FIC: Sins Of The Father Chapter 4
Title: Sins Of The Father Chapter 4
Author: joaniexjony
SINS OF THE FATHER
CHAPTER 4
Sleep wouldn't come despite his exhaustion, as Rodney couldn't get the picture of John, no…Brantum Forant out of his mind.
He'd never met any of Sheppard's relatives, but had seen a picture of John's dad, Patrick, in the business section of a newspaper someone brought back from vacation. To his mind, Sheppard didn't look much like his old man; Patrick Sheppard appeared to be fuller faced, stocky even, so he guessed John must have taken his chiselled jaw and hazel eyes off his mom. John was a real private guy about his family, but there was a framed picture of a pretty woman, hidden almost from sight, behind the mass of paperwork strewn all over his desk. However, despite the fact they were friends, he still didn't feel comfortable prying into his past, so he'd never asked who it was.
Still, after what Marcen had told him, his head was buzzing. Up until now, all of the evidence they'd discovered showed the Ancients left this galaxy 10,000 years ago. Except if what Marcen said was true, Brantum Forant appeared to have been an Ancient who carried out genetic experiments on the people who lived on the planet, killing hundreds, just over fifty years ago. It was hard to believe, but was it possible this man could still be alive somewhere, possibly living on Earth? If so, with Atlantis under water during all of that time, how could he have got there, and if he had, could Forant be John's relation…his father maybe?
Even as the notion entered his head, Rodney couldn't believe it. Neither could he believe Marcen's mother abducted John just to exact revenge. He could understand her anger against Forant, her need for retribution against the evil man who had killed so many. But to persecute Sheppard just because he bore a strong resemblance to the serial killer, in his mind was just plain nuts.
His head was pounding. What the hell was he going to do? Sheppard couldn't answer any of her questions, not those ones at any rate, and he knew John would rather die than tell her he came from Earth. In any case, Sheppard wouldn't have a clue what she was talking about, unless of course he'd been a really, really good actor all these years, concealing the fact his daddy was an honest to goodness, living, breathing Ancient.
Everyone on base knew Sheppard possessed the strongest natural gene around, was this why? Although in the grand scheme of things as far as Rodney was concerned it still didn't matter. John Sheppard was his friend, and if that guy was his dad, Sheppard still shouldn't have to pay for the atrocities Forant carried out.
Rodney felt sick at the thought of what this man, a supposed hero to the community had done. Brantum Forant arrived in Tynos nearly sixty years ago, appearing out of thin air in a flying craft, declaring the planet as his new home. Soon after, he had quickly became the saviour of the people, using technology never seen or heard of before, to help the simple farming community build the impressive structures still standing in the city.
Next, Forant taught them how to develop their resources and within a few short years, Tynos changed from being a backward agricultural planet into an industrial power. Factories sprang up, which enabled them to produce their own power, in addition to manufacturing all types of goods for export. Their society blossomed, people became prosperous for the first time in their history, so therefore when Brantum asked for volunteers to help him develop a genetic weapon against the Wraith, the people had been more than happy to oblige.
In the beginning, everything had been fine. People came and went through his lab but always came home, seemly unaffected by their experience. Gradually though, reports of missing persons made their way to the militia. First it was the poor, those who lived rough, the people nobody missed. Shortly afterwards, concerned relatives began to report loved ones who'd disappeared, many of those connected with the experiments, and several who weren't. Then finally, just as the militia called for a full investigation, the normally extrovert scientist vanished, as if into thin air.
No one suspected any wrong doing at first. His grateful followers just confused and sorry he had left so suddenly without saying a word…until the first body was found. A young militia woman, who had been desperately searching for her missing brother went looking deep into the wilderness on the outskirts of town. There, hidden under the tall oak trees she discovered hundreds of shallow graves, each filled with grotesque creatures, each with a bullet through it's skull, one of whom was wearing a pendant she recognised…
A subsequent search of his lab produced more questions than answers, with no clue as to why the bodies were more beast than man. Everything gone apart from some papers, a few metal gadgets, and a silver revolver. Worse still, despite carrying out numerous searches since, most of the missing were never found. It wasn't until Marcen stumbled upon the bracelet, which in turn provided access to this underground facility; their bodies were eventually discovered lying scatted amongst the endless tunnels.
