Captives pt 3 Ronon and John R for violence
Series Title: The Thousandth Man Series
Story Title: Captives, pt 3
Author: ltcoljsheppard Email: ltcoljsheppard@yahoo.com
Characters: Ronon and Sheppard
Rating: R/NC-17 for descriptive violence
~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~
Ronon and Dr Viccor regarded each other silently, one man with many questions and the other holding none of the answers he was looking for, when a slight commotion sprang up outside the cell door.
"I need to see Doc Viccor! Marek's orders!" a voice demanded and a moment later the door swung open allowing entry to one of the elite members of Marek's force.
"What is it?" Ean asked, knowing the Satedan would appreciate any information as well. The guard grabbed Viccor's arm and pulled him a few feet to the side, speaking low and with his back to Ronon.
"Marek requests your services for..." he tossed a look over his shoulder and Ronon straightened a bit, listening, "... for one of the prisoners."
"Great," Doc replied, sounding totally annoyed, knowing what that request would mean. "So what's he done this time? Beaten the man half to death?" he asked, throwing a glance to the Satedan as he tried to lead the other man into divulging information.
"Not exactly. Maybe more than half, actually," the guard advised him.
Ronon shot the doctor a glaring look of concern. He knew it was Sheppard, he just knew it. Ean apparently knew it too, for he closed up his bag and patted Ronon on the shoulder as he turned back to the messenger.
"Well, what are you waiting for? Let's go!" The doctor ordered. He followed the guard out the door and just before he vanished he looked back at Dex with a small nod.
Ronon launched himself from the floor as soon as the door began to swing shut. He made it there just as the heavy metal barrier clanged shut and he tried to peer out the small barred window in hopes of seeing which way the doctor was taken, but he couldn't see more than three feet or so in either direction.
Ronon punched the solid door with a frustrated roar and proceeded to pace again in an attempt to pump up his fury. If this Marek had caused Sheppard any harm... he would pay, Ronon vowed. He will pay.
~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~
Marek studied his captive for a long moment and then a thought occurred to him. He marched over to the man's pack and equipment and rummaged through the heavy military style mesh vest. It had numerous pockets inside and out and finally he found what he was looking for.
He held the flat square device in his hand, recognizing it as technology of the Ancestors. It lay dormant and dark in his hand and Marek turned it over to look at it from every angle. There was no levers, buttons or switches to turn it on, whatever it was and he knew from the stories passed down that only one who carries the blood of the creators can activate the ancient technology.
Marek turned and looked at Sheppard silently then looked down at the device again. A second's thought and he stepped slowly toward the prisoner, unsure if the man was conscious or not since he hadn't moved or made a sound in the few moments that had passed since his last question.
"What is this?" he asked the prisoner, not that Sheppard could answer if he even wanted to. "This was working the other day. I saw it in your hand all lit up and now it is darkened as if drained."
Sheppard figured he must be referring to the life signs detector he'd had in his hand at the ruins. Rodney had one too.
Marek's eyes scanned John's body, his torso, his arms and up to his bloodied hands hanging from the shackles above his head. Turning the object in his hand, Marek stepped forward carefully and pressed the box to Sheppard's chest. It lit up bright with a soft humming noise indicating it'd been activated.
John's head lifted and he tried to shake the object off and succeeded. It went dark as Marek pulled it away, stepping back a short distance remembering Sheppard's knee being planted painfully into his body. He waited for the prisoner to stop struggling and moved back in again. Up close, face to face, Marek reached around to put his hand on Sheppard's back, pulling him forward and holding him in place as he pressed the device to his side again.
"You are Alteran," Marek accused him with a dark tone that warned of no good.
Accused of crimes against humanity, against humans of not just a country or a land, but of an entire galaxy. Accused of crimes committed in error - or on purpose, he'd yet to establish that - but nonetheless, crimes committed ten thousand years before his birth in a galaxy far, far away.
Sheppard responded to the threat the only way he was able. Steeling himself against the pain of a torn up shoulder, he pulled back and then threw his head forward, connecting his forehead with Marek's and sending the man reeling.
Marek shouted out in surprise and distress, doubling over he clutched his head as his vision went black and dizziness overtook him for those few seconds after the hit. John took advantage of knowing his opponent's reaction to such a hit, as he'd seen it many times - had even been on the receiving end of a head strike.
