Adrift: Part Three
Title: Adrift
Author: Westdean
Pairing: Carson/John
Rating: PG13
Genre: Hurt/Comfort, Angst, Slash
Spoilers: Set after The Tower but with spoilers of the "blink and you will miss them variety" up to The Return: part 1.
Prompt: Written for
cosmonaut_elf as part of the
icaw 2006 ficathon.
She requested a John/Carson pairing. Serious hurt/comfort. Serious, serious Carson whumping. The two of them getting stranded. Lots of blood and rain. John realising that he loves Carson (sort of first time).
Authors Note: Written unapologetically in British English and betaed to match by my lovely Dons, Geeks and Medics. Written at speed (for me) and therefore probably incorrect in all sorts of canon facts but I don't care because writing this almost broke my brain.
All music tracks are from the album Ringleader of the Tormentors by Morrissey.
Part: One:
Part Two:
~SGA~
Part Three.
It would have helped Carson to adjust to the situation that he found himself in, if he had understood from the beginning that the men, who had abducted him, had no real understanding of what the Ancient scanner was showing them. Granted, they knew it showed that there was something special about him, something very useful to their line of “business” but not how the Ancient gene worked or what he could do with it.
Consequently they were taking no chances with their prize - he found himself trussed as tightly as a steer. Arms and wrists tied tightly behind his back and then arms strapped to his sides - it didn't take long for the pain of this forced position to become quite unbearable. Not that he could complain, he was gagged as well, unable to call out to anyone as he was forcibly marched to the Stargate.
He struggled desperately but futilely in the strong grip of the man sporting the eye-patch - he knew, with rising alarm, that there had not been enough time for Sheppard to reach the tavern but it was too late - the 'gate was dialled and he was pushed through.
After that the little group made numerous jumps through more than a dozen Stargates. They were careful, each time they made sure that there was no-one to witness their departure, sometimes waiting for a few hours while others used the 'gate on busy worlds.
Carson had no chance to escape even then - he always found his legs and ankles tied painfully tight whenever they were waiting for the Stargate to clear. Each jump caused Beckett's heart to grow colder - no-one could follow a trail like this, not even Rodney McKay. These people had done this before.
He decided that they must be nearing their destination when a blindfold of rough cloth was tied across his eyes before the next 'gate was dialled. The atmosphere of the place that they arrived in was cool and damp against his sweaty skin - Beckett tried to use his other senses to feel his surroundings. The ground underfoot was soft and wet, he could feel the suction against his boots.
There were many people here by the Stargate. Tattoo was talking to them, being answered by soft voices speaking common with a distinct accent. He was pushed forward, and became aware that he was being shown to someone, they were being asked to recognise how he looked.
Then he found himself shoved onto some sort of cart drawn by animals, he could smell their wet hides and hear their low grunts of protest as the cart was urged into motion. This journey seemed endless, the route was rutted and bumpy. Carson was feeling bruised all over and the pain in his limbs was like a slow burning fire. He tried to distract himself by imagining the planet that he was on without being able to see. There was a high and distant rustle of wind among leaves, fat drops of water were falling at intervals and there was muffled quality to the sound of their travel that suggested that they were moving through a forest.
They finally reached their destination. Carson was pulled from the cart, he became aware that they had gone inside a building, the ground was hard and dry. He was finally pushed to sit on a low platform.
The blindfold and gag were suddenly pulled off leaving him blinking in the dim light, welcoming the fact that the tight ropes were also being removed.
His sense of relief did not last long. He was not even given time to flex his stiff and painful arms before he found both his wrists being shackled in iron manacles connected by short chain, that was itself chained to the wall behind him. With a slam of a door he was left in silence, feeling totally overwhelmed.
He was now in a small room sealed with a heavy door, dim light came from a small barred opening situated at the very ceiling which seemed to be opening at ground level on the other side, so that the room appeared to be mostly underground.
The room was damp and cold, the walls sparkled with moisture in several places. He was seated on a simple pallet bed. The room also contained a table, chair and crude toilet - all out of reach, shackled as he was. What the hell did they want with him?
He had plenty of time to think about that question, as he was left alone for hours and was feeling faint with hunger and thirst before anyone came near the room again.
It was Tattoo, accompanied by another man similarly attired, who placed food and drink on the table, and then unchained Carson from the wall to bring him to stand before the imposing leader.
“Listen really carefully,” the man was in his face, intimidating, “you co-operate, do exactly what we say and you'll get fed and stay alive and in one piece. You are far from help, with no chance of getting any - I won't insult your intelligence by not thinking you don't know how many Ring jumps we are from your friends.
“If you try to escape we will cut the tendons on the backs of your legs - you don't need to be able to walk to do what we want you to do. Not that you would get anywhere near the Ring anyway.
