chokolaj

Wed, 10 Sep 2008 04:46:25 GMT

Oh Sh*t! I forgot how to do the lj cut thing - please help!!!

tough shit

Mon, 05 Nov 2007 02:49:55 GMT

Well, i don't do a very good job keeping this thing up. Sorry about that. But RL has a nasty way of getting in the way of that and I just don't value updating this thing high enough on my list to do anything about it. Er...that sentence was a mouthful! I guess I could archive my fic somewhere, but it already is archived at ffnet. As unreliable as that may be, I don't have that many fics to really be starting an archive. People have a way of finding things if they're really interested enough.

Loving season 4 so far...very interesting, whumpilicious, and so forth. Not disappointing at all, really. Even Carter has grown on me a teensy bit, though she never really will be a favorite. Love an angry Shep!

'nuf said :)

Fic: Torment 18/21

Sun, 04 Nov 2007 03:19:02 GMT

Title: Torment
Author: chokolaj
Rating: T
Genre: Angst, Hurt/Comfort
Summary: The title sums it up pretty well. Shep whump!

--//--

Green spikes and dips scrolled across the screen in perfect rhythm. They reminded Dr. Keller of something she couldn’t quite put her finger on. It sent a chill sweeping across her skin.

She glanced to the patient lying still in the bed beside her. She was assigned to him, but she just couldn’t take on the responsibility of another person’s life right now. It scared her to the point of an episode just half an hour earlier where she found she could no longer breathe. Diagnoses and treatments raced through her fading mind as she struggled for air. Halfway to the floor, she realized that whatever had happened way down below in the bowels of Atlantis was still affecting her. And not just her: Sheppard and the others, too.

Whatever crept in the depths had found a connection that was too tantalizing to pass up.

Shivering, Dr. Keller closed her eyes briefly, whispering words of encouragement to herself. When she opened her eyes, she started in surprise.

Like the active green on the monitor, Sheppard’s hazel eyes shifted from left to right in rapid succession.

“REM?” Dr. Keller muttered, and her brow furrowed. She reached for her penlight and checked the colonel’s pupil reactions. They were moving so quickly she could hardly note a change, if any.

“Any change?” Rodney’s hopeful voice carried through the infirmary. Stilling herself from another jump of surprise, Dr. Keller turned towards the approaching doctor. His face morphed into one of concern as he focused on the sudden change in the colonel.

“He’s dreaming?”

“I’m not exactly sure.” Dr. Keller responded, her voice quiet, her expression full of doubt. She focused on the scientist, capturing his full attention. “I believe that somehow, we are still being affected by those…worms.”

Rodney simply stared at her with eyes wide and his mouth hanging slightly ajar.

No words came spilling out, however. Instead, he couldn’t help but wonder just what kind of hell Sheppard was still trapped within. A shade of compassion fell across his face before he quickly pulled up an overconfident smile.

“I’ll fix this.”

“How?”

“I…I just…trust me. I’ll fix this.” Rodney stare was intense before he turned and left, his mind already drifting to the task at hand.

Teyla arrived just as her teammate was leaving, giving Dr. Keller a half smile as Rodney brushed past her, barely glancing up and muttering a quick greeting.

“Still no change?” She placed a hand upon Sheppard’s and looked to Dr. Keller for confirmation.

“He’s in a deep sleep…dreaming even…or so I think.” Dr. Keller frowned, chewing on her bottom lip.

“His eyes…” Teyla frowned in turn. Dr. Keller nodded.

“He’s still being affected. I think we all are.” She turned to face Teyla. “Whatever happened down there isn’t over. We’re still in danger. I don’t know how or why but we have to stop this.”

“I agree.” Teyla nodded.

“Maybe it has to do with whatever traps the Ancients had set up down there.” Ronon’s voice startled both women as they spun around to see the Runner approach.

“Why do you say that?” Teyla narrowed her eyes in question.

“This isn’t exactly natural – what’s going on. My bet is on whatever the Ancients did. You ask me, those worms are an experiment gone wrong. A trap that backfired.”

“It makes sense.” Dr. Keller agreed.

“But how do we reverse the affects?” Teyla prompted. “Colonel Sheppard cannot possibly last much longer.”

