Thanks so much for all the reviews! Your support really means a lot, and gives me encouragement to keep writing.

So...where did we leave John? Oh yeah, he's on a road trip!

JUSTICE

CHAPTER 4

Childhood aside, the only time John had ever been hand fed was on honeymoon.

When John met Nancy it was love at first sight - at least for him. He'd never cared much for any of his father's friends, but when the dark-haired beauty walked in with her dad, he'd fallen hard.

That day he'd been suffering from a wicked cold. He'd only come down for a hot drink and some Tylenol when he saw her standing in the hall. She had a killer figure and legs that went on forever. Her long dark hair hung like a velvet curtain around her shoulders. Nancy was the most beautiful woman he'd ever seen. Thinking back, John knew he must have looked a sight. He also remembered knowing she was the one, but he would never stand a chance with a woman like her.

It was later Nancy joked she'd fallen for his blood-shot eyes, his red nose and his raspy voice. John still didn't know if there had been any truth in that. It didn't matter. For that small window of time in his life he'd done something right. Within weeks they'd moved in together. The one thing they'd agreed on from the start, they would do things their way without any help.

In those days they hadn't much money. He'd just earned his wings, and Nancy had only started as an intern in a small law firm. Every dollar they'd earned went straight into furnishing their small apartment in the East side. She'd told him she wasn't worried about a honeymoon. Being married, sharing a life together was all that mattered, but he'd surprised her. Her eyes had lit up when he told her about the long weekend he'd planned in Breckenridge.

They both loved to ski, but as luck would have it the snow fell hard and fast soon after they'd arrived. Within hours it had turned into a whiteout closing the runs and keeping everyone indoors. They hadn't cared. Nancy fed him marshmallows roasted in the fire. Later she'd lain in his arms as they watched the snow softly falling outside. It was the best day of his life. John wished it hadn't all gone wrong. He wished he was still there now.

It was obvious from the carcass Kilund had eaten his fill. Whatever the beast had once been there wasn't much left. The soldier cut off a small piece and came towards him. John wanted to tell him where to shove it, but he was hungry. Pride wasn't a luxury he had anymore.

His lips burned on the roasted meat, but he didn't make a sound. The flesh was tough, chewy, and he struggled to eat it with his sore mouth. John ignored the discomfort and swallowed it down. It tasted good, and went some way to filling the gaping hole in his belly. Kilund pierced another bit with his knife and waved it at his lips. John took it. The damn blade nicked the roof of his mouth when it withdrew. John wondered if Kilund had done it on purpose. When the soldier's expression didn't change, he reckoned it was an accident.

When Kilund sat back down, John knew dinner time was over. He didn't know how he felt about that. His stomach was still growling, but at least the indignity was over. He laid his head back against the trunk and watched his companion. He was still trying to get a handle on the guy and wondered what was coming next.

Kilund was swigging something out of a pale green glass bottle. From his good mood, John guessed it was alcohol. His steel blue eyes were glazed, and he was humming a ditty John didn't recognize. It didn't take a genius to work out the soldier had been drinking for a while. The bottle was half empty.

Unexpectedly Kilund poured some into a tin cup and sauntered over. Without saying a word he stopped in front of him smiled, and forced it down his throat. His mouth on fire. John spluttered and he choked, trying to catch a breath.

"Not a drinker then, Sheppard?" Kilund laughed, before swallowing the remainder of the contents from the cup. "You know what? I'm in the mood for a little conversation. But just so as you don't get ahead of yourself…I'll be the one asking the questions."

John resisted the temptation to roll his eyes. The whole control freak act was really getting old.

"Let's see…what rank were you before you stuffed things up?"

John considered saying nothing, but he didn't want to piss him off. Besides, although Kilund wasn't his confidante of choice he missed conversation. "Lt Colonel."

Kilund let out a long low whistle, and he gave a mock salute. "Congratulations, Lt Colonel Sheppard….You win the prize for being the highest ranking officer ever sent to Flenda. My, my…how the mighty have fallen."

John could feel his hackles rise, but stifled the retort on the tip of his tongue. Kilund was mocking him, but he couldn't deny the guy had a point. He knew there were a few back home that would be happy to hear of his downfall. The brass he'd stood up against when he refused to blindly follow orders. His commanding officer in Afghanistan who'd told him he was trouble. He'd been right. It had been just a matter of time before he'd screwed up again.

"Where was your base?"

"Sorry…I can't tell you – that's classified."

Kilund had just taken another piece of meat. The soldier stopped mid chew and stared at him. John prepared himself for a beating but didn't care. Nothing was going to make him give up Atlantis.