Sheppard reached up and wrapped his hands around the chains, pulling his weight up off the floor with a muffled shout of blinding pain. With great effort, and the last bit of strength he had he was sure, he pulled his legs up high and wide, closing them together blindly he caught his torturer between his legs.
Shifting his position enough as Marek began to react to his assault, John was able to grip the man's neck between his knees, pulling him in close and wrapping his legs tight around the man in a strangle hold. He crossed his ankles for extra leverage to work from, listening to Marek choke and gag as he squeezed.
His shoulder screamed and his weight bore down on it more as his tingling hand lost strength and loosened from the chain. John roared behind the gag, blinded and bound and otherwise helpless, this was his last shot for survival. Do or die.
Something slammed into his head. Then again. Clubs, he realized. He'd forgotten they weren't alone in the room and Marek's supporters were coming to his rescue. John took the hits, as hard as they were, he squeezed his knees together as hard as he could but it wasn't enough as he was battered senseless and Marek wriggled free.
Jumping out of the prisoner's grasping legs, Marek's anger flaired and he stormed forward, pushing his men away viciously. Drawing his knife from its sheath at his hip, Marek stepped up close to the prisoner and pushed the blade into the man's side. One inch, that was all. Enough to make the captive freeze as his breath was stolen from him in a sudden and sharp pain.
"NNNNNGGGGGHHH!!!!!" Sheppard called out at the intense pain of the penetrated blade.
Marek held him there, face to face, his hot breath washed over Sheppard's face as he held the prisoner in an almost intimate embrace. John grunted and gasped for air then struggled against the man's hold trying to push away from the offending instrument of pain, but Marek held him there, close to him.
His men watched in silent shock as he slowly, so slowly pushed the blade deeper. Sheppard screamed behind his gag as he could feel every agonizing inch of the blade separating tissue and tearing through his body at a mercilessly slow pace. He gasped for air as the blade was maneuvered upward, under his ribcage, tearing his diaphragm.
A quick stab and release would've been alot easier to handle, but this excruciatingly slow penetration was inhuman. Even the other soldiers in the room held their own breaths as they watched. That was probably the cruelest action they'd ever witnessed from Marek, or anyone else for that matter.
Sheppard's eyes rolled over white under the blindfold and he began to lose consciousness. His head lolled backwards as the pain sapped his strength and his legs gave out. Once his prisoner had gone completely limp in his arms, Marek pushed the blade all the way in until the hilt and his hand were drenched in the man's blood.
"Marek!!" a voice bellowed out and the torturer turned to see the physician he'd summoned standing in the doorway. He stepped back, away from the prisoner, withdrawing the blade smoothly as he did so.
Ean stared wide-eyed in fury and horror at what he'd just seen. It wasn't just the stabbing either that had shocked him but the manner in which it was doled out. Marek, stood before him as if in shock, having literally been forced out of what had appeared to be a sort of euphoric trance. Marek looked over at him as if stunned himself and unsure of what just happened.
"Get him out of here!" Dr. Viccor ordered, gesturing at him with a wide sweep of his arm. Two of Marek's guards moved forward quickly to hasten their leader from the room and away from the doctor's infuriated ire.
Two of the stunned guards remained in the room as Ean moved to the prisoner quickly. He couldn't believe what he was looking at. The bruised and broken body of an innocent man hanging before him. His mind tried to wrap around the entire scene but he couldn't grasp it.
Marek had wanted this man to pay for crimes of a people who no longer existed. The shackles kept the prisoner from being able to defend himself. The blindfold kept him from seeing what was coming, so he couldn't even ready himself mentally if not physically. The gag holding back the man's shouts and screams but also making it impossible for him to answer any of Marek's accusations.
"This is not justice!" Ean shouted at the guards as he pressed his hand against the deep wound under the man's ribcage. "This is vengeance! This is revenge! And on an innocent man!"
The two guards looked terrified for this was more than they'd ever expected as well and now they were left to face the doctor's anger for a crime committed by another. They'd come full circle hadn't they? The two men exchanged repentent looks.
"He is not Alteran!" Ean told them. "He is Annunaki! The second coming of their kind... foretold to return to undo what his ancestors had done! Marek's obsession with revenge might've sealed our fate this time for good!" The doctor was beside himself. "We need to bring him back to his own people!" the good doctor ordered the men. "They will be able to save him. Go get his friend!"
"We can't do that," one of the terrified guards replied. "Marek would kill us if we let them go."
