Action/Adventure, Week 1: Mea Culpa (2/2)
Title: Mea Culpa
Author: kristen999
Prompt: Illegal
Word Count: ~12,000
Rating: T
Spoilers: Season 4 Before “Missing”
Warnings: Violence/Slight Language
Summary: Rodney and Ronon are captured by another galactic mad man. Sheppard and Teyla try not to self-destruct while trying to find them.
Continued from Part One
Ronon's arm aches; a deep gash runs from bicep to tricep. Balish had drawn the blood with glee and wrapped both their wounds afterwards in mock care.
It gnaws and twists his guts to be used this way. A tool to lure Sheppard to his death. He should kill Balish before anything else happens. There's no way that his safety will be used against his team leader.
“We've got to stop him.”
“Yes, you've said that already. If you come up with a brilliant plan, let me know.”
Ronon is sick of feeling like this, wasted and useless. “McKay!”
“Do you think I want to dangle like bait on a hook? I have no desire to watch Sheppard be tortured in front of me. Been there, done that, have the nightmares to prove it.”
Being angry at McKay is wrong; the man has been brave and is reacting the only way he knows how. Balish has not made any mistakes, but he's no match for Sheppard's crazy plans. People always fall for that casual façade until it's too late.
“Sheppard probably has a strike team ready to go. If our resident psycho has been pulling the colonel's chain then I'm sure Sheppard has three units of Marines ready to storm this place,” Rodney boasts.
Rescues....Ronon hates being rescued. He's supposed to be the one to protect his team, watch all their backs. Not lead anyone into danger. If he can get into Balish's personal space, he'll bite the man's jugular before the guards kill him. He measures angles in his head, how the best to taunt the drenk before a voice reminds him of his other responsibility.
McKay.
The physicist's safety falls to him; getting killed and leaving his friend to fend against the guards is unacceptable. If there is still a chance to get them both out of here alive, he'll find a way. It is his duty to help Sheppard in any way he can and that includes being ready for one of the man's distractions.
Ronon listens for explosions or the clatter of feet but the hours add up without a sign of freedom.
“You know, if Sheppard has to depend on Zelenka to track us down; we could be in trouble. There's no telling how many ‘gates we went through. I mean, we couldn't even track down the colonel when Koyla nabbed him. I just--”
“--Shut up, McKay.”
“I'm sorry if this isn't what you want to hear. I'm just stating facts and the odds are not very favorable that Sheppard will find us.”
Ronon pins his teammate with a glare. “Since when has Sheppard ever worried about odds?”
The fence protecting the base towers three times higher above them. The scale isn't intimidating, but it could be motion sensitive. Sheppard scans for cameras or other types of surveillance equipment as the seconds count down until the patrol comes by.
The colonel signals for her to wait, hustling back towards the woods to return with a branch. He tests the metal webbing, verifying that it’s not electrified. The two of them tackle the mesh, scaling it in seconds and rappelling to the other side.
Tick, tick, tick.
There are no lights outside to attract attention to the compound; the back part of the building is built into the mountain behind it. They jog silently towards the target, the darkness concealing their movements. The colonel's head is in constant motion, scanning for hidden dangers.
Teyla hears a faint sound in the distance, feels a disturbance in the air. She holds up her hand, and Sheppard crouches down, both their eyes to the sky. Sheppard points at their two-o'clock, and an object floats overhead. Its outline and dimensions are a bulge in the green backdrop of their vision.
Airborne surveillance.
There's nowhere to take cover.
Its trajectory will cross their path in thirty seconds or less. Sheppard points in a direction to avoid being caught, and they're forced to run.
The sprint is harsh and unforgiving, racing away from the camera's sweep. The sphere is stealthy, silent but for a slight hum. Teyla's heart pounds against her ribs. In their haste she and Sheppard almost hit into the wall of the base. There's no way to control the noisy rasp of their lungs sucking in much needed oxygen. Even while panting from exertion, each of them scans for the enemy.
These are not the coordinates they were heading towards. There's no telling where the security patrols are now that the timing is messed up. Sheppard slams his back against the wall next to a corner, expecting company at any moment.
Teyla pulls out a knife as the colonel grabs a stunner from his backpack. They wait at the sounds of approaching footsteps.
Three green blobs appear and the streaks of the stunner seen through the goggles are yellow and bright white. It’s like one of Rodney and Sheppard's video games. She helps bind hands and feet with zip ties while Sheppard looks around warily. There's no place to hide the bodies before the next patrol finds them. The plan had been to avoid an encounter like this.
“There's got to be a door,” he whispers.
“We could drag them inside,” she whispers back.
These men will be missed; it’s just a matter of time. They search for an entrance only to find solid walls of stone. The three minute window is over with, and the next detail should be here any second.
The next team is not as sociable and is in proper formation. Sheppard stuns the first guy, the weapon's fire alerting his buddies. The colonel misses his next shot and gives chase before reinforcements can be alerted.
Teyla rips off her goggles, whips around the corner in time to see the colonel stun a second solider. She flings one of her knives at a man who takes aim at John, the blade catching the other soldier in the chest. They can't risk alarms, and she has to kill without firing her P-90.
It's too late. The entire compound is awash in bright light; the air above them buzzes with another camera drone.
“So much for slipping in quietly,” the colonel growls. “Let's find an entrance.”
There's only brick and stone as far as the eye can see.
“Where the hell is there a door!”
Teyla searches harder, fingers scrabbling for hidden niches. How do they get in?
The brick in front of her explodes; she ducks and spins, firing at the direction of the shot. Three men spread out, blue streaks missing all around her. The colonel's P-90 explodes in the quiet of the night, defending against another group from the opposite side.
They're being out-flanked.
She's exposed, out in the open, but there's nothing to be done about it. She rolls to avoid another volley, coming up with her finger on the trigger and dropping one of her foes. The other two converge on her position, shooting as they run.
There are sounds of other bodies slumping to the ground around her. She throws herself to the left, landing with an 'oomph' as the bullets of her rifle slice a guard in half.
She lashes out with her boot, connecting with a kneecap and chopping another enemy to the ground. She digs a knee into the man's belly, knocking a gun out of his hands with one hand and slamming a fist into his jaw with the other.
She breaks the enemy's nose with a crack of her elbow, taking him out. At the sound of movement behind her, she grips the P-90 that dangles from her vest and aims at the rushing shadow.
Sheppard freezes before firing past her shoulder at targets behind her. His hands move upwards, squeezing the trigger. He adjusts a fraction before unloading once again, only to re-position to take out another target.
“Let's go!” he hollers.
Teyla scrambles to her feet as Sheppard backs away. He’d taken out the reinforcements, and as they run around the corner, she counts the other bodies on the ground along the way. She braces her shoulder on the edge of the building to use as a shield. The bright spotlight illuminates the area, painting bulls-eyes on both of them.
The colonel shoots at it, sending them back into darkness. “We’ve gotta find a way inside!”
He waits like a predator for the other patrol, even if the element of surprise has been blown. The front of the colonel's uniform is stained red. She forgets about the not touching part and reaches for his shirt.
Sheppard jerks away. “It’s not mine, just splatter from close range.”