Surprisingly the sergeant just swallowed and took another drink. "Fair enough – I respect loyalty. Still, it's not a quality that will help where you're going. It's every man for himself there. You would do well to learn that now."

"Can I ask you a question?" The words came out before he could stop them. John could see he was in trouble when the soldier glared at him beneath hooded lids.

Instead of getting to his feet and giving him a thrashing, Kilund just shook his head. "You've got balls…I'll give you that." He took another drink then nodded. "Okay one question. What is it you want to know?"

John took a deep breath. "What do I need to do to survive there?"

Kilund leaned back against a rock and folded his arms. "Smart question. Then again I wouldn't expect anything less from a Colonel." He lifted the bottle and took another drink.

John wondered if he was going to get an answer. Just when he'd given up, Kilund continued in a flat monosyllabic tone.

"Keep your mouth shut, do what you're told, and take your punishment like a man. Surviving a long stretch like yours is going to be tough. Do what I've told you, and you might…I repeat might make it. Okay…you've taken enough liberties." Kilund got up in one quick fluid movement. "Right…I need to have a look at your feet."

He wasn't prepared. John flinched as Kilund prodded the soles of his feet. They hurt like hell. He didn't need to see the red stains on his filthy toes to know they'd been bleeding.

The soldier took the knife he'd used to feed him and put it in the flames. He took out the gag looked at it, then put it back in his pocket. Instead he picked up a nearby branch.

"Bite down on this. I'll have to burst those blisters and clean the wounds. What I don't need is you yelling and bringing the Yasics down on us."

John was torn between telling him he could deal with a little pain, and asking what the hell a Yasic was. He was denied both, when the branch was shoved into his mouth.

He could see the tip of the blade glowing red in the flames, and his heart started to race. Sweat was trickling down his face stinging his eyes, but it wasn't because of the heat of the fire. Every instinct told him to run, but bound hand and foot there was nowhere to go. Kilund came towards him with the blade, and he closed his eyes.

The pain was sharp and immediate. His breath hitched and a scream died in his throat. Instinctively John kicked out. Kilund glared at him, but didn't let go of his foot. The soldier pressed down the fiery blade, repeating the action again and again until the job was done. Then he started on the other foot.

John was trembling. He was panting, struggling to take in enough air with the short shallow breaths. He was in agony, his feet on fire. Kilund sheathed the knife in his belt, but his focused expression told John his ordeal wasn't over.

The soldier retrieved the alcohol they'd been drinking a short while ago, and looked sadly at the bottle. "This is going to hurt me a whole lot more than it's going to hurt you…" Kilund took a last gulp, then poured the remaining liquid over John's feet.

Kilund had lied. It hurt him a whole lot more. John's eyes flew open as his head snapped back. The branch snapped. Through pain filled eyes John watched Kilund remove it, and throw the broken pieces away.

The soldier sat back on his heels and looked at him. "They'll still hurt tomorrow, but at least you'll be able to walk. The alcohol will help toughen them too…something you'll appreciate once you get to Flenda." Kilund got to his feet. "Get some rest, Sheppard. You've got another long day ahead."

He was in a fog. The soldier wavering in and out of his vision. John could barely breathe, couldn't focus past the fiery pain rippling through his feet. The only word that made it through the haze was rest. Sleep sounded good. John laid back his head, closed his eyes and passed out.

ooooOoooo

Rodney couldn't concentrate.

He pretended not to see Radek watching him. Pretended it was business as usual. He tried to convince himself that he, the great Rodney McKay, was in complete control.

Sure, he was upset about Sheppard - who in the base wasn't? But he wasn't losing it. He was just tired, that's all. And it wasn't his fault he'd screwed up the internal sensors during the overhaul. Okay, maybe he was partly to blame. He supposed there could've been a small, almost miniscule possibility he might have made a small error, but everyone made a mistake now and then.

John… He tried but couldn't get his head round the fact his best friend had been locked up. He wouldn't see him for the next fifteen years. And for what? Being a hero.

When the Wraith arrived in Taluna they could have left, or hid in the security of their cloaked jumper, but that wasn't Sheppard's way. They'd stayed and fought, risked their own lives to protect the town. Some people had fallen, but it wasn't the culling it could've been. It was only because of John's decision most of the people had survived.

While fighting for his own life John had made a mistake. Rodney couldn't even see it as that.