"Cowards!" Ean shouted. "You! Come here!" he said to the man closest to him. "Hold this here, keep pressure on the wound! Do not let up!"
The guard stepped forward and took over applying pressure to the gaping hole in Sheppard's side. The doctor bent down and retrieved a handful of sterile dressings from his bag and shoved them under the man's hand. "Hold that there!"
The guard nodded and did as he was told, then looked shocked and terrified as the doctor ran out of the room. The young man looked at the covered face of the tortured man in front of him... and knew at that very moment that his nights of restful sleep had just ended.
~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ *
Ean ran down the maze of darkened corridors toward the cell where the Satedan was being kept. He passed by many empty cells as well as rooms occupied by Marek's soldiers and guards who were relaxing or taking a break from their duties.
Marek, who'd been taken to a quiet room not far from the torture room saw the good doctor race by the doorway. Realizing his prisoner was once again unattended, Marek broke free from the men around him and ran back to his captive.
Entering the room, he looked at the guard who was holding the bloodied bandage to his side. The young soldier simply blinked back at his leader with wide eyes, torn between two ideals now, his military responsiblities as defined by Marek and his moral duty.
"Move!" he ordered the young man.
"Marek --"
"Move... away... from him," Marek growled. His voice was dripping with venom, but his eyes sparkled bright, with an insane joy. The younger man shook his head as he looked behind him, hoping Marek kept his distance until the doc returned.
~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~
Ronon lay on his cot, staring at the ceiling when he heard a familiar voice shouting outside in the corridor, ordering the door to his cell be opened. He sat up quickly and lunged to his feet just as the door swung open and Dr. Viccor forced his way in, putting his weight against the door.
"Come quickly!" Ean waved frantically for him to follow. Ronon ran to him and exited the cell behind the doctor.
The guards in the corridor startled as the large man appeared in their midst. They reached for their weapons, ordering him to stop and Ronon moved. He landed a punch to the first one and kicked out at the second. With both men stunned he went in for the killing blows and ended the skirmish in a matter of seconds.
He leaned down and wretched a gun from its holster and stood up. Turning to face the doctor, his long dreadlocks whipping about his head, Ronon pressed his hand to the doctor's back and pushed him along quickly.
"Take me to my friend," he said and the doctor nodded, pointing down the corridor as they moved quickly.
"You must take him and leave this place. Marek will kill him if you don't," Ean advised him.
"Don't worry, Doc. We're out of here just as soon as you get me to him. Is he alright?" Ronon asked, even as he focused his attention to every corner and shadow along the way.
"No, I'm afraid he isn't. You must return him to his people or he will not survive," Viccor informed him somberly. Ronon's head snapped around and he glared at the doctor. The intensity in his eyes was a mixture of anger and worry, but the anger wasn't for the good doctor.
The further down the corridors they moved, the more resistance they came up against. Ronon had taken out seven guards and collected a nice array of guns and knives along the way. As they turned the last corner, the doctor ran forward, pointing at a closed door at the end of the corridor to the left. "There! Your friend is in there!"
Ronon peered into the last rooms before his destination and with a skipping hop to change his pace, he raced headlong down the corridor with a loud roar. He hit the solid door squarely and it exploded inward, snapping the hinges and shattering the locking mechanism.
Everyone inside jumped and turned toward him. Marek was standing in front of Sheppard and a young soldier who seemed to be putting himself between his friend and the man wishing to do him more harm. Ronon took only a second to take in the sight of John hanging there like a grotesque puppet for the amusement of these men.
His fury boiled over and his vision blurred with the intensity of a rage that he'd never experienced. Even with all the traumas and injustices he'd faced in his own life, they seemed to culminate into this very moment and Ronon was blined by his own fury. Everything in the room turned the shade of red as the Satedan let loose an impassioned savagery on the men inside.
One after another they fell, some screaming and shouting out in terror or indignation and others silently and with their own sense of valor. Marek was the last to be taken out and Ronon held him on his knees, his hand wrapped around the man's throat. Marek clawed at the vice-like grip around his windpipe as he stared up at the enraged man standing over him.
Ronon turned his head and looked at Sheppard. His eyes followed the form from the scuffed boots up to the bruised and battered body, the blood soaked dressing the doctor was now pressing to John's side. His beautiful green eyes studied Sheppard's covered and swollen face; his lips chapped from dehydration and split wide from abuse in a bloody mess; his wrists torn apart from the shackles and more blood drying down the length of his arms to a dislocated shoulder badly torn from its socket...
