Fic: Torment 11/?
Title: Torment
Author: chokolaj
Rating: T
Genre: Angst, Hurt/Comfort
Summary: The title sums it up pretty well. Shep whump!
Yes, I know the chapters are short. But it was the only way to get myself back into writing since I seemed to be able to handle little bursts of it at a time.
Anyway, the votes are in and it was a tie. Some of you thought it’d be best for me to post all of this when the fic is finished and the rest thought it best that I continue posting three times a week. So this is what I’m going to do: I’m going to continue posting three times a week, BUT when I am finished with the fic, then I will post every day until the end. I’m afraid that if I stop posting for a bit, I’ll stop writing, thinking I have time. I never have time and when I do, I abuse it!
--//--
"Sheppard, stop!"
A chill ran down his spine. He knew what was next.
Someone grabbed him by his arm, roughly spinning him around. Hands grasped either side of his rain-drenched face and his eyes focused on one Dr. Rodney McKay.
The rain had stopped. The sky was clear. McKay wasn’t wet, yet Sheppard was.
"I can’t!" He exclaimed, grabbing roughly at the scientists cold hands and pulling them away from his face.
"John, you are bleeding." Teyla's soft voice carried to his ears from his left.
“Listen to me.” He sputtered, his eyes darting wildly from one teammate to the next. They were all dry. They stared at him like he had lost his mind. It sure as hell felt like it at the moment.
"Why didn't you hail us on the radio?" Ronon asked.
His radio? He didn’t have his radio that was why. It wasn’t in his ear. Where had it gone?
"Something’s seriously wrong here. I can’t find a way out. What the hell is going on?”
His teammates shared uneasy glances with one another before all three turned to stare back at him as if he was the crazy one.
"What do you mean, where have we been? We've been standing here watching you lose it in the middle of an otherwise mundane mission." Rodney responded with a quirked brow.
Sheppard took a step back, this time realizing that no matter what he said, they never changed their responses from the first time around.
"What?"
"John, are you all right?" Teyla took a step forward and Sheppard took one more step back.
One thing had changed. They were all armed.
Sheppard glanced wearily at his team, staring at him with increasingly alarmed expressions. There was something off about the entire situation. The ground at their feet was muddy and the puddles were still running wild to lower ground.
He spared a nervous glance over his shoulder, to see a dark thicket of trees far beyond. Looking back, he noticed a change in their eyes. They stood in a row before him now, fingers twitching above holstered weapons, muscles tense, eyes narrowed.
They could sense his fear.
Before Sheppard could even process it, Ronon released his blaster from its holster and fired.
Searing hot pain slashed through his stomach. His knees buckled as he screamed out his torment. Blood spilled onto the already drenched ground beneath him. Red mixed with muddy brown.
Swirling.
Spinning.
His face fell into the mud with a muted splash, breaths coming in short, sharp gasps. Fingers curled into cool muddy silt. Pain ravaged his body. His mind grew fuzzy, distant. His heart drummed sporadically in his ears, the air he exhumed competing in the cacophony.
He blinked.
Ronon shot me. The thought finally registered.
A face hovered near his, specks of mud splattered across it.
Vacant eyes stared into his pain-filled hazel eyes.
The pain consumed him, tearing into the very depth of him, shredding nerves, tissue and muscle. His lungs were tightening in the desperate need for air.
He was dying, he was sure of it. This was it. Finally: the end. He didn’t want to die, but he didn’t want to live in this prison of an existence either.
The heavens opened above, rain pouring down like tears. His extremities were growing numb.
Pain was a beast that thrashed and tore at him, never giving him a moment’s peace.
Suddenly, a piercing pain split across his hairline, followed by another across his arm. All souvenirs of his time spent in this f***ed up world.
The pain was unbearable. Blood was spilling from him at an alarming rate. The vacant eyes only stared back at him, making no effort to help him. Darkness was creeping in on the edges of his vision.
He closed his eyes. He was weak; his body was failing him. He was ready to give in.
His body was shivering, not only from the cold of the mud beneath his failing body, but from shock as well. Time was at a standstill, or so it seemed.
He could only hear the soft sound of rain pattering upon him and the ground upon which he lay. His team was gone now, he was sure of it. He was alone.
Carson’s face flashed briefly in his fading mind.
And finally, he understood.
With every once of will left in his dying body, John Sheppard opened his eyes.
--//--
A blue glow cast an eerie halo upon the dark cavernous ceiling above him. It was all he could see before a terrible pain stole his breath away.
Fingers clawed into the grime. His body shuddered, curling into the fetal position.
And finally, he saw reality. His team was there, though they seemed faint, standing beyond a thin sheen of dim blue. It was all he could process before more pain swept over him in an overwhelming wave.
Writhing in agony, Sheppard gasped desperately for air. Panicked, he sought the comfort of his team. They were as desperate as he. They could not step beyond what appeared to be a barrier set firmly between them.
Sheppard could not spare the thought of how and where he was, nor why. He could only concentrate on fighting the pain and the darkness threatening to consume him. He was fading fast.
An idea came to him in the form of a whisper. It sounded a lot like Carson.
He knew what had to be done.
