JUSTICE

CHAPTER 14.

John tried to focus, take his mind away, pretend it wasn't him strung up like a lamb ready for slaughter. Make believe it wasn't his skin that was going to be split open and ripped into little pieces for the third time. Except he couldn't. The sharp gnawing pain from his aching knee was demanding his attention. He cursed Jalune for taking him on the ride down those damn stairs with him.

The view ahead was fuzzy, the sun blinding. He was barely aware of the men in front of him. John thought it was Ceeland holding the strap, but the heavy built enforcer was wavering in and out of his vision. John heard the snap, and saw the glint of the strap's metal handle just before the pain exploded on his chest.

He grunted as it slammed into his body. The sting getting hotter with every second until the angry welt felt on fire. He couldn't see the wound. His neck had been secured to the frame by a piece of leather. John wondered if it was a small concession, a means to protect his face from the savage blows. He soon realized like everything else it was done for their benefit.

His torso was now a nice neat target. A blank canvass they could decorate with welts, bruises and deep ragged lines. More scars that would mutilate his body. Wounds that would never completely heal. Nightmares that would haunt him for years, long after his release - if he survived that long.

The second strike came without warning. He didn't see it, but the deep searing pain soon delivered the news. His chest was throbbing. John knew the strap wouldn't maim. That was the job of the whip. It just felt like he was being torn apart. His body quivered as blow after vicious blow battered him senseless. His aching head slammed against the pole, as the wood vibrated with each powerful strike.

In agony John gave up trying to count how many blows he'd suffered – how many more he was still to endure. The assault seemed endless. It wasn't. There was barely a pause as Ceeland changed weapons. His mouth went dry when he saw the long knotted tails of the cat trailing on the ground.

Already in pain the savage attack was more than he could bear. His abused muscles screamed in protest, and so did he. He was trembling as his skin shuddered, ripped apart by the heavy whip. His body buckling away, but unable to escape the savage assault as the cords wound round his chest, his side, his thighs, the sharp knots digging into his flesh.

He could hear the audible whisper as his skin split and his blood spilt, falling in warm rivulets onto the ground. He wanted to escape, but there was nowhere to go, nothing he could do. John closed his eyes, let the tears flow and waited for the misery to end.

ooooOoooo

Carson watched Kilund lounge back against the examination table as if he owned the place. When Jennifer shone the penlight into his eyes he heard the gruff voice chuckle, and saw a blush grow on the pretty doctor's cheeks. In response to whatever comment her patient had made she smiled, and her eyes sparkled.

Rodney on the other hand had gone visibly paler since watching the exchange between them. Carson saw a gleam of amusement in Ronon's eyes, and struggled not to laugh.

"Don't fret, Rodney. The lassie only has eyes for you."

"Not at the moment she doesn't." He muttered. "Just look at her. She…she's blushing!"

"It's cool, McKay…The doc's right. I reckon it's a long time since Kilund has seen a pretty woman. He's getting in some practice." Ronon chortled.

"What...about Teyla? She's…"

The scientist went scarlet as Teyla stood with her hands on her hips and smiled at him. "Well thank you, Rodney, how very…sweet of you. However it is not necessary to defend my appearance." She threw a disparaging look at Ronon. "That is how the fight started in the first place."

Ronon started to laugh. When Kilund heard him, the older man smiled over and waved.

Carson started to lower the examination bed, and locked eyes with his patient. "If you can manage to stop laughing for a wee minute, Ronon, I'd appreciate it. That cut is going to need stitches."

Ronon thumped his head into the pillow. "I thought you wanted to hear the story?"

Carson sat down on the stool beside the bed, and loaded up a syringe with some local anaesthetic. "I'm perfectly sure Teyla is more than capable of telling us."

Teyla swept a stray hair behind her ear and smiled. "We were searching Volandorn when Ronon decided he was in need of some refreshment. It was a hot day, and as I could see his temper was becoming frayed I agreed. We went into the local hostelry and this stranger…Kilund as it turned out…offered to buy me a drink. I refused…politely of course, however he was quite persistent. To begin with he did not want to take no for an answer."

"You should have seen the look on his face when she slapped him!"

Carson silenced Ronon with a look, but the Satedan was still smiling.

"Are you alright, Teyla?" Carson felt his hackles start to rise. He couldn't stand men who took liberties with women. He stared over at the patient on the other bed. The older man appeared to be harmless enough, and he was certainly charming Doctor Keller. In fact Jennifer was clearly enjoying the mild flirtation.

"Thank you, Carson but I am...fine. I was also in no danger back on the planet." Teyla threw another scathing look Ronon way. "Kilund made an advance and I made my feelings...clear. I had the matter under control when Ronon decided to intervene."

"The old guy can sure pack a punch." Ronon grinned. "Ow!"

"I told you to keep still, laddie." Carson warned as he pulled back the syringe.

"Anyway," Teyla continued, "while they were fighting I went over to the bar keep and asked if he had heard of a man called Kilund. The man hadn't but at the mention of his name, Kilund called over -"

"And walked into my left hook. That's when I broke his nose." Ronon grinned.

When Ronon re-enacted the maneuvre, Carson just missed from stabbing the syringe into his eye. "Bloody hell, man - I nearly took your eye out! If you keep moving about like an eegit I'm going to have to sedate you."

Ronon glared at him, but Carson could tell the Satedan had finally got the message. He saw Kilund look over at Teyla with a huge grin. She frowned. Her disapproval didn't seem to faze him at all.

"I'm assuming the fact he's here means he's willing to help?" Rodney asked. His voice sounded sour, but Carson could see hope beneath his friend's cynical expression.

Teyla nodded. "Yes…yes he is, Rodney. John saved his life. Kilund wishes to repay the debt."

Rodney's face twisted and he scratched his head. "So…let me get this straight. Sheppard managed to get the upper hand on this guy, and John still let Kilund take him to prison?"

"Your boss is one stubborn man." Kilund appeared beside them. "I was out…hell knows how long. Sheppard could have escaped at any time – he didn't. Idiot has some kind of dumb persecution complex. With an attitude like his…Let's just say I don't think Sheppard and the Commander will have been getting along too well. "

Jennifer came over to speak to Kilund as Carson was tying off the last of Ronon's sutures. "It really wouldn't take me long to straighten that nose."

Kilund smiled. He tweaked his nose and winced. "Thank you, ma'am, but I think I'll keep it the way it is. It'll remind me of my good friend Ronon here, and the best bar fight I've ever had." He extended his hand to the Satedan and Ronon shook it warmly. "Anyway…this is a nice place you have. While I would have liked to see more of it, what are we hanging around for? Let's go get your military commander and bring him home."

ooooOoooo

The sound of the heavy whip echoed around the courtyard, but Rualin could tell the prisoner had already succumbed to his punishment. His eyes were glazed so he was still conscious, but his body hung limply from the frame. Sheppard barely flinched as nine more tears were ripped into the skin. Nine more trails of blood running from his chest, down his legs and trickling into a pool of red on the stones beneath.

Layered on top of the deep angry welts make by the prison strap Sheppard was a mess. He barely looked human. The man who'd arrived with the healthy tan was now burned raw under the sun. His body was a bloody mass of ripped skin and deep purple bruising. When his eyes shut and his face went slack, Rualin motioned the sergeant to wake him up.

Mallend tipped a bucket of water over his head, but there was no reaction. The liquid running down his body only served to cleanse the weeping wounds, and wash away the blood splattered on the ground. Rualin motioned Ceeland to continue. He hoped another blow would jolt the prisoner awake, but before the young soldier could strike, the convulsions started.

His eyes were closed, but Sheppard started to shudder. The vibrations so fierce that his body was buckling, shaking the very frame he was tied against. Without being told his men hurriedly released him and laid him on the ground. It didn't help. He continued to shake. His trembling limbs jerking. All of his muscles twitching as the tremors rippled through his body.

When he went still, Rualin held his breath. It was his intention to make him suffer, but killing him had never been part of the plan. At least not until he'd done his time. Mallend looked up and gave him a thumbs up. With the signal Sheppard was still alive, he sighed with relief.

Despite the prisoners accounts and what Sheppard had told him, Rualin knew he'd killed Jalune. He was sure of it. He'd seen it in his eyes. Knew the bastard had lied to his face. No, Sheppard couldn't die - he wouldn't let him. Not until he'd made him pay for the death of his son.

ooooOoooo

John was jolted to awareness by the gut wrenching pain. It was sharp, immediate and all consuming. His back was freezing from lying on the hard stone floor, but his chest was on fire. It throbbed incessantly, broken only by spikes of searing heat that threatened to take his breath away. The crippling pain from his knee now encompassed the whole of his leg. John tried not to move, but each shallow breath was torturous. He was in agony. Each small movement a new lesson in misery.

Someone was there. He could hear them, feel the heat of their breath on his body. When he felt the cloth touch his skin he groaned. When John looked up he saw Ceeland cleaning his wounds.

"W…why bother?"

The young guard removed the blood soaked cloth and rinsed it in the pan of water by his side. "If I don't clean these wounds you'll die of infection."

John chuckled slightly, before wincing and moaning softly. "Right…and th…that wouldn't do, would it?"

Ceeland didn't respond. Then again, John didn't really expect him to. As he gradually became more lucid, he suddenly remembered. "Y…you didn't finish."

The guard stopped and looked at him. "No I didn't. You had a fit…nearly died on us. The commander will probably leave you to recover for a few days."

"Gee…that's kind of h…him – Gah!"

As Ceeland resumed his task, John swore through gritted teeth as every nerve in his body screamed at the torture. He clenched his jaw and balled his stiff fingers into fists as pain, sharp, fiery and raw swam and surged from his head down to his busted knee. John was pretty sure the damn thing was broken, but it was hard to tell. Right now everything hurt so bad he couldn't tell where one ache finished and another began.

"How many?"

Ceeland paused in his task. "Twelve."

A sudden stab of intense burning made his breath hitch, and he gasped. Beads of sweat were pouring down his face even though the cell was cold. John struggled to get a handle on the pain before he continued. He couldn't. His deep stubborn need to show he wasn't beaten was the only thing that kept him going. "Eight left…that's not too bad."

The guard shook his head. "No…you passed out at eight. You have twelve lashes left."

"Crap…Do you think Rualin would round it down to ten?"

Ceeland gave him a wry smile. "What do you think?"

He groaned, and squeezed his eyes shut as Ceeland rubbed the cloth into a particularly deep ragged laceration. John kept talking. It was the only way to distract himself. "Wha...what do you reckon to fifteen…or do you think it'll be a do-over?"

The guard said nothing. John's eyes flew open as a surge of pain pierced through his skull. Darkness wavered, but didn't take him. When the room stopped spinning he saw Ceeland watching him.

"That's quite a lump you have on your head." The guard held up three fingers. "How many fingers do you see?"

"On which hand…" John managed through clenched teeth.

"Your head injury would explain the seizure." Ceeland told him. "The pain from the whipping must have sent you into shock."

John squinted up. "I don't get it…What makes someone like you tick? You beat the crap out of me one minute, and the next you're freaking Doctor Kildare?" When the young guard gave him a puzzled look, John explained. "You get off on inflicting pain, so why bother about how I'm feeling - or is that the deal? You learn how to put me back together, just so you can take me apart again?"

To his surprise Ceeland looked offended. "Just because I'm good at my job doesn't mean I enjoy it. I didn't want to whip you but if I hadn't…someone else would have done it, then it would've been my turn on the frame!" Ceeland threw the cloth in the bowl sending the water splashing over the sides. He went quiet for a moment, then the rage was replaced with bitterness. "I was training to be a medic. When Commander Rualin needed another enforcer, I wasn't given a choice in the matter. I was sent here."

There was a tense silence as Ceeland took a cup and held it to John's lips. "Here…small sips."

John locked eyes with the man who'd beat him. He wanted to tell him that his hard luck story didn't give him the right to persecute another human being. That following orders wasn't always the right thing to do. Instead he said nothing. His strength was failing and he was in too much pain to give a lecture. He accepted the refreshment. The water was warm but gave some relief to his sore, dry throat.

As Ceeland started to apply the salve, John turned his face away.

John knew he was a strong guy, stubborn even, but he wasn't unbreakable. He'd survived a Wraith feeding, and according to McKay had even come out looking younger than before. Until today, he'd never known pain like it. Even turning into a bug didn't come close to what he'd suffered in this hell hole.

Faced with a lifetime alone, trapped in a small dark cell was another matter. John didn't know if he could make it. Pain he could cope with - sort of. Total deprivation was another matter. It was a common torture technique he'd been taught to deal with in training, and so far he had. Yet somehow John reckoned his instructors hadn't bargained for what he'd had to endure, let alone anyone being forced to live that way for years on end.

He wasn't a quitter, but he needed something to give life meaning. With his only contact the men who beat him, and deprived of ever seeing the sky again. If this was the way he was going to spend the next fifteen years of his life, he wanted to die.

He heard shuffling and swallowed the tears threatening to choke him.

"I'll check up on you later, Sheppard." Ceeland was on his feet, covering him with a blanket.

Despite not wanting to be locked up, John was pleased the guy was leaving him alone with his misery. Ceeland was nearly at the door when a thought struck him. "I've just realized – why are you even talking to me? I'm a prisoner."

Ceeland walked out the door looked around the corridor, then came back into the cell. He put a finger to his lips.

"No…you're not. I was in the office when your pardon came through. The commander is trying to hide it from you…he swore me to secrecy. But what he's doing…has done to you...isn't right. However if you tell anyone I told you - I'll be punished." Ceeland bent down and placed a folded blanket behind his head. "Look, Sheppard, you need to stay strong. If you can just hold on…I'm guessing someone will come for you soon."

John lay stunned. Too shocked to speak as the guard walked out, shutting the door leaving him in darkness. He didn't understand. Couldn't comprehend what had gone down to make this happen. It didn't matter. His friends were coming. He would soon be home.

ooooOoooo

TBC

Hope is a wonderful thing, and at least John now sees an end in sight. But of course the story isn't finished!

I hope you enjoyed the chapter and please review. Your comments make all the work producing a story worthwhile, and I appreciate the time you take in letting me know what you think!