There's no emotion in his voice regarding a person's life's blood all over him. The camera zooms in over them, and he shoots it out of the sky.
“Colonel!” she whispers harshly.
One of the wounded soldiers is trying to crawl away. Without a word Sheppard stalks after him, grabbing the guard by the shirt collar. “How do we get inside?”
“Not telling you,” the man sneers.
Sheppard presses his Glock under the guy's chin. “Yes, you will.”
“Kill me. I don't care.”
“Fine.” The colonel holsters his handgun. “I know you guys enjoy games.”
Teyla feels her skin grow cold when he grabs the guard's left pinky and snaps it without hesitation.
“John,” she warns.
Their enemy's face grows paler but his green eyes are as defiant as her team leader's. “Screw you.”
She says nothing as Sheppard pulls out the knife; her eyes are alert for the enemy, her heart skipping a beat.
“Which finger do you want to lose?”
Something inside screams at her to stop this, but her mind replays the moment that box was opened up in
Carter's office.
“No! You wouldn't!”
Sheppard slices open the man's palm; red wetness wells up from the cut. “I'll start with the middle finger,” the colonel explains, the blade dipping in between the webbing of skin.
“You have to have a key card! All the doors are cloaked! You don't know where they are!”
“Show us,” Sheppard orders.
Teyla and Sheppard stand in front of a section of wall that they’d passed earlier; the guard waves his identification at something invisible and reveals the hidden entry point.
“You're dead,” the soldier laughs. “You're outnumbered and everyone will be waiting for you. Balish will make you pay for your crimes.”
“Balish? That's your leader? Is he the one who killed my men?” the colonel demands.
The soldier spits on his shirt, and the colonel smashes his Glock into the guard's face. “We have a few tricks up our sleeves.” He looks at Teyla with an expression calmer than it should be. “Ready? We'll do things like we planned.”
There is no way of knowing what's waiting for them. Teyla thinks of Rodney's smile and Ronon's devilish eyes and the way John used to act before all of this.
“Let's do it,” she says.
Rodney wonders about all the great civilizations that have been wiped out by the Wraith or Replicators. Which ones might have cured all disease or found an infinite source of energy. How many are dead and gone because of the Pandora's box they’d opened up?
Maybe he should be more concerned about the number of crazy lunatics out there who want them to pay for all their sins.
The doors open once again and Balish strolls in. “I thought you might miss my daily visits.”
“You never needed the ‘gate address, did you?” Rodney snarls.
“No. It would have saved time to communicate directly, though it gave me a chance to see what the two of you were made of,” Balish replies.
“You're a coward. Using us to get at Sheppard,” Ronon digs.
“I must use the tools at my disposal,” the madman explains. “And you two have provided all that's been needed.”
“I think you might be surprised,” Rodney barbs.
“But, my dear Doctor, there will be no valiant rescue attempt. No squads of Marines to save the day.”
Rodney risks a frantic glance; they must not show any fear.
“Please, my friends. You must have suspected I'd be listening in. Once again you fail to understand your role here.”
“That-that won't matter,” Rodney stutters.
“I've used both of you, played you like well-tuned instruments. Attacked your colonel's biggest weakness. See, he thinks you’re both dead.” Balish is all manic smiles.
“Sheppard wouldn't believe that!” Ronon thrums with uncapped rage.
“Yeah, he's right. Sheppard isn't some mindless grunt,” McKay huffs.
“I'm counting on that sharp mind of his, of course. I used your blood cells to grow something quite ingenious in the lab. Suffice it to say, I’ve provided dramatic evidence of your deaths, unless he thinks you're capable of going on without your hearts.”
Ronon doesn't understand, and Rodney's face flushes as it dawns on him that this place might have the ability to clone organs from their cells. “That's--”
“Impossible? No, Doctor. This is my lab. I told you what my people could have done for medicine.”
Oh, God, Rodney thinks. Sheppard might really believe that they're dead.
“In a few minutes I'll send Colonel Sheppard a message. I'm sure he'll respond to my invitation to meet me alone this time. He'll be too blinded by rage and despair. Easily manipulated into a final trap.”
Ronon’s hard-fought control is wavering. “Sounds like your people underestimated the Wraith if they were anything like you. Your people were cowards. Hiding instead of helping to fight,” Ronon pushes.
“We were wise enough to know we weren't ready! Sheppard’s actions meant the Wraith grew desperate enough to explore every planet more thoroughly!” Balish yells.
“Your great, powerful people, toppled by the action of one man.” Ronon grins wolfishly. “How pathetic.”
Rodney tenses for another beat down from Ronon's taunts when an alarm shrills.
Balish turns around, slamming a hand down on a control. “What's going on?”
“We're being attacked, sir! We are tracking the intruders.”
Ronon listens intently; Rodney mouths 'rescue' to him.
“How large is the force?” Balish demands.
“Two, sir.”
“You let two breech our defenses?”
“They are very efficient. They took out all our outside security.”
“Hunt them down! Alive if possible. Use whatever measures to stop them!” Balish growls. He turns around, anger marring his features. “Don't get too excited. Once I'm done with Sheppard, Atlantis will be the next to fall,” he vows before leaving.
Ronon yanks at his legs, testing the strength of the bonds. He turns to Rodney. “Be ready.”
“Two people? Sheppard and....and Teyla! Are they insane?” Rodney hisses.
“Wouldn't you be? If it had been reversed?” Ronon asks, imagining the all-consuming rage.
Rodney swallows and begins banging on his bonds. “They have no clue we're alive. Let's give them an incentive not to go all kamikaze.”
Teyla inserts the first earplug. “How long will they last?”
“Sixty seconds, incapacitating anyone within a fifty-foot radius,” he replies.
The colonel puts on his hearing protection and pulls out the first of many sonic grenades, courtesy of a recently discovered Ancient lab. Teyla opens the door; he tosses the first one, and after a beat, they plunge inside.
Shooting people without the sounds of dying makes things worse. Faces screw up more intensely with pain; the blood is brighter when it spills. The confusion and chaos gives them an edge. Soldiers on their knees covering their ears make for easy targets.
They clear corridor after corridor in the exact same manner. The colonel throws a sonic grenade, pauses, and then they each divide a hallway. Teyla sees Ronon in the way Sheppard stalks down halls, poised for the next kill shot. His green eyes no longer sparkle, only shine with inky darkness. He's the walking wounded, dying a little more with every pull of the trigger.
They bust in a set of double doors, causing people in white coats to flee in the other direction. The room ends up being a lab filled with weapons. Bomb-making materials are stacked on shelves with enough supplies to arm an invasion.
Teyla pulls out her left ear plug, and Sheppard does the same. “These are preparations for war, Colonel.”
“Not anymore,” he says, grabbing C-4 and a detonator.
A noise from behind a large cabinet sends them scrambling to cover it. The colonel drags out a cowering man by the collar, shoving the barrel of his P-90 into the scientist's chest. “Are there more labs like these here?” he demands.
“Yes.”
“How many?”
The scientist wraps shaky fingers around the gun to ease the pressure, but Sheppard shoves it harder.
“How. Many?”
“Four more. Two on the west and east wings.”
Sheppard's eyes get that far away look.