Ronon looked back down at Marek. He clenched his jaw as rage threatened to build into a volcanic eruption and just as that vengeful rage peaked, Ronon twisted his grip just enough and a loud gasp came from the torturer's throat, followed by wet gurgles.
Ean snapped his attention from the prisoner to the other two men, in time to see Marek fall over dead with his throat torn out. Ronon turned toward Viccor slowly, still holding Marek's voice box in his bloodied fingers. He looked from the doctor to Sheppard as if traumatized by what he saw there.
"Take him," Ean told him. Keeping his hands on the wound, he stepped back a bit to let the giant know he was not the threat. Ronon stepped up to them and stared at Sheppard's limp form. "You need to take him out of here. I heard the guards talking earlier... rumors of your friends arriving in ships through the Great Ring. Yes?"
Ean tried to prompt Ronon to move with the hope of rescue already here. He grabbed the great man's arm and shook him a bit. "Your friends have come. Take him!"
Ronon nodded and Ean placed the large hand on the wound. He fetched a roll of bandaging and secured the bloodied dressings so that the Satedan wouldn't have to worry about that during their escape. Once that was done, Ean simply kept his hands on Sheppard long enough for Ronon to reach up and break the chains that held his friend captive.
Ronon wrapped John in his arms and just held his broken body tight to him as his whole body shook with grief and rage. He pressed John's head to his shoulder and angry tears spilled down the warrior's cheeks. "ARRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRGHHHHH!!!!" he roared in anguish at what they'd done to his friend. His best friend... his brother.
"Take him!" Ean urged, feeling remorse and pity for the pair. "Go! Quickly!"
He practically pushed and pulled Ronon to get the large man moving, but once he'd started down the path for freedom with Sheppard in his arms, there was no stopping him. The great Satedan steamrolled over anyone who was stupid enough to step in his path.
Holding John to him with one strong arm he dispatched all enemies with the other swinging. Empty handed or with a blade or gun, it didn't matter and by the time Ronon made it to the open field where the Gate stood he couldn't even remember how he'd gotten there or how John's inert body became draped over his shoulders.
Marek's surviving troops were right behind them, unaware of the death of their leader and still fearing his reprimand should the prisoners actually escape their grasp. They chased the Lanteans for over a mile and Ronon simply ran. Running was something he'd had seven years of experience with. Saved from that life on the run by the very man he held in his arms at this moment.
~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~
Above the landscape, Lorne was making a large lazy circle as their sensors had indicated a large structure below them that they couldn't get a visual on. He suspected that it might be underground, but Rodney countered with an estimation that it may be partially underground but the forest canopy was inhibiting their ability to locate the surface structure.
The two Jumper pilots were heading back toward the Gate in order to land the crafts and investigate further on foot now that they had a bead on a possible location. As Jumper Two swung around in a wide arc, the HUD popped up, indicating life signs below... and two of them emitted signals that reflected the subcutaneous transmitters of their missing men.
"We've got 'em!" Lorne exclaimed over the radio. "They're in trouble!" he added.
"Of course, they're in trouble!" Rodney shouted back. "Where do you think they've been for the past three days? On a picnic?"
"They've got a whole platoon on their asses. Let's get down there. They're almost to the Gate! Dialing home! Jumper Six, get down there and give them ground cover fire. I'll stay on the high side for Drone coverage if needed," Lorne ordered to Sgt. Stackhouse. Then turned his attention to Atlantis as soon as the Gate opened. "Atlantis, this is Lorne. We have two MIA's coming in hot, have a medical team standing by!"
Landing Jumper Six about thirty yards from the activating Ring, Stackhouse positioned the cloaked Jumper so the rear hatch was facing the oncoming runners. He'd underestimated Ronon's speed though and by the time the Jumper was settled on the ground Ronon was halfway between it and the Gate.
He looked to the skies, realizing the only way that Gate had dialed with nobody standing at the DHD was by Puddle Jumper. Lorne deativated his cloak as he saw Ronon searching. The sight of the Jumper covering them from above gave Ronon a surge of hope. They were going to make it... their friends had come for them. Nobody gets left behind.
