Not an Everyday Sort
Title: Not and Everyday Sort
Author: Kriadydragon
Rating: PG-13, Gen
Characters: Sheppard, Lorne
Warnings: Some torture
Summary: Sheppard's a hard man not to like. Done for
kristen999 as part of a fic exchange.
Not an Everyday Sort
You win some, you lose some, and some you manage both. They got Sgt. Stevens' team back all right but at the price of now having to rescue Colonel Sheppard. Dr. McKay would call that an incredible inconvenience that was so very Sheppard because the man doesn't make anything easy. Lorne just called it win/lose. Sometimes crap happens and nothing goes as planned. Sheppard had told Lorne and the other newbies the first day on Atlantis that accomplishing most of the goal was a good day. Accomplishing all of the goal without any kind of fallout meant you needed to ensure you weren't being followed home by some invisible energy entity. Lorne had thought Sheppard was kidding. Sheppard hadn't smiled once the entire time.
It was easy to assume a lot when it came to Lt. Colonel Sheppard, and stupid to do so. Lorne thought he was good at holding back assumptions, except assumptions happened regardless.
Lorne liked Sheppard, liked that he didn't bellow and bark like past commanding officers yet still maintained respect from his men. He liked that Sheppard could be easy going one minute and a complete hard-ass the next. He liked that he regarded a green private as just as important and non-expendable as a colonel.
What Lorne didn't like was having to be the one saving Sheppard's ass and getting captured because of it.
They called themselves the Second Wave: Genii rebels having defunct from Genii rebels, their causes vague and their reasons for branching off more than likely along the lines of having hated their last leader. Since Koyla's death (for real this time) the Pegasus galaxy was swarming with such factions. The Second Wave had lasted a little longer than most, even gathered a few more to their cause, due in part to the fact they had a base of operations.
A warehouse, always some kind of warehouse full of empty boxes, dust, cobwebs, and a section remodeled into a fully functional dungeon complete with barred walls. Lorne was hustled down rickety steps into this dungeon barely lit by grimy basement windows. There were four cells in all, two on each side complete with two bunks and a bucket to pee in.
Evan was shoved into the last one where, low and behold, he found Sheppard. The colonel rose from the little corner where he'd packed himself to stand before his second in command. Lorne gaped, forgetting completely protocol when it came to facing a superior officer.
That superior officer stood there with only a pair of blue-striped boxer-shorts between him and complete nudity. It had taken a week to track the stupid faction down, and that window of time hadn't been kind to Sheppard. He was bloody and bruised from head to foot, pale enough to glow, and it seemed a miracle that his shorts were still clinging for dear life to his hips. Sheppard was still lean muscle but with a clarity to his ribs that protruded even when he breathed out. Yet even moving with a limp, holding a heavily bruised arm to his chest, and favoring his right side Sheppard still managed a blood-stained toothy smile of greeting for the major.
“Major Lorne,” Sheppard said in a thick, hoarse voice.
Lorne blinked breaking out of his shock. “Uh, Colonel Sheppard. Here to rescue you, sir.”
Sheppard nodded. “Uh-huh. So how's it going so far?”
Lorne grimaced. “Not too good, sir.”
Since it didn't look like Sheppard should be on his feet, Lorne took the initiative by sitting down on the left hand bunk, John following suit with a flash of a grateful smile and a sigh or relief. “What happened?” he asked.
“Came in with a team of eight including Ronon and Teyla,” Lorne explained. “We split up to cover more ground. They weren't at the last warehouse so we thought they'd taken you to another world. Ronon didn't think so and he was able to track 'em to another warehouse. Except they weren't there, so he tracked them to another. When they weren't there either, we split up. I was ambushed trying to check this place out. The people who used to live on this world must have had a thing for warehouses because there are a lot.”
Sheppard rubbed his obviously aching head, barely managing to avoid the bruises. “I think this place used to be some kind of mining town. I spotted some mining equipment when they dragged me to the third level for another little chat.” He sighed, tilting his head back against the water-stained wall. For a moment, Lorne thought he was asleep.
Then, “I'll give them credit enough to say they have a smart leader,” the colonel said, “but they're no rebels. I wouldn't even call them a real threat, more like an annoyance. They didn't take Sgt. Stevens men to interrogate them. It was more just both sides being in the wrong place at the wrong time. All they keep asking is why we're here and on what world we're hiding.”
Lorne studied his CO, the bruises and cuts, the darkest bruising on his right flank, arm, throat, left ankle and right eye nearly swollen shut. He could see the fine, nearly imperceptible tremors in his skin and the way the muscles of his ribs hitched on each inhale cutting the breaths short. “With all do respect, sir, I wouldn't say they aren't much of a threat.”
Sheppard's good eye cracked open. “Anyone can punch a guy when he's tied down, Major. They do it for kicks and for show.”
Lorne nodded. “They look like the type. So is that what I can expect for myself if the others don't find us?”'
Sheppard gestured with his good hand at his own body. “This, a little food deprivation, sleep deprivation, sometimes no water.”
Lorne's chest tightened with a surge of anger. “Damn, sir.”
“But now that' you're here,” John said, “it'll probably be double tag-team torture. They torture you to get me to talk, or me to get you to talk.”
“Once again - damn, sir.”
Sheppard didn't say anything. He looked tired, too tired to even sleep, and sick. Actually, he was sick as revealed by a quiet but still liquid sounding cough that twisted the Lt. colonel's face in a grimace of pain. It pissed Lorne off beyond words that they hadn't found Sheppard sooner. There was something on this planet, some energy or mineral or whatever, that put technology on the fritz. Which meant no jumpers, LSDs, or tracking Sheppard through his transmitter. If it hadn't been for Ronon's tracking skills they wouldn't have thought the colonel still on this world.
After a moment, Sheppard broke the thick silence. “Don't worry, Major. Now that you're here, I have a plan.”
Lorne gave him an odd look. “That fast?”
“Actually, I thought it up two days ago and scrapped it when I realized it was a two man job.” Sheppard lifted his head to lean in close and relay the plan right into Lorne's ears. Evan didn't know whether to laugh or be very, very afraid.