“I know you'll kill me. But Balish will make you pay for your crimes, and he'll use what we created here to destroy your home as you did ours.”
Bitter words impact like bullets, and Sheppard's face twitches. The entryway they had burst through earlier explodes with more soldiers. The colonel jerks the scientist by the collar and hauls him out the exit.
Teyla has his six with suppression fire as they escape. The security forces rush the lab just as they disappear out the back.
“Run!” the colonel orders, pressing the detonator.
The concussive force of the explosion throws them to the ground, the heat and flames lashing at their backs. Teyla's forearms and elbows take the brunt of the impact, and she scrambles to wobbly feet at the same time as Sheppard. The scientist lays slumped against the opposite wall, his chest still rising and falling.
“We’d better hurry,” the colonel says, checking his weapon.
Teyla grabs his elbow. “We should split up.”
“No.”
“Colonel, we have a better chance of blowing up the other labs that way.”
“No, we're staying together.”
This is the locker room all over again. They’d both come here for vengeance; now they had a chance at redemption. She thinks again about the greater good. Rodney and Ronon's deaths could mean something.
“John.” He always stills when she uses this tone. “We must do whatever it takes to protect Atlantis.”
For the first time in days, a familiar fire burns in the colonel's eyes. He swallows, licking his lips. “You're right.”
The colonel hands her some C-4 and one of the last sonic grenades; his fingers linger on her wrist for the briefest moment.
His lips say, “Be careful.” but his eyes beg, ‘Stay alive.’
“I will,” she says before heading towards her targets.
Sheppard thinks maybe he is already dead and it’s his ghost roaming the halls. Crouching around corners, dodging return fire has become habitual, instinct. There's no feeling of payback after each soldier crumples to the ground. In fact, he doesn't recall feeling anything at all.
“We must do whatever it takes to protect Atlantis.”
His heart pounds harder, each beat hurting a little more. It felt okay to be numb, uncaring. Now there's more at stake, making everything rawer. He marches down the next corridor into a hornet's nest of security. He ducks and rolls away, weapon's fire peppering the space he’d just left.
Five soldiers swarm after him, and the sounds of boots approach in the other direction. Sheppard flattens almost spread-eagled against the wall, tossing his last sonic grenade. It's like an action movie cliché. He fires his P-90 in one direction and his Glock in the other. His right hand vibrates as he expends ninety-rounds a second; his left fights the recoil of a single bullet at a time.
The air reeks of gun oil and singed hair. There's no time to check his head to see if it’s all there. Blue bolts of energy bounce around him in random directions; aiming has to be tough when your ears feel like they’re bleeding. He has another thirty seconds and goes all Bruce Willis on the bad guys.
Anyone who isn't seriously wounded or unconscious, he slams the butt end of his rifle to their skulls. He can't afford to be gentle and wait to be shot in the back. His left side stings like a bitch, and he peers down to see the edge of his vest is burned. Someone had winged him, and he’d never noticed.
He finds the next lab; it’s more like an assembly line for making mass amounts of guns. It doesn't take long to plant the charge. He keeps waiting on Rodney to crack a joke about his obsession with things that go boom. He'll never admit how many times he's looked to his side to throw a smirk at Ronon who'll never have his back anymore.
Sheppard exits the room, fingers curled around the trigger when he freezes in his tracks.
“Colonel Sheppard.”
The voice is haughty, wrapped in layers of control. A man holds a gun to Teyla's temple with another arm secured around her throat.
Sheppard aims for the guy's forehead. “Let her go!”
“Don't waste time, Colonel. Drop your weapon.”
“I'm sorry, John.”
Teyla begs forgiveness, but there's nothing to forgive. Sheppard shakes his head. “I'm not doing anything until I know she's safe.”
He's lost most of his team; he won't lose her next.
“Stand-offs are pointless,” the man says.
“Are you Balish?” Just saying the name causes things to sizzle under his skin.
“I am,” Balish says, smiling. “I'll make things easier. I don't care about this woman, only you.”
Three burly guards come from out of nowhere and stand at attention. “I'll have one of my men escort this woman to the brig. Then you and I will finally have our day.”
“Colonel, don't!”
Sheppard shakes his head. “It's my call, Teyla.” He looks at the one responsible for all of this. “I'm lowering my weapon. She better be out of harm's way by the time it reaches the floor.”
His P-90 hits the ground at the same time Teyla is handed over to a thug.
“Kick the gun this way, Colonel.”
The guard moves further way, edging towards a door with his hostage, and Sheppard sends his gun flying across the floor.
“Remove your vest, too.”
Teyla doesn't have a gun pointed at her head anymore, and the other two guards approach with rod-weapons. He wishes she would just make a run for it; that mutt is no match for her. He unfastens his tac vest, throwing it to the ground. Teyla and the guard slip from view and disappear behind a door.
“Bring him.”
Three against one. Sheppard thinks it’s the best odds he'll get.
His Glock is empty so it's up to timing and luck. Both guards lunge for his arms, and he sends his shoulder into the right guy's chin. His left fist strikes sideways in a clumsy swing, jabbing the other guy in the jaw.
One of the guards hits him with a stunning weapon, and a bolt of white-hot electricity shoots through his hip. He's sent sprawling to the floor, howling in pain. Sheppard grabs the nine-mil at his ankle and fires. The first bullet hits one of the goons square in the chest.
His left leg doesn't work, and all he can do is aim from his right knee, unloading half a clip into the other soldier. He doesn't see Balish until the man sends one of the fallen rod things into his right shoulder.
Sheppard drops his weapon as fire and acid cascade into the muscle. He falls to his hands and knees, dizzy and sick to his stomach.
Balish goes one further, pressing the rod into the center of his wrist.
“Sonuvabitch!” He tries not to throw up as his limb is seized by a current of pain.
“Get up, or I'll force you to swallow it.”
Sheppard peers with blurry eyes. “Screw you.”
Balish looks like every other crazed lunatic. Standard uniform, drab colors and a smirk that needs to be wiped off his face. “I can't believe you are the one your friends waited for all this time.”
Sheppard squeezes his eyes closed.
“They begged like animals. The smart one cried, you know. The big guy, he growled mostly, but even he screamed after a while.”
“The DNA matches,” Keller says, with red, blotchy eyes. “The... the hearts... they-they... belong to...”
Rage. Pure and bright.
Sheppard launches with all his might at the bastard. Balish lands on his back, his weapon knocked from his hands. Sheppard pins Balish's legs with his knees and wails with all his might with his left fist.
“Do you always have to take the last slice of cake?”
“Why would you watch a movie about a speeding bus?'
Sheppard pummels the face below, over and over again. He's mumbling, ranting and raving as bones pound into flesh. Blood spurts from Balish's broken nose, red rivulets drip from the corners of the man's lips.
Nothing matters; time stops while grief overwhelms him.
“Stop!” a voice screams.
Moisture drips down Sheppard's face. Salt stings his eyes.
“Stop it, Colonel!”
Gone. Everything's gone.
“John!”
Hands pry him away from the bloody mess and he clings to Teyla's side with one hand, burying his face into her shoulder.
“Shhh. Shhh. Oh, John. It's alright.”