--tbc--
Please review, thank you!
Author: chokolaj
Rating: T
Genre: Angst, Hurt/Comfort
Summary: The title sums it up pretty well. Shep whump!
Yes, I know the chapters are short. But it was the only way to get myself back into writing since I seemed to be able to handle little bursts of it at a time.
Anyway, the votes are in and it was a tie. Some of you thought it’d be best for me to post all of this when the fic is finished and the rest thought it best that I continue posting three times a week. So this is what I’m going to do: I’m going to continue posting three times a week, BUT when I am finished with the fic, then I will post every day until the end. I’m afraid that if I stop posting for a bit, I’ll stop writing, thinking I have time. I never have time and when I do, I abuse it!
--//--
"Sheppard, stop!"
A chill ran down his spine. He knew what was next.
Someone grabbed him by his arm, roughly spinning him around. Hands grasped either side of his rain-drenched face and his eyes focused on one Dr. Rodney McKay.
The rain had stopped. The sky was clear. McKay wasn’t wet, yet Sheppard was.
"I can’t!" He exclaimed, grabbing roughly at the scientists cold hands and pulling them away from his face.
"John, you are bleeding." Teyla's soft voice carried to his ears from his left.
“Listen to me.” He sputtered, his eyes darting wildly from one teammate to the next. They were all dry. They stared at him like he had lost his mind. It sure as hell felt like it at the moment.
"Why didn't you hail us on the radio?" Ronon asked.
His radio? He didn’t have his radio that was why. It wasn’t in his ear. Where had it gone?
"Something’s seriously wrong here. I can’t find a way out. What the hell is going on?”
His teammates shared uneasy glances with one another before all three turned to stare back at him as if he was the crazy one.
"What do you mean, where have we been? We've been standing here watching you lose it in the middle of an otherwise mundane mission." Rodney responded with a quirked brow.
Sheppard took a step back, this time realizing that no matter what he said, they never changed their responses from the first time around.
"What?"
"John, are you all right?" Teyla took a step forward and Sheppard took one more step back.
One thing had changed. They were all armed.
Sheppard glanced wearily at his team, staring at him with increasingly alarmed expressions. There was something off about the entire situation. The ground at their feet was muddy and the puddles were still running wild to lower ground.
He spared a nervous glance over his shoulder, to see a dark thicket of trees far beyond. Looking back, he noticed a change in their eyes. They stood in a row before him now, fingers twitching above holstered weapons, muscles tense, eyes narrowed.
They could sense his fear.
Before Sheppard could even process it, Ronon released his blaster from its holster and fired.
Searing hot pain slashed through his stomach. His knees buckled as he screamed out his torment. Blood spilled onto the already drenched ground beneath him. Red mixed with muddy brown.
Swirling.
Spinning.
His face fell into the mud with a muted splash, breaths coming in short, sharp gasps. Fingers curled into cool muddy silt. Pain ravaged his body. His mind grew fuzzy, distant. His heart drummed sporadically in his ears, the air he exhumed competing in the cacophony.
He blinked.
Ronon shot me. The thought finally registered.
A face hovered near his, specks of mud splattered across it.
Vacant eyes stared into his pain-filled hazel eyes.
The pain consumed him, tearing into the very depth of him, shredding nerves, tissue and muscle. His lungs were tightening in the desperate need for air.
He was dying, he was sure of it. This was it. Finally: the end. He didn’t want to die, but he didn’t want to live in this prison of an existence either.
The heavens opened above, rain pouring down like tears. His extremities were growing numb.
Pain was a beast that thrashed and tore at him, never giving him a moment’s peace.
Suddenly, a piercing pain split across his hairline, followed by another across his arm. All souvenirs of his time spent in this f***ed up world.
The pain was unbearable. Blood was spilling from him at an alarming rate. The vacant eyes only stared back at him, making no effort to help him. Darkness was creeping in on the edges of his vision.
He closed his eyes. He was weak; his body was failing him. He was ready to give in.
His body was shivering, not only from the cold of the mud beneath his failing body, but from shock as well. Time was at a standstill, or so it seemed.
He could only hear the soft sound of rain pattering upon him and the ground upon which he lay. His team was gone now, he was sure of it. He was alone.
Carson’s face flashed briefly in his fading mind.
And finally, he understood.
With every once of will left in his dying body, John Sheppard opened his eyes.
--//--
A blue glow cast an eerie halo upon the dark cavernous ceiling above him. It was all he could see before a terrible pain stole his breath away.
Fingers clawed into the grime. His body shuddered, curling into the fetal position.
And finally, he saw reality. His team was there, though they seemed faint, standing beyond a thin sheen of dim blue. It was all he could process before more pain swept over him in an overwhelming wave.
Writhing in agony, Sheppard gasped desperately for air. Panicked, he sought the comfort of his team. They were as desperate as he. They could not step beyond what appeared to be a barrier set firmly between them.
Sheppard could not spare the thought of how and where he was, nor why. He could only concentrate on fighting the pain and the darkness threatening to consume him. He was fading fast.
An idea came to him in the form of a whisper. It sounded a lot like Carson.
He knew what had to be done.
--tbc--
Please review, thank you!