The hatch settled in position, fully open, just as the enemy troops closed in on their position. Rodney ran down the ramp with a banshee yell and opened fire on the platoon chasing down his friends. The sight of Sheppard as Ronon ran past their landing craft made McKay want to toss his breakfast with the sour sensation that overtook him.
Dr. McKay mowed down half a dozen of the armed soldiers in his own grief-stricken rage, before the Marines onboard the craft joined him to take care of the rest. Once they'd taken care of the threat, the familiar sound of something passing through the event horizon caught Rodney's attention. He ran around the Jumper to see for himself that his friends were safe just as Lorne's voice came over his headset. "They're through. They're home, Dr. McKay."
Rodney slumped in relief, hanging his head and nearly dropping the empty weapon he held in his hands. "Thank God," he muttered to the powers that be.
"Let's go!" Lorne's voice drew him back to the present.
"Yes, yes! Let's go!" Rodney ordered as he ran back up the ramp.
~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~
"Drop the shield! Medical Team to the Gateroom!" Sam ordered. "Security teams!"
Colonel Carter trotted down the main staircase toward the activated Stargate as security teams poured onto the platform to take up positions of defense and cover. Approximately a minute and a half from Lorne's transmission Ronon ran through to their side with Sheppard draped over his shoulders.
"Help me," he said, scanning all the people staring at him. He knelt down carefully to place Sheppard on the floor and a couple of the Marines came over to ease the unconscious man off the Satedan's shoulders.
"Oh my god," Sam remarked in shock at seeing the condition of her Second-in-Command.
The emergency medical response team ran onto the platform with a stretcher and equipment but the sight of the colonel's condition prompted them to choose not to hover for preliminary treatment. The same two Marines helped the medical team lift Sheppard onto the gurney and they immediately took off with him back to the infirmary.
Ronon stood up shakily and tried to push through the crowd to follow. Sam wasn't about to try to stop him.
"Escort Ronon to the infirmary," she told the security team. Just in case the big man went down on the way there, he wouldn't be alone and unattended. He didn't look anywhere near as bad as Sheppard, but one could never tell what he'd endured during the time they were unaccounted for. "Clear the Gate platform!" Sam ordered and all personnel stepped off the edge of the daiz. "Jumper Two you are clear for re-entry," she informed Major Lorne.
Jumper Six was the first to arrive and didn't hesitate to ascend to the Jumper Bay above to allow Jumper Two to enter behind them. Once both ships were settled in their respective spots, the hatches lowered and Rodney, Teyla and Lorne all ran from their shuttles and straight to the infirmary.
* ~ * ~ *
When they reached the medical bay Teyla spotted Ronon pacing back and forth in front of curtained off area. One of the nurses was trying in vain to get him to sit down so she could check him over. He simply brushed her off repeatedly, saying he was fine and asking about Sheppard.
"I want to be in there!" Ronon was demanding.
"You can't go in there right now, I'm sorry," the nurse told him yet again.
"Ronon?" Teyla called to him and he spun on his heel and moved to her. She grabbed him by the arms and looked up at him before the two friends embraced. "John?" she asked, having seen his nightmare through the main window of the jumper.
"They won't let me in," he told her then he locked his gaze on Rodney. "He's not good."
Rodney swallowed hard, his sorrow clearly written all over his face. Lorne rested a heavy hand on McKay's shoulder in encouragement. "You did real good out there, Dr. McKay. Just like Rambo."
Teyla turned slightly in Ronon's embrace and held her hand out to Rodney. He stared at her for a moment and then stepped forward to take her hand. She pulled him in tight to them and the three teammates clung to each other for strength and support.
Lorne watched with a sad smile, stepping up to lend his own strength to the team, resting his hands on Teyla's back and Rodney's shoulder. As Sheppard's second in the chain of command for the military faction of the expedition, Lorne also felt the hit.
Nobody left the infirmary and hours later Dr. Keller came out to inform them that Sheppard had come through surgery for the stab wound with flying colors. "He's extremely weak though," she told them. She had a wonderfully soft voice that seemed to help cushion any bad news she had to deliver to friends and family. "He's in critical condition, but holding his own for now," she told the team.
"Can we see him?" Ronon asked.
"You should get some rest too," she told him. "You're not doing him any good wearing yourself down."
"Can we see him?" Ronon repeated as if she hadn't spoken.
"In a little bit," she acquiesced. "Carson's with him now. He'll let you know when."