McKay guessed Forant had been trying to develop a retrovirus, probably not dissimilar to the one which almost turned Sheppard into a bug. Nevertheless, one thing was clear. Rodney now realised there was no way for Atlantis to find them. Their transponders were useless this far underground and even if they weren't, the metallic properties of the rock would have blocked their signal anyway. Furthermore, no one but Marcen and his people knew this place even existed. Therefore, it was now up to him, Rodney McKay, to save Sheppard and get them both out of here while John was still alive. Besides, it was his turn…
ooooOoooo
Sheppard couldn't remember being brought into the lab or being stripped to his boxers. Only regaining awareness as he was slammed against the sharp rock wall, too groggy to resist as thick metal bands were secured around his neck, chest, wrists, upper arms, thighs and ankles.
"Sheppard. If that's what your name is, do you want a drink?"
John glared straight into his eyes, there wasn't anywhere else he could look, as his neck was locked into place so he could only see straight ahead.
"Last chance…and don't bother giving me that look. If you refuse it now, they'll be nothing more until tomorrow. So, take it or leave it, it's up to you."
He really wanted to tell him where to shove it, but knew he couldn't afford the price of pride right now. Besides, he could live without food for a few days, but water…not so much.
It was only a drop, and he wanted the ocean. His throat was still parched, but even as the cup was removed from his lips, he wondered if it had been too much. Nausea washed through him. Probably a result of the drugs, the pain, or the fact he hadn't eaten in a while, except throwing up wasn't an option aware in this position, he would choke on his own vomit.
Along with the slamming of the door came the darkness. John initially was surprised there was a door. Since he'd been here he hadn't seen any, just gaps in the rock so why was there one here? He didn't need to be told everyone was gone, for a presence would need a light and there was none. Only inky blackness…nothing for him to see…not even the rock walls surrounding him.
He shivered, the freezing cold seeping into his bones, spiking the lingering ache which still wouldn't quit. Sheppard had been in worse prisons, but not many. Restraints were nothing new to him. Manacles, rope, he'd been secured by all types over the years, but these, they were something else, nothing would move. John couldn't see the rigid bands but felt them tight against his body, keeping his head straight, his torso erect and his arms clamped high above his head. Up until now, they had been careful of his leg, but now his legs were firmly clamped against the wall, the sharp edge of the metal band was rubbing painfully against his wound.
Over the years, he'd been beaten up a few times, quite a few. Also drugged, electrocuted, burned and even whipped a couple of times. They all hurt like hell, some more than others, but usually the sadistic bastards who carried out the torture were men…until now.
He had to hand it to her. The evil bitch possessed a natural talent for inflicting pain, plus a surprising knack at sussing out a guys weakness. Right from the start she'd kept him securely restrained, even when he was wounded unable to pose any kind of threat. He thought he'd managed to conceal his panic from her when he was secured to the table, as being restrained, especially that level of confinement, was the only thing which really freaked him out.
John knew his weakness, it was the whole loss of control thing he'd had since a kid. It first started when his dad locked him in his room. The frustration, fear of being trapped, led him to become quite the escape artist, although it did cost him a broken leg falling from his second story bedroom window. Even so, being free again had been worth it. To this day, although no one liked being in pain, he could usually tolerate whatever was thrown at him. But being unable to fight or flee, unable even to move…always scared him shitless. How she knew, he couldn't guess, unless of course this was the way she treated all her enemies. Nevertheless he was going to be in this position, clamped to the wall for quite a while, so he didn't have any other choice other than to suck it up.
ooooOoooo
After a while, John was no longer sure of the passage of time. He couldn't even be sure if he was awake or asleep anymore. All he knew was in his thoughts, his dreams, he was back in Atlantis. It was warm there, and he was heading down to the canteen to meet his friends, ease the gnawing hunger tearing a hole in his belly. Later, satisfied, he was piloting the jumper, flying high above the city, soaring though the clouds into the deep blue sky…happy, laughing with his friends as they snarked with each other in the background.
