The next day, neither of them was in a talkative mood. John was just glad he didn't have to endure another one of Dave's rants. He was heartily sick of being the scapegoat for anything and everything. To some extent he was used to McKay's fear-and-terror tirades but Dave took it to a whole new level. And John's patience with his brother was wearing dangerously thin.

John was aching all over, he felt weak and bone-tired. The pounding headache didn't help, either. His leg felt stiff hurt with every movement. All he could manage was to limp a few steps. Not that Dave would notice, he was still sulking.

And John did feel guilty. He was the reason his brother was going through hell right now. But opposed to what Dave thought it wasn't really his fault. He couldn't have known this would happen, for Christ's sake.

John felt torn between the loyalty to his brother and that to the men he'd served with. Dave would never understand, maybe he really couldn't, but they were as much his family as Dave was.

In a way, John even resented his brother for being here. For being his weakness in a place where he couldn't afford any. For making this harder on him than it had to be. Alone, he could have outlasted this any day. (That was what he had told himself, anyway.) But injured and with Dave depending on him, he was far from on top of his game. And Gru and him both knew it.

His loved ones had always been his vulnerable spot, protecting others deeply ingrained in him. On an emotional level there were only wrong choices here. So he had to rely on logic and his gut feeling. And both told him right now, their only chance at getting out of this alive was not giving in.

He felt the responsibility for his brother weighing down on him. He had failed to keep him safe. He felt that he should have done something, anything to get them out by now. But in reality, he didn't even know how much longer he could keep going with daily torture, no food and only minimal water. And even worse, he feared that in a few days his leg would no longer carry his weight.

Not an ideal setting for an escape. Not that an opportunity would have presented himself. Those guys were better organized then he would have given them credit for in the beginning.

All in all, he was heartily sick of this place. He really hoped, that rescue would come sooner than later.


Once again, the sound of heavy boots announced their hosts. By now John knew the drill and wasn't really surprised when the guys appeared in Dave's cell. David, on the other hand, jumped when the door hit the wall with a bang and the bad guys filed in.

Suddenly all John felt for Dave was sympathy. His brother was clearly out of his depth and didn't know how to deal with any of this.

John's mouth went dry when he saw what today's special would be. Gru was happily brandishing a whip, one of those mean short things with multiple tails.

Dave's sharp intake of breath told him that he'd seen it, too.

"No, nononono, please!" Dave sounded horrified. He scrambled to get away, but to no avail. There were several heavies between him and the door. Quickly they had herded him to the rings in the wall and started to zip him in, this time facing the wall.

Dave was shivering big time and John really could relate. Whippings were brutal and messy and he could tell from experience how much they hurt. That being said, he would have gladly taken Dave's place, if that had spared his brother the experience.

John just had to try again. So he painfully pulled himself upright with a little help from the bars. "Look, it's me you want, right? Please let him be. Do to me what you want, but don't do this to him."

"Nice try, Colonel." Gru spared him a short glance and cocked his head. "Just tell me what I want to know and neither of you has to go through this. Are you ready to talk?"

John felt physically sick, but he didn't bother to answer. The other man saw it in his eyes. "Very well." And Gru focused on Dave again.

All John could do was watch helplessly, as Gru got ready to use the whip on his brother. He wanted to close his eyes, but he forced himself to watch, he owed at least that much to Dave. He heard the sickening impact on Daves back a split second before his scream. He tried to keep his face blank, carefully hiding his desperation. Each of Dave's screams hurt him deep down.

John knew that it would be his turn, soon. In a sick, twisted way he would be paying for his sins then, a righteous punishment for letting his brother down.

After about a dozen lashes, Dave lost consciousness and thankfully was taken down. John took one last look at his brother's limp form, then he tried to prepare himself for what was coming next. He took a deep breath and let the air out slowly. He really could have done without a getting a preview of what they were going to do to him. Sometimes it was better if you didn't know what was coming.

John took another deep breath and decided he might was well earn his whipping. So when the goons opened his door, obviously not expecting much of a fight, he charged at them and got in a few good punches, until his leg gave out and he collapsed to the floor.

Gasping from the pain, he tried to get up, but one of the goons knelt on his wounded leg and suddenly bright spots were dancing in John's vision. While he was still dazed, they kicked him a few times for good measure and then dragged him to the wall. He could have sworn they fastened the ties extra tight this time round.

"Don't you think, that whole whipping thing is a bit too cliché?", he ground out, not expecting an answer.

John braced himself against the cold concrete wall and still was taken by surprise, when the first lash hit his back hard. His shirt somewhat dampened the hits at first and he was able to pant through the pain. Then, the tails tore his shirt apart and hit his back directly. John gritted his teeth at the new onslaught of pain. He couldn't just give in now, he had to stay strong. Suck it up, Sheppard.