“His body is already showing signs of fatigue and strain. If he experiences a particularly violent episode, he could die.” Dr. Keller confirmed.

And as if on cue, the heart monitor began to speed up. Sheppard’s breathing grew increasingly ragged, his eyes bulging and his muscles tensing. Teyla grabbed his hand, feeling the surprising strength as Sheppard squeezed her hand. He did not yet seem aware of them, however.

As Dr. Keller rushed to stabilize her patient, joined quickly by a nurse, Ronon and Teyla backed away to give them room. They looked at each other with heavy somber.

Sheppard gasped for air as a nurse lowered an ampu-bag over his mouth. As she began to pump air in rhythm, his eyes slid shut.

And then the heart monitor flat-lined.

--tbc—

I’m sorry if this is confusing or boring or whatever…I’m jumping back into things after a long break and I finally have a new computer! (Yay!) So I will try to finish this as soon as I can. :)

Wed, 12 Sep 2007 05:27:03 GMT

I have Stealth Dragon to ~~blame~~ thank for this. ;)

1. List seven habits/quirks/facts about yourself.
2. Tag seven people to do the same.
3. Do not tag the person who tagged you or say that you tag "whoever wants to do it."

Here goes...

1. I am VERY stubborn. I do what I want, when I want and nobody is going to tell me otherwise. Well, regarding that last statement, not really, but I do have a stubborn streak that gets me into trouble from time to time!

2. I despise talking on the phone. It really sucks, too, as I have to talk to clients all the time, or make cold-calls for information on a project I'm working on, etc. Here I thought being a designer with the computer as my main tool, I wouldn't have to deal with people. Sheesh!

3. I grew up on a dairy farm and I'm lactose intolerant. Oh yes, the irony.

4. I broke my hand while taking classes in Tae Kwon Do and now I have a permanent screw near the joint of one of my fingers. Lovely scar - you can even see where the stitches were.

5. I'm sarcastic. And succinct. Wouldn't have thought, huh?

6. Gees, this is hard! Um...I have a bad habit of buying premium chocolate whenever I find a new brand I haven't tried. Worse yet, I always buy anything that has beautiful packaging. It's a sickness, I know.

7. I have a very strong sense of intuition that sometimes gives me the willies. Example: I woke up one morning with a very strong sense that something was very wrong. I couldn't figure out what the hell it was so I got up before the alarm was supposed to go off, checked on my two cats, checked the stove to make sure I didn't leave it on or something crazy like that, and you get the idea. On my way to work, I was nervous and was extra careful driving and called my friend, to make sure she was okay. I was going to call my mom, but didn't want to bother her and I felt like I was overreacting a bit. Then I got to work and things settled a little though I was still uneasy. Then around 4 my brother called me and he never does that. Our uncle had passed away that morning...right around the time I had woken up. It was unexpected and he wasn't that old...it was a blood clot in his lung.

All right...I tag: jackfan2, courtberger, friendshipper, obsessed1, lauriel01, alipeeps, and vonknibble

That was kinda fun, actually!

Thu, 28 Dec 2006 09:55:01 GMT

Nowhere Warm pt. 2/2

And on to the aftermath…

--//--

“I don’t want to roll him just yet.” Beckett announced to the med team as they settled Sheppard on the Jumper floor. “Our first priority is to get his body temp up – slowly. Too fast and we’ll have even more to worry about. Once we get him back to Atlantis, then we can assess the wounds. From what I’ve been able to determine, there are no exit wounds.”

“I’ll have Dr. Biro prep the OR, sir.” The pilot responded from the front.

“Thank you, Lieutenant.” Beckett replied hurriedly as he and the team worked on getting the Lt. Colonel stable.

Sheppard’s team sat on the bench to either side of the action, looking on morosely. There was little they could do now: Sheppard’s life was in Beckett’s hands.

Beckett glanced up at them at that moment, as the med team took over for him.

“Look, I won’t deny he’s in a bad way. He’s a strong lad. He made it this far.”