“Think you can pull it off?” the colonel asked.
“I should hope so, sir.”
Sheppard gave him a strained smile that looked like it hurt. “Don't hope, just do.” He dropped the smile for a pinched expression of worry. “Although it wouldn't hurt to hope a little bit.”
Lorne shook his head in amused bewilderment. Here was something else he liked about Colonel Sheppard. Since joining the SGC Lorne had served with plenty of soldiers able to pull unorthodox, even insane plans out of thin air. Sheppard had the decency to realize they were possibly insane. Most wouldn't think his honesty a good thing; that it would kill morale or whatever. Lorne, however, preferred it. The honesty said that Lorne could question the plan if he wanted, offer a better suggestion, input, opinion. It said Sheppard was more interested in getting them out alive than in being a smart ass.
“Sir?” Lorne said. “if you don't mind my asking... how did you get caught?”
Sheppard opened his eyes, saying nothing. Lorne wasn't sure if he'd been about to when the clank of unlocking bolts announced the arrival of their captors: three men dressed in dark-gray jumpsuits armed with Genii-style pistols. Two went into the cell while the third covered Lorne.
Sheppard gave an imperceptible nod and Lorne jumped into action, grabbing the colonel to push him into the corner and crowd him in a protective stance. “No, you're not hurting him anymore so just back off!” he screamed.
As expected, the two soldiers grabbed him, flinging him out of the cell for the third to press his gun into his ribs. The two then man-handled Sheppard roughly, dragging him down the hall to the stairs. Lorne was prodded along after.
“Please,” Lorne begged, “don't hurt him. He can't take much more.” The whining was an act. The words, however, were plenty sincere, although Lorne would have preferred less pleading and more cursing. They were herded up to the third level, Sheppard barely keeping to his feet in a way that made Lorne wonder if it might not be an act. The guards brought them into a room like a mess hall, large with scattered tables and chairs. Lorne counted about twenty to twenty-five men spread throughout the room. The center was cleared except for a chain and metal collar hanging from a central rafter.
The collar was cinched around Sheppard's neck. The two guards stepped back taking hold of the other end of the chain, unhooking it from a bolt on the floor. Lorne was shoved into a chair to have his hands bound behind him.
A man - short, rotund, balding but with a thick red mustache - paced back and forth in front of Evan.
“Please,” Lorne begged inflecting a little quiver into his voice. “Please, don't do this.”
Pudgey smiled. “Gladly” he said in a bass voice. “So long as you are willing to answer our questions. Question one: what are you doing here? Question two: what world are you hiding on? And question three: what are the symbols to that world?”
“Major,” Sheppard growled, “don't say a damn thi...” he was cut off when the guards pulled the chain that lifted the collar pressing it into John's throat, forcing him to stand tip-toe or choke.
Lorne's appalled reaction wasn't an act. He jerked fighting against the ropes cutting into his wrists. “Stop that you sons of bitches, you're killing!” And barely remembered to add, “Please!”
With a casual wave from pudgey's hand, the guards allowed a little slack into the chain. Sheppard's legs almost gave out when he slumped in relief, sucking in air as much as his broken ribs would allow. The colonel coughed then groaned from the pain it caused.
Pudgey's smile widened as though pleased. “Just a sample of what happens when you do not play along. So I suggest you play along. Answer the questions.”
“Major,” Sheppard choked. Pudgey stepped backward, positioning himself in just the right spot to deliver a couple of kidney punches. Sheppard arched back with a grunt, his knees gave, and the chain was pulled effectively causing Sheppard to hang himself.
Lorne's heart shot into his throat. “No, stop! You're killing him!”
“No,” said pudgey, “you're killing him. Answer the questions and he will live.”
Lorne's reactions were legit, every one. Watching Sheppard choke, his face going red from lack of oxygen, fingers clawing at the collar, throaty liquid gurgles squeezing out of his throat... for about two minutes Lorne was tempted to say something, anything, to make it stop. Lie his ass off. Except he didn't have to and thought now as good a time as ever to implement Sheppard's plan.
Lorne increased his breathing to hyperventilating speeds, rolled his eyes up into the back of his head, then let his body go limp. It was harder than trying not to say anything. The choking gurgles and gasps stretched into dragging minutes until finally, thankfully, replaced by a ragged gasp.
“What happened!” Pudgey snapped.
“Looks like he passed out, sir,” someone replied.
“New guy,” he heard Sheppard rasp between coughs. “Can't... can't stand torture...”
Pudgey made a throaty noise of disgust. “Take them back to the cell. Try to revive this one if you can.”
Lorne felt the ropes drop away then hands gripping his arms handling him out of the chair. The sound of the chains rattling was the best thing he'd heard all day. He suffered being dragged down three flights of stairs when he heard a pained groan followed by a dull thud.
“I... I can't,” Sheppard gasped, then coughed.
That was Lorne's cue. He snapped his head up planting his feet firmly under himself, yanking his arms free to punch the guard on the right while kicking out ramming his foot into the stomach of the other guard. Sheppard, crumpled on the floor, slammed his foot into the third guy's knee then grabbed the fourth guy taking aim at Lorne. The guy fell and the gun went skittering. Lorne grabbed it bringing it on the guy he'd kick trying to recover. The fourth guy Sheppard took care of with an elbow to the face. The third guy joined the fourth when John grabbed his gun, slamming the butt into the man's face.
Lorne mimicked ramming the butt into the kicked guard's skull, then helped his CO to his feet. Sheppard staggered, probably would have fallen if Lorne hadn't kept a firm grip. He let the colonel lean up against him.
“Good plan, sir,” Evan said.
Both of Sheppard's eyebrows were arched high in surprise. “Yeah, guess it was. Let's get out of here before someone finishes lunch early.”
“Won't the entrance be guarded?”
Sheppard raised his gun. “That's why we bring these.”
Lorne walked while Sheppard hobbled, still panting from all the exertion. There were a lot of crates and old mechanical equipment to maneuver around but also providing ample cover. They passed something that looked like a thresher partially covered by a blanket-sized cloth. Lorne pulled it, off raising a thick cloud of dust, and handed it to the colonel.
“Here, sir. It's just chilly in here but pretty damn cold outside.”