Suddenly, a harsh dry cough sent his muscles into spasms and Atlantis was gone, disappeared, and his dreams were shattered. He was still there, alone in the dark, the tight oppressive bands relentlessly locking him in place, unable to escape the razor sharp rock digging into his flesh. Except now, that pain, even the ache in his leg was gone. His body was numb and he could feel nothing…not even the beat of his heart.
How long had he been here? Was Rodney even still alive? Anxiety threatened to engulf him as he worried about his friend, angered at their situation, frustration at being unable to escape, to rescue McKay, tearing him apart.
His heart started to race, so it was still there then, and he forced his fingers, toes to move, anything to prove his body still worked… he even had a body…he was still alive. Then a crack of light blinded him as the door creaked opened and he saw the blurred outline of a man come towards him.
"It's time for a comfort break, Sheppard, Jusana's orders. Though as far as I'm concerned you can rot. I'm going to release you from your restraints and give you ten minutes, but don't try anything funny or I'll shoot…understand?
Funny? It was freaking hilarious this guy thought he was capable of moving, let alone escaping. With the bands removed John fell to the ground, but he couldn't feel anything, nothing worked. Then the man grabbed him, and dragged his unco-operative body towards a bucket at the corner, but all he could do was lie there, groaning, when suddenly sharp spikes of pain ripped through him, as numb limbs spring back to life.
He was shaking uncontrollably, barely able to do what was required, and he desperately wanted to know how long he'd been there, strapped to the wall. Except he wouldn't give them the satisfaction, wasn't going to let them know how much he hated this, them. Even when the guard went to stead the cup, unsteady in his trembling hands, he turned away, a small act of defiance to send the message…I'm not beaten yet.
"Who do you think you are, to dare turn your back on me?"
John could hardly move, but he struggled round to glare at the big angry man standing over him. "I'm an innocent man, being treated like scum. So what the hell does that make you…Argh."
The sharp bite of a leather switch tore into his shoulder, sending him sprawling, as it slashed into his tender flesh again and again. Fiery pain exploded over his back, his chest, his arms, the persecution constant and relentless, as he cowered on the floor unable to escape. Blood trails snaked from his skin soaking his boxers, pooling round his body, leaving him wet, sticky, the taste of metal in the air. Then he saw the guard smiling, relishing his abuse so he closed his eyes, choked back a cry and waited for his misery to end. Suddenly, just as quickly as the vicious assault started it finished, leaving him shuddering, groaning in pain.
"To answer your question, Sheppard, my name is Luthame, the guard in charge of your care. In future you will treat me with respect, and if you ever look at me that way again, I will kill you," John yelped as a swift kick to the ribs, forced him on his back as a large boot pressed down upon his chest. "That's for Sholana Gratum."
He was in agony as the guard hauled him up, and half carried half dragged him back to his prison. Barely conscious as Luthame threw him hard against the wall, before securing the tight unyielding bands back into place. John swore through gritted teeth as his muscles protesting against their rigid stance. His body aching as the sharp metal bands pressed into his newly ripped flesh and cracked ribs, as the sharp pain in his chest was unmistakable; he'd been down that road too many times before. John saw the guard staring at him, watching for a reaction, but he made himself look straight ahead, ignoring the man who committed this atrocity until he heard the door slam once more, only then allowing hot tears of pain and frustration to fall down his face.
He started to shiver uncontrollably, but this time he welcomed the cold. Knowing, when the shaking stopped, blessed numbness would follow killing his pain. Part of him realised that probably wasn't a good thing, and he couldn't survive like this for long. Still, John knew he still hadn't told her what she wanted to know so he clung to the hope, Jusana wouldn't let him die…at least not yet.
Cold addled the brain, made it sluggish, but he made himself remember the name…Brantum Forant. Who the hell was this guy anyway, and why did she think he was him? Nothing about this abduction made sense…nothing. For the first time in a long while John felt a strong sense of foreboding. He was used to being beaten, tortured for information. But even if he was able or willing to answer her questions, first of all he needed to know the answers and for once in his life he just hadn't a clue…
ooooOoooo
TBC
Author: joaniexjony
SINS OF THE FATHER
CHAPTER 4
Sleep wouldn't come despite his exhaustion, as Rodney couldn't get the picture of John, no…Brantum Forant out of his mind.