But he wasn't granted any respite. They didn't even ask any questions this time round. It seemed like they just wanted to inflict pain, probably to break him or just punish him for not cooperating. Every time the whip now hit an already raw welt, they opened up and started to bleed. When a lash hit a really bad spot, it finally ripped a scream from him. Through his misery he heard them laughing and joking.

When John couldn't hold himself up any longer, suddenly all his weight was hanging from his wrists. Every time the whip hit, it sent additional waves of pain through his shoulders and soon he was in absolute agony. His ears were ringing strangely and his sight started to blur, until he must have passed out for a while.

He came to, only to find he was still hanging from his wrists with his back, shoulders and wrists on fire. When he heard footsteps approaching, John slowly turned his head.

"Well, look who finally decided to wake up." Gru flashed his trademark sick grin as he stepped into view. He came close up. "All of a sudden, you don't seem so tough any more. Perhaps you'd like to spill the beans now."

John struggled to regain his footing and then put in the tremendous effort to turn his head further and cheerfully smirk at that SOB. He'd dealt with monsters from another galaxy. He had watched as they tortured his brother. He wouldn't budge to an ordinary asshole with an old-fashioned whip on good old earth. "Screw you!"

John's satisfaction was short-lived, though, as the reaction was instantaneous and a new flash of pain struck him across his shoulders. He felt blood dripping down his back and into his waistband. Once again, the whip hit his raw flesh with a wet tearing sound. He couldn't help but scream. He grudgingly had to admit, whipping might be somewhat cliché, but still it proved to be highly effective.

John's world had shrunk to the fiery agony on his back and his resolve not to say a word. The pitiful moans and hoarse screams echoing in his ears seemed to be coming from someone else.

When they were finally done with him, he was barely conscious. They cut him loose and he just crumpled to the ground.

John waited until the heavy door had been slammed shut, then he tried to get his composure back. He was incredibly thirsty, his throat parched, but crawling to the door was out of the question right now. He wouldn't make it that far.

But he really needed to see how Dave was doing, needed to be there, when his brother woke up. So he tried to crawl at least to the bars that divided their cells, he really did, but failed.

His back and leg were throbbing relentlessly and all he felt was bone-deep exhaustion, so he lay shivering on the cold, hard floor, until finally everything faded to black.


"Sir! We found something!" Mitchell stormed into Landry's office without knocking. "We think we know who took Sheppard."

The General looked up from a far too high stack of papers with a scolding look. He was about to say something about basic rules of good manners, but then decided to let it slide.

"Who is it? Any connection to Pegasus? Or is NIS acting up again? Did we miss some Rogue elements?" Hopefully this wouldn't turn into another crisis.

When Mitchell didn't answer right away, but looked somewhat sheepish, he had another thought. "Don't tell me, there's still another Goa'uld out there!" After Baal they had to deal with a few other remnants of that damn race, but it had been some time since the last incident occurred and he had hoped that they were long past that chapter.

But then Mitchell's lips started twitching. "No Sir. It's just… ", and he couldn't hold back a smirk. He cleared his throat. "No, actually it's just some small-time middle eastern terrorist holding a grudge." He threw a file with the picture of a mean-looking middle-aged guy on Landry's desk.

They had to dig deep to finally find a lead. More or less by accident they came across irregularities in some mission files from almost a decade ago. They had been accessed by a petty officer who shouldn't even have the clearance. He had not only snooped around but had also sold everything on one particular mission he could get his hands on. Sheppard hadn't been directly involved in the actual mission, but he had been the pilot of their assigned chopper.

With a little pressure on said petty officer and another sleepless night they made the connection to one Musaab Murizai, a member of a small Afghan terrorist cell. He had entered the US a year prior and had been misusing his organization's funds and facilities for his own vendetta. Luckily for SG-1, he hadn't been particularly thorough in covering his tracks. So once they had picked up the trail they could follow it straight to a facility in Virginia not that far from the Sheppard estate.

Moreover, their intel strongly suggested that there had been heightened activity on the property for the last few days. They still had no clue, why exactly Murizai would kidnap Sheppard of all people, but all the other intel fit together nicely and the chances were good, Sheppard would be held there.

Landry was delighted at the news. "Oh, excellent! I'll just call O'Neill, make it his problem. He even has a soft spot for Sheppard, as far as I remember. And even better, Homeland Security can do the clean-up regarding the terror cell, too."

Cam was a bit taken aback by Landry's enthusiasm, but then thought better of it and just asked: "Shouldn't there be some SGC personnel, just in case?"

Landry looked up at him. "Congratulations, Colonel! You've just earned yourself a trip to Virginia. Get yourself some wings, I'll give Jack a call." He paused. "Oh, and take Ronon with you. I Have the feeling he's going stir crazy down here."