John took it, needing help from Lorne to get it around his shoulders and tie it at the chest into a kind of cloak. One look at Sheppard's bare feet and Lorne winced. “Should have grabbed some boots while we were at it.”
“I'll live,” Sheppard said. “Let's move.”
They crept their way to the front and two guards keeping watch at the large windows flanking the only entrance. Sheppard pointed at Lorne, then signaled right while he took left, both moving as one creeping up behind the guards. When close enough, they rushed in clocking the two men hard on the head. The men crumpled boneless to the ground. Lorne confiscated the larger of the two men's boots, handing them to Sheppard. “You're going to need them, sir.”
John nodded, slipping his long feet into the shoes. “Kind of tight. I bet some tiny-footed bastard's wearing mine.”
Lorne grinned, following Sheppard out the door. They kept to the wall making their way to the safety of the dense forest. Once within the trees they made a wide arch heading in the general direction of the last warehouse Lorne had checked out. With any luck, Ronon would have eventually tracked Evan's last position there when he couldn't be contacted. Considering if the coms had started working again. Sometimes they did, sometimes they didn't depending on where someone was positioned, sort of like adjusting a TV antenna just right to get better reception.
“Well that was fun,” Lorne said.
John shook his head wearily. “It's not over yet. In fact, it's going to get worse once those guards wake up.” He stumbled, about to fall when Lorne caught him pulling him back upright. The muscle quakes had become all-out trembling as the crisp air snaked through the thin blanket. It had to be around late fall/early winter on this planet. The trees were next to bare save for a few dead leaves trying to hold out. The air was sharp, like breathing in blades, sucking the moisture from the tender membrane of the throat and lungs. It was hell for Lorne. He couldn't even begin to imagine what it was like for Sheppard who was now coughing harder every minute. The colonel pulled the covering tighter around him, hunching his shoulders against the cold. Lorne made sure to stick so close that they were touching arm to arm, hopefully getting a little warmth to seep through.
The further they went, the more John stumbled, falling to his knees twice. He would have fallen to his face if Evan hadn't still had a hold of his arm outside the blanket. Pain and fatigue were beating Sheppard down fast. Lorne was surprised the man wasn't asleep on his feet.
“Hey, sir?” he said. Getting the exhausted to talk helped prolong their consciousness. “You never did say how you were captured. It might be good to know in case they try to use the same tactic.”
John said nothing, just stared at the ground.
“Sir?” Evan prodded.
Sheppard coughed. “I let myself.”
It was Lorne who ended up stumbling. He would have stopped all together if the situation had allowed for it. “Let yourself?”
John nodded. “As a distraction. Sgt. Stevens and his men were pretty banged up. I let myself get caught to give them time to get far enough away.” He gave Evan a hard, dark look. “Before you say anything, I wasn't being suicidal. And,” he dropped his gaze, features softening, eyes going regretful, “and I'm sorry I put the rest of you in a position to have to save me and risk yourselves. It was a last minute plan, I didn't know what else to do. We'd spread out, like you did. Cpl. Hale was with me but took a bullet to the leg. I tried to radio for help five times but the com wouldn't work. I didn't know what else to do. If I didn't do something they were going to swarm over Sgt. Stevens' team.”
Lorne stared ahead. What he liked about Sheppard was surface stuff, personality, attitude. What he admired about him went deeper. Col. Sheppard always did whatever needed to be done. It was never a risk when the risk was to himself. If others had to be involved, then he called it a risk. Dr. McKay called that being suicidal. Lorne called it Sheppard doing his job. A soldier wasn't asked to see himself as expendable but he was asked to always be prepared to die. A soldier's job was to protect others, which was contradicted when others had to be involved to help him do the protecting.
It wasn't that Sheppard didn't expect to be rescued, he was simply prepared for the event of it not being possible. Like any good soldier, there was a part of him wanting rescue, but a larger part that hoped against it if it meant others being put in the line of fire. Lorne wasn't any different. But Sheppard... Sheppard pulled out all the stops. Lorne wouldn't have ever thought of giving himself up a means to allow everyone else to escape. Not out of self-preservation or fear, it just simply would not have occurred to him. He would have gone with the others, watched their six and hoped they all made it out alive. Sheppard had done one better.
“I understand, sir,” Lorne said, and meant it.
There was no saying how far they'd gone or how much time had passed. All Lorne knew was that Sheppard was holding on by a thread that was unraveling fast. It was more than exhaustion pulling him down, it was pain from the recent torture, the cold, and trying to pull oxygen from frigid air into constricted, congested lungs. Evan could hear his breathing, rasping and wet that made Lorne's chest ache in sympathy. He was soon forced to pull Sheppard's arm across his shoulders to keep him up-right, which meant opening the blanket to expose him to more cold.
“Hang on, sir. I'll get you out of here.”
“Not if it means... getting yourself... killed,” John rasped.
Lorne smiled tightly. “I risked my ass trying to get you out. Like hell I'm putting in all that effort just to fail.” A soldier was told to prepare for death, but trained to fight death every step of the way. Evan just wished he could say they were almost there. The cold, harsh fact was that he had no idea where they were.
A twig snapped loud and sharp. Lorne froze, listening. He adjusted Sheppard higher up his shoulder to free his gun hand that had been wrapped around the colonel's waist.
Another snap. Lorne turned his head in time to catch movement through the forest. “Sir,” he breathed. “I apologize in advance if I have to drop you.”
“Understood... major.”
Lorne lifted his weapon and took aim. The figure flitted between the trees long enough for Lorne to catch a flash of copper hair that had him exhaling a stream of fog in relief. “Looks like I won't have to drop you after all, Colonel.”
“Good,” Sheppard croaked.
They walked and hobbled toward the small but compact and lethal figure that was Teyla. As soon as she saw them, she froze, only to break from it into a run and take up supporting Sheppard on the other side by holding onto his biceps.
“How did you find him?” she said, her smile dropping into a frown now that she was close enough to see the damage. “What have they done to him?”