He'd never met any of Sheppard's relatives, but had seen a picture of John's dad, Patrick, in the business section of a newspaper someone brought back from vacation. To his mind, Sheppard didn't look much like his old man; Patrick Sheppard appeared to be fuller faced, stocky even, so he guessed John must have taken his chiselled jaw and hazel eyes off his mom. John was a real private guy about his family, but there was a framed picture of a pretty woman, hidden almost from sight, behind the mass of paperwork strewn all over his desk. However, despite the fact they were friends, he still didn't feel comfortable prying into his past, so he'd never asked who it was.
Still, after what Marcen had told him, his head was buzzing. Up until now, all of the evidence they'd discovered showed the Ancients left this galaxy 10,000 years ago. Except if what Marcen said was true, Brantum Forant appeared to have been an Ancient who carried out genetic experiments on the people who lived on the planet, killing hundreds, just over fifty years ago. It was hard to believe, but was it possible this man could still be alive somewhere, possibly living on Earth? If so, with Atlantis under water during all of that time, how could he have got there, and if he had, could Forant be John's relation…his father maybe?
Even as the notion entered his head, Rodney couldn't believe it. Neither could he believe Marcen's mother abducted John just to exact revenge. He could understand her anger against Forant, her need for retribution against the evil man who had killed so many. But to persecute Sheppard just because he bore a strong resemblance to the serial killer, in his mind was just plain nuts.
His head was pounding. What the hell was he going to do? Sheppard couldn't answer any of her questions, not those ones at any rate, and he knew John would rather die than tell her he came from Earth. In any case, Sheppard wouldn't have a clue what she was talking about, unless of course he'd been a really, really good actor all these years, concealing the fact his daddy was an honest to goodness, living, breathing Ancient.
Everyone on base knew Sheppard possessed the strongest natural gene around, was this why? Although in the grand scheme of things as far as Rodney was concerned it still didn't matter. John Sheppard was his friend, and if that guy was his dad, Sheppard still shouldn't have to pay for the atrocities Forant carried out.
Rodney felt sick at the thought of what this man, a supposed hero to the community had done. Brantum Forant arrived in Tynos nearly sixty years ago, appearing out of thin air in a flying craft, declaring the planet as his new home. Soon after, he had quickly became the saviour of the people, using technology never seen or heard of before, to help the simple farming community build the impressive structures still standing in the city.
Next, Forant taught them how to develop their resources and within a few short years, Tynos changed from being a backward agricultural planet into an industrial power. Factories sprang up, which enabled them to produce their own power, in addition to manufacturing all types of goods for export. Their society blossomed, people became prosperous for the first time in their history, so therefore when Brantum asked for volunteers to help him develop a genetic weapon against the Wraith, the people had been more than happy to oblige.
In the beginning, everything had been fine. People came and went through his lab but always came home, seemly unaffected by their experience. Gradually though, reports of missing persons made their way to the militia. First it was the poor, those who lived rough, the people nobody missed. Shortly afterwards, concerned relatives began to report loved ones who'd disappeared, many of those connected with the experiments, and several who weren't. Then finally, just as the militia called for a full investigation, the normally extrovert scientist vanished, as if into thin air.
No one suspected any wrong doing at first. His grateful followers just confused and sorry he had left so suddenly without saying a word…until the first body was found. A young militia woman, who had been desperately searching for her missing brother went looking deep into the wilderness on the outskirts of town. There, hidden under the tall oak trees she discovered hundreds of shallow graves, each filled with grotesque creatures, each with a bullet through it's skull, one of whom was wearing a pendant she recognised…
A subsequent search of his lab produced more questions than answers, with no clue as to why the bodies were more beast than man. Everything gone apart from some papers, a few metal gadgets, and a silver revolver. Worse still, despite carrying out numerous searches since, most of the missing were never found. It wasn't until Marcen stumbled upon the bracelet, which in turn provided access to this underground facility; their bodies were eventually discovered lying scatted amongst the endless tunnels.
