Supply and Demand: Stolen Part 2/10 (SPN/SGA AU Crossover)
Supply and Demand: Stolen Part 2/10 (SPN/SGA AU Crossover)
Author: Tari_Roo
Rating: PG13 (Gen)
Fandom: SPN/SGA
Disclaimer: I own nothing, I profit from nothing. Although if I had my way Sheppard and co would still on screen, Mitchell would have joined Atlantis and Dean and Sam would be shirtless more often.
Summary: SGA/SPN Crossover AU. When an impossibly locked door is keeping the Trust from treasures unknown, they arrange to steal an Empath so that their Kinetics can ‘crack the safe’. Unfortunately for Dean, he’s the unlucky Empath and the safe is in Pegasus.
Spoilers: set post Season 5 of SGA and assumes Atlantis returned to Pegasus, post ep 100 and AU for SPN (all seasons)
Chapter 2
The dual suns overhead were hot, bright and disconcerting for those unused to offworld travel. The small campsite was abuzz with activity, scientists running experiments, setting up equipment, with former soldiers and mercenaries providing the necessary security for an alien world, no matter how isolated and dead.
But their whole reason for being on this world was the large half dome, with a heavy metal door, standing all alone in the open arena, hundreds of metres from the nearest building. And camp had been set up right next to it, the Al’kesh off the distance, even more alien looking against the cool white of the city.
Miles Augusto was ostensibly in charge of the expedition to Pegasus, the modified Al’kesh under his command, as well the mercenaries hired by the Trust. But the scientists and kinetics were ‘civilians’ as it were, contracted for a specific purpose - the giant, locked, half dome.
And Augusto was watching the three Kinetics and their kidnapped Empath from the cool shade of his large tent, comfortable in his camp chair, a cool drink in hand. His instructions were clear. Get the dome open by any means, but mostly by Kinetic means as the low level energy signature from the dome was worrying the scientists. The best way to deal with Kinetics was give them a goal and then let them lose. As a rule, Augusto found them to be proud, and arrogant and difficult and the four week trip out to Pegasus both tiresome and irritating.
But at least they had had Winchester to keep them occupied, even if it usually resulted in more arguing than anything. On that though, Augusto had followed his own orders - keep the Empath as doped up as possible. The last thing they all needed was an irate, out of control Empath messing with everyone onboard during hyperdrive. And the brief moments that he had been conscious, the Kinetics had pestered him relentlessly so he hadn’t had the time to do more than throw up and give everyone a mild headache.
Now though, after a day onworld, the Kinetics had a job to do, and Augusto had had a quiet word with Taylor, whose cool, disturbing gaze had barely flinched at the implied threats but he had smiled at the promise of keeping Winchester.
After a morning of fruitless effort, it seemed like something was finally happening.
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By the time Hughes had regained consciousness and Dean had stopped heaving, they were all feeling a lot better mentally but physically utterly drained. Taylor pulled Dean to his feet, steadying him when his feet threatened to go out from under him. Durrant was striding up and down, amped up on the empathic feed, running his hands over his short hair, arms, chest, practically bathing in the feel of Dean.
Hughes was still flat on his back, a dopey half drugged smile on his face, uncaring on his damp underwear, the picture of stoned happiness. Taylor dragged Winchester over to one of the scientist’s folding chairs and plopped him on it. He lifted a Gatorade from the cooler and brought it over, snapping it open and then holding it out to Dean. Still pretty out of it, Winchester let him tip the cool liquid into his mouth and he gulped the beverage down.
Lifting a few energy bars as well, Taylor starting munching on one, and offered the other to Dean who shook his head, obviously still nauseous. Durrant however came over, and snagged it off him, happily munching away, staring at Winchester. Durrant’s grey t-shirt was dark with sweat, his lean frame vibrating with energy.
“Feels weird, good, but weird,” he muttered, bouncing a little on his feet, cricking his neck from side to side. “Feel I like I could run a mile in a second. Hell - I might just try.”
“Take it easy, it’ll settle and then we can give the door another crack.”
“Sure, sure,” Durrant nodded, but didn’t move away, still staring Winchester, who was quietly trying to calm down, concentrating on his breathing.
Suddenly Durrant lashed out, grabbed Winchester by the throat and pulled him to his feet, and squeezed. Taylor barely thought about it but instantly responded with a kinetic blow, sending Durrant flying and leaving Dean unharmed. Gently shoving Dean back in the chair, Taylor ambled towards Durrant, easily shoving and pushing him down, keeping him on the floor.
Hughes, suddenly aware of the rise in tension, sat up, confused. Durrant snarled and fought the invisible hands keeping him pinned and growled, “Let go man! Quit it!”
“I don’t care what your control issues are, Durrant. You don’t behave like that.” Taylor stood over him, long frame casting a dark shadow of Durrant, thinner and smaller than Durrant but so much more in control than the bulkier, more physically imposing man.
“He’s been jerking us around all morning! He’s supposed to submit!” Durrant snarled, thin lips twisted in an angry line.
Taylor pressed down harder, making Durrant squirm. “Like you know anything about Empaths. The fight is half the fun - and the more fire they got, the longer they last.”
“Fine! Let me up.”
Taylor held him down for a few more moments, letting his dominance, his strength show before letting up and Durrant immediately scrambled to his feet. “Try that again, Taylor and I’ll....”
The very Darth Vader like sensation of an invisible hand closing over his throat cut Durrant off and he stammered, “Kay, kay, I’m backing off.”
Hughes was by now on his feet, a distant spot of worry on the horizon. Dean however was slumped in the chair, staring at the confrontation with interest. Taylor glared a little more at Durrant before strolling back to Winchester, taking a possessive stance, just daring Durrant to challenge him again.
Durrant however turned around and headed towards the small tent they were sharing, muttering under his breath, “Egotistical bastard, posturing like a damn little peacock...”
Hughes held up his hands in mock surrender, long hair flopping into his face when Taylor glared at him, more than satisfied not having to do anything but bask in the connection. Certain that there would be no more challenges, no threats to Dean, Taylor looked down at the Empath with something that was supposed to pass for affection, but was closer to pride.
Winchester however only looked back with weariness and disgust. He was tired, looked done in, but would probably fight anyway. Smiling, in what he considered a reassuring manner but looked far more creepy in reality, Taylor opened another Gatorade and offered it to Dean, who reluctantly accepted and then greedily slurped it down.
Fully aware that he was taking advantage and pushing any number of boundaries, Taylor couldn’t help but run his hand through Dean’s hair, relishing the feel of the connection, no matter the distant but growing anger he could feel from the guy. Dean tried to pull away, growling and grimacing, but Taylor just moved with it, and hissed, “There’s a good boy.”
That got a reaction, a short jab of kinetic energy to his midriff and spark of electricity at his hand, but it lacked any strength. “Atta, boy.”
Eventually, Taylor sat down in his own chair and relaxed, mentally continuing the taunting by pulling at the chain, pushing and strengthening it. He could feel Augusto’s disapproving glare from across the way, but Taylor was confident, even more so now with the connection surging through him. It wasn’t anything close to a permanent one, but approximated it enough that he felt amazing.
Durrant and Hughes rapidly became bored, getting used to the thrill of the connection all too quickly and were soon back, hovering near them, probably drawn by Dean’s growing agitation. Durrant was posturing, trying to recover some ground, jockeying along the connection. Hughes, lazy grin in place just let Taylor and Durrant fight for control, happy to be there.
Deeming Winchester worked up enough, and Durrant amped up and keen, Taylor stood and motioned for Hughes and Durrant to follow. They left Dean where he was, but stood close enough to feel the heat of his glare. “OK, gentlemen, let’s try this again.”
Collectively they reached out to the large metal doors, and poured their kinetic strength into the seams and edges and pushed. It was far from easy, and soon all three were sweating, straining to get the doors to move, but they could feel the give, the metal like material bending slowing, and eventually Durrant lost control and just yanked, the doors flying open, and off their hinges.
Durrant fell to his knees with a sharp cry, eyes and nose bleeding. “Idiot, you’ll give yourself an aneurysm doing that,” Taylor snarled, reeling from the aftermath of the feedback. Ignoring Taylor, Durrant groaned and held his head in his hands.
“Well, jobs done anyway. Take him back to the tent, I’ll let the geeks know.”
Hughes nodded, and pulled Durrant to his feet, murmuring softly, probably fighting his own headache but that dopey grin was quick to return.
Winchester however was on the ground, passed out, more blood flowing from his nose. “Idiot,” Taylor cursed Durrant again and hurried over, turning Dean onto his back. As he did so, he noted the mess he was making of his wrists, the angry red raw lines beneath the metal cuffs. “Hell.”
Somewhat awkwardly, Taylor hauled Winchester back to the tent assigned to the Empath, and plopped him on his bed. Snapping the softer leather cuff attached to the bed’s leg in place on Dean’s ankle, Taylor fished out the keys to the cuffs and set to working them lose. Somehow, probably trying to force the tumblers mentally, Dean had managed to stiffen them up, or in this case, twist the simple tumblers inside the cuffs. It was why they had resorted to cuffing his hands behind his back. Given the opportunity to study the cuffs, he seemed to make better progress in mentally picking them. Finally, with a bit of a kinetic nudge, the lock sprang open. Time for a new set, again.
Dean groaned as Taylor pulled the metal rings off, his raw wrists no doubt an agony. Taylor ran an antiseptic wipe over each wrist methodically, ensuring that he cleaned every inch of broken skin. He wrapped them in gauze, tucking the ends securely in and then taping it anyway. Looking up, he met Dean’s emotional gaze, felt the weight of his regard bearing down on him. Absently, he wiped the blood off his face as well. Tossing the blood covered wipes away, Taylor sighed to himself.
It was no use asking Dean why he fought, Taylor knew exactly why. Instead he placed one wrist, the nearest in the soft medical restraint secured to the bed. With his eyes lowered to the task of buckling the strap closed, Taylor asked quietly, “Do you miss him, your kinetic?”
Leaning over Winchester, still not looking up, Taylor placed the left wrist in the strap, and buckled it in, ensuring it was snug. “I know he misses you.”
“Go to hell.”
The voice was shattered, rough and broken, but oh so clear. Dean didn’t look away either, stared at Taylor, sent as much of his poor opinion, nay, hate through the connection as he could. Huffing a little in amusement, Taylor patted him condescendingly on the cheek, before standing. “Hard work’s all done, Dean. Just fun and exploration now.”
He left the tent, heading towards his own, making a mental note to get the sergeant making dinner tonight to give Dean an extra portion, the guy was looking positively wane these days.
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--- .-. / .... . / .-- .. .-.. .-.. / -.- .. .-.. .-.. / -.-- --- ..-
Sheppard quietly sank down to his haunches, sharing a knowing look with Rodney. They were in a quiet, half broken walled garden. Part of the smooth, impossibly put together white stone had collapsed in like crushed ice. The bright green vines from the garden had covered the stones and walls in a beautiful natural lattice, bright yellow and purple flowers dotting the network. The flowers were tiny stars of colour in a sprawl of white and green and beautiful in their disarray.
But as beautiful as the garden was, its location and view on the large open area was its main draw card for his team. Even Teyla, who was usually quite taken with these picturesque spots of wild decay was more concerned with the scene unfolding in the open area.
Silence was imperative, as there were several soldiers far too close for comfort, but Ronon was keeping a careful eye on their movements, while everyone else had watched the doors fly off the large half dome.
Motioning for Rodney and Teyla to follow, and for Ronon to stay, Sheppard stepped away from their viewpoint and headed back to the archway leading into the garden. Keeping his voice low, he whispered, “We need to get back to Atlantis asap. These guys are definitely from Earth.”
“And that means the Trust,” Rodney hissed, clutching his LSD tightly like some Trust Bogeyman was going to leap out and take it.
Teyla murmured quietly, “How can you do so sure?” She looked worried, and kept on shooting glances back at the broken wall and area beyond.
Beating Rodney to the punch, John sighed, “Well the Al’kesh is the main clue, seeing how it’s a Gou’ald ship, and the soldier’s have a mix of M16s and AKs.”
Undeterred, Rodney rolled his eyes and snapped, “Oh, and the fact that three Kinetics just ripped off that door like it was paper.”
This drew Teyla’s intense gaze back to Rodney and she hissed, “Kinetics? You mean like in Fatal Connection?”
Rodney coloured while John smiled broadly. “Ah, yeah?”
Unfazed, Teyla continued, “I thought they were stories... like Superman and Jaws? Fiction.”
John shrugged, leaning against the wall behind him, twisting to watch the perimeter, “Not really. I’m sure we had this conversation...”
Nodding, face returning to a normal shade of red, Rodney murmured, “Yeah about Dr. Bishop and his experiments.”
Pursing her lips, looking slightly annoyed, Teyla sighed, waving a hand in the air, “Perhaps but it is easy to get your history and pop culture confused, Rodney. It is very similar.”
“Well.” John began but Teyla continued on regardless, “And you do not always bother to explain.”
Acknowledging that, Sheppard smiled, “Sorry.”
Rodney, less apologetic and more irritated, huffed, “Doesn’t change the fact that we have Trust issues.”
“No pun intended, Rodney?” John beamed, delighted that Rodney had walked right into that one.
Going red again, Rodney chuffed, “Oh, har har.”
Ronon signalled that someone was approaching and they each sank down, and watched the LSD in Rodney’s hands cautiously. Two guards on patrol walked past the hole leading to the garden and the moment they were out of sight, Ronon stood.
“Let’s go. We need to get to the Gate.”
Teyla, who looked like she still had questions, nodded sharply and lead the way out of the enclosed space, through the small archway.
She set a gruelling pace for them for a good few minutes, ducking and dodging through narrow, twisty streets and over broad avenues that dwarfed and swallowed you. The former ‘peace’ of the dead city was now eerie and oppressive, the knowledge of intruders dampening the mood.
The soft jingle of equipment on tac vest and the dull thud of boots on dull and dusty stone was the only sound to be heard, bar the occasional huff of breath. Between Ronon and John, they took turns watching the rear, slowly scanning the dark shadows and then catching up, trusting Teyla to lead them right. A good ten minutes later, Teyla turned a corner and as the others followed, they stepped out in the wide open space.
“Crap, we’ve gone too far south,” John moaned, recognising where they were. Teyla nodded, “I fear so. I am sorry, I wasn’t paying close enough attention.”
Sheppard shrugged it off, and smiled, “Don’t worry, we know where we are. Let’s head out.”
“Can we… uhm,” Rodney sighed, his face red and chest heaving. He was drenched in sweat and looked beat. All three of his team mates looked at him and if anything he went redder.
“What happened to getting fit, McKay? We’ve been back in Pegasus for months… you were supposed to…” Sheppard started to say.
“Yeah, yeah, I was meaning to, but I didn’t ok, so can we take 5?” Rodney groused, now beet red and indignant, but keeping his temper.
Ronon looked a little miffed, but amused at the same time, while Teyla happily sat down on an overturned stone, and pulled out her canteen. John did the same, shuffling next to her and Ronon was the only one who chose to lean against the wall instead, partly in the shade. Rodney elected to sit on the ground, legs stretched out and he motioned for John’s canteen.
“Where’s yours, McKay?”
“Finished it already.”
“Rodney!”
Unrepentant, McKay waggled his hand for the canteen, and said, “Whose idea was it come here again?”
With a sigh, John handed over his canteen and let Rodney finish it. Teyla leant back, carefully tucking her canteen away, despite Rodney’s longing look. She still seemed to be contemplating something and eventually John asked, “Teyla?”
Teyla scanned the wide open area and the strange patterned design on the ground. From above, the irregular open space had an eye pleasing pattern tiled in blue stone and when standing in the plaza, it felt like you were in the middle of a design you couldn’t quite grasp, and you could spend hours tracing all the lines and swirls. If its purpose had been purely aesthetic or perhaps religious or cultural, it was difficult to be definitive. Whatever its purpose, at midday the temperature in the plaza was approaching unpleasant, the heat bouncing off the white walls and all but the nearest blue patterned stones lost in a haze.
Rodney was tapping away on his tablet, taking full advantage of the break, so John nudged Teyla again, and she said, “Those men, the Kinetics… are you certain that they are from Earth? Surely there must be other races with abilities?”
John pursed his lips and hmmmed, ”True, but its more the combination of all three factors, the ship, the guns and them.”
“And the fact that our luck sucks,” Rodney said into his tablet, to which Ronon laughed softly.
Sheppard continued, “Luck aside, we need to get back to Atlantis. Tell them what’s what. Maybe send word to the SGC.”
Rodney nodded vigorously, ”Yes, before those morons get inside that dome.”
Teyla look at Rodney, expecting further explanation and John said, “Weren’t you and Zelenka all excited about that dome?”
Frowning at their apparent lack of recall of things important to him, Rodney nodded again, “Yes. It was emitting a very odd energy signature, one we couldn’t quite get a read on. But something vaguely similar to our shield.”
“And?”
“We were defeated by the large, impossible to open doors!” Rodney scowled, glaring at John like he was responsible for that, or least involved the conspiracy to keep McKay from finding interesting things.
Nonplussed, Sheppard laughed, “You, Rodney, defeated?”
“Why in the hell do you think I keep on agreeing to come back here?” McKay squawked, waving his tablet in the air.
John laughed, “Your Indiana Jones delusions?”
“I’m ignoring that. No, it’s because I keep on hoping that I’ll figure out how to open that door. I run a different diagnostic each time we come. “
“And?” John prodded Rodney’s boot, making his friend scowl some more.
Ignoring the nudge, Rodney rolled his eyes dramatically, “And so far I haven’t had three freaks along to rip the doors off for me! And we didn’t want to risk explosives with an unknown energy inside. At least not do so and live to see our curiosity satisfied. It was mostly Zelenka who chickened out though.”
Shaking his head, recalling the debate from last year, no the year before, Sheppard said, “No, I remember vetoing that and you yelling at me. A lot.” And then backing the conversation up a little he said, “I assume you wrote a nice, detailed report on the dome, its locked door and potential wonders inside?”
“Of course, why wouldn’t I? Some of us actually do our paperwork you know.” Teyla was watching them with a long suffering smile, intent on the conversation.
Winking at her, John asked, “And sent it off to the SGC?”
“Of course I... oh....” The proverbial penny dropped and Rodney’s face crumpled into outraged dismay and he grumbled, “Still haven’t plugged all those leaks, huh?”
Sheppard nodded, “So it appears.”
“So what is inside the dome?” Teyla asked.
Rodney stared at Teyla, whose cool gaze refused to be intimidated by his ‘did I not just say’ expression. The lines on his face deepening, Rodney got a little loud with, “Well we could walk back to those strong as all hell freaks and ask them to let us have a gander inside!”
“There is no need to be curt, Rodney. And why do you call them freaks?” Rodney blinked at the two part rejoinder, opened his mouth, closed it and then frowned.
“Because he has the sensitivity of a brick, Teyla. Any educated guesses?”
Rodney pasted on a put-upon expression, like he was dealing with idiots, so it was a fairly common look on his face. “Well it had the hallmarks of a shield, so we are probably looking at something shielded. We couldn’t scan the shield through the door, so who knows what is on the other side.”
“Nothing good though,” John sighed, looking up at Ronon who gave him a ‘hurry up already’ gesture with his hand. A not entirely polite gesture.
Rodney seemed to get the hint as well and said, again too loudly, “No, probably not since its shielded so let’s go get some reinforcements.”
John straightened and Rodney prepared to get up, but Teyla held up her hand and said, ”Sorry, but you did not really answer my question, Rodney. Why did you call them freaks? And John, why are there none of them on Atlantis? Would a Telekinetic not be useful?”
Keen to get moving, John murmured quietly to her, “We’ll explain the details of the Bishop experiments later but short answer to the other is, ‘cos they are really, really rare and there’s not a lot of them on Earth.”
Standing now Rodney ho hummed and said, “And only people that they think are expendable get sent to Pegasus, which still doesn’t explain why I am here, other than my brilliance.”
John reached down to help Teyla up, which she accepted with good grace as she said, “Pardon?”
Dusting himself off, John said, “They are too valuable to waste on us.”
“Oh, but the Trust...” Teyla began.
“Figured out how to open a door without blowing it up,” John finished for her. Ronon straightened as well and Rodney added his two cents, “And they have the resources to hire or blackmail three kinetics.”
“And the man in restraints?” Rodney looked up from his tablet and answered, “Their Empath I guess?”
Teyla looked confused, “I thought Empaths were women?”
“Only on TV.”
Teyla was smiling broadly, no doubt about to tease Rodney some more, as a bolt of purple energy hit her. As she fell with a grimace, Sheppard reached out and caught her on the downward motion.
“Wha?” Rodney turned, and a second bolt struck him and Ronon both pulled him to cover and caught him, and followed John in the narrow passage they had emerged from. “Shooters, on the roof.”
“Damn, you got him?”
“Yeah.”
“Then let’s go, now.” John settled Teyla into his arms, and set off, hoping to lose the mercenaries in the tight narrow streets. Ronon followed close, Rodney drapped over his shoulder and Sheppard immediately ducked into a side street, twisting to keep Teyla’s head from hitting the walls. The dim gloom of the streets was a relief from the sun and watchful eyes, but there were sounds of pursuit. A bitten off shout, distant calls and heavy boots above them.
The buildings were close enough that the Trust mercenaries could chase them on the roof tops above, the occasional flat roof and slight domes not impassable. But John knew the city a little more, and he ran towards a section of the city with interlacing streets, where the pathway dipped into tunnels and under bridges.
But his arms and legs were already beginning to burn with the effort of running and carrying Teyla, and he knew they would not be able to out run the mercenaries. They had to lose them, it was going to be too close otherwise.
And close it was. A sharp crack of energy weapon fire and the stones above Ronon’s head exploded, showering them both with dust. “Go go go,” Ronon grunted. John picked the pace up, hefting Teyla a little, blinking sweat out of his eyes. So much for a quiet trip to Catastrophe. And no, the irony was not lost on him.
John heard the pounding footsteps, running towards them even as Ronon growled, “Flanking us, go right!”
This time it was the report of gunfire and bullets that shattered the stone near them, but John dug in and ran on, but there was movement on all sides and above. He kept on getting the occasional glimpse of camo and running figures, but reckoned it was only about six men after them. Six men too many.
“They’re trying to box us in,” Ronon snarled, his gun pressed perilously close to Rodney’s buttocks, as he steadied his heavier burden. Ronon was also drenched in sweat but could probably make it. But not with Rodney.
John suddenly ducked inside a building, and ran down the spiral staircase to the cooler tunnels beneath. It was risky, easy to get trapped but he pushed on, legs screaming at him. Ronon’s heavy breathing echoed with his in the close tunnel as they thundered along.
When the bright spot of daylight become a giant hole, John closed his eyes as he ran out and took an immediate left. The streets were no longer narrow and close, but broader and wider, tall buildings with oddly curved balconies and sudden windows. Ducking into an alcove, John put Teyla down gently and Ronon did the same.
It took him a moment to catch his breath, back pressed against the cool wall. “Won’t take them long to find us, but... if you go now, you’ll probably make the Gate before them.”
“I’m not leaving you, Sheppard.”
John nodded, and wiped his face, shaking off the sweat. “Yeah, you are. We stick together, they’ll catch us for sure. So.... go. Now. Get Lorne and shitload of Marines.”
Ronon looked ready to rip something, like John, in half, but already they could hear voices in the tunnel. “Go, I can hold them off for a bit. We’re just slowing you down.”
Growling in disagreement, Ronon slapped John way too hard on the arm and said, “Don’t do anything stupid.” And then he took off, running like the wind.
Sheppard grinned, wished he still had a full canteen and sighed, “But stupid works so well for me.”
Pulling free his P-90, he checked the clip and stepped out long enough to send a spray of bullets into the tunnel. Shouts and exclamations echoed back at him, and John sent another scattering of bullets through.
“Run, Ronon, run.”
Counting in his head, knowing he had to give Ronon as much of a lead as possible, Sheppard wasted enough ammunition to keep the men at bay. But they’d figure out a path to flank him in no time, and well, he didn’t have endless ammunition.
The sound of a boot crunching soft dust was his only warning and John whirled behind cover just in time, the zat blast snaking across the stone he’d been leaning against. The cat footed mercenary had used the noise of his covering fire to sneak up close and it’d only been 7 minutes, maybe 10 since Ronon had left. Damn.
Figuring he wouldn’t be alone, John pulled Teyla and Rodney’s P-90s closer to hand and stuck his almost empty weapon around the corner and fired blind. There was no answering fire, not even from the tunnel, and John wondered if it would be worth the break in attention to find the LSD.
In the end, there wasn’t, as more zat fire drove him deeper into the alcove, and Sheppard fired in that general direction, well aware that they were surrounding him. Picking up Teyla’s P-90, he fired both weapons, grateful for the relatively soft trigger that allowed this. There was no accuracy, just bravado right now.
An answering hail of zat fire sent him to his knees and for a wild moment he thought one had hit Rodney. Two shots meant dead right? Ignoring the risk, he scrambled to check his friend’s pulse and felt a thready but strong answer.
More footfalls and John readied himself, knowing that time was up.
As two men rounded the corner, guns up and poised to fire, John was standing over his friends, two P-90s locked on his attackers. The quarters were too tight to risk live rounds, and John couldn’t risk another zat blast hitting Rodney or Teyla.
“Drop them, now!”
Dragging out the moment, John did that, slowly bending and laying the guns on the ground, hearing his knees creak as he did so.
“On your knees! Hands on your head,”
As John sank all the way down to his knees and put his hands on his head, the two men stepped fully out of cover, their zats pointed straight at his head. The first tapped his shoulder radio and said, “You got sight of the fourth?”
John didn’t even try and pretend not to listen for the response, but the answering crackle was indecipherable even for him after years of military jargon over poor comm lines. “Say again, 5?”
He was half a quip away from opening his mouth, but the two men looming over him didn’t seem the type to appreciate a little wit at their expense.
“Are you 1 or 2? You don’t really look like a 1, maybe a 3.”
Not that that had ever stopped John before. 1 or 2 shoved him with the butt of his rifle, and growled, “Shut up.”
The man with the radio was still trying to decipher the response, and eventually got enough of an answer to make him whirl on John and demand, “Where is he? Is he heading for the Gate?”
“Who?”
The rifle butt to the stomach was partially blocked by his tac vest but Sheppard grunted in pain none the less.
“Call him back!”
“Who?”
One of the men stepped forward and pointed a zat at Teyla and screamed, “Answer him, now!”
“Haven’t got a clue who you are talking about,” John said quietly, watching the zat with detached calm.
The blows were short, sharp and professional and left Sheppard reeling, head and stomach aching fiercely, caught off guard at the sudden attack. Those zats were damn hard!
A radio comm. in paused the interrogation and one of them snapped a “Yes, sir” and then snarled, “Up, we’re off to the see the wizard.”
Rodney was unceremoniously hauled upright, once they had disarmed Sheppard and secured his hands behind his back. Teyla was somewhat gently totted off in a fireman’s hold, while a fourth man arrived to help drag Rodney. This left John with the grumpy one who had hit with him with the zat.
John couldn’t help saying, “Does that make you a flying monkey then?”
The man just smirked and shoved John some more. “Yeah, and you the scarecrow.”
TBC in Chapter 3
AN: Chapter 3 is refusing to co-operate.Why, oh why, are you being so difficult Chapter 3? Why?? It’s not like you are filler or unimportant or anything because you are important, you are! L You learnt bad things from chapter 2, bad bad things!
Teaser Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5 Part 6 Part 7 Part 8 Part 9 Epilogue
Background blurb
Author: Tari_Roo
Rating: PG13 (Gen)
Fandom: SPN/SGA
Disclaimer: I own nothing, I profit from nothing. Although if I had my way Sheppard and co would still on screen, Mitchell would have joined Atlantis and Dean and Sam would be shirtless more often.
Summary: SGA/SPN Crossover AU. When an impossibly locked door is keeping the Trust from treasures unknown, they arrange to steal an Empath so that their Kinetics can ‘crack the safe’. Unfortunately for Dean, he’s the unlucky Empath and the safe is in Pegasus.
Spoilers: set post Season 5 of SGA and assumes Atlantis returned to Pegasus, post ep 100 and AU for SPN (all seasons)
Chapter 2
The dual suns overhead were hot, bright and disconcerting for those unused to offworld travel. The small campsite was abuzz with activity, scientists running experiments, setting up equipment, with former soldiers and mercenaries providing the necessary security for an alien world, no matter how isolated and dead.
But their whole reason for being on this world was the large half dome, with a heavy metal door, standing all alone in the open arena, hundreds of metres from the nearest building. And camp had been set up right next to it, the Al’kesh off the distance, even more alien looking against the cool white of the city.
Miles Augusto was ostensibly in charge of the expedition to Pegasus, the modified Al’kesh under his command, as well the mercenaries hired by the Trust. But the scientists and kinetics were ‘civilians’ as it were, contracted for a specific purpose - the giant, locked, half dome.
And Augusto was watching the three Kinetics and their kidnapped Empath from the cool shade of his large tent, comfortable in his camp chair, a cool drink in hand. His instructions were clear. Get the dome open by any means, but mostly by Kinetic means as the low level energy signature from the dome was worrying the scientists. The best way to deal with Kinetics was give them a goal and then let them lose. As a rule, Augusto found them to be proud, and arrogant and difficult and the four week trip out to Pegasus both tiresome and irritating.
But at least they had had Winchester to keep them occupied, even if it usually resulted in more arguing than anything. On that though, Augusto had followed his own orders - keep the Empath as doped up as possible. The last thing they all needed was an irate, out of control Empath messing with everyone onboard during hyperdrive. And the brief moments that he had been conscious, the Kinetics had pestered him relentlessly so he hadn’t had the time to do more than throw up and give everyone a mild headache.
Now though, after a day onworld, the Kinetics had a job to do, and Augusto had had a quiet word with Taylor, whose cool, disturbing gaze had barely flinched at the implied threats but he had smiled at the promise of keeping Winchester.
After a morning of fruitless effort, it seemed like something was finally happening.
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By the time Hughes had regained consciousness and Dean had stopped heaving, they were all feeling a lot better mentally but physically utterly drained. Taylor pulled Dean to his feet, steadying him when his feet threatened to go out from under him. Durrant was striding up and down, amped up on the empathic feed, running his hands over his short hair, arms, chest, practically bathing in the feel of Dean.
Hughes was still flat on his back, a dopey half drugged smile on his face, uncaring on his damp underwear, the picture of stoned happiness. Taylor dragged Winchester over to one of the scientist’s folding chairs and plopped him on it. He lifted a Gatorade from the cooler and brought it over, snapping it open and then holding it out to Dean. Still pretty out of it, Winchester let him tip the cool liquid into his mouth and he gulped the beverage down.
Lifting a few energy bars as well, Taylor starting munching on one, and offered the other to Dean who shook his head, obviously still nauseous. Durrant however came over, and snagged it off him, happily munching away, staring at Winchester. Durrant’s grey t-shirt was dark with sweat, his lean frame vibrating with energy.
“Feels weird, good, but weird,” he muttered, bouncing a little on his feet, cricking his neck from side to side. “Feel I like I could run a mile in a second. Hell - I might just try.”
“Take it easy, it’ll settle and then we can give the door another crack.”
“Sure, sure,” Durrant nodded, but didn’t move away, still staring Winchester, who was quietly trying to calm down, concentrating on his breathing.
Suddenly Durrant lashed out, grabbed Winchester by the throat and pulled him to his feet, and squeezed. Taylor barely thought about it but instantly responded with a kinetic blow, sending Durrant flying and leaving Dean unharmed. Gently shoving Dean back in the chair, Taylor ambled towards Durrant, easily shoving and pushing him down, keeping him on the floor.
Hughes, suddenly aware of the rise in tension, sat up, confused. Durrant snarled and fought the invisible hands keeping him pinned and growled, “Let go man! Quit it!”
“I don’t care what your control issues are, Durrant. You don’t behave like that.” Taylor stood over him, long frame casting a dark shadow of Durrant, thinner and smaller than Durrant but so much more in control than the bulkier, more physically imposing man.
“He’s been jerking us around all morning! He’s supposed to submit!” Durrant snarled, thin lips twisted in an angry line.
Taylor pressed down harder, making Durrant squirm. “Like you know anything about Empaths. The fight is half the fun - and the more fire they got, the longer they last.”
“Fine! Let me up.”
Taylor held him down for a few more moments, letting his dominance, his strength show before letting up and Durrant immediately scrambled to his feet. “Try that again, Taylor and I’ll....”
The very Darth Vader like sensation of an invisible hand closing over his throat cut Durrant off and he stammered, “Kay, kay, I’m backing off.”
Hughes was by now on his feet, a distant spot of worry on the horizon. Dean however was slumped in the chair, staring at the confrontation with interest. Taylor glared a little more at Durrant before strolling back to Winchester, taking a possessive stance, just daring Durrant to challenge him again.
Durrant however turned around and headed towards the small tent they were sharing, muttering under his breath, “Egotistical bastard, posturing like a damn little peacock...”
Hughes held up his hands in mock surrender, long hair flopping into his face when Taylor glared at him, more than satisfied not having to do anything but bask in the connection. Certain that there would be no more challenges, no threats to Dean, Taylor looked down at the Empath with something that was supposed to pass for affection, but was closer to pride.
Winchester however only looked back with weariness and disgust. He was tired, looked done in, but would probably fight anyway. Smiling, in what he considered a reassuring manner but looked far more creepy in reality, Taylor opened another Gatorade and offered it to Dean, who reluctantly accepted and then greedily slurped it down.
Fully aware that he was taking advantage and pushing any number of boundaries, Taylor couldn’t help but run his hand through Dean’s hair, relishing the feel of the connection, no matter the distant but growing anger he could feel from the guy. Dean tried to pull away, growling and grimacing, but Taylor just moved with it, and hissed, “There’s a good boy.”
That got a reaction, a short jab of kinetic energy to his midriff and spark of electricity at his hand, but it lacked any strength. “Atta, boy.”
Eventually, Taylor sat down in his own chair and relaxed, mentally continuing the taunting by pulling at the chain, pushing and strengthening it. He could feel Augusto’s disapproving glare from across the way, but Taylor was confident, even more so now with the connection surging through him. It wasn’t anything close to a permanent one, but approximated it enough that he felt amazing.
Durrant and Hughes rapidly became bored, getting used to the thrill of the connection all too quickly and were soon back, hovering near them, probably drawn by Dean’s growing agitation. Durrant was posturing, trying to recover some ground, jockeying along the connection. Hughes, lazy grin in place just let Taylor and Durrant fight for control, happy to be there.
Deeming Winchester worked up enough, and Durrant amped up and keen, Taylor stood and motioned for Hughes and Durrant to follow. They left Dean where he was, but stood close enough to feel the heat of his glare. “OK, gentlemen, let’s try this again.”
Collectively they reached out to the large metal doors, and poured their kinetic strength into the seams and edges and pushed. It was far from easy, and soon all three were sweating, straining to get the doors to move, but they could feel the give, the metal like material bending slowing, and eventually Durrant lost control and just yanked, the doors flying open, and off their hinges.
Durrant fell to his knees with a sharp cry, eyes and nose bleeding. “Idiot, you’ll give yourself an aneurysm doing that,” Taylor snarled, reeling from the aftermath of the feedback. Ignoring Taylor, Durrant groaned and held his head in his hands.
“Well, jobs done anyway. Take him back to the tent, I’ll let the geeks know.”
Hughes nodded, and pulled Durrant to his feet, murmuring softly, probably fighting his own headache but that dopey grin was quick to return.
Winchester however was on the ground, passed out, more blood flowing from his nose. “Idiot,” Taylor cursed Durrant again and hurried over, turning Dean onto his back. As he did so, he noted the mess he was making of his wrists, the angry red raw lines beneath the metal cuffs. “Hell.”
Somewhat awkwardly, Taylor hauled Winchester back to the tent assigned to the Empath, and plopped him on his bed. Snapping the softer leather cuff attached to the bed’s leg in place on Dean’s ankle, Taylor fished out the keys to the cuffs and set to working them lose. Somehow, probably trying to force the tumblers mentally, Dean had managed to stiffen them up, or in this case, twist the simple tumblers inside the cuffs. It was why they had resorted to cuffing his hands behind his back. Given the opportunity to study the cuffs, he seemed to make better progress in mentally picking them. Finally, with a bit of a kinetic nudge, the lock sprang open. Time for a new set, again.
Dean groaned as Taylor pulled the metal rings off, his raw wrists no doubt an agony. Taylor ran an antiseptic wipe over each wrist methodically, ensuring that he cleaned every inch of broken skin. He wrapped them in gauze, tucking the ends securely in and then taping it anyway. Looking up, he met Dean’s emotional gaze, felt the weight of his regard bearing down on him. Absently, he wiped the blood off his face as well. Tossing the blood covered wipes away, Taylor sighed to himself.
It was no use asking Dean why he fought, Taylor knew exactly why. Instead he placed one wrist, the nearest in the soft medical restraint secured to the bed. With his eyes lowered to the task of buckling the strap closed, Taylor asked quietly, “Do you miss him, your kinetic?”
Leaning over Winchester, still not looking up, Taylor placed the left wrist in the strap, and buckled it in, ensuring it was snug. “I know he misses you.”
“Go to hell.”
The voice was shattered, rough and broken, but oh so clear. Dean didn’t look away either, stared at Taylor, sent as much of his poor opinion, nay, hate through the connection as he could. Huffing a little in amusement, Taylor patted him condescendingly on the cheek, before standing. “Hard work’s all done, Dean. Just fun and exploration now.”
He left the tent, heading towards his own, making a mental note to get the sergeant making dinner tonight to give Dean an extra portion, the guy was looking positively wane these days.
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Sheppard quietly sank down to his haunches, sharing a knowing look with Rodney. They were in a quiet, half broken walled garden. Part of the smooth, impossibly put together white stone had collapsed in like crushed ice. The bright green vines from the garden had covered the stones and walls in a beautiful natural lattice, bright yellow and purple flowers dotting the network. The flowers were tiny stars of colour in a sprawl of white and green and beautiful in their disarray.
But as beautiful as the garden was, its location and view on the large open area was its main draw card for his team. Even Teyla, who was usually quite taken with these picturesque spots of wild decay was more concerned with the scene unfolding in the open area.
Silence was imperative, as there were several soldiers far too close for comfort, but Ronon was keeping a careful eye on their movements, while everyone else had watched the doors fly off the large half dome.
Motioning for Rodney and Teyla to follow, and for Ronon to stay, Sheppard stepped away from their viewpoint and headed back to the archway leading into the garden. Keeping his voice low, he whispered, “We need to get back to Atlantis asap. These guys are definitely from Earth.”
“And that means the Trust,” Rodney hissed, clutching his LSD tightly like some Trust Bogeyman was going to leap out and take it.
Teyla murmured quietly, “How can you do so sure?” She looked worried, and kept on shooting glances back at the broken wall and area beyond.
Beating Rodney to the punch, John sighed, “Well the Al’kesh is the main clue, seeing how it’s a Gou’ald ship, and the soldier’s have a mix of M16s and AKs.”
Undeterred, Rodney rolled his eyes and snapped, “Oh, and the fact that three Kinetics just ripped off that door like it was paper.”
This drew Teyla’s intense gaze back to Rodney and she hissed, “Kinetics? You mean like in Fatal Connection?”
Rodney coloured while John smiled broadly. “Ah, yeah?”
Unfazed, Teyla continued, “I thought they were stories... like Superman and Jaws? Fiction.”
John shrugged, leaning against the wall behind him, twisting to watch the perimeter, “Not really. I’m sure we had this conversation...”
Nodding, face returning to a normal shade of red, Rodney murmured, “Yeah about Dr. Bishop and his experiments.”
Pursing her lips, looking slightly annoyed, Teyla sighed, waving a hand in the air, “Perhaps but it is easy to get your history and pop culture confused, Rodney. It is very similar.”
“Well.” John began but Teyla continued on regardless, “And you do not always bother to explain.”
Acknowledging that, Sheppard smiled, “Sorry.”
Rodney, less apologetic and more irritated, huffed, “Doesn’t change the fact that we have Trust issues.”
“No pun intended, Rodney?” John beamed, delighted that Rodney had walked right into that one.
Going red again, Rodney chuffed, “Oh, har har.”
Ronon signalled that someone was approaching and they each sank down, and watched the LSD in Rodney’s hands cautiously. Two guards on patrol walked past the hole leading to the garden and the moment they were out of sight, Ronon stood.
“Let’s go. We need to get to the Gate.”
Teyla, who looked like she still had questions, nodded sharply and lead the way out of the enclosed space, through the small archway.
She set a gruelling pace for them for a good few minutes, ducking and dodging through narrow, twisty streets and over broad avenues that dwarfed and swallowed you. The former ‘peace’ of the dead city was now eerie and oppressive, the knowledge of intruders dampening the mood.
The soft jingle of equipment on tac vest and the dull thud of boots on dull and dusty stone was the only sound to be heard, bar the occasional huff of breath. Between Ronon and John, they took turns watching the rear, slowly scanning the dark shadows and then catching up, trusting Teyla to lead them right. A good ten minutes later, Teyla turned a corner and as the others followed, they stepped out in the wide open space.
“Crap, we’ve gone too far south,” John moaned, recognising where they were. Teyla nodded, “I fear so. I am sorry, I wasn’t paying close enough attention.”
Sheppard shrugged it off, and smiled, “Don’t worry, we know where we are. Let’s head out.”
“Can we… uhm,” Rodney sighed, his face red and chest heaving. He was drenched in sweat and looked beat. All three of his team mates looked at him and if anything he went redder.
“What happened to getting fit, McKay? We’ve been back in Pegasus for months… you were supposed to…” Sheppard started to say.
“Yeah, yeah, I was meaning to, but I didn’t ok, so can we take 5?” Rodney groused, now beet red and indignant, but keeping his temper.
Ronon looked a little miffed, but amused at the same time, while Teyla happily sat down on an overturned stone, and pulled out her canteen. John did the same, shuffling next to her and Ronon was the only one who chose to lean against the wall instead, partly in the shade. Rodney elected to sit on the ground, legs stretched out and he motioned for John’s canteen.
“Where’s yours, McKay?”
“Finished it already.”
“Rodney!”
Unrepentant, McKay waggled his hand for the canteen, and said, “Whose idea was it come here again?”
With a sigh, John handed over his canteen and let Rodney finish it. Teyla leant back, carefully tucking her canteen away, despite Rodney’s longing look. She still seemed to be contemplating something and eventually John asked, “Teyla?”
Teyla scanned the wide open area and the strange patterned design on the ground. From above, the irregular open space had an eye pleasing pattern tiled in blue stone and when standing in the plaza, it felt like you were in the middle of a design you couldn’t quite grasp, and you could spend hours tracing all the lines and swirls. If its purpose had been purely aesthetic or perhaps religious or cultural, it was difficult to be definitive. Whatever its purpose, at midday the temperature in the plaza was approaching unpleasant, the heat bouncing off the white walls and all but the nearest blue patterned stones lost in a haze.
Rodney was tapping away on his tablet, taking full advantage of the break, so John nudged Teyla again, and she said, “Those men, the Kinetics… are you certain that they are from Earth? Surely there must be other races with abilities?”
John pursed his lips and hmmmed, ”True, but its more the combination of all three factors, the ship, the guns and them.”
“And the fact that our luck sucks,” Rodney said into his tablet, to which Ronon laughed softly.
Sheppard continued, “Luck aside, we need to get back to Atlantis. Tell them what’s what. Maybe send word to the SGC.”
Rodney nodded vigorously, ”Yes, before those morons get inside that dome.”
Teyla look at Rodney, expecting further explanation and John said, “Weren’t you and Zelenka all excited about that dome?”
Frowning at their apparent lack of recall of things important to him, Rodney nodded again, “Yes. It was emitting a very odd energy signature, one we couldn’t quite get a read on. But something vaguely similar to our shield.”
“And?”
“We were defeated by the large, impossible to open doors!” Rodney scowled, glaring at John like he was responsible for that, or least involved the conspiracy to keep McKay from finding interesting things.
Nonplussed, Sheppard laughed, “You, Rodney, defeated?”
“Why in the hell do you think I keep on agreeing to come back here?” McKay squawked, waving his tablet in the air.
John laughed, “Your Indiana Jones delusions?”
“I’m ignoring that. No, it’s because I keep on hoping that I’ll figure out how to open that door. I run a different diagnostic each time we come. “
“And?” John prodded Rodney’s boot, making his friend scowl some more.
Ignoring the nudge, Rodney rolled his eyes dramatically, “And so far I haven’t had three freaks along to rip the doors off for me! And we didn’t want to risk explosives with an unknown energy inside. At least not do so and live to see our curiosity satisfied. It was mostly Zelenka who chickened out though.”
Shaking his head, recalling the debate from last year, no the year before, Sheppard said, “No, I remember vetoing that and you yelling at me. A lot.” And then backing the conversation up a little he said, “I assume you wrote a nice, detailed report on the dome, its locked door and potential wonders inside?”
“Of course, why wouldn’t I? Some of us actually do our paperwork you know.” Teyla was watching them with a long suffering smile, intent on the conversation.
Winking at her, John asked, “And sent it off to the SGC?”
“Of course I... oh....” The proverbial penny dropped and Rodney’s face crumpled into outraged dismay and he grumbled, “Still haven’t plugged all those leaks, huh?”
Sheppard nodded, “So it appears.”
“So what is inside the dome?” Teyla asked.
Rodney stared at Teyla, whose cool gaze refused to be intimidated by his ‘did I not just say’ expression. The lines on his face deepening, Rodney got a little loud with, “Well we could walk back to those strong as all hell freaks and ask them to let us have a gander inside!”
“There is no need to be curt, Rodney. And why do you call them freaks?” Rodney blinked at the two part rejoinder, opened his mouth, closed it and then frowned.
“Because he has the sensitivity of a brick, Teyla. Any educated guesses?”
Rodney pasted on a put-upon expression, like he was dealing with idiots, so it was a fairly common look on his face. “Well it had the hallmarks of a shield, so we are probably looking at something shielded. We couldn’t scan the shield through the door, so who knows what is on the other side.”
“Nothing good though,” John sighed, looking up at Ronon who gave him a ‘hurry up already’ gesture with his hand. A not entirely polite gesture.
Rodney seemed to get the hint as well and said, again too loudly, “No, probably not since its shielded so let’s go get some reinforcements.”
John straightened and Rodney prepared to get up, but Teyla held up her hand and said, ”Sorry, but you did not really answer my question, Rodney. Why did you call them freaks? And John, why are there none of them on Atlantis? Would a Telekinetic not be useful?”
Keen to get moving, John murmured quietly to her, “We’ll explain the details of the Bishop experiments later but short answer to the other is, ‘cos they are really, really rare and there’s not a lot of them on Earth.”
Standing now Rodney ho hummed and said, “And only people that they think are expendable get sent to Pegasus, which still doesn’t explain why I am here, other than my brilliance.”
John reached down to help Teyla up, which she accepted with good grace as she said, “Pardon?”
Dusting himself off, John said, “They are too valuable to waste on us.”
“Oh, but the Trust...” Teyla began.
“Figured out how to open a door without blowing it up,” John finished for her. Ronon straightened as well and Rodney added his two cents, “And they have the resources to hire or blackmail three kinetics.”
“And the man in restraints?” Rodney looked up from his tablet and answered, “Their Empath I guess?”
Teyla looked confused, “I thought Empaths were women?”
“Only on TV.”
Teyla was smiling broadly, no doubt about to tease Rodney some more, as a bolt of purple energy hit her. As she fell with a grimace, Sheppard reached out and caught her on the downward motion.
“Wha?” Rodney turned, and a second bolt struck him and Ronon both pulled him to cover and caught him, and followed John in the narrow passage they had emerged from. “Shooters, on the roof.”
“Damn, you got him?”
“Yeah.”
“Then let’s go, now.” John settled Teyla into his arms, and set off, hoping to lose the mercenaries in the tight narrow streets. Ronon followed close, Rodney drapped over his shoulder and Sheppard immediately ducked into a side street, twisting to keep Teyla’s head from hitting the walls. The dim gloom of the streets was a relief from the sun and watchful eyes, but there were sounds of pursuit. A bitten off shout, distant calls and heavy boots above them.
The buildings were close enough that the Trust mercenaries could chase them on the roof tops above, the occasional flat roof and slight domes not impassable. But John knew the city a little more, and he ran towards a section of the city with interlacing streets, where the pathway dipped into tunnels and under bridges.
But his arms and legs were already beginning to burn with the effort of running and carrying Teyla, and he knew they would not be able to out run the mercenaries. They had to lose them, it was going to be too close otherwise.
And close it was. A sharp crack of energy weapon fire and the stones above Ronon’s head exploded, showering them both with dust. “Go go go,” Ronon grunted. John picked the pace up, hefting Teyla a little, blinking sweat out of his eyes. So much for a quiet trip to Catastrophe. And no, the irony was not lost on him.
John heard the pounding footsteps, running towards them even as Ronon growled, “Flanking us, go right!”
This time it was the report of gunfire and bullets that shattered the stone near them, but John dug in and ran on, but there was movement on all sides and above. He kept on getting the occasional glimpse of camo and running figures, but reckoned it was only about six men after them. Six men too many.
“They’re trying to box us in,” Ronon snarled, his gun pressed perilously close to Rodney’s buttocks, as he steadied his heavier burden. Ronon was also drenched in sweat but could probably make it. But not with Rodney.
John suddenly ducked inside a building, and ran down the spiral staircase to the cooler tunnels beneath. It was risky, easy to get trapped but he pushed on, legs screaming at him. Ronon’s heavy breathing echoed with his in the close tunnel as they thundered along.
When the bright spot of daylight become a giant hole, John closed his eyes as he ran out and took an immediate left. The streets were no longer narrow and close, but broader and wider, tall buildings with oddly curved balconies and sudden windows. Ducking into an alcove, John put Teyla down gently and Ronon did the same.
It took him a moment to catch his breath, back pressed against the cool wall. “Won’t take them long to find us, but... if you go now, you’ll probably make the Gate before them.”
“I’m not leaving you, Sheppard.”
John nodded, and wiped his face, shaking off the sweat. “Yeah, you are. We stick together, they’ll catch us for sure. So.... go. Now. Get Lorne and shitload of Marines.”
Ronon looked ready to rip something, like John, in half, but already they could hear voices in the tunnel. “Go, I can hold them off for a bit. We’re just slowing you down.”
Growling in disagreement, Ronon slapped John way too hard on the arm and said, “Don’t do anything stupid.” And then he took off, running like the wind.
Sheppard grinned, wished he still had a full canteen and sighed, “But stupid works so well for me.”
Pulling free his P-90, he checked the clip and stepped out long enough to send a spray of bullets into the tunnel. Shouts and exclamations echoed back at him, and John sent another scattering of bullets through.
“Run, Ronon, run.”
Counting in his head, knowing he had to give Ronon as much of a lead as possible, Sheppard wasted enough ammunition to keep the men at bay. But they’d figure out a path to flank him in no time, and well, he didn’t have endless ammunition.
The sound of a boot crunching soft dust was his only warning and John whirled behind cover just in time, the zat blast snaking across the stone he’d been leaning against. The cat footed mercenary had used the noise of his covering fire to sneak up close and it’d only been 7 minutes, maybe 10 since Ronon had left. Damn.
Figuring he wouldn’t be alone, John pulled Teyla and Rodney’s P-90s closer to hand and stuck his almost empty weapon around the corner and fired blind. There was no answering fire, not even from the tunnel, and John wondered if it would be worth the break in attention to find the LSD.
In the end, there wasn’t, as more zat fire drove him deeper into the alcove, and Sheppard fired in that general direction, well aware that they were surrounding him. Picking up Teyla’s P-90, he fired both weapons, grateful for the relatively soft trigger that allowed this. There was no accuracy, just bravado right now.
An answering hail of zat fire sent him to his knees and for a wild moment he thought one had hit Rodney. Two shots meant dead right? Ignoring the risk, he scrambled to check his friend’s pulse and felt a thready but strong answer.
More footfalls and John readied himself, knowing that time was up.
As two men rounded the corner, guns up and poised to fire, John was standing over his friends, two P-90s locked on his attackers. The quarters were too tight to risk live rounds, and John couldn’t risk another zat blast hitting Rodney or Teyla.
“Drop them, now!”
Dragging out the moment, John did that, slowly bending and laying the guns on the ground, hearing his knees creak as he did so.
“On your knees! Hands on your head,”
As John sank all the way down to his knees and put his hands on his head, the two men stepped fully out of cover, their zats pointed straight at his head. The first tapped his shoulder radio and said, “You got sight of the fourth?”
John didn’t even try and pretend not to listen for the response, but the answering crackle was indecipherable even for him after years of military jargon over poor comm lines. “Say again, 5?”
He was half a quip away from opening his mouth, but the two men looming over him didn’t seem the type to appreciate a little wit at their expense.
“Are you 1 or 2? You don’t really look like a 1, maybe a 3.”
Not that that had ever stopped John before. 1 or 2 shoved him with the butt of his rifle, and growled, “Shut up.”
The man with the radio was still trying to decipher the response, and eventually got enough of an answer to make him whirl on John and demand, “Where is he? Is he heading for the Gate?”
“Who?”
The rifle butt to the stomach was partially blocked by his tac vest but Sheppard grunted in pain none the less.
“Call him back!”
“Who?”
One of the men stepped forward and pointed a zat at Teyla and screamed, “Answer him, now!”
“Haven’t got a clue who you are talking about,” John said quietly, watching the zat with detached calm.
The blows were short, sharp and professional and left Sheppard reeling, head and stomach aching fiercely, caught off guard at the sudden attack. Those zats were damn hard!
A radio comm. in paused the interrogation and one of them snapped a “Yes, sir” and then snarled, “Up, we’re off to the see the wizard.”
Rodney was unceremoniously hauled upright, once they had disarmed Sheppard and secured his hands behind his back. Teyla was somewhat gently totted off in a fireman’s hold, while a fourth man arrived to help drag Rodney. This left John with the grumpy one who had hit with him with the zat.
John couldn’t help saying, “Does that make you a flying monkey then?”
The man just smirked and shoved John some more. “Yeah, and you the scarecrow.”
TBC in Chapter 3
AN: Chapter 3 is refusing to co-operate.Why, oh why, are you being so difficult Chapter 3? Why?? It’s not like you are filler or unimportant or anything because you are important, you are! L You learnt bad things from chapter 2, bad bad things!
Teaser Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5 Part 6 Part 7 Part 8 Part 9 Epilogue
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