“His lips are blue.” Rodney stated this simple fact, his eyes cast upon the pilot. His hands were clenched to either side and he was shivering. Teyla laid a hand upon his knee but her expression was identical to his. Even Ronon looked uncharacteristically pale. They had all seen the stained red snow beneath the colonel when he had been moved. It was beyond any of them how he had managed to stay conscious as long as he had.

“Aye, Rodney. We’re doing everything we can.” Beckett replied in a compassionate voice. But a quiver in his lips told the team that Beckett was just as affected by this as they were. However, the doctor had to pull it together if he wanted to save the pilot’s life.

The distant voice of the Jumper’s pilot responding to Atlantis’ hail as they activated the Stargate told the team that they were almost home.

“Is he going to die?” Ronon asked the question the others dared not voice. It was like saying it would make it a reality. One they just couldn’t face. Not now. Not ever.

“Not if I have anything to say about it.” Beckett replied fiercely, determination firing in his eyes.

--//--

They waited and waited.

The surgery took all night.

Beckett exited in the early morning hours, exhaustion threatening to do him in. He scrubbed his head, taking in a deep breath before meeting the eyes of the team gathered with Elizabeth. His eyes were expressionless as he struggled with emotions swirling within. He gestured for them all to sit.

The silence was deafening.

“Carson?” Elizabeth prompted, her heart in her throat.

He took a moment to gather himself.

“He’s critical.” He sighed.

The others blew out a breath they didn’t realize they had been collectively holding. At least the colonel was still alive.

“One of the bullets is still lodged between the twelfth thoracic vertebra and the first lumbar vertebra and we’re going to have to go back in to remove it. We won’t know until then whether there will be permanent damage to his spinal cord. The other three bullets were removed successfully. We had to remove his left kidney, however, as the damage was too extensive. Another bullet just nicked the lower lobe of his left lung and the third came dangerously close to his heart. That one was a bugger to remove as it seemed to want to travel a bit before we could get a good hold of it. He was quite a mess and it doesn’t help any that we’re still struggling to get his body temperature back to where it should be.”

Carson sighed again, rubbing his forehead tiredly. Elizabeth placed a hand on his shoulder. There were tears in her eyes that she didn’t even bother to hide.

“Can we….” Rodney began to ask, but his voice trailed off. He just didn’t want to get his hopes up.

“Aye, Rodney, you can see him but I want you all to keep to the side. There’s a lot of equipment and the nurses are settling him in. Don’t stay long…we need to keep the area clear in case….” Beckett didn’t bother finishing, as he just didn’t want to admit how critical the colonel really was.

They entered into the critical care section of the infirmary. Everything about the situation was wrong: the smell, the feel, the sight before them…none of this was supposed to have happened. Yet it had.

No one spoke. A life was still hanging by but a frayed thread. Even the tension in the air seemed threatening enough to sever that thread.

There was little they could see of him. Thermal blankets were wrapped snug around his body. Tubes and wires ran from and to his body. The unsettling clicks and hisses from a ventilator accompanied the slow beat of the heart monitor. His face was pale, from the little they could see of it. His chest barely rose up and down, painfully slow.

“He’s up to 96.3 degrees now, Doctor Beckett.” A nurse disrupted the silent vigil. Beckett nodded his approval.

There was nothing that could be said. No one wanted to voice what all were thinking: he already looked dead. After a minute, Beckett silently urged them out.

They reconvened in the waiting area. Elizabeth crossed her arms, hugging her body as she locked eyes with Carson.

“What are his chances?”

Rodney couldn’t take it anymore. Anger that had been building since the frustration of being unable to reach the colonel because of the storm, reached its pinnacle.

“What’s the point? He either lives or dies, Elizabeth. There’s no in between. You can’t put a percentage on the colonel’s life. By all physical means, he should already be dead.” His face grew rapidly redder as he spat out the words.

There wasn’t much hope in the room to begin with. So when Rodney spoke what they had all feared, there came no immediate response.

“Hope. There’s always hope. It’s what keeps us as well as him fighting to the very end. Let’s not give up on that, shall we? You know the colonel wouldn’t.” Beckett stared Rodney down. The scientist relented just as quickly as he had lashed out.

“Sorry. I’m just…sorry.” Rodney mustered, his head hanging low.