McKay guessed Forant had been trying to develop a retrovirus, probably not dissimilar to the one which almost turned Sheppard into a bug. Nevertheless, one thing was clear. Rodney now realised there was no way for Atlantis to find them. Their transponders were useless this far underground and even if they weren't, the metallic properties of the rock would have blocked their signal anyway. Furthermore, no one but Marcen and his people knew this place even existed. Therefore, it was now up to him, Rodney McKay, to save Sheppard and get them both out of here while John was still alive. Besides, it was his turn…
ooooOoooo
Sheppard couldn't remember being brought into the lab or being stripped to his boxers. Only regaining awareness as he was slammed against the sharp rock wall, too groggy to resist as thick metal bands were secured around his neck, chest, wrists, upper arms, thighs and ankles.
"Sheppard. If that's what your name is, do you want a drink?"
John glared straight into his eyes, there wasn't anywhere else he could look, as his neck was locked into place so he could only see straight ahead.
"Last chance…and don't bother giving me that look. If you refuse it now, they'll be nothing more until tomorrow. So, take it or leave it, it's up to you."
He really wanted to tell him where to shove it, but knew he couldn't afford the price of pride right now. Besides, he could live without food for a few days, but water…not so much.
It was only a drop, and he wanted the ocean. His throat was still parched, but even as the cup was removed from his lips, he wondered if it had been too much. Nausea washed through him. Probably a result of the drugs, the pain, or the fact he hadn't eaten in a while, except throwing up wasn't an option aware in this position, he would choke on his own vomit.
Along with the slamming of the door came the darkness. John initially was surprised there was a door. Since he'd been here he hadn't seen any, just gaps in the rock so why was there one here? He didn't need to be told everyone was gone, for a presence would need a light and there was none. Only inky blackness…nothing for him to see…not even the rock walls surrounding him.
He shivered, the freezing cold seeping into his bones, spiking the lingering ache which still wouldn't quit. Sheppard had been in worse prisons, but not many. Restraints were nothing new to him. Manacles, rope, he'd been secured by all types over the years, but these, they were something else, nothing would move. John couldn't see the rigid bands but felt them tight against his body, keeping his head straight, his torso erect and his arms clamped high above his head. Up until now, they had been careful of his leg, but now his legs were firmly clamped against the wall, the sharp edge of the metal band was rubbing painfully against his wound.
Over the years, he'd been beaten up a few times, quite a few. Also drugged, electrocuted, burned and even whipped a couple of times. They all hurt like hell, some more than others, but usually the sadistic bastards who carried out the torture were men…until now.
He had to hand it to her. The evil bitch possessed a natural talent for inflicting pain, plus a surprising knack at sussing out a guys weakness. Right from the start she'd kept him securely restrained, even when he was wounded unable to pose any kind of threat. He thought he'd managed to conceal his panic from her when he was secured to the table, as being restrained, especially that level of confinement, was the only thing which really freaked him out.
John knew his weakness, it was the whole loss of control thing he'd had since a kid. It first started when his dad locked him in his room. The frustration, fear of being trapped, led him to become quite the escape artist, although it did cost him a broken leg falling from his second story bedroom window. Even so, being free again had been worth it. To this day, although no one liked being in pain, he could usually tolerate whatever was thrown at him. But being unable to fight or flee, unable even to move…always scared him shitless. How she knew, he couldn't guess, unless of course this was the way she treated all her enemies. Nevertheless he was going to be in this position, clamped to the wall for quite a while, so he didn't have any other choice other than to suck it up.
ooooOoooo
After a while, John was no longer sure of the passage of time. He couldn't even be sure if he was awake or asleep anymore. All he knew was in his thoughts, his dreams, he was back in Atlantis. It was warm there, and he was heading down to the canteen to meet his friends, ease the gnawing hunger tearing a hole in his belly. Later, satisfied, he was piloting the jumper, flying high above the city, soaring though the clouds into the deep blue sky…happy, laughing with his friends as they snarked with each other in the background.