~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~
Another twenty minutes had passed before Dr. Beckett appeared before them. Teyla was sitting on a couch, resting her head upon Ronon's chest, his arm draped over her shoulders. Most of the team had begun to doze and Ronon was sound asleep under Teyla's head when Lorne's voice stirred her and Rodney.
"Hey, Doc," Evan greeted him and stood up. Teyla and Rodney also stood up and having her warmth and weight moved from his side, Ronon's eyes opened to see everyone standing in front of him with Carson. He sprang to his feet quickly and Teyla put her hands on his belly to settle him.
"Carson... how is he?" Rodney asked first.
"He's resting at the moment," Beckett informed them in his quiet brogue. "With great care we were able to remove the blindfold and the gag. Both were pretty much cemented in place by dried fluids. Scans show he has a skull fracture and a major concussion. Both eyes are swollen, the left is swollen shut, the right has a deep laceration that looks like it was repeatedly opened by beatings but he should be able to open it. Whether he can see out of it when he does is anyone's guess though.
"The condition of that gag they used was atrocious, the smell of it alone..." he caught himself before painting too gruesome a picture for Sheppard's friends. "It was tied pretty tight and the constant dampness of the material against his face has split the sides of his mouth raw. We've applied an antibiotic salve and he should keep it on for comfort as much as cleanliness. I suspect each of you can help keep an eye on that..." Each one of them nodded and Carson knew they could be expected to do much more as needed.
"Can we see him?" Ronon asked again, sounding incredibly exhausted and Carson figured the only way he'd get the big man to rest was to let them see Colonel Sheppard.
"Aye. I'd say one at a time but I doubt --" he trailed off as all three of them moved swiftly toward the cordoned off section of the infirmary. "Right." Carson offered Lorne a wee smile and the two men followed the team to John's bedside.
Teyla stood beside the bed to one side, her expression full of pain and empathy for her team leader - her friend. "Oh, John..." she said, it was all she could say and she carefully scooped his hand into hers, covering it gently with the other.
Rodney simply stared in horror at Sheppard, finding it wholly difficult to see John beneath the bruised and swollen mass. He was attached to all kinds of monitors that sounded off with hauntingly slow beeps. There was a very large bandage wrapped around his belly and lower portion of his ribcage. His entire body was black and blue and his shoulder looked like it'd been torn off and re-attached.
Carson allowed them to stay about ten minutes before ushering them out again. All but Ronon, who refused to leave altogether. Once Teyla had shifted her position away from the bedrail Ronon had moved in, dropping down in the chair beside the bed he put both hands through the rail and held onto John's hand and wrist.
Dr. Beckett tried a few times, asking him to go lie down, but Ronon didn't even acknowledge him. The large man simply stared at his friend, his brilliant green eyes grief-stricken, until Carson finally lowered the railing for him and he finally lay his head down on John's arm. Carson watched him for a moment before deciding both men were fine as is and he left Ronon to rest as peacefully as he could at Sheppard's side.
~ * ~ * ~ *~ * ~
The Thousandth Man
Rudyard Kipling
One man in a thousand, Solomon says,
Will stick more close than a brother.
And it’s worth while seeking him half your days
If you find him before the other.
Nine hundred and ninety-nine depend
On what the world sees in you,
But the Thousandth Man will stand your friend
With the whole round world agin you.
’Tis neither promise nor prayer nor show
Will settle the finding for thee.
Nine hundred and ninety-nine of ’em go
By your looks, or your acts, or your glory.
But if he finds you and you find him,
The rest of the world don’t matter;
For the Thousandth Man will sink or swim
With you in any water.
You can use his purse with no more talk
Than he uses yours for his spendings,
And laugh and meet in your daily walk
As though there had been no lendings.
Nine hundred and ninety-nine of ’em call
For silver and gold in their dealings;
But the Thousandth Man he’s worth ’em all;
Because you can show him your feelings.
His wrong’s your wrong, and his right’s your right,
In season or out of season.
Stand up and back it, in all men’s sight-
With that for your only reason!
Nine hundred and ninety-nine can’t bide
The shame or mocking or laughter,
But the Thousandth Man will stand by your side
To the gallows-foot-and after!
http://community.livejournal.com/a tlantisfic/287727.html">Part 1
http://community.livejournal.com/a tlantisfic/287338.html">Part 2
http://community.livejournal.com/a tlantisfic/287117.html">Part 3