A hand rubs up and down his spine and wraps around his neck.
Nothing is okay. It's all shattered into a million pieces.
“We must get up. Can you stand?”
He can't even talk. Teyla wraps his dead arm around her shoulders and pulls him to his feet.
“We must do whatever it takes to protect Atlantis.”
“You're safe,” he breathes.
Her face is glowing with urgent need. “John....I can't believe it....follow me.”
“What?”
His right leg still works; his left one is filled with pinpricks and numbly drags behind. Teyla guides him towards a door, her cheeks rosy, her eyes....they're alive, so alive.
Sheppard freezes in the entrance, hand grabbing the door jamb, his breath caught in his throat.
Teyla is beautiful, sparkling before him. “I just needed keys to their chains,” she beams. “I got them from one of the guards. The one who brought me here did not have them.”
Sheppard doesn't see anything but the smug, excited expressions of his friends.
“Took you long enough! I'm starving,” Rodney complains.
“You get them all?” Ronon asks.
“Yeah. Yeah we did,” Sheppard says, a smile growing very slowly.
Teyla returns it. “Are you okay? I need to--”
“Go!” Sheppard says, waving her away, goofy grin now on his face.
Teyla enters the cell, and he notices the guard unconscious on the floor. His body hurts, aches with loss and pain, but he can feel it.....feel it course through nerves long thought dead.
Sheppard hangs on to the door frame for dear life, relishing the sights and sounds before him.
“You don't deserve this,” Balish's voice whispers from behind.
There is no time to respond before something sharp is thrust into his back.
Then Sheppard falls to the ground, but it's okay. Because you have to be alive in order to experience death.
Rodney fluctuates between sheer terror and moments of euphoria. Teyla's sudden appearance causes both. One second she's a prisoner like him and Ronon, the next the guard is flat on his face.
“Oh, thank goodness,” he sighs loudly.
Teyla's expression is pure joy and horrified shock. “Thank the Ancestors,” she breathes. “You're alive.”
He wants to say, of course, forgetting that Atlantis thinks they're dead. There are unshed tears in Teyla's eyes, and Rodney's throat tightens. She's inside their cell, yanking on the chains that still hold them captive. “I don't have a key.”
“Where's Sheppard?” Ronon asks, still straining against his bonds.
Teyla pats down the soldier she’d taken down. “He is alone with the one who did this. I must go help him.”
It is hard to resist being selfish after five days in Hell, but Rodney doesn't shout to hurry up. Teyla will come back with Sheppard, and the four of them will walk out of here.
“They really found us,” he says excitedly to Ronon.
“We're not out yet.”
Rodney doesn't have the energy to argue because Teyla returns with Sheppard who clearly can't stand on his own two feet. The expression on Sheppard's face, though, breaks something inside Rodney. The colonel is shell-shocked, forcing him to crack a joke about being hungry.
Sheppard waves Teyla away with the dumbest expression Rodney's ever seen on the colonel's face. The pilot is a million-watt Christmas tree of happiness.
Teyla frees Ronon's chains and begins to unlock Rodney's. He's so giddy about getting out that the Satedan's howl of rage scares the crap out of him. By the time Rodney is able to stand, he runs with Teyla towards the doors.
Balish's face is bright purple with Ronon's hands wrapped around his throat. Rodney ignores the final gasps for air, satisfied that the person responsible for this nightmare is being dealt with.
Sheppard lays sprawled on his stomach, the back of his T-shirt glistening wet. Teyla pulls out a dressing, lifting up the tee to press at the hole there.
Ronon towers over Balish's body, chest heaving, hands still curled into fists.
“Rod'ey,” Sheppard rasps, smiling at him with eyes of peaceful green.
“Don't you dare!” Rodney growls. “We didn't die, and you're not allowed to either.”
They get Sheppard supported between them. Teyla's hand tries to stem the flow of the red pouring out of the pilot's back.
There is carnage down every hallway, the result of emotions that have been bottled up for too long. Sheppard's head lolls on Rodney's shoulder, his body boneless between them. Ronon charges down the complex, seething about revenge.
“There's been enough death,” Teyla whispers. “We should focus on the blessings of today.”
Rodney can feel Sheppard's life slowly fading away, can hear the hitching breaths at his neck. “I see nothing to be thankful for!” he shouts in panic.
“You are wrong. John and I....we were lost.” She risks looking at him. “When we found you....we found the parts of us that were missing. Do you understand?”
Rodney remembers the look on Sheppard's face inside the cell. As if everything was right in the world. “Maybe,” he tells her.
Teyla finds herself watching things more, taking in every moment in lasting detail. She observes Rodney's expressive hands, the flurry of emotions with every gesture. At the gym she soaks in Ronon's raw power that often shadows the grace in his movements.
Today she wades into the warm waters of the swimming pool and makes her way to the shallow part. She stands at Sheppard's right side and his physical therapist takes up his left.
“Today, Colonel, we're going to float from one end to the other.”
She knows how much he’s always trusted her, but this......this is John Sheppard at his most vulnerable. They don't speak much during these exercises; there's no need to.
After he's done she supports his weight as he climbs the steps, the jagged scar on his back a reminder of what they are willing to do for family.
After he's changed he tells her, “The doc says I won't need the chair in a week,”
“That's good to hear,” she says, pushing it.
They arrive at the mess hall; it's the same time every day for lunch. Ronon has trays waiting for them both and a spot cleared away for Sheppard. Rodney's meal is almost gone and he sits staring at his hand. “You know, I think Keller is a liar. She gave me some polish to help increase the protein in my nails, and they're still just nubs. It's disgusting.”
“You're painting your nails?” Sheppard asks, grinning. “What color?”
“I don't know; maybe I should ask the stylist that keeps you supplied with hair gel that question.”
Sheppard quirks an eyebrow, and Rodney just glares. Ronon chuckles. “Maybe try purple. Might be a good shade on you.”
Rodney nearly spits out his coffee.
Teyla relaxes in her chair, enjoying the sparkle in Sheppard's eyes and the smile that lights up his face. He's no longer stiff or robotic, and when he laughs, it fills her with warmth.
“They inspected the compound again. All the earlier raids worked,” Ronon says.
Rodney rubs absently at his arm. “Good. One less evil overlord to worry about.”
And one less complication in the colonel's recovery. Discovering such a base swept disobeying an order under the rug, so to speak.
There are no guarantees in life, she knows. There's no telling how many more Balishes are out there, plotting evil deeds. Or that the next time, the knife won't miss the colonel's spinal cord. Maybe someday, one of them won't make it back through the ‘gate.
“I think someone's falling asleep,” Ronon's voice rumbles.
The colonel dozes peacefully, his head resting against the back of the chair. The three of them stand as one, each going for one of the wheelchair handles.
“Guys....don't need an escort,” Sheppard says, waking up.
Rodney pulls the wheelchair back, steering it around. “I have to go towards the lab anyways.”
“Headin' to the gym,” Ronon shrugs, standing on the other side.
Sheppard catches her staring and sweeps his gaze at the team as if to say, it’s all better now.
“I will join you,” Teyla says.
There are no arguments or squabbles about the four of them strolling down the hall just because they can. Because what once was lost has finally been found.
Author: kristen999
Prompt: Illegal
Word Count: ~12,000
Rating: T
Spoilers: Season 4 Before “Missing”
Warnings: Violence/Slight Language
Summary: Rodney and Ronon are captured by another galactic mad man. Sheppard and Teyla try not to self-destruct while trying to find them.
Continued from Part One
Ronon's arm aches; a deep gash runs from bicep to tricep. Balish had drawn the blood with glee and wrapped both their wounds afterwards in mock care.
It gnaws and twists his guts to be used this way. A tool to lure Sheppard to his death. He should kill Balish before anything else happens. There's no way that his safety will be used against his team leader.
“We've got to stop him.”
“Yes, you've said that already. If you come up with a brilliant plan, let me know.”
Ronon is sick of feeling like this, wasted and useless. “McKay!”
“Do you think I want to dangle like bait on a hook? I have no desire to watch Sheppard be tortured in front of me. Been there, done that, have the nightmares to prove it.”
Being angry at McKay is wrong; the man has been brave and is reacting the only way he knows how. Balish has not made any mistakes, but he's no match for Sheppard's crazy plans. People always fall for that casual façade until it's too late.
“Sheppard probably has a strike team ready to go. If our resident psycho has been pulling the colonel's chain then I'm sure Sheppard has three units of Marines ready to storm this place,” Rodney boasts.
Rescues....Ronon hates being rescued. He's supposed to be the one to protect his team, watch all their backs. Not lead anyone into danger. If he can get into Balish's personal space, he'll bite the man's jugular before the guards kill him. He measures angles in his head, how the best to taunt the drenk before a voice reminds him of his other responsibility.
McKay.
The physicist's safety falls to him; getting killed and leaving his friend to fend against the guards is unacceptable. If there is still a chance to get them both out of here alive, he'll find a way. It is his duty to help Sheppard in any way he can and that includes being ready for one of the man's distractions.
Ronon listens for explosions or the clatter of feet but the hours add up without a sign of freedom.
“You know, if Sheppard has to depend on Zelenka to track us down; we could be in trouble. There's no telling how many ‘gates we went through. I mean, we couldn't even track down the colonel when Koyla nabbed him. I just--”
“--Shut up, McKay.”
“I'm sorry if this isn't what you want to hear. I'm just stating facts and the odds are not very favorable that Sheppard will find us.”
Ronon pins his teammate with a glare. “Since when has Sheppard ever worried about odds?”
The fence protecting the base towers three times higher above them. The scale isn't intimidating, but it could be motion sensitive. Sheppard scans for cameras or other types of surveillance equipment as the seconds count down until the patrol comes by.
The colonel signals for her to wait, hustling back towards the woods to return with a branch. He tests the metal webbing, verifying that it’s not electrified. The two of them tackle the mesh, scaling it in seconds and rappelling to the other side.
Tick, tick, tick.
There are no lights outside to attract attention to the compound; the back part of the building is built into the mountain behind it. They jog silently towards the target, the darkness concealing their movements. The colonel's head is in constant motion, scanning for hidden dangers.
Teyla hears a faint sound in the distance, feels a disturbance in the air. She holds up her hand, and Sheppard crouches down, both their eyes to the sky. Sheppard points at their two-o'clock, and an object floats overhead. Its outline and dimensions are a bulge in the green backdrop of their vision.
Airborne surveillance.
There's nowhere to take cover.
Its trajectory will cross their path in thirty seconds or less. Sheppard points in a direction to avoid being caught, and they're forced to run.
The sprint is harsh and unforgiving, racing away from the camera's sweep. The sphere is stealthy, silent but for a slight hum. Teyla's heart pounds against her ribs. In their haste she and Sheppard almost hit into the wall of the base. There's no way to control the noisy rasp of their lungs sucking in much needed oxygen. Even while panting from exertion, each of them scans for the enemy.
These are not the coordinates they were heading towards. There's no telling where the security patrols are now that the timing is messed up. Sheppard slams his back against the wall next to a corner, expecting company at any moment.
Teyla pulls out a knife as the colonel grabs a stunner from his backpack. They wait at the sounds of approaching footsteps.
Three green blobs appear and the streaks of the stunner seen through the goggles are yellow and bright white. It’s like one of Rodney and Sheppard's video games. She helps bind hands and feet with zip ties while Sheppard looks around warily. There's no place to hide the bodies before the next patrol finds them. The plan had been to avoid an encounter like this.
“There's got to be a door,” he whispers.
“We could drag them inside,” she whispers back.
These men will be missed; it’s just a matter of time. They search for an entrance only to find solid walls of stone. The three minute window is over with, and the next detail should be here any second.
The next team is not as sociable and is in proper formation. Sheppard stuns the first guy, the weapon's fire alerting his buddies. The colonel misses his next shot and gives chase before reinforcements can be alerted.
Teyla rips off her goggles, whips around the corner in time to see the colonel stun a second solider. She flings one of her knives at a man who takes aim at John, the blade catching the other soldier in the chest. They can't risk alarms, and she has to kill without firing her P-90.
It's too late. The entire compound is awash in bright light; the air above them buzzes with another camera drone.
“So much for slipping in quietly,” the colonel growls. “Let's find an entrance.”
There's only brick and stone as far as the eye can see.
“Where the hell is there a door!”
Teyla searches harder, fingers scrabbling for hidden niches. How do they get in?
The brick in front of her explodes; she ducks and spins, firing at the direction of the shot. Three men spread out, blue streaks missing all around her. The colonel's P-90 explodes in the quiet of the night, defending against another group from the opposite side.
They're being out-flanked.
She's exposed, out in the open, but there's nothing to be done about it. She rolls to avoid another volley, coming up with her finger on the trigger and dropping one of her foes. The other two converge on her position, shooting as they run.
There are sounds of other bodies slumping to the ground around her. She throws herself to the left, landing with an 'oomph' as the bullets of her rifle slice a guard in half.
She lashes out with her boot, connecting with a kneecap and chopping another enemy to the ground. She digs a knee into the man's belly, knocking a gun out of his hands with one hand and slamming a fist into his jaw with the other.
She breaks the enemy's nose with a crack of her elbow, taking him out. At the sound of movement behind her, she grips the P-90 that dangles from her vest and aims at the rushing shadow.
Sheppard freezes before firing past her shoulder at targets behind her. His hands move upwards, squeezing the trigger. He adjusts a fraction before unloading once again, only to re-position to take out another target.
“Let's go!” he hollers.
Teyla scrambles to her feet as Sheppard backs away. He’d taken out the reinforcements, and as they run around the corner, she counts the other bodies on the ground along the way. She braces her shoulder on the edge of the building to use as a shield. The bright spotlight illuminates the area, painting bulls-eyes on both of them.
The colonel shoots at it, sending them back into darkness. “We’ve gotta find a way inside!”
He waits like a predator for the other patrol, even if the element of surprise has been blown. The front of the colonel's uniform is stained red. She forgets about the not touching part and reaches for his shirt.
Sheppard jerks away. “It’s not mine, just splatter from close range.”
There's no emotion in his voice regarding a person's life's blood all over him. The camera zooms in over them, and he shoots it out of the sky.
“Colonel!” she whispers harshly.
One of the wounded soldiers is trying to crawl away. Without a word Sheppard stalks after him, grabbing the guard by the shirt collar. “How do we get inside?”
“Not telling you,” the man sneers.
Sheppard presses his Glock under the guy's chin. “Yes, you will.”
“Kill me. I don't care.”
“Fine.” The colonel holsters his handgun. “I know you guys enjoy games.”
Teyla feels her skin grow cold when he grabs the guard's left pinky and snaps it without hesitation.
“John,” she warns.
Their enemy's face grows paler but his green eyes are as defiant as her team leader's. “Screw you.”
She says nothing as Sheppard pulls out the knife; her eyes are alert for the enemy, her heart skipping a beat.
“Which finger do you want to lose?”
Something inside screams at her to stop this, but her mind replays the moment that box was opened up in
Carter's office.
“No! You wouldn't!”
Sheppard slices open the man's palm; red wetness wells up from the cut. “I'll start with the middle finger,” the colonel explains, the blade dipping in between the webbing of skin.
“You have to have a key card! All the doors are cloaked! You don't know where they are!”
“Show us,” Sheppard orders.
Teyla and Sheppard stand in front of a section of wall that they’d passed earlier; the guard waves his identification at something invisible and reveals the hidden entry point.
“You're dead,” the soldier laughs. “You're outnumbered and everyone will be waiting for you. Balish will make you pay for your crimes.”
“Balish? That's your leader? Is he the one who killed my men?” the colonel demands.
The soldier spits on his shirt, and the colonel smashes his Glock into the guard's face. “We have a few tricks up our sleeves.” He looks at Teyla with an expression calmer than it should be. “Ready? We'll do things like we planned.”
There is no way of knowing what's waiting for them. Teyla thinks of Rodney's smile and Ronon's devilish eyes and the way John used to act before all of this.
“Let's do it,” she says.
Rodney wonders about all the great civilizations that have been wiped out by the Wraith or Replicators. Which ones might have cured all disease or found an infinite source of energy. How many are dead and gone because of the Pandora's box they’d opened up?
Maybe he should be more concerned about the number of crazy lunatics out there who want them to pay for all their sins.
The doors open once again and Balish strolls in. “I thought you might miss my daily visits.”
“You never needed the ‘gate address, did you?” Rodney snarls.
“No. It would have saved time to communicate directly, though it gave me a chance to see what the two of you were made of,” Balish replies.
“You're a coward. Using us to get at Sheppard,” Ronon digs.
“I must use the tools at my disposal,” the madman explains. “And you two have provided all that's been needed.”
“I think you might be surprised,” Rodney barbs.
“But, my dear Doctor, there will be no valiant rescue attempt. No squads of Marines to save the day.”
Rodney risks a frantic glance; they must not show any fear.
“Please, my friends. You must have suspected I'd be listening in. Once again you fail to understand your role here.”
“That-that won't matter,” Rodney stutters.
“I've used both of you, played you like well-tuned instruments. Attacked your colonel's biggest weakness. See, he thinks you’re both dead.” Balish is all manic smiles.
“Sheppard wouldn't believe that!” Ronon thrums with uncapped rage.
“Yeah, he's right. Sheppard isn't some mindless grunt,” McKay huffs.
“I'm counting on that sharp mind of his, of course. I used your blood cells to grow something quite ingenious in the lab. Suffice it to say, I’ve provided dramatic evidence of your deaths, unless he thinks you're capable of going on without your hearts.”
Ronon doesn't understand, and Rodney's face flushes as it dawns on him that this place might have the ability to clone organs from their cells. “That's--”
“Impossible? No, Doctor. This is my lab. I told you what my people could have done for medicine.”
Oh, God, Rodney thinks. Sheppard might really believe that they're dead.
“In a few minutes I'll send Colonel Sheppard a message. I'm sure he'll respond to my invitation to meet me alone this time. He'll be too blinded by rage and despair. Easily manipulated into a final trap.”
Ronon’s hard-fought control is wavering. “Sounds like your people underestimated the Wraith if they were anything like you. Your people were cowards. Hiding instead of helping to fight,” Ronon pushes.
“We were wise enough to know we weren't ready! Sheppard’s actions meant the Wraith grew desperate enough to explore every planet more thoroughly!” Balish yells.
“Your great, powerful people, toppled by the action of one man.” Ronon grins wolfishly. “How pathetic.”
Rodney tenses for another beat down from Ronon's taunts when an alarm shrills.
Balish turns around, slamming a hand down on a control. “What's going on?”
“We're being attacked, sir! We are tracking the intruders.”
Ronon listens intently; Rodney mouths 'rescue' to him.
“How large is the force?” Balish demands.
“Two, sir.”
“You let two breech our defenses?”
“They are very efficient. They took out all our outside security.”
“Hunt them down! Alive if possible. Use whatever measures to stop them!” Balish growls. He turns around, anger marring his features. “Don't get too excited. Once I'm done with Sheppard, Atlantis will be the next to fall,” he vows before leaving.
Ronon yanks at his legs, testing the strength of the bonds. He turns to Rodney. “Be ready.”
“Two people? Sheppard and....and Teyla! Are they insane?” Rodney hisses.
“Wouldn't you be? If it had been reversed?” Ronon asks, imagining the all-consuming rage.
Rodney swallows and begins banging on his bonds. “They have no clue we're alive. Let's give them an incentive not to go all kamikaze.”
Teyla inserts the first earplug. “How long will they last?”
“Sixty seconds, incapacitating anyone within a fifty-foot radius,” he replies.
The colonel puts on his hearing protection and pulls out the first of many sonic grenades, courtesy of a recently discovered Ancient lab. Teyla opens the door; he tosses the first one, and after a beat, they plunge inside.
Shooting people without the sounds of dying makes things worse. Faces screw up more intensely with pain; the blood is brighter when it spills. The confusion and chaos gives them an edge. Soldiers on their knees covering their ears make for easy targets.
They clear corridor after corridor in the exact same manner. The colonel throws a sonic grenade, pauses, and then they each divide a hallway. Teyla sees Ronon in the way Sheppard stalks down halls, poised for the next kill shot. His green eyes no longer sparkle, only shine with inky darkness. He's the walking wounded, dying a little more with every pull of the trigger.
They bust in a set of double doors, causing people in white coats to flee in the other direction. The room ends up being a lab filled with weapons. Bomb-making materials are stacked on shelves with enough supplies to arm an invasion.
Teyla pulls out her left ear plug, and Sheppard does the same. “These are preparations for war, Colonel.”
“Not anymore,” he says, grabbing C-4 and a detonator.
A noise from behind a large cabinet sends them scrambling to cover it. The colonel drags out a cowering man by the collar, shoving the barrel of his P-90 into the scientist's chest. “Are there more labs like these here?” he demands.
“Yes.”
“How many?”
The scientist wraps shaky fingers around the gun to ease the pressure, but Sheppard shoves it harder.
“How. Many?”
“Four more. Two on the west and east wings.”
Sheppard's eyes get that far away look.
“I know you'll kill me. But Balish will make you pay for your crimes, and he'll use what we created here to destroy your home as you did ours.”
Bitter words impact like bullets, and Sheppard's face twitches. The entryway they had burst through earlier explodes with more soldiers. The colonel jerks the scientist by the collar and hauls him out the exit.
Teyla has his six with suppression fire as they escape. The security forces rush the lab just as they disappear out the back.
“Run!” the colonel orders, pressing the detonator.
The concussive force of the explosion throws them to the ground, the heat and flames lashing at their backs. Teyla's forearms and elbows take the brunt of the impact, and she scrambles to wobbly feet at the same time as Sheppard. The scientist lays slumped against the opposite wall, his chest still rising and falling.
“We’d better hurry,” the colonel says, checking his weapon.
Teyla grabs his elbow. “We should split up.”
“No.”
“Colonel, we have a better chance of blowing up the other labs that way.”
“No, we're staying together.”
This is the locker room all over again. They’d both come here for vengeance; now they had a chance at redemption. She thinks again about the greater good. Rodney and Ronon's deaths could mean something.
“John.” He always stills when she uses this tone. “We must do whatever it takes to protect Atlantis.”
For the first time in days, a familiar fire burns in the colonel's eyes. He swallows, licking his lips. “You're right.”
The colonel hands her some C-4 and one of the last sonic grenades; his fingers linger on her wrist for the briefest moment.
His lips say, “Be careful.” but his eyes beg, ‘Stay alive.’
“I will,” she says before heading towards her targets.
Sheppard thinks maybe he is already dead and it’s his ghost roaming the halls. Crouching around corners, dodging return fire has become habitual, instinct. There's no feeling of payback after each soldier crumples to the ground. In fact, he doesn't recall feeling anything at all.
“We must do whatever it takes to protect Atlantis.”
His heart pounds harder, each beat hurting a little more. It felt okay to be numb, uncaring. Now there's more at stake, making everything rawer. He marches down the next corridor into a hornet's nest of security. He ducks and rolls away, weapon's fire peppering the space he’d just left.
Five soldiers swarm after him, and the sounds of boots approach in the other direction. Sheppard flattens almost spread-eagled against the wall, tossing his last sonic grenade. It's like an action movie cliché. He fires his P-90 in one direction and his Glock in the other. His right hand vibrates as he expends ninety-rounds a second; his left fights the recoil of a single bullet at a time.
The air reeks of gun oil and singed hair. There's no time to check his head to see if it’s all there. Blue bolts of energy bounce around him in random directions; aiming has to be tough when your ears feel like they’re bleeding. He has another thirty seconds and goes all Bruce Willis on the bad guys.
Anyone who isn't seriously wounded or unconscious, he slams the butt end of his rifle to their skulls. He can't afford to be gentle and wait to be shot in the back. His left side stings like a bitch, and he peers down to see the edge of his vest is burned. Someone had winged him, and he’d never noticed.
He finds the next lab; it’s more like an assembly line for making mass amounts of guns. It doesn't take long to plant the charge. He keeps waiting on Rodney to crack a joke about his obsession with things that go boom. He'll never admit how many times he's looked to his side to throw a smirk at Ronon who'll never have his back anymore.
Sheppard exits the room, fingers curled around the trigger when he freezes in his tracks.
“Colonel Sheppard.”
The voice is haughty, wrapped in layers of control. A man holds a gun to Teyla's temple with another arm secured around her throat.
Sheppard aims for the guy's forehead. “Let her go!”
“Don't waste time, Colonel. Drop your weapon.”
“I'm sorry, John.”
Teyla begs forgiveness, but there's nothing to forgive. Sheppard shakes his head. “I'm not doing anything until I know she's safe.”
He's lost most of his team; he won't lose her next.
“Stand-offs are pointless,” the man says.
“Are you Balish?” Just saying the name causes things to sizzle under his skin.
“I am,” Balish says, smiling. “I'll make things easier. I don't care about this woman, only you.”
Three burly guards come from out of nowhere and stand at attention. “I'll have one of my men escort this woman to the brig. Then you and I will finally have our day.”
“Colonel, don't!”
Sheppard shakes his head. “It's my call, Teyla.” He looks at the one responsible for all of this. “I'm lowering my weapon. She better be out of harm's way by the time it reaches the floor.”
His P-90 hits the ground at the same time Teyla is handed over to a thug.
“Kick the gun this way, Colonel.”
The guard moves further way, edging towards a door with his hostage, and Sheppard sends his gun flying across the floor.
“Remove your vest, too.”
Teyla doesn't have a gun pointed at her head anymore, and the other two guards approach with rod-weapons. He wishes she would just make a run for it; that mutt is no match for her. He unfastens his tac vest, throwing it to the ground. Teyla and the guard slip from view and disappear behind a door.
“Bring him.”
Three against one. Sheppard thinks it’s the best odds he'll get.
His Glock is empty so it's up to timing and luck. Both guards lunge for his arms, and he sends his shoulder into the right guy's chin. His left fist strikes sideways in a clumsy swing, jabbing the other guy in the jaw.
One of the guards hits him with a stunning weapon, and a bolt of white-hot electricity shoots through his hip. He's sent sprawling to the floor, howling in pain. Sheppard grabs the nine-mil at his ankle and fires. The first bullet hits one of the goons square in the chest.
His left leg doesn't work, and all he can do is aim from his right knee, unloading half a clip into the other soldier. He doesn't see Balish until the man sends one of the fallen rod things into his right shoulder.
Sheppard drops his weapon as fire and acid cascade into the muscle. He falls to his hands and knees, dizzy and sick to his stomach.
Balish goes one further, pressing the rod into the center of his wrist.
“Sonuvabitch!” He tries not to throw up as his limb is seized by a current of pain.
“Get up, or I'll force you to swallow it.”
Sheppard peers with blurry eyes. “Screw you.”
Balish looks like every other crazed lunatic. Standard uniform, drab colors and a smirk that needs to be wiped off his face. “I can't believe you are the one your friends waited for all this time.”
Sheppard squeezes his eyes closed.
“They begged like animals. The smart one cried, you know. The big guy, he growled mostly, but even he screamed after a while.”
“The DNA matches,” Keller says, with red, blotchy eyes. “The... the hearts... they-they... belong to...”
Rage. Pure and bright.
Sheppard launches with all his might at the bastard. Balish lands on his back, his weapon knocked from his hands. Sheppard pins Balish's legs with his knees and wails with all his might with his left fist.
“Do you always have to take the last slice of cake?”
“Why would you watch a movie about a speeding bus?'
Sheppard pummels the face below, over and over again. He's mumbling, ranting and raving as bones pound into flesh. Blood spurts from Balish's broken nose, red rivulets drip from the corners of the man's lips.
Nothing matters; time stops while grief overwhelms him.
“Stop!” a voice screams.
Moisture drips down Sheppard's face. Salt stings his eyes.
“Stop it, Colonel!”
Gone. Everything's gone.
“John!”
Hands pry him away from the bloody mess and he clings to Teyla's side with one hand, burying his face into her shoulder.
“Shhh. Shhh. Oh, John. It's alright.”
A hand rubs up and down his spine and wraps around his neck.
Nothing is okay. It's all shattered into a million pieces.
“We must get up. Can you stand?”
He can't even talk. Teyla wraps his dead arm around her shoulders and pulls him to his feet.
“We must do whatever it takes to protect Atlantis.”
“You're safe,” he breathes.
Her face is glowing with urgent need. “John....I can't believe it....follow me.”
“What?”
His right leg still works; his left one is filled with pinpricks and numbly drags behind. Teyla guides him towards a door, her cheeks rosy, her eyes....they're alive, so alive.
Sheppard freezes in the entrance, hand grabbing the door jamb, his breath caught in his throat.
Teyla is beautiful, sparkling before him. “I just needed keys to their chains,” she beams. “I got them from one of the guards. The one who brought me here did not have them.”
Sheppard doesn't see anything but the smug, excited expressions of his friends.
“Took you long enough! I'm starving,” Rodney complains.
“You get them all?” Ronon asks.
“Yeah. Yeah we did,” Sheppard says, a smile growing very slowly.
Teyla returns it. “Are you okay? I need to--”
“Go!” Sheppard says, waving her away, goofy grin now on his face.
Teyla enters the cell, and he notices the guard unconscious on the floor. His body hurts, aches with loss and pain, but he can feel it.....feel it course through nerves long thought dead.
Sheppard hangs on to the door frame for dear life, relishing the sights and sounds before him.
“You don't deserve this,” Balish's voice whispers from behind.
There is no time to respond before something sharp is thrust into his back.
Then Sheppard falls to the ground, but it's okay. Because you have to be alive in order to experience death.
Rodney fluctuates between sheer terror and moments of euphoria. Teyla's sudden appearance causes both. One second she's a prisoner like him and Ronon, the next the guard is flat on his face.
“Oh, thank goodness,” he sighs loudly.
Teyla's expression is pure joy and horrified shock. “Thank the Ancestors,” she breathes. “You're alive.”
He wants to say, of course, forgetting that Atlantis thinks they're dead. There are unshed tears in Teyla's eyes, and Rodney's throat tightens. She's inside their cell, yanking on the chains that still hold them captive. “I don't have a key.”
“Where's Sheppard?” Ronon asks, still straining against his bonds.
Teyla pats down the soldier she’d taken down. “He is alone with the one who did this. I must go help him.”
It is hard to resist being selfish after five days in Hell, but Rodney doesn't shout to hurry up. Teyla will come back with Sheppard, and the four of them will walk out of here.
“They really found us,” he says excitedly to Ronon.
“We're not out yet.”
Rodney doesn't have the energy to argue because Teyla returns with Sheppard who clearly can't stand on his own two feet. The expression on Sheppard's face, though, breaks something inside Rodney. The colonel is shell-shocked, forcing him to crack a joke about being hungry.
Sheppard waves Teyla away with the dumbest expression Rodney's ever seen on the colonel's face. The pilot is a million-watt Christmas tree of happiness.
Teyla frees Ronon's chains and begins to unlock Rodney's. He's so giddy about getting out that the Satedan's howl of rage scares the crap out of him. By the time Rodney is able to stand, he runs with Teyla towards the doors.
Balish's face is bright purple with Ronon's hands wrapped around his throat. Rodney ignores the final gasps for air, satisfied that the person responsible for this nightmare is being dealt with.
Sheppard lays sprawled on his stomach, the back of his T-shirt glistening wet. Teyla pulls out a dressing, lifting up the tee to press at the hole there.
Ronon towers over Balish's body, chest heaving, hands still curled into fists.
“Rod'ey,” Sheppard rasps, smiling at him with eyes of peaceful green.
“Don't you dare!” Rodney growls. “We didn't die, and you're not allowed to either.”
They get Sheppard supported between them. Teyla's hand tries to stem the flow of the red pouring out of the pilot's back.
There is carnage down every hallway, the result of emotions that have been bottled up for too long. Sheppard's head lolls on Rodney's shoulder, his body boneless between them. Ronon charges down the complex, seething about revenge.
“There's been enough death,” Teyla whispers. “We should focus on the blessings of today.”
Rodney can feel Sheppard's life slowly fading away, can hear the hitching breaths at his neck. “I see nothing to be thankful for!” he shouts in panic.
“You are wrong. John and I....we were lost.” She risks looking at him. “When we found you....we found the parts of us that were missing. Do you understand?”
Rodney remembers the look on Sheppard's face inside the cell. As if everything was right in the world. “Maybe,” he tells her.
Teyla finds herself watching things more, taking in every moment in lasting detail. She observes Rodney's expressive hands, the flurry of emotions with every gesture. At the gym she soaks in Ronon's raw power that often shadows the grace in his movements.
Today she wades into the warm waters of the swimming pool and makes her way to the shallow part. She stands at Sheppard's right side and his physical therapist takes up his left.
“Today, Colonel, we're going to float from one end to the other.”
She knows how much he’s always trusted her, but this......this is John Sheppard at his most vulnerable. They don't speak much during these exercises; there's no need to.
After he's done she supports his weight as he climbs the steps, the jagged scar on his back a reminder of what they are willing to do for family.
After he's changed he tells her, “The doc says I won't need the chair in a week,”
“That's good to hear,” she says, pushing it.
They arrive at the mess hall; it's the same time every day for lunch. Ronon has trays waiting for them both and a spot cleared away for Sheppard. Rodney's meal is almost gone and he sits staring at his hand. “You know, I think Keller is a liar. She gave me some polish to help increase the protein in my nails, and they're still just nubs. It's disgusting.”
“You're painting your nails?” Sheppard asks, grinning. “What color?”
“I don't know; maybe I should ask the stylist that keeps you supplied with hair gel that question.”
Sheppard quirks an eyebrow, and Rodney just glares. Ronon chuckles. “Maybe try purple. Might be a good shade on you.”
Rodney nearly spits out his coffee.
Teyla relaxes in her chair, enjoying the sparkle in Sheppard's eyes and the smile that lights up his face. He's no longer stiff or robotic, and when he laughs, it fills her with warmth.
“They inspected the compound again. All the earlier raids worked,” Ronon says.
Rodney rubs absently at his arm. “Good. One less evil overlord to worry about.”
And one less complication in the colonel's recovery. Discovering such a base swept disobeying an order under the rug, so to speak.
There are no guarantees in life, she knows. There's no telling how many more Balishes are out there, plotting evil deeds. Or that the next time, the knife won't miss the colonel's spinal cord. Maybe someday, one of them won't make it back through the ‘gate.
“I think someone's falling asleep,” Ronon's voice rumbles.
The colonel dozes peacefully, his head resting against the back of the chair. The three of them stand as one, each going for one of the wheelchair handles.
“Guys....don't need an escort,” Sheppard says, waking up.
Rodney pulls the wheelchair back, steering it around. “I have to go towards the lab anyways.”
“Headin' to the gym,” Ronon shrugs, standing on the other side.
Sheppard catches her staring and sweeps his gaze at the team as if to say, it’s all better now.
“I will join you,” Teyla says.
There are no arguments or squabbles about the four of them strolling down the hall just because they can. Because what once was lost has finally been found.