Suddenly, a harsh dry cough sent his muscles into spasms and Atlantis was gone, disappeared, and his dreams were shattered. He was still there, alone in the dark, the tight oppressive bands relentlessly locking him in place, unable to escape the razor sharp rock digging into his flesh. Except now, that pain, even the ache in his leg was gone. His body was numb and he could feel nothing…not even the beat of his heart.
How long had he been here? Was Rodney even still alive? Anxiety threatened to engulf him as he worried about his friend, angered at their situation, frustration at being unable to escape, to rescue McKay, tearing him apart.
His heart started to race, so it was still there then, and he forced his fingers, toes to move, anything to prove his body still worked… he even had a body…he was still alive. Then a crack of light blinded him as the door creaked opened and he saw the blurred outline of a man come towards him.
"It's time for a comfort break, Sheppard, Jusana's orders. Though as far as I'm concerned you can rot. I'm going to release you from your restraints and give you ten minutes, but don't try anything funny or I'll shoot…understand?
Funny? It was freaking hilarious this guy thought he was capable of moving, let alone escaping. With the bands removed John fell to the ground, but he couldn't feel anything, nothing worked. Then the man grabbed him, and dragged his unco-operative body towards a bucket at the corner, but all he could do was lie there, groaning, when suddenly sharp spikes of pain ripped through him, as numb limbs spring back to life.
He was shaking uncontrollably, barely able to do what was required, and he desperately wanted to know how long he'd been there, strapped to the wall. Except he wouldn't give them the satisfaction, wasn't going to let them know how much he hated this, them. Even when the guard went to stead the cup, unsteady in his trembling hands, he turned away, a small act of defiance to send the message…I'm not beaten yet.
"Who do you think you are, to dare turn your back on me?"
John could hardly move, but he struggled round to glare at the big angry man standing over him. "I'm an innocent man, being treated like scum. So what the hell does that make you…Argh."
The sharp bite of a leather switch tore into his shoulder, sending him sprawling, as it slashed into his tender flesh again and again. Fiery pain exploded over his back, his chest, his arms, the persecution constant and relentless, as he cowered on the floor unable to escape. Blood trails snaked from his skin soaking his boxers, pooling round his body, leaving him wet, sticky, the taste of metal in the air. Then he saw the guard smiling, relishing his abuse so he closed his eyes, choked back a cry and waited for his misery to end. Suddenly, just as quickly as the vicious assault started it finished, leaving him shuddering, groaning in pain.
"To answer your question, Sheppard, my name is Luthame, the guard in charge of your care. In future you will treat me with respect, and if you ever look at me that way again, I will kill you," John yelped as a swift kick to the ribs, forced him on his back as a large boot pressed down upon his chest. "That's for Sholana Gratum."
He was in agony as the guard hauled him up, and half carried half dragged him back to his prison. Barely conscious as Luthame threw him hard against the wall, before securing the tight unyielding bands back into place. John swore through gritted teeth as his muscles protesting against their rigid stance. His body aching as the sharp metal bands pressed into his newly ripped flesh and cracked ribs, as the sharp pain in his chest was unmistakable; he'd been down that road too many times before. John saw the guard staring at him, watching for a reaction, but he made himself look straight ahead, ignoring the man who committed this atrocity until he heard the door slam once more, only then allowing hot tears of pain and frustration to fall down his face.
He started to shiver uncontrollably, but this time he welcomed the cold. Knowing, when the shaking stopped, blessed numbness would follow killing his pain. Part of him realised that probably wasn't a good thing, and he couldn't survive like this for long. Still, John knew he still hadn't told her what she wanted to know so he clung to the hope, Jusana wouldn't let him die…at least not yet.
Cold addled the brain, made it sluggish, but he made himself remember the name…Brantum Forant. Who the hell was this guy anyway, and why did she think he was him? Nothing about this abduction made sense…nothing. For the first time in a long while John felt a strong sense of foreboding. He was used to being beaten, tortured for information. But even if he was able or willing to answer her questions, first of all he needed to know the answers and for once in his life he just hadn't a clue…
ooooOoooo
TBC