“We've done a deal with the nasty tribe of little hunters that live in the forests of this planet. We call them “Pointies” because they have a love of sharp, simple weapons - spears, bows, arrows - that sort of thing. We have a shield up here - Ancient stuff protecting us from the Wraith, they have no idea that we are here. We extend that protection to the Pointies - in return they kill anyone who comes through the Ring without our approval and hunt down any of our prisoners who are stupid enough to try to escape. No one has ever made it. They are as faithful as dogs especially since we “improved” their weaponry for them.”
The detailed explanation had the effect on Carson that Tattoo obviously wanted - escape appeared to be impossible, and he was even more dismayed by the fact that the shield would frustrate efforts by Atlantis to look for him unless they knew the energy signature. Anyone coming through the 'gate would be killed? He couldn't bear to think of that happening to anyone from Atlantis, especially the people most likely to come through the Stargate looking for him. And they would look for him - he never doubted it. Any time a doubt about that ever crept into his mind - he only had to think about John Sheppard to know that he would never give up looking. But would they find him?
He was allowed then to eat, drink and wash up a bit before being chained back to his bed. Carson was left alone in deepening gloom as evening came on, trying to massage the aches out of his joints and pondering what these people wanted him to do.
~SGA~
The following day he found himself being led from his prison along dark, narrow corridors. The manacles and chain had not been removed. His comment that he was, “hardly bloody likely to be going anywhere now,” had not been answered and he accepted with resignation that he was probably going to be left like this.
Carson was also quite certain that the people who held him had not built the complex that he was being taken through. It was centuries old but not Ancient work. It most resembled a shelter built against Wraith attack, like the ones that they had encountered on several worlds. This one had been adapted somewhat - they eventually reached areas with lighting strung off the ceilings and he saw more of the men who seemed to live here.
His escort stopped him by a set of large double doors which were then pulled open to reveal an amazing sight. At first glance he was looking into a low cavern-like room piled high with metallic junk. On closer inspection he recognised the distinctive styling of Ancient technology. But it was not the clean arrangement of Atlantis - it was more like someone had taken a bulldozer to an Ancient city and pushed it all haphazardly into this one chamber. There were twisted columns, panels and consoles heaped as far as he could see. The edges of the room were lined with further doors indicating that more might be stored beyond. And it wasn't just Ancient tech. Carson recognised the organic circuitry of Wraith technology as well. Much of it seemed broken beyond repair, covered in deep layers of dust that suggested it had lain here for a very long time.
He gazed open mouthed in amazement, amusing Tattoo who stood inside the room, in front of a pile of partly shattered blue glass tubing.
“Welcome to our Bazaar. Gathered from every corner of the Galaxy - available to anyone at a price. Left behind by the Ancients, people spend their lives stepping over this stuff, ignoring it and instead living with simple ways of doing things because it is all dead and cold. But we know better. It can be brought back to life and then it's worth whatever we want to charge for it.
“But you know this don't you?”
Carson stayed silent. There was no question of revealing the existence of Atlantis. He knew it would be a very bad idea to let these people know that he even recognised a lot of the objects in the room, could guess at their function. He would pretend to be ignorant.
Tattoo stepped up to him and suddenly, without warning, backhanded Carson across the face, causing him to fall heavily to the ground, unable to catch himself because of the restraints. His jaw felt almost broken, there were spots dancing before his eyes. He slowly looked up, shaking his head to clear it and wiping a trickle of blood from the corner of his mouth, to see the man standing over him.
“I said, you know about this. We found this in your pack.” He pulled Carson's diagnostic scanner out of his jacket. “You know how this machinery works and our device told us that you are of one of those who are able to bring it back to life.”
He knelt then, leaning close to the fallen man. “And that is exactly what you are going to do for us - bring this stuff to life. We've got an eager market waiting for our wares - it's been a while since we were able to meet demand. Our last “helper” suffered a little accident.”
Carson tried to digest what he was being told, it was difficult with his head ringing like a bell. He concentrated on his scanner.
“That scanner? Anyone can use it once it's been activated - you can find similar all over the place.”
He tried to sound matter of fact, not to reveal the panic that he was feeling - if they were expecting him to activate Ancient technology, life was going to become more than a little difficult.
Tattoo shook his head.
“Don't play the fool. We know a lot of what is here is useless rubbish but a lot of the smaller devices have been “activated” in the past - some have fetched a king's ransom. You are going to switch them on for us. The lads have been waiting patiently for their chance to make their fortunes and if you don't keep them happy, I'll let them show you just how unhappy they can be.
“And don't even think of using any of this stuff against us - you don't need to be able to see in order to activate the machines.”
Carson did not doubt his sincerity. Fear was clutching at his heart, he could hardly conceal his shaking. God, he wished he had never stepped through a bloody Stargate.
It was the start of a nightmare.
Part Four
Author: Westdean
Pairing: Carson/John
Rating: PG13
Genre: Hurt/Comfort, Angst, Slash
Spoilers: Set after The Tower but with spoilers of the "blink and you will miss them variety" up to The Return: part 1.
Prompt: Written for
cosmonaut_elf as part of the
icaw 2006 ficathon.
She requested a John/Carson pairing. Serious hurt/comfort. Serious, serious Carson whumping. The two of them getting stranded. Lots of blood and rain. John realising that he loves Carson (sort of first time).
Authors Note: Written unapologetically in British English and betaed to match by my lovely Dons, Geeks and Medics. Written at speed (for me) and therefore probably incorrect in all sorts of canon facts but I don't care because writing this almost broke my brain.
All music tracks are from the album Ringleader of the Tormentors by Morrissey.
Part: One:
Part Two:
~SGA~
Part Three.
It would have helped Carson to adjust to the situation that he found himself in, if he had understood from the beginning that the men, who had abducted him, had no real understanding of what the Ancient scanner was showing them. Granted, they knew it showed that there was something special about him, something very useful to their line of “business” but not how the Ancient gene worked or what he could do with it.
Consequently they were taking no chances with their prize - he found himself trussed as tightly as a steer. Arms and wrists tied tightly behind his back and then arms strapped to his sides - it didn't take long for the pain of this forced position to become quite unbearable. Not that he could complain, he was gagged as well, unable to call out to anyone as he was forcibly marched to the Stargate.
He struggled desperately but futilely in the strong grip of the man sporting the eye-patch - he knew, with rising alarm, that there had not been enough time for Sheppard to reach the tavern but it was too late - the 'gate was dialled and he was pushed through.
After that the little group made numerous jumps through more than a dozen Stargates. They were careful, each time they made sure that there was no-one to witness their departure, sometimes waiting for a few hours while others used the 'gate on busy worlds.
Carson had no chance to escape even then - he always found his legs and ankles tied painfully tight whenever they were waiting for the Stargate to clear. Each jump caused Beckett's heart to grow colder - no-one could follow a trail like this, not even Rodney McKay. These people had done this before.
He decided that they must be nearing their destination when a blindfold of rough cloth was tied across his eyes before the next 'gate was dialled. The atmosphere of the place that they arrived in was cool and damp against his sweaty skin - Beckett tried to use his other senses to feel his surroundings. The ground underfoot was soft and wet, he could feel the suction against his boots.
There were many people here by the Stargate. Tattoo was talking to them, being answered by soft voices speaking common with a distinct accent. He was pushed forward, and became aware that he was being shown to someone, they were being asked to recognise how he looked.
Then he found himself shoved onto some sort of cart drawn by animals, he could smell their wet hides and hear their low grunts of protest as the cart was urged into motion. This journey seemed endless, the route was rutted and bumpy. Carson was feeling bruised all over and the pain in his limbs was like a slow burning fire. He tried to distract himself by imagining the planet that he was on without being able to see. There was a high and distant rustle of wind among leaves, fat drops of water were falling at intervals and there was muffled quality to the sound of their travel that suggested that they were moving through a forest.
They finally reached their destination. Carson was pulled from the cart, he became aware that they had gone inside a building, the ground was hard and dry. He was finally pushed to sit on a low platform.
The blindfold and gag were suddenly pulled off leaving him blinking in the dim light, welcoming the fact that the tight ropes were also being removed.
His sense of relief did not last long. He was not even given time to flex his stiff and painful arms before he found both his wrists being shackled in iron manacles connected by short chain, that was itself chained to the wall behind him. With a slam of a door he was left in silence, feeling totally overwhelmed.
He was now in a small room sealed with a heavy door, dim light came from a small barred opening situated at the very ceiling which seemed to be opening at ground level on the other side, so that the room appeared to be mostly underground.
The room was damp and cold, the walls sparkled with moisture in several places. He was seated on a simple pallet bed. The room also contained a table, chair and crude toilet - all out of reach, shackled as he was. What the hell did they want with him?
He had plenty of time to think about that question, as he was left alone for hours and was feeling faint with hunger and thirst before anyone came near the room again.
It was Tattoo, accompanied by another man similarly attired, who placed food and drink on the table, and then unchained Carson from the wall to bring him to stand before the imposing leader.
“Listen really carefully,” the man was in his face, intimidating, “you co-operate, do exactly what we say and you'll get fed and stay alive and in one piece. You are far from help, with no chance of getting any - I won't insult your intelligence by not thinking you don't know how many Ring jumps we are from your friends.
“If you try to escape we will cut the tendons on the backs of your legs - you don't need to be able to walk to do what we want you to do. Not that you would get anywhere near the Ring anyway.
“We've done a deal with the nasty tribe of little hunters that live in the forests of this planet. We call them “Pointies” because they have a love of sharp, simple weapons - spears, bows, arrows - that sort of thing. We have a shield up here - Ancient stuff protecting us from the Wraith, they have no idea that we are here. We extend that protection to the Pointies - in return they kill anyone who comes through the Ring without our approval and hunt down any of our prisoners who are stupid enough to try to escape. No one has ever made it. They are as faithful as dogs especially since we “improved” their weaponry for them.”
The detailed explanation had the effect on Carson that Tattoo obviously wanted - escape appeared to be impossible, and he was even more dismayed by the fact that the shield would frustrate efforts by Atlantis to look for him unless they knew the energy signature. Anyone coming through the 'gate would be killed? He couldn't bear to think of that happening to anyone from Atlantis, especially the people most likely to come through the Stargate looking for him. And they would look for him - he never doubted it. Any time a doubt about that ever crept into his mind - he only had to think about John Sheppard to know that he would never give up looking. But would they find him?
He was allowed then to eat, drink and wash up a bit before being chained back to his bed. Carson was left alone in deepening gloom as evening came on, trying to massage the aches out of his joints and pondering what these people wanted him to do.
~SGA~
The following day he found himself being led from his prison along dark, narrow corridors. The manacles and chain had not been removed. His comment that he was, “hardly bloody likely to be going anywhere now,” had not been answered and he accepted with resignation that he was probably going to be left like this.
Carson was also quite certain that the people who held him had not built the complex that he was being taken through. It was centuries old but not Ancient work. It most resembled a shelter built against Wraith attack, like the ones that they had encountered on several worlds. This one had been adapted somewhat - they eventually reached areas with lighting strung off the ceilings and he saw more of the men who seemed to live here.
His escort stopped him by a set of large double doors which were then pulled open to reveal an amazing sight. At first glance he was looking into a low cavern-like room piled high with metallic junk. On closer inspection he recognised the distinctive styling of Ancient technology. But it was not the clean arrangement of Atlantis - it was more like someone had taken a bulldozer to an Ancient city and pushed it all haphazardly into this one chamber. There were twisted columns, panels and consoles heaped as far as he could see. The edges of the room were lined with further doors indicating that more might be stored beyond. And it wasn't just Ancient tech. Carson recognised the organic circuitry of Wraith technology as well. Much of it seemed broken beyond repair, covered in deep layers of dust that suggested it had lain here for a very long time.
He gazed open mouthed in amazement, amusing Tattoo who stood inside the room, in front of a pile of partly shattered blue glass tubing.
“Welcome to our Bazaar. Gathered from every corner of the Galaxy - available to anyone at a price. Left behind by the Ancients, people spend their lives stepping over this stuff, ignoring it and instead living with simple ways of doing things because it is all dead and cold. But we know better. It can be brought back to life and then it's worth whatever we want to charge for it.
“But you know this don't you?”
Carson stayed silent. There was no question of revealing the existence of Atlantis. He knew it would be a very bad idea to let these people know that he even recognised a lot of the objects in the room, could guess at their function. He would pretend to be ignorant.
Tattoo stepped up to him and suddenly, without warning, backhanded Carson across the face, causing him to fall heavily to the ground, unable to catch himself because of the restraints. His jaw felt almost broken, there were spots dancing before his eyes. He slowly looked up, shaking his head to clear it and wiping a trickle of blood from the corner of his mouth, to see the man standing over him.
“I said, you know about this. We found this in your pack.” He pulled Carson's diagnostic scanner out of his jacket. “You know how this machinery works and our device told us that you are of one of those who are able to bring it back to life.”
He knelt then, leaning close to the fallen man. “And that is exactly what you are going to do for us - bring this stuff to life. We've got an eager market waiting for our wares - it's been a while since we were able to meet demand. Our last “helper” suffered a little accident.”
Carson tried to digest what he was being told, it was difficult with his head ringing like a bell. He concentrated on his scanner.
“That scanner? Anyone can use it once it's been activated - you can find similar all over the place.”
He tried to sound matter of fact, not to reveal the panic that he was feeling - if they were expecting him to activate Ancient technology, life was going to become more than a little difficult.
Tattoo shook his head.
“Don't play the fool. We know a lot of what is here is useless rubbish but a lot of the smaller devices have been “activated” in the past - some have fetched a king's ransom. You are going to switch them on for us. The lads have been waiting patiently for their chance to make their fortunes and if you don't keep them happy, I'll let them show you just how unhappy they can be.
“And don't even think of using any of this stuff against us - you don't need to be able to see in order to activate the machines.”
Carson did not doubt his sincerity. Fear was clutching at his heart, he could hardly conceal his shaking. God, he wished he had never stepped through a bloody Stargate.
It was the start of a nightmare.
Part Four