By now, the team would usually be cracking jokes about how Sheppard would devise an escape plan once he got better. There was no light-hearted banter this time: nothing to make the situation any easier to handle. It had been too close this time. And Sheppard wasn’t even out of the woods yet. Even if the colonel survived the night and his second surgery, his chances of becoming paralyzed were great.

“Look, let’s all just get some rest. We’ll be of no use to the colonel if we’re spent.” Beckett suggested.

“Easier said than done.” Elizabeth surmised.

The team turned as one and headed out of the infirmary without so much as a single objection. It was a testament to the reality that there really wasn’t much they could do now. They couldn’t sit with the colonel and they couldn’t sit around waiting for the inevitable. They needed to release their frustrations into what they did best. Rodney returned to his lab, Elizabeth to her office, Ronon to the gym, and Teyla to her room to meditate.

Beckett remained behind in their wake, the sadness of the situation weighing heavy on his heart. He turned finally, to check once more on the colonel before heading to his own office, to review the trajectory of the final bullet, still lodged in the colonel’s spine. It was going to be a long track ahead.

--//--

Like successive claps of thunder, the ring of gunfire pounded against the mighty rocky peaks around him. Slowly, as if time had slid to a halt, his legs failed to carry his weight and he tipped backwards. He hit the ice in a painful exhale, the shocking blow reverberating throughout his body.

Then all was still.

He realized he had suddenly forgotten to breathe. As he tentatively inhaled the chilled air, his vision narrowed to the ice underneath his outstretched arm, fingers curled upward in a lazy offering to the sky. There was a rapid red stain gathering beneath it, tainting the ice. It did not register just then that it was his blood. He only noted that it was rather captivating, the smooth edges filling the minute scratches and dips in the flawed surface of the frozen lake beneath him. His labored breaths were loud in his ears, so loud it was the only thing he could hear.

He blinked. Then blinked again. He had been shot.

From the echoing sound of gunfire that still pounded in the distance of the roaring rush of blood in his ears, he had probably been hit more than once. Would explain why his body no longer seemed to want to respond to his commands for it to get up.

He blinked heavily, exhaling a visible puff of air. He couldn’t move.

John Sheppard became convinced that death had finally won the game. It was only a matter of time before it claimed its prize.

Awareness faded quickly.

And then he woke up. The fading echo of gunfire left his ears yet still his heart raced.

He knew instantly that he was back on Atlantis. There was no other infirmary like it on Earth. Which meant he wasn’t hallucinating or dead. Relief that normally consoled him was absent: he knew the aftermath of his ordeal would not leave him unscathed. The bullets had struck him the back. His chances of walking away from this one were as slim as McKay admitting he didn’t know everything.

The numbness he felt now was different than before. It pulled at him, weighted him down against a feather-light surface that offered little comfort against it. And he was warm. Warmer than he could have ever imagined feeling again. His throat was achingly dry, his nose picking up the usual infirmary smells, and his ears catching faint squeaks of gurney wheels and sneakers upon a polished floor.

He was home.

His eyelids were heavy and slow in revealing the world around him. There was little to be seen as he laid flat on his back. A darkened infirmary welcomed him to awareness. Silence reigned. No ventilator yet intrusive tubes remained. He blinked a few times, chasing off the last vestiges of the sleep that had held him its grasp for so long.

A chill remained in the air, but this time it was not physical. Something wasn’t right. Perhaps it would never be so again and he knew instantly why. He was paralyzed. He couldn’t move anything below his waist…it was like a void…there simply wasn’t anything there. He stubbornly commanded everything from muscle to tendon to bone to move. Nothing, not even a twitch. The only thing accomplished was initiating a spiking pain between his eyes.

Panic threatened to swallow him whole.

His heart rate quickened, perspiration beaded on his flush forehead.

Hurried footsteps headed his direction and he swallowed hard, hoping to get his throat working to ask one of the hardest questions he ever had to ask. Will I ever walk again?

Carson’s exhausted face came into view, concern embedded deep in those caring blue eyes. The man was stretched thin and John knew he was the cause of it. He cracked his dry lips apart to speak but Carson only hushed him, glancing briefly at the monitors before bringing out the dreaded penlight. Several agonizing moments later, and vitals checked, Carson regained eye contact.