Lorne thinned his lips ruefully. “They were torturing him for information,” he grunted. “I was captured and Sheppard was able to use me in an escape plan. We need to find the others and get him out of here. Damn it! If this stupid planet wasn't messing with our coms... we're going to have to send up a flare even if it gives away our position.”
Teyla nodded. She was already on it pulling the flare gun from her vest and pointing it straight up. The ball of blinding red and white shot high before arching back toward the ground, fading fast in the cold air. They moved quick from the spot, dragging Sheppard between them. With the signal sent, everyone would be heading back to the gate.
“Here,” Teyla said. “Hold Colonel Sheppard for a moment.”
Lorne took Sheppard's weight when Teyla released him to unzip and remove her vest and jacket. She slipped the jacket onto Sheppard backwards so that it was covering his chest, then pulled on her vest and grabbed John's other arm. They continued trudging through the forest, dead leaves crunching under their feet, Sheppard a dead weight between them making the going slow.
Gunfire ricocheted ripping through the silence - sharp barks followed by rapid pattering from P-90s. Lorne grinned wryly. “Guess the guards finally woke up.”
“Teyla, Lorne!”
They turned to see Ronon heading their way. And Lorne had thought he'd been relieved when Teyla had showed up. “Ronon! You're timing rocks, we could really use your help right now.”
Ronon didn't ask questions. He slowed on approach, looking from Lorne to the weakened body next to him. He scooped that body into his arms, adjusting him carefully as Teyla adjusted the covering to provide Sheppard more warmth. Arriving a minute after Ronon and a little out of breath was Lt. Stiles and Staff Sargent Bale. Since the danger was behind, Stiles and Bale took lead while Lorne and Teyla their six, Ronon and his fragile cargo in between.
Not that Sheppard was fragile, just fragile at the extreme moment. They didn't hear anymore gun fire as they went, which they hoped was a good thing but didn't count on it. Lorne told Teyla in better detail how Sheppard had been found and, hesitantly, how he'd been caught.
“Dr. McKay's going to get after him for it,” he said, talking softly. They were far enough away that they could talk at all so long as they kept their voices low.
“Perhaps,” Teyla said. “Frustration is how Dr. McKay expresses concern.”
“I guess,” Lorne said. “It's still kind of ungrateful.”
“True,” Teyla replied. “But Col. Sheppard understands. He says it would not be McKay if he did not give into anger.”
They fell silent. Lorne stared at the tuft of dark hair that was the only visible part of Sheppard. Thinking back on it, Lorne was amazed Sheppard had been able to pull off the moves he had back at that warehouse. The guy was banged up bad, so bad it was just as amazing that he'd been able to stand.
“Hey Ronon,” Lorne softly called. “How's the colonel's breathing?”
“Loud,” Ronon said. “But he's still breathing.”
Lorne shook his head. What really amazed him, what he really admired about Sheppard above everything else, was that the man was still in the Pegasus Galaxy and still leading. Evan was not one to make assumptions about others, except that he had without realizing it. He'd read Sheppard's file in order to get to know a little more about the man who was to be his commander. Until sitting in that chair in Antarctica, Sheppard had been nothing more than a glorified taxi driver. Until stepping from earth into Atlantis, he'd never been off world or even knew what a Stargate was. Until Sumner had died, Sheppard had never held the kind of command he held now.
Few people could boast about their lives changing dramatically in a single day like Sheppard could, except he didn't boast about it, he just went with it. In one long day Sheppard's world had flipped up-side-down on its head. Lorne new guys, newbies, stepping through the gate for the first time and having second thoughts the moment they were on the other side. Guys who would have found the nearest corner and packed themselves into it if they'd been in Sheppard's position. Either that or gladly fork over command as soon as they could.
Not Sheppard. One would think he'd been used to it all from the start.
“Sheppard's a good soldier,” Lorne said, speaking out loud.
Teyla smiled. “He is an excellent warrior.”
Lorne shook his head. “That's not what I mean. After everything he's been through, he's still around. There are people I knew, I've seen, good soldiers too but couldn't cope with stuff only half as bad as the crap that's been done to Sheppard. I've seen soldiers claw their way up to a higher rank just to drop under the pressure. Sheppard gets everything and then some dumped on him... and he just wades through it like it's nothing.”
“It is not nothing,” Teyla pensively replied. “To him it is something. He does what he must.”
Lorne smiled. “Isn't that the truth.”
“He does it for us,” she continued. “We are the reason he keeps going. I have heard him say as much.”
It wasn't long before they reached the gate with no opposition between them and home. The rest of the platoon joined them, all accounted for, Lt. Vauhn sporting the only injury - a graze to the shoulder. But it was not over, Vauhn and Lt. Lucas had managed to scattered the New Wave but that didn't mean they'd chased them off. The moment the last chevron was hit bullets started pinging off the DHD and 'gate. Bale sent his IDC and they charged through the 'gate the moment the shield was down.
The shield popped back up as soon as they were on the other side. Beckett and his med-team were already standing by. Ronon transferred Sheppard onto a gurney and they watched as he was wheeled away.
It was messy, it was close, Lorne felt like he could sleep for a week, but everyone was alive and the mission was accomplished. He would definitely call this a good day.
----------------------------------------------
Evan walked into the quiet infirmary that was winding down for the evening. He moved toward the back and the only currently occupied bed in the place. Sheppard's prognosis was good. Despite being a little malnourished, heavily bruised, hypothermic, with mild pneumonia, a broken arm, ankle and two ribs, he would live. Food, warmth, rest and oxygen had put him on the path back to recovery.
Lorne stopped, maintaining a respectful distance between himself and the small group surrounding Sheppard's bed. The colonel himself was asleep, bruised face lax and breathing even according to the rise and fall of his chest. Sheppard's team still surrounded the bed talking quietly to each other: McKay on a stool, Ronon leaning against the bed, and Teyla in a chair, her small hand clasping Sheppard's larger one resting on his stomach.
This is what Teyla had meant. This is why Sheppard stayed. This is what he lived for. This is what he would die for. Everything Lorne was seeing, right here and right now, defined Sheppard. He does what he has to for these people.
Not just his team, everyone.
Lorne knew everyone would easily return the favor. He knew because he would himself in a heartbeat. Sheppard was just that kind of a man.
It was hard not to like him.
The End
Author: Kriadydragon
Rating: PG-13, Gen
Characters: Sheppard, Lorne
Warnings: Some torture
Summary: Sheppard's a hard man not to like. Done for
kristen999 as part of a fic exchange.
Not an Everyday Sort
You win some, you lose some, and some you manage both. They got Sgt. Stevens' team back all right but at the price of now having to rescue Colonel Sheppard. Dr. McKay would call that an incredible inconvenience that was so very Sheppard because the man doesn't make anything easy. Lorne just called it win/lose. Sometimes crap happens and nothing goes as planned. Sheppard had told Lorne and the other newbies the first day on Atlantis that accomplishing most of the goal was a good day. Accomplishing all of the goal without any kind of fallout meant you needed to ensure you weren't being followed home by some invisible energy entity. Lorne had thought Sheppard was kidding. Sheppard hadn't smiled once the entire time.
It was easy to assume a lot when it came to Lt. Colonel Sheppard, and stupid to do so. Lorne thought he was good at holding back assumptions, except assumptions happened regardless.
Lorne liked Sheppard, liked that he didn't bellow and bark like past commanding officers yet still maintained respect from his men. He liked that Sheppard could be easy going one minute and a complete hard-ass the next. He liked that he regarded a green private as just as important and non-expendable as a colonel.
What Lorne didn't like was having to be the one saving Sheppard's ass and getting captured because of it.
They called themselves the Second Wave: Genii rebels having defunct from Genii rebels, their causes vague and their reasons for branching off more than likely along the lines of having hated their last leader. Since Koyla's death (for real this time) the Pegasus galaxy was swarming with such factions. The Second Wave had lasted a little longer than most, even gathered a few more to their cause, due in part to the fact they had a base of operations.
A warehouse, always some kind of warehouse full of empty boxes, dust, cobwebs, and a section remodeled into a fully functional dungeon complete with barred walls. Lorne was hustled down rickety steps into this dungeon barely lit by grimy basement windows. There were four cells in all, two on each side complete with two bunks and a bucket to pee in.
Evan was shoved into the last one where, low and behold, he found Sheppard. The colonel rose from the little corner where he'd packed himself to stand before his second in command. Lorne gaped, forgetting completely protocol when it came to facing a superior officer.
That superior officer stood there with only a pair of blue-striped boxer-shorts between him and complete nudity. It had taken a week to track the stupid faction down, and that window of time hadn't been kind to Sheppard. He was bloody and bruised from head to foot, pale enough to glow, and it seemed a miracle that his shorts were still clinging for dear life to his hips. Sheppard was still lean muscle but with a clarity to his ribs that protruded even when he breathed out. Yet even moving with a limp, holding a heavily bruised arm to his chest, and favoring his right side Sheppard still managed a blood-stained toothy smile of greeting for the major.
“Major Lorne,” Sheppard said in a thick, hoarse voice.
Lorne blinked breaking out of his shock. “Uh, Colonel Sheppard. Here to rescue you, sir.”
Sheppard nodded. “Uh-huh. So how's it going so far?”
Lorne grimaced. “Not too good, sir.”
Since it didn't look like Sheppard should be on his feet, Lorne took the initiative by sitting down on the left hand bunk, John following suit with a flash of a grateful smile and a sigh or relief. “What happened?” he asked.
“Came in with a team of eight including Ronon and Teyla,” Lorne explained. “We split up to cover more ground. They weren't at the last warehouse so we thought they'd taken you to another world. Ronon didn't think so and he was able to track 'em to another warehouse. Except they weren't there, so he tracked them to another. When they weren't there either, we split up. I was ambushed trying to check this place out. The people who used to live on this world must have had a thing for warehouses because there are a lot.”
Sheppard rubbed his obviously aching head, barely managing to avoid the bruises. “I think this place used to be some kind of mining town. I spotted some mining equipment when they dragged me to the third level for another little chat.” He sighed, tilting his head back against the water-stained wall. For a moment, Lorne thought he was asleep.
Then, “I'll give them credit enough to say they have a smart leader,” the colonel said, “but they're no rebels. I wouldn't even call them a real threat, more like an annoyance. They didn't take Sgt. Stevens men to interrogate them. It was more just both sides being in the wrong place at the wrong time. All they keep asking is why we're here and on what world we're hiding.”
Lorne studied his CO, the bruises and cuts, the darkest bruising on his right flank, arm, throat, left ankle and right eye nearly swollen shut. He could see the fine, nearly imperceptible tremors in his skin and the way the muscles of his ribs hitched on each inhale cutting the breaths short. “With all do respect, sir, I wouldn't say they aren't much of a threat.”
Sheppard's good eye cracked open. “Anyone can punch a guy when he's tied down, Major. They do it for kicks and for show.”
Lorne nodded. “They look like the type. So is that what I can expect for myself if the others don't find us?”'
Sheppard gestured with his good hand at his own body. “This, a little food deprivation, sleep deprivation, sometimes no water.”
Lorne's chest tightened with a surge of anger. “Damn, sir.”
“But now that' you're here,” John said, “it'll probably be double tag-team torture. They torture you to get me to talk, or me to get you to talk.”
“Once again - damn, sir.”
Sheppard didn't say anything. He looked tired, too tired to even sleep, and sick. Actually, he was sick as revealed by a quiet but still liquid sounding cough that twisted the Lt. colonel's face in a grimace of pain. It pissed Lorne off beyond words that they hadn't found Sheppard sooner. There was something on this planet, some energy or mineral or whatever, that put technology on the fritz. Which meant no jumpers, LSDs, or tracking Sheppard through his transmitter. If it hadn't been for Ronon's tracking skills they wouldn't have thought the colonel still on this world.
After a moment, Sheppard broke the thick silence. “Don't worry, Major. Now that you're here, I have a plan.”
Lorne gave him an odd look. “That fast?”
“Actually, I thought it up two days ago and scrapped it when I realized it was a two man job.” Sheppard lifted his head to lean in close and relay the plan right into Lorne's ears. Evan didn't know whether to laugh or be very, very afraid.
“Think you can pull it off?” the colonel asked.
