STARGATE ATLANTIS

TO SEE THE SUN IN WINTERTIME

Chapter Eight

Authors Note: A thousand apologies for the delay with this next chapter coming. Funny how a good friend's suffering and death can put you off writing; especially where whump is involved – I just couldn't hurt (albeit fictional) anyone somehow! But, of course, I do feel bad about not finishing the story, so here we go again. Oh, and breadcrumbs revealed…

SGA SGA SGA

Carson found himself dazed and breathless. Several of the prisoners that had also fallen with the collapsed wall were lying on top of him and constricting his breathing. He pushed and prodded twisted bodies until, at last, he was free. He started to rise as chaos reigned around him. It was a bizarre mixture of several guards, who were wounded and confused, and prisoners vying for freedom or containment – all whilst a storm raged over their exposed heads.

Carson looked up. Knew immediately it must have been deadly. Twisting his head round about, he briefly toyed with the idea of just waiting on a guard to take him back to the others. They would be worried about him. He screwed up his eyes to see several more guards now using themselves as a living wall to prevent any others escaping the downed wall that now left a gap into the village until they could no doubt settle things and then move them somewhere else.

Carson swallowed. No-one seemed to have noticed just how far back he had moved to. He had valid chance of escape.

He was covered in sand; his dark hair now utterly changed into a pale dusty stone colour. He looked, indeed, like part of the wall he had fallen over. Gulping once more; unused to making decisions like this, Carson somehow managed to slowly, but surely, back up further until he felt a large stone pillar at his back. Another quick look and no-body was looking his way, so keeping his hands on it he slid his way around until out of sight of the prisoners' cells. What was round the corner cheered him up no end. It was a mass of people: contestants, merchandisers, visitors and customers all confused and frightened. He quickly grabbed some material that had flown by him in the strong winds and wrapped it around his head and bottom of his face. This was it. He was going all 'Sheppard!' He had a mission. He had to find a way out of the village and find the 'jumper – all in a storm: no biggy! He had an incentive – what was left of his friends needing saved as soon as possible…and the hope that Rodney could actually get the 'gate to operate – it must have been damaged or turned off for no-body to have rescued them thus far.

So, Carson calmed down his heart and wormed his way into the main throng of people who seemed to be accumulated outside in a huddle. He was worried though. Just how could he get himself away unnoticed?

Deciding to survey the area, Carson walked this way and that; gathering other strewn items of clothing and putting them on over of his prison clothes. The fact that people were too frightened at the moment, and not noticing anything else going on, fitted into his requirements of survival quite nicely.

Carson understood one thing which hurried him along. The storm had passed over. Time, therefore, was chasing his tail. Through-out their time in the village and when they had first arrived, he had noticed that they rode animals similar to camels' back home: drokfo they were called. He had ridden camels before, so his obvious plan next was to somehow get on one of these and make his escape.

Carson scanned the people again. He looked left and right, but straight ahead on the outskirts of the merchandisers' stalls, several of the beasts still sat on the sand. Some in circles, some by themselves, but obviously guarding possessions that were attached and all survived the storm.

Taking a chance that one of these beasts would be friendly and most of all quiet, Carson strode deliberately towards the huddle…and stopped dead.

Purposefully pulling up a drokfo to a stop so near to him, two people rode on its back and just started; enough that he momentarily halted his escape and wondered what to do next.

Carson gulped and took a step back. Were these people really looking at him?

His makeshift turban had been blown askew when he stopped; curtesy of the still strong winds that would quickly hurl and whirl through everything in its path. His shaking hands couldn't control the material fast enough to cover his features. The more he tried to cover up, the more the wind grabbed it from him. Starting to panic, Carson was frozen to the spot when the man dismounted, stood for a second, but walked towards him, after nodding to the other person to stay aboard the drokfo. He walked slowly but surely towards Carson, and he knew he had to face this stranger for he had no-where else to run to.

The man looked weary, but confident; exuding an air of quiet assurance that he was very much in charge of himself – but it soon became clear he was obviously injured. Underneath his mounds of material over his head and face, Carson could make out a bloody and sandy bandage over one side of his face; giving him, as a doctor, a critical eye of one in pain – these people's moods could change quite quickly from calm to anger in a second. Carson braced for why he was making his way to him; seeing no point of making a run for it.

It was when he was only a couple of feet away that Carson felt his legs go weak and his heart thump in his chest to an excited beat. He also thought his hearing was going out on him; like suddenly he was in a vacuum. He knew that swagger. He did. It couldn't be?...Even through the material that covered the man's face, and made the muscles of his cheek wince with the sudden stretch of skin, Carson knew that the man whose eyes was smiling at him, was his friend; John Sheppard. An alive, John Sheppard.

Carson reached out a shaking hand towards the man he had thought dead.

...

John and Teyla had not gone far when they watched from a short distance the multitude of guards that were being called to order inside the village. It appeared from the noise and disturbance inside that one of the walls had collapsed with the force of the storm. John looked back and smiled at Teyla. This would allow some to escape they both realised.

"Ronon and the others … they might have been there at the time."

Teyla tapped his shoulder and whispered close to his ear, "…and I hope they were not hurt."

John would have nodded but he had caught sight of a man desperately trying to wrap a turban around his head, and failing miserably, as it kept falling apart to the man's obvious annoyance. There was something about the way the man walked; almost guarded. John wondered if the man was an escaped prisoner as he did look very out of place and confused. His hair was visible. Black – like his. He was slightly shorter than him, but he felt he was starting to look familiar. John's stomach was churning. Was it Carson?

"John?" Teyla asked, for she had felt his body tense, and she wondered why he had pulled up the drokfo so abruptly; pushing her swaying body into him.

"Look at that man, there – is it … Carson?"

Teyla squinted against the sand blowing in the wind and studied the man John had isolated. She smiled. "It is! It is!"

"I have to do this without bringing attention to ourselves or Carson. You stay mounted and high-tail it out of here if the guards grab us." John ordered.

"What if…"

"Teyla, please. Get yourself home if we are caught. Bring Lorne back with you."

"But we don't know why they have not come already!"

John reached back and squeezed her thigh. "There will be a reason. Just make your way there if this goes wrong. Promise me?"

Teyla reached around him and tapped his chest. "I will." she whispered into his ear. But there was nothing else John could say and do because if he didn't dismount now he felt Carson would take fright and they could possibly lose him in the crowd.

He slid off the huge beast, gave Teyla a quick nod and slowly walked towards his friend. This would be tricky, for Carson thought him dead: hell he thought Teyla dead also. He had to go gently; not surprise him so much he would cry out at finding him alive.

As John got closer he could not help but smile. A jolt of happiness shot through him when he set eyes on him and knew for definite it was Carson. He slowly wafted his right hand up and down to not startle the man. The returning smile of recognition he got in return was almost his undoing. He wanted to speed towards him and give him a bear hug – so out of character for him, but utterly necessary – but he could not bring that much attention. Instead, as John was within a few feet, he suddenly brushed past him, dragging his arm and pushing him into one of the alcoves; pulling down some ruby red swags of material behind him as he walked; and hiding them momentarily from the throngs of busy people behind them.

John clapped his shoulder and pulled his makeshift turban down fully; shaking some sand out of his hair as he did so in an affectionate manner.

"John?" Carson breathed. "Alive…how!"

"Aye, Doc. It is me. Alive…and it's a long story."

John did allow Carson to catch up with events; pulling his own turban off for a quick second only so he could see him fully – bandages and all.

"Aw, lad. Always getting hurt." He looked at him, smiling – and perhaps a couple of wet eyes, "…but alive…oh my goodness, you bastard – what you did to us…and after Teyla as well!"

John put his hand over his mouth at that… "Who is also alive and with me..."

Carson started to shout – hence John's expectant move to put his hand over his mouth. "Wha..." He mumbled under John's hand. He moved it and grabbed both his shoulders grinning. "She's on the drokfo. She is well?"

Carson peeked over his shoulder at some sudden noise. John grabbed his turban and skilfully adjusted it and perfectly wrapped it around his head and lower face, before making his own up again.

"We have to get you out of here in case you are recognised. I'll need you to try and find your way back to either the 'jumper or the 'gate. Think you can do that while we stay here and rescue the others?"

"It's just Ronon and Rodney…our guides were killed."

John was sad as he studied Carson's face. "…but I can do this, John. I'll bring back help if that's what you want me to do."

John suddenly remembered Aiden.

"Ford's here. He threw something at my face."

"Sand fire no-doubt. I have heard of it. Let me look."

"No time. It's been taken care of for now. Look, doc. We both have a lot of catching up to do, but you really need to move, Teyla had detected some Wraith presence earlier…"

"We suspected that. We also identified Aiden. Knowing how much he was probably working for them now to get his enzyme; we did wonder if the Wraith were behind these games somehow."

"Easy pickings! I have to get everyone safe, Carson. I need help. I need my military."

"I don't want to leave you, but I'll go. Bring back help."

John did hug him them. "Go, then. Take the drokfo." He handed him a large knife. "I don't have much, sorry."

Carson hid the knife under his belt and followed John to where Teyla was circling the distracted drokfo round to face them again.

He couldn't believe he was seeing his two friends alive together again. He could not wait to hear their stories. John steadied Teyla as she dismounted and Carson grabbed her for a second's hug before deftly mounting the beast himself. Teyla squeezed his booted foot. "I have missed you." She spoke.

"As have I, you, my dear. It makes an old Scotsman very happy to see you both again I can tell you" He looked at John. "Are you sure you don't want me to stay here?"

John shook his head. "As much as I don't like to split us up, Carson, that storm had caused such chaos, now a perfect setting to escape. You will not be the only one leaving here I think, so will go relatively un-noticed."

Carson had to concede. "Aye, I know it. I'll go now. I think I remember where the 'jumper is…and, I still have the key so to speak!"

John clasped his arm. "Good. Glad you have the spare. We will see you soon. Keep your eyes peeled for danger. Wraith…or human!"

"Aye, lad, I will. Just…just be careful of that wound until you get home…and save the other two."

"I will. Go, now." John swatted the drokfo to make it go forward. He would have liked to have watched him for a good while but they had to bury themselves into the crowd and try and find Rodney and Ronon.

Shebo, on the other hand, found them first.

"John." He quietly called when he was near him so as not to startle the man.

John and Teyla both turned to the voice and grinned when the older man embraced them in turn.

"I am pleased to see you survived the storm. Did I see you with someone?"

John grinned, pulling skin again so winced. He put his hand to his face and nodded. "Our doc. Carson."

"I am delighted for you. He must have got a shock when he saw the two of you?"

"He did." Teyla held his tough-skinned hand. Happy to see he had also weathered the storm.

"You look contemplative, John."

John twisted his body to check they were safe at the moment. "I am, Shebo. When the force of the wind threw me backwards, I came across some water spilling out on the ground. Also... the surrounding area seemed older, somehow; decaying almost. Do you know anything more about the village that may be of use to me?"

The life and colour seemed to drain from Shebo's face then. So much so, John felt the need to grab his arm. "Shebo?"

"I am sorry, my friend. Time has moved on more than I realised. I had forgotten about the underground cavern with its own water supply. He always kept that part secret after the new walls were built around the crumbling wreck of a place we knew as children." Shebo squeezed his eyes shut for a moment until John shook the arm before letting it go. "What do you mean? You know of the bald-headed man more than you've told me before."

Shebo dipped his head before looking at each one in turn. He slowly nodded. "It's been so long, you see. We stopped mentioning him decades ago now, Aliass and I. Bra'taan I mean. He was your capturer…and torturer; although that chore he always got others to do for him." Shebo wetted dry lips. "He had greed as his slave. I am sorry I shall start again. Bra'taan is Aliass's brother."

"What?" John asked and Teyla screwed up her eyes. "Why did you not tell us before?" Teyla whispered. Upset that the beautiful Aliass could have a brother so evil.

"My dear, I am sorry. As I said, we simply tried to never see him again after, well …well, after he got in tow with riches and glory. And please do not think he is ANYTHING like my lovely, Aliass. The only thing I have ever noticed when they were younger was their mutual love of anything colourful or pretty – except Bra'taan took it so much further – he went for jewels and riches galore. He had the village as it is now, built to contain slaves that he sold for any trinket of a high value. As I said – greed became his owner."

John understood what Shebo was saying although it came as a shock, and he knew Teyla felt the same, but… "That was the past. You can tell us more later. But for now…the water? Will the wall there be unstable, do you think?"

"I would image for water to have appeared there; something has happened to it."

"And, the cavern you mentioned – it is large?"

"As I remember. Why?"

Teyla suddenly understood where John was going with his questions. "Shebo. There is more going on that what you think."

John nodded and grabbed his arm; bringing him in behind more swags of material to remain hidden. "The Games; as Teyla and I suspect, is really a cover up for the wraith to snatch as many people as they can find. I need to get as many hidden for when that time comes as possible. See what I am asking? Is the cavern secure enough to hide hundreds of people, Shebo?"

Shebo gulped. A cull of this side would be devastating for all his friends in family – and the entire area of clans and tribes. "It is big, from what I remember. But for everyone – hundreds of locals and visitors and participators in the Games – then, no…NO…it is not big enough." Shebo took John's face, cautiously avoiding his dirty bandaged cheek and eye. "I will ask them run to their homes."

John shook his head. "It might not be enough, Shebo. Word will have gotten back to the Wraith now that the Games have been cancelled; that the storm has ruined their plans of a bountiful harvest I fear their plans have just been brought forward. We need to at least try and hide some who are willing to believe us, in the cavern. How do we enter it?"

"John, John, you are acting like we can just stroll in and go there. It is impossible."

"Why, Shebo. We must try. These Wraith are death bringers!"

"It is only accessible via the Hall of Light..and years ago when Bra'taan claimed this place, suddenly only he could enter there, he never shared it with the rest of his family. Aliass and her siblings tried to warn him of his selfish ways and of the destructive path he was heading on, but he wouldn't listen – always more, more, and more until he was shunned."

"Would he listen now if he knew his life was in danger?"

Shebo saw through this question. "Are you asking me to bring Aliass into this?"

"It pains me to bring her here – especially now knowing what I know. But, Shebo…"

Shebo raised a hand. "I know. I will tell my sons to bring her." He made to run off, wiping his eyes of sudden moisture at the words of the past out in the air again, but John grabbed his robes. "One more thing. What did you mean by 'only he could enter'?"

Shebo shook his head and waggled his fingers in the air. "As I said, he likes the shiny, pretty things. One of them is a brooch he wears under his cloak. From what we gathered ourselves back then, this piece of jewellery allowed him access through the Hall of Light and into the caverns – where we believe he keeps all his stored up treasures like a spoilt child."

This new piece of information cheered John up slightly. It might be of Ancient origin. It might be that HE could gain entrance – somehow get as many as he could down there.

"We have to go." John clasped his hand and felt the strength and warmth of Shebo's as he returned the tradition. "To my sons, I will go now." With the severe winds still causing disturbances, Shebo's billowing robes joined the many that either walked or ran about aimlessly, wondering if the Games would continue or to just return home.

Teyla felt John's muscles stiffen and his body tense. She also knew by the way he slowly turned to look at her that she was not going to like what he said next. "No, John. NO! You cannot!" for she suddenly understood. "If you go in there he will recognise you, or one or some of the guards will. Let's allow Carson time to come back with Lorne and some Mar…"

"We might not have time for that, Teyla. I need you to go round everyone; try and explain that we believe these Games to be just a cover up for a Wraith cull, and that they need to escape here…the sooner the better."

"You would have me leave you, John?"

"No, ideally I would not." John almost shouted in desperation and sadness. "…this mission has been anything but ideal. We have never had to go through anything like it when we have been separated from each other so often…or even thought someone; or two others, dead. I hate that I am even asking you to do this. But I cannot risk us both being captured at this crucial time, and to be honest it's more than possible that I will be recognised quite quickly – especially by Bra'taan." John winced in pain but took Teyla's hand and kissed it. "Okay?" His shoulders slumped in exhaustion.

Teyla was not okay with this. She did not want John captured and possibly tortured by this mad man again, but what could she do. She obeyed his command as Military head of Atlantis – not as his love. A nod of the head and John pulled her forehead towards his. She felt his breath exhale for a moment and suddenly realised just how hard that had been for him to decide. She moved back in a single step. "Be careful, John. Go. See what you can do. As will I" She turned and fled into the crowd before he had a chance to stumble in his decision.

Watching her go was like a painful wrench to his chest. Like his heart had been ripped from its snug encasing. What plan was this of his? To keep separating his team. What was he thinking?

Taking a deep breath, and lowering his head slightly, John entered the confinement of the village once again. His mind whirling about the past when Bra'taan had gleefully had him punished by torture and poison - to the death almost. These damn birds – John knew he would be physically scarred from their beaks for life. When he got free from here, and had his hands on Ronon's blaster, he was going to shoot them as he found them; he was going to….

Aiden Ford/Chuaann stepped out casually in front of him. Purple swirled with the winds fingers around his entire body with a showy display of prominence. He chuckled and cocked his head to the side.

"You are a survivor, Sheppard. I'll grant you that."

John scoffed. "As are you, Lieutenant. So? What now? As I have no intentions of going with you…or your kind!"

"My kind… as you call them, will, as you have guessed no doubt, be here shortly. Shame the winds stopped the biggest Game of all. That of hide and seek!"

The twisted laugh that came out of the young man's mouth was, to John's ears, incredibly eerie and suddenly made him so depressed. He had failed this man on so many levels.

"Aiden?" He spoke softly so as not to spook the man.

"CHUAANN!" He screamed in his ear, stepping closer until he looked straight into his former commander's face. "The man you speak of no longer exists. He died years ago when you left him to his own devices – several times now!"

John gulped. He was facing a mad man.

Stand-off it was then.

Both, hushed, and loud voices milled around them as if they were the only two standing. John hungered to try and talk him down. Try and make him see sense. He was not that far gone surely, that his Earth upbringing would not rule over his Pegasus Wraith life. Yet, he did not have the privilege of time. His team was here all together in the same village – that he did know… and Carson was hopefully going to make it to the 'jumper or the 'gate. Plans were in place with Shebo. Next, Rodney and Ronon had to be freed…they also had to know Teyla and he lived. His mind whirled with these facts.

Strong hands gripping his elbows from behind were not entirely unexpected; he had just hoped for a little more time. Two other sets grabbed his biceps making it impossible to raise his arms in defence from the almighty slap that Chuaann then slammed into his unbandage side of face. His head whipped to one side and the ringing in his ears lessened what chance he had to stage a verbal complaint. He was disorientated from it and dully realised he was being pushed and pulled towards the Hall of Light. Ironically the destination he had in mind. He had just hoped to confront Bra'taan on his own terms and not as a returned visitor.

SGA SGA SGA

To be continued…