“Don’t try to talk at the moment, Colonel. You’ve been on the ventilator up to an hour ago, when you first showed signs of waking. I suppose you’ll be wanting to know what kinda mess you’ve managed to get yourself into this time.” Carson replied in a soothing voice. He paused momentarily, grabbing a cup from somewhere nearby and sliding a heavenly ice chip between his cracked lips. “The good news is you’re not paralyzed…if you have any numbness at all, it’s due to swelling on your spine after the surgery we had to perform to remove the final bullet. The other three left quite a mess themselves, but it was the fourth we were most worried about. I won’t lie to you: the surgery was challenging and you will be feeling the effects of it for quite some time. Once we get you healthy, you’ll be doing physical therapy for a couple o’ months to regain your strength. This whole ordeal was tough, colonel, but I know you’ll recover in no time. You’ve proved it time again with that stubborn head of yours. We didn’t give up on you, colonel. Never did and never will.”

By the end of that long-winded speech, Sheppard found his eyelids drooping, the weight of sleep pushing down on him. A weak smile formed on his lips.

“Thank you.” He whispered.

Peaceful sleep claimed him. His mind returned to a dark night sky sparkled with lights and dreams of flying amongst them once again.

--fin (for real)--

There you go, hope you all enjoyed this as much as I did in writing it! I didn’t want to drag things out too much: sometimes saying things in less words is more powerful. Also, the title of this fic came from Kate Havenik’s beautiful song of the same name.

OT A/N: For those of you who may be interested in a writing challenge, check out the Whump From a Hat Challenge at my LJ – http://chokolaj.livejournal.com/4784.html

Also, for those of you sticking with my other fic, Bitter, I just want you to know I haven’t abandoned it. I have roughly six or seven chapters left to fill in bits and pieces, etc. Then I’m going to post each installment day by day as a treat to finish it up. :D

Fic: Nowhere Warm

Mon, 25 Dec 2006 05:05:52 GMT

Happy Holidays everyone :) This is written for Katstale via the Sheppard H/C Secret Santa Challenge #6

Nowhere Warm pt 1/2
part 2 can be found here
Title: Nowhere Warm

Author: chokolaj

Summary: Shep’s shot, slowly bleeding out in the snow, with only his radio to keep him connected to those he cares about most.

No pairings, just pure angst & whumpage for Shep ☺

Word Count: 3,330

A/N: Secret Santa Challenge #6 written for Katstale – hope you like it. Happy Holidays! Snark isn’t something that I feel I can write easily, so I hope I did well enough.

Prompt: …Shep-hurt to be physical (injured or sick, doesn't matter which). Mental
hurt/whumping is okay, as long as the physical is more prominent than the mental, please… I'd like something mostly serious, but touches of humor would be great--especially the snark. LOTS of the snark!...

Disclaimer: No beta so all mistakes are mine. Any medical or other technicalities may or may not be accurate: this is fiction and solely intended for your entertainment.

--//--

The first snowflake landed on his nose. The second landed on his eyelash melting slowly into his eye. The flakes were cold and feathery against his paling skin. The first snowfall of the winter season had always captivated him as a child. The swirling white crystals but a whisper upon the winter gale, falling in a mesmerizing glitter.

He was numb. Couldn’t really feel anything physically or emotionally. Which was a good thing, considering his current state.

The bastards had shot him: four times, to be exact. Four rounds of gunfire echoing against the mountains surrounding him were the only clue that something had gone horribly wrong. He had fallen to the hardened blanket of snow beneath him. He vaguely realized at that moment that he had been hit.

Carson was going to be irate. If he made it out of this current predicament, that is.

“Sheppard, you still there?” The tinny voice carried over the radio still snug in his ear.

Sheppard coughed, feeling an all too uncomfortable twinge and tasting metal. He smiled briefly before answering.

“Ah, sure, Rodney. As you may remember, I’ve got four bullets in my back. I’m not moving anytime soon.” Sheppard drawled.

An impatient sigh carried over the radio.

“Sorry ‘bout that colonel.” Beckett huffed into his ear. They were moving as fast as they could through knee-high snow to reach him. “How’re ye holdin’ up?”

Sheppard experimentally flexