"Teyla…" Ronon's gruff tone called from the darkness and she gave a slightly pained grunt as an answer, gritting her teeth and ignoring the fact that her pants were slick across the ground, slick with her own blood she knew was flowing out of her grievous wound.

"Teyla, don't move, don't-"

"I…" she drew in a shallow breath as she continued her long slow trek across the floor, "I…have to…"

There was a rattle from her left as he could hear the frustrations of her friend and fellow warrior being taken out on the bindings that secured him to the palate in the other side of the room. She heard curses flowing out of his mouth in his native language and smiled inwardly. Ronon was so protective of those he had come to care for, she knew that for a fact, and she also knew that he would do anything to help any of his teammates and friends right now.

Teyla was aware of the slight feral-like lust the Satedan warrior held for her, the way it was normally expressed in their many sparring sessions. But she also knew he would never act on those feelings if he could help it. He respected her too much to act on impulse and she knew that he knew to do so would violate her trust and friendship once more – something they had discussed to great lengths after he had killed Kell on Belka. She had a feeling Taethos had singled her out ever since she had arrived on M3R-154, noting that Ronon and even Colonel Sheppard would be influenced if any undue harm came to her.

It was a calculating blow from the cunning Furling and it made her wonder how Taethos could figure out what she had only begun to realize over a year ago. Actually with Colonel Sheppard, it was probably the first time she had met him that she knew there was a mutual, unspoken attraction. John had acted on his feelings more than once when his mental faculties were not his and she had forgiven him each time, knowing that if she did not, there would a slight awkwardness between them and she cherished his friendship more than she could say.

It was the strength of these two men in her lives, when she had none to lean on until recently that fueled her determination to make sure that they made it out alive. If she were to die in the process…well, she would not think of that just yet. John and Ronon, even Dr. McKay for all of his ill-humor and worrisome demeanor, deserved their fighting chance. They did not deserve the punishment they were receiving for who they were – warriors.

"Teyla…" Ronon's deep rumbling voice cut across the darkness and she gave a grimacing smile, even though he could not see it. She could feel the wall now, and pulled herself along its edges. She was starting to become even more dizzied, her focus wavering a bit and knew that she was loosing a lot of blood.

"I'm…close," she breathed out quietly as she continued her slow painful trek. A few seconds later, her right hand, the one pulling her whole body across the ground came in contact with the barrel end of Ronon's gun and she gathered it into her hand. Her left hand was pressed against her wound, trying to staunch some of the blood flow, but it had just seeped between her fingers, leaving them sticky.

Taking a couple of quick shallow breaths, she grimaced as she propped herself up with her arm and pushed up on the floor with all of her strength, whimpering slightly as her wound screamed in agony. She gasped as she felt the searing pain stitch across her ribs and chest once more and coughed, tasting something metallic on her tongue.

"Teyla, don't-"

"Ronon," she breathed out before forcing her lungs to obey her and sucked in a deeper breath, suppressing her instinct to cry out in pain, "Ronon!"

"Here," was the short reply somewhere in front of her, a little to the right, "what are you…"

"I…" she took another deep rattling breath, "have your…w-weapon…"

She gripped it tightly in her hand, and tried to lift her arm, but for some odd reason, her grip just only shook. It was then that she realized she was losing feeling along her extremities and her teeth were chattering of their own accord. Fear filled her; she didn't want to die like this, she didn't want to die at all. But…her friends, her teammates…

Major Lorne, Captain Pearson, and Lieutenant Brown for their courage in protecting her from any harm…

Rodney for all of his pessimism and vast knowledge…

Elizabeth for her calm intensity, guiding her people…

Ronon for his warrior's strength…

John, his multi-layered friendship, the quiet leader she valued so dearly…

If it was the last thing she did, she would make sure that all of them would survive; all of them would be able to get out of this mess. Teyla gritted her teeth and forced her arm to respond to her mental commands, to lift up Ronon's gun, arch her arm back and throw it to where she had heard his voice with all of her might.

"Here!" she cried out before she felt the vestiges of an unfathomable fatigue overtake her and she knew nothing more.

Ronon heard the clatter of something land near the foot of the palate he had been attached to and the quiet thump of something hitting the far wall. "Teyla?" he tested out, gruffly, worriedly. There was no answer. "Teyla!" he yelled louder, yet there was no answer before he cursed silently and crouched down onto the ground as much as his binding allowed him to.

She had thrown something to him, and he seriously hoped that it was his gun, but with the darkness and dim lighting, he could barely see anything so he felt around him, straining his arm muscles in an effort to find whatever she threw. There! He felt the butt end of the gun near the edge of the foot of the palate and picked it up, hefting its comfortable, familiar weight in his hands.

Twirling it around on his finger and simultaneously activating it, he aimed it towards where he thought the bindings were and fired. The discharge of the bright red bolt lanced through the air before he suddenly was yanked forward by his own momentum as his binding broke loose and he grinned.

Good he was free, now they could get to work. He turned and immediately strode to where he thought he had heard Teyla fall down and through the dim lighting, his eyes finally adjusting to the dark; he found her prone body, half lying against the wall, her eyes close and her hands limp. "Come on," he muttered as he felt under her chin where Dr. Beckett had taught him some rudimentary medical training to supplement whatever he already knew from his time in the Satedan army.

There was no pulse.

Ronon growled in frustration before he glanced over to the other side of the room, his lips pursed as he quickly thought. He hoped that whatever Apollo, Akiesios, the damned Furling had done to activate the sarcophagus, which was hell of a lot better than pronouncing the ne'u-thing; it would not be imprinted to his hand print or something. And he better be right that the thing could bring back the recently dead or else Ronon was going to kill the Furling with his bare hands when he found him.

Gathering Teyla gently in his arms, he hurried over to the far corner and with one hand awkwardly holding her legs, the other cradling her head, pressed against the wall, hoping to find some kind of button that would reveal the sarcophagus. A few minutes of pressing welled up a roar of frustration in him and he kicked the wall in anger.

Suddenly a panel popped out and Ronon grinned inwardly. Sometimes kicking things did work, contrary to whatever the Earth-people said not to do, especially the little man, Dr. McKay. However, the panel was listed in symbols he was not familiar with – not even in the rudimentary curved symbols of the Earth-people, nor the blocky-words of the Ancestors. No, these symbols looked very hooked yet had a flowing river-like quality he couldn't describe.

It was probably written in the Furling language, he supposed. But…

There looked like ten different symbols on the pad and he remembered Apollo translating his own access code into the Earth-people's language, if they used a base of ten like the Alterans. Maybe, the Furlings also used a base of ten? Mathematics wasn't his strong point that was more Melena's, which made her a fine doctor before the Wraith destroyed his planet and killed her.

He input the code that Apollo had translated, hoping that he was pressing the right buttons and to his surprise, suddenly the wall slid open to reveal the sarcophagus and he grinned wolfishly. He hurried towards the golden light, and gently placed Teyla inside, refusing to grieve for her still, ashen face, the ugly wound and blood that had matted most of her body, or the fact that she was not breathing the slightest.

"Live," he whispered before stepping away from the sarcophagus which started to automatically close, sensing an occupant inside that needed its powers. Ronon stepped completely outside as the walls closed up and the panel disappeared once more. He took a moment to whisper a prayer up to the Ancestors to make sure she was brought back alive and safe before spinning on his heel and stalking out.

Taethos had left them alone to have him watch her die before his eyes. Which meant that he had probably sent the rest of him to break down the control room door holding McKay and the others. He would get them in due time, but first, he was headed back to the armory room where their weapons had been stored. There were more than a few za'kutus weapons he had seen in that room.

He was going to slaughter all of them for what they had done. Ronon Dex was out for blood.