The guy wasn't Superman. He didn't have x-ray vision. There was no way he could have seen the farmer hidden by the Wraith who'd been trying to kill him. Rodney was angry. Sheppard didn't deserve this, any of it. It was giving him nightmares knowing John was going to have the skin flayed off his back not once, but several times. There wasn't even a thing he could do to help him. This was one problem his intellect couldn't fix. If they couldn't get him out, Rodney knew he would need to put Sheppard to the back of his mind. He had his work, his illustrious career to occupy him. But fifteen years was a long time. Who knew where he'd be by then? By the time John got out he could be back on Earth. He might never see him again…

"What the…Ow!"

"Rodney!"

Surprised, Rodney stared at the blood pouring from his hand. Radek rushed over and led him to a chair. His companion pressed a wad of paper towels against the wound to try and stem the bleeding.

He was feeling a little dizzy and at first wasn't aware Radek had activated his radio. "There's been an accident in Doctor McKay's lab. He requires urgent medical assistance."

Rodney looked up. "No…there's no need. I'm good. Really…it's only a scratch."

Radek rolled his eyes as the paper towels filled with blood, and large drops fell to the ground. "I beg to differ, Rodney. You are losing a considerable amount of blood from this…scratch."

His hand was throbbing, and he was glad to see Jennifer appear in the doorway. She made straight for his side, smiled and gave his shoulder a squeeze. "That looks nasty…How did it happen?"

Rodney hissed as she removed the sodden towels and started to exam the wound. His stomach was already heaving. Now he felt really, really faint.

"Sorry?" He looked up confused.

"I said…how did it happen?" Jennifer paused and looked at him, concerned.

Rodney glanced over to where he'd been working. A broken glass beaker was smashed to smithereens. His blood was all over the shards that lay on the work station. He couldn't remember holding it. There wasn't even a reason why he would have needed to use it. Rodney realized he couldn't answer the question, because he didn't know.

"What…Sorry…I'm not feeling too well..." Rodney mumbled and he pitched forward, unconscious. Jennifer caught him before he fell to the floor.

"This is Doctor Keller. I need a gurney here – stat."

She turned to Radek who was helping her lower the scientist onto the floor. "What happened, Radek?"

Radek scratched his head. "Honestly, Doctor Keller, I do not know. Certainly Rodney has not been himself lately." He sighed. "He has barely left the lab in days. This morning when I arrived to start work it looked like he hadn't even been to bed. I tried to get him to take a break, get some rest, but…"

Jennifer patted his shoulder. "I know…I've tried too, Radek."

"Doctor Keller." Radek interrupted. "I didn't think much about it at the time, but when he got hurt he didn't want me to call you. He said it was only a scratch and that he was…good."

"Ah…sounds like he was channeling the Colonel." She stood up as the team with the gurney appeared. "Well…it's a bit more than a scratch, but he'll be fine, Radek. I'll probably keep him in for observation but from what I can tell so far, I don't think there's anything seriously wrong."

The Czech nodded. "I am happy to hear that. Please…I would appreciate if you would keep me up apprised of his condition."

ooooOoooo

Jennifer tied off the last of the sutures, dressed the wound, and pulled off her gloves. Rodney was still out cold, but she'd run a gamut of tests and wasn't worried. She guessed the faint had been down to a combination of exhaustion and his aversion to blood. Especially his own.

Composed in sleep his features were relaxed. The strain he'd been carrying since Sheppard had left, gone. Jennifer knew better than anyone Rodney had taken his friend's imprisonment hard. Her boyfriend believed he could solve anything. But this was one problem his genius couldn't fix, and it was tearing him up inside.

She wished Carson was there. It wasn't that she couldn't handle the job, but the Scot had been with Atlantis since the start. He knew every member of the expedition well, Rodney best of all - the two men had been friends for a long time. Carson also had a way with him. He possessed a knack of bringing calm into any situation with an air of quiet, but firm authority. Yet it wouldn't be fair to ruin his holiday, besides there was nothing he could do. The bad news could keep until he returned to Atlantis.

The Scot had left to go fishing just before the team went to Taluna. It was the first real break he'd had in years and Carson had been looking forward to it for weeks. Jennifer didn't doubt that if he heard the news about the Colonel, he'd return at once, but what could he do?

There was no medical emergency. Sheppard had been sent to prison and while it was a terrible thing to have happened, there was nothing Carson could do. Nothing any of them could do. The Colonel's last hope lay with Mr Woolsey. Jennifer just hoped the diplomat would be able to work a miracle.

She didn't pretend to know the Colonel as well as the others, but things hadn't felt right since the news came in. There was a sadness in the base, almost a feeling of despair. Jennifer wondered what would happen if Sheppard didn't return. She doubted if Atlantis would ever be the same place again.

ooooOoooo

TBC

I hope you enjoyed the latest instalment, and please review. I love to know what you think.