“I should hope so, sir.”
Sheppard gave him a strained smile that looked like it hurt. “Don't hope, just do.” He dropped the smile for a pinched expression of worry. “Although it wouldn't hurt to hope a little bit.”
Lorne shook his head in amused bewilderment. Here was something else he liked about Colonel Sheppard. Since joining the SGC Lorne had served with plenty of soldiers able to pull unorthodox, even insane plans out of thin air. Sheppard had the decency to realize they were possibly insane. Most wouldn't think his honesty a good thing; that it would kill morale or whatever. Lorne, however, preferred it. The honesty said that Lorne could question the plan if he wanted, offer a better suggestion, input, opinion. It said Sheppard was more interested in getting them out alive than in being a smart ass.
“Sir?” Lorne said. “if you don't mind my asking... how did you get caught?”
Sheppard opened his eyes, saying nothing. Lorne wasn't sure if he'd been about to when the clank of unlocking bolts announced the arrival of their captors: three men dressed in dark-gray jumpsuits armed with Genii-style pistols. Two went into the cell while the third covered Lorne.
Sheppard gave an imperceptible nod and Lorne jumped into action, grabbing the colonel to push him into the corner and crowd him in a protective stance. “No, you're not hurting him anymore so just back off!” he screamed.
As expected, the two soldiers grabbed him, flinging him out of the cell for the third to press his gun into his ribs. The two then man-handled Sheppard roughly, dragging him down the hall to the stairs. Lorne was prodded along after.
“Please,” Lorne begged, “don't hurt him. He can't take much more.” The whining was an act. The words, however, were plenty sincere, although Lorne would have preferred less pleading and more cursing. They were herded up to the third level, Sheppard barely keeping to his feet in a way that made Lorne wonder if it might not be an act. The guards brought them into a room like a mess hall, large with scattered tables and chairs. Lorne counted about twenty to twenty-five men spread throughout the room. The center was cleared except for a chain and metal collar hanging from a central rafter.
The collar was cinched around Sheppard's neck. The two guards stepped back taking hold of the other end of the chain, unhooking it from a bolt on the floor. Lorne was shoved into a chair to have his hands bound behind him.
A man - short, rotund, balding but with a thick red mustache - paced back and forth in front of Evan.
“Please,” Lorne begged inflecting a little quiver into his voice. “Please, don't do this.”
Pudgey smiled. “Gladly” he said in a bass voice. “So long as you are willing to answer our questions. Question one: what are you doing here? Question two: what world are you hiding on? And question three: what are the symbols to that world?”
“Major,” Sheppard growled, “don't say a damn thi...” he was cut off when the guards pulled the chain that lifted the collar pressing it into John's throat, forcing him to stand tip-toe or choke.
Lorne's appalled reaction wasn't an act. He jerked fighting against the ropes cutting into his wrists. “Stop that you sons of bitches, you're killing!” And barely remembered to add, “Please!”
With a casual wave from pudgey's hand, the guards allowed a little slack into the chain. Sheppard's legs almost gave out when he slumped in relief, sucking in air as much as his broken ribs would allow. The colonel coughed then groaned from the pain it caused.
Pudgey's smile widened as though pleased. “Just a sample of what happens when you do not play along. So I suggest you play along. Answer the questions.”
“Major,” Sheppard choked. Pudgey stepped backward, positioning himself in just the right spot to deliver a couple of kidney punches. Sheppard arched back with a grunt, his knees gave, and the chain was pulled effectively causing Sheppard to hang himself.
Lorne's heart shot into his throat. “No, stop! You're killing him!”
“No,” said pudgey, “you're killing him. Answer the questions and he will live.”
Lorne's reactions were legit, every one. Watching Sheppard choke, his face going red from lack of oxygen, fingers clawing at the collar, throaty liquid gurgles squeezing out of his throat... for about two minutes Lorne was tempted to say something, anything, to make it stop. Lie his ass off. Except he didn't have to and thought now as good a time as ever to implement Sheppard's plan.
Lorne increased his breathing to hyperventilating speeds, rolled his eyes up into the back of his head, then let his body go limp. It was harder than trying not to say anything. The choking gurgles and gasps stretched into dragging minutes until finally, thankfully, replaced by a ragged gasp.
“What happened!” Pudgey snapped.
“Looks like he passed out, sir,” someone replied.
“New guy,” he heard Sheppard rasp between coughs. “Can't... can't stand torture...”
Pudgey made a throaty noise of disgust. “Take them back to the cell. Try to revive this one if you can.”
Lorne felt the ropes drop away then hands gripping his arms handling him out of the chair. The sound of the chains rattling was the best thing he'd heard all day. He suffered being dragged down three flights of stairs when he heard a pained groan followed by a dull thud.
“I... I can't,” Sheppard gasped, then coughed.
That was Lorne's cue. He snapped his head up planting his feet firmly under himself, yanking his arms free to punch the guard on the right while kicking out ramming his foot into the stomach of the other guard. Sheppard, crumpled on the floor, slammed his foot into the third guy's knee then grabbed the fourth guy taking aim at Lorne. The guy fell and the gun went skittering. Lorne grabbed it bringing it on the guy he'd kick trying to recover. The fourth guy Sheppard took care of with an elbow to the face. The third guy joined the fourth when John grabbed his gun, slamming the butt into the man's face.
Lorne mimicked ramming the butt into the kicked guard's skull, then helped his CO to his feet. Sheppard staggered, probably would have fallen if Lorne hadn't kept a firm grip. He let the colonel lean up against him.
“Good plan, sir,” Evan said.
Both of Sheppard's eyebrows were arched high in surprise. “Yeah, guess it was. Let's get out of here before someone finishes lunch early.”
“Won't the entrance be guarded?”
Sheppard raised his gun. “That's why we bring these.”
Lorne walked while Sheppard hobbled, still panting from all the exertion. There were a lot of crates and old mechanical equipment to maneuver around but also providing ample cover. They passed something that looked like a thresher partially covered by a blanket-sized cloth. Lorne pulled it, off raising a thick cloud of dust, and handed it to the colonel.
“Here, sir. It's just chilly in here but pretty damn cold outside.”
John took it, needing help from Lorne to get it around his shoulders and tie it at the chest into a kind of cloak. One look at Sheppard's bare feet and Lorne winced. “Should have grabbed some boots while we were at it.”
“I'll live,” Sheppard said. “Let's move.”
They crept their way to the front and two guards keeping watch at the large windows flanking the only entrance. Sheppard pointed at Lorne, then signaled right while he took left, both moving as one creeping up behind the guards. When close enough, they rushed in clocking the two men hard on the head. The men crumpled boneless to the ground. Lorne confiscated the larger of the two men's boots, handing them to Sheppard. “You're going to need them, sir.”
John nodded, slipping his long feet into the shoes. “Kind of tight. I bet some tiny-footed bastard's wearing mine.”
Lorne grinned, following Sheppard out the door. They kept to the wall making their way to the safety of the dense forest. Once within the trees they made a wide arch heading in the general direction of the last warehouse Lorne had checked out. With any luck, Ronon would have eventually tracked Evan's last position there when he couldn't be contacted. Considering if the coms had started working again. Sometimes they did, sometimes they didn't depending on where someone was positioned, sort of like adjusting a TV antenna just right to get better reception.
“Well that was fun,” Lorne said.
John shook his head wearily. “It's not over yet. In fact, it's going to get worse once those guards wake up.” He stumbled, about to fall when Lorne caught him pulling him back upright. The muscle quakes had become all-out trembling as the crisp air snaked through the thin blanket. It had to be around late fall/early winter on this planet. The trees were next to bare save for a few dead leaves trying to hold out. The air was sharp, like breathing in blades, sucking the moisture from the tender membrane of the throat and lungs. It was hell for Lorne. He couldn't even begin to imagine what it was like for Sheppard who was now coughing harder every minute. The colonel pulled the covering tighter around him, hunching his shoulders against the cold. Lorne made sure to stick so close that they were touching arm to arm, hopefully getting a little warmth to seep through.
The further they went, the more John stumbled, falling to his knees twice. He would have fallen to his face if Evan hadn't still had a hold of his arm outside the blanket. Pain and fatigue were beating Sheppard down fast. Lorne was surprised the man wasn't asleep on his feet.
“Hey, sir?” he said. Getting the exhausted to talk helped prolong their consciousness. “You never did say how you were captured. It might be good to know in case they try to use the same tactic.”
John said nothing, just stared at the ground.
“Sir?” Evan prodded.
Sheppard coughed. “I let myself.”
It was Lorne who ended up stumbling. He would have stopped all together if the situation had allowed for it. “Let yourself?”
John nodded. “As a distraction. Sgt. Stevens and his men were pretty banged up. I let myself get caught to give them time to get far enough away.” He gave Evan a hard, dark look. “Before you say anything, I wasn't being suicidal. And,” he dropped his gaze, features softening, eyes going regretful, “and I'm sorry I put the rest of you in a position to have to save me and risk yourselves. It was a last minute plan, I didn't know what else to do. We'd spread out, like you did. Cpl. Hale was with me but took a bullet to the leg. I tried to radio for help five times but the com wouldn't work. I didn't know what else to do. If I didn't do something they were going to swarm over Sgt. Stevens' team.”
Lorne stared ahead. What he liked about Sheppard was surface stuff, personality, attitude. What he admired about him went deeper. Col. Sheppard always did whatever needed to be done. It was never a risk when the risk was to himself. If others had to be involved, then he called it a risk. Dr. McKay called that being suicidal. Lorne called it Sheppard doing his job. A soldier wasn't asked to see himself as expendable but he was asked to always be prepared to die. A soldier's job was to protect others, which was contradicted when others had to be involved to help him do the protecting.
It wasn't that Sheppard didn't expect to be rescued, he was simply prepared for the event of it not being possible. Like any good soldier, there was a part of him wanting rescue, but a larger part that hoped against it if it meant others being put in the line of fire. Lorne wasn't any different. But Sheppard... Sheppard pulled out all the stops. Lorne wouldn't have ever thought of giving himself up a means to allow everyone else to escape. Not out of self-preservation or fear, it just simply would not have occurred to him. He would have gone with the others, watched their six and hoped they all made it out alive. Sheppard had done one better.
“I understand, sir,” Lorne said, and meant it.
There was no saying how far they'd gone or how much time had passed. All Lorne knew was that Sheppard was holding on by a thread that was unraveling fast. It was more than exhaustion pulling him down, it was pain from the recent torture, the cold, and trying to pull oxygen from frigid air into constricted, congested lungs. Evan could hear his breathing, rasping and wet that made Lorne's chest ache in sympathy. He was soon forced to pull Sheppard's arm across his shoulders to keep him up-right, which meant opening the blanket to expose him to more cold.
“Hang on, sir. I'll get you out of here.”
“Not if it means... getting yourself... killed,” John rasped.
Lorne smiled tightly. “I risked my ass trying to get you out. Like hell I'm putting in all that effort just to fail.” A soldier was told to prepare for death, but trained to fight death every step of the way. Evan just wished he could say they were almost there. The cold, harsh fact was that he had no idea where they were.
A twig snapped loud and sharp. Lorne froze, listening. He adjusted Sheppard higher up his shoulder to free his gun hand that had been wrapped around the colonel's waist.
Another snap. Lorne turned his head in time to catch movement through the forest. “Sir,” he breathed. “I apologize in advance if I have to drop you.”
“Understood... major.”
Lorne lifted his weapon and took aim. The figure flitted between the trees long enough for Lorne to catch a flash of copper hair that had him exhaling a stream of fog in relief. “Looks like I won't have to drop you after all, Colonel.”
“Good,” Sheppard croaked.
They walked and hobbled toward the small but compact and lethal figure that was Teyla. As soon as she saw them, she froze, only to break from it into a run and take up supporting Sheppard on the other side by holding onto his biceps.
“How did you find him?” she said, her smile dropping into a frown now that she was close enough to see the damage. “What have they done to him?”
Lorne thinned his lips ruefully. “They were torturing him for information,” he grunted. “I was captured and Sheppard was able to use me in an escape plan. We need to find the others and get him out of here. Damn it! If this stupid planet wasn't messing with our coms... we're going to have to send up a flare even if it gives away our position.”
Teyla nodded. She was already on it pulling the flare gun from her vest and pointing it straight up. The ball of blinding red and white shot high before arching back toward the ground, fading fast in the cold air. They moved quick from the spot, dragging Sheppard between them. With the signal sent, everyone would be heading back to the gate.
“Here,” Teyla said. “Hold Colonel Sheppard for a moment.”
Lorne took Sheppard's weight when Teyla released him to unzip and remove her vest and jacket. She slipped the jacket onto Sheppard backwards so that it was covering his chest, then pulled on her vest and grabbed John's other arm. They continued trudging through the forest, dead leaves crunching under their feet, Sheppard a dead weight between them making the going slow.
Gunfire ricocheted ripping through the silence - sharp barks followed by rapid pattering from P-90s. Lorne grinned wryly. “Guess the guards finally woke up.”
“Teyla, Lorne!”
They turned to see Ronon heading their way. And Lorne had thought he'd been relieved when Teyla had showed up. “Ronon! You're timing rocks, we could really use your help right now.”
Ronon didn't ask questions. He slowed on approach, looking from Lorne to the weakened body next to him. He scooped that body into his arms, adjusting him carefully as Teyla adjusted the covering to provide Sheppard more warmth. Arriving a minute after Ronon and a little out of breath was Lt. Stiles and Staff Sargent Bale. Since the danger was behind, Stiles and Bale took lead while Lorne and Teyla their six, Ronon and his fragile cargo in between.
Not that Sheppard was fragile, just fragile at the extreme moment. They didn't hear anymore gun fire as they went, which they hoped was a good thing but didn't count on it. Lorne told Teyla in better detail how Sheppard had been found and, hesitantly, how he'd been caught.
“Dr. McKay's going to get after him for it,” he said, talking softly. They were far enough away that they could talk at all so long as they kept their voices low.
“Perhaps,” Teyla said. “Frustration is how Dr. McKay expresses concern.”
“I guess,” Lorne said. “It's still kind of ungrateful.”
“True,” Teyla replied. “But Col. Sheppard understands. He says it would not be McKay if he did not give into anger.”
They fell silent. Lorne stared at the tuft of dark hair that was the only visible part of Sheppard. Thinking back on it, Lorne was amazed Sheppard had been able to pull off the moves he had back at that warehouse. The guy was banged up bad, so bad it was just as amazing that he'd been able to stand.
“Hey Ronon,” Lorne softly called. “How's the colonel's breathing?”
“Loud,” Ronon said. “But he's still breathing.”
Lorne shook his head. What really amazed him, what he really admired about Sheppard above everything else, was that the man was still in the Pegasus Galaxy and still leading. Evan was not one to make assumptions about others, except that he had without realizing it. He'd read Sheppard's file in order to get to know a little more about the man who was to be his commander. Until sitting in that chair in Antarctica, Sheppard had been nothing more than a glorified taxi driver. Until stepping from earth into Atlantis, he'd never been off world or even knew what a Stargate was. Until Sumner had died, Sheppard had never held the kind of command he held now.
Few people could boast about their lives changing dramatically in a single day like Sheppard could, except he didn't boast about it, he just went with it. In one long day Sheppard's world had flipped up-side-down on its head. Lorne new guys, newbies, stepping through the gate for the first time and having second thoughts the moment they were on the other side. Guys who would have found the nearest corner and packed themselves into it if they'd been in Sheppard's position. Either that or gladly fork over command as soon as they could.
Not Sheppard. One would think he'd been used to it all from the start.
“Sheppard's a good soldier,” Lorne said, speaking out loud.
Teyla smiled. “He is an excellent warrior.”
Lorne shook his head. “That's not what I mean. After everything he's been through, he's still around. There are people I knew, I've seen, good soldiers too but couldn't cope with stuff only half as bad as the crap that's been done to Sheppard. I've seen soldiers claw their way up to a higher rank just to drop under the pressure. Sheppard gets everything and then some dumped on him... and he just wades through it like it's nothing.”
“It is not nothing,” Teyla pensively replied. “To him it is something. He does what he must.”
Lorne smiled. “Isn't that the truth.”
“He does it for us,” she continued. “We are the reason he keeps going. I have heard him say as much.”
It wasn't long before they reached the gate with no opposition between them and home. The rest of the platoon joined them, all accounted for, Lt. Vauhn sporting the only injury - a graze to the shoulder. But it was not over, Vauhn and Lt. Lucas had managed to scattered the New Wave but that didn't mean they'd chased them off. The moment the last chevron was hit bullets started pinging off the DHD and 'gate. Bale sent his IDC and they charged through the 'gate the moment the shield was down.
The shield popped back up as soon as they were on the other side. Beckett and his med-team were already standing by. Ronon transferred Sheppard onto a gurney and they watched as he was wheeled away.
It was messy, it was close, Lorne felt like he could sleep for a week, but everyone was alive and the mission was accomplished. He would definitely call this a good day.
----------------------------------------------
Evan walked into the quiet infirmary that was winding down for the evening. He moved toward the back and the only currently occupied bed in the place. Sheppard's prognosis was good. Despite being a little malnourished, heavily bruised, hypothermic, with mild pneumonia, a broken arm, ankle and two ribs, he would live. Food, warmth, rest and oxygen had put him on the path back to recovery.
Lorne stopped, maintaining a respectful distance between himself and the small group surrounding Sheppard's bed. The colonel himself was asleep, bruised face lax and breathing even according to the rise and fall of his chest. Sheppard's team still surrounded the bed talking quietly to each other: McKay on a stool, Ronon leaning against the bed, and Teyla in a chair, her small hand clasping Sheppard's larger one resting on his stomach.
This is what Teyla had meant. This is why Sheppard stayed. This is what he lived for. This is what he would die for. Everything Lorne was seeing, right here and right now, defined Sheppard. He does what he has to for these people.
Not just his team, everyone.
Lorne knew everyone would easily return the favor. He knew because he would himself in a heartbeat. Sheppard was just that kind of a man.
It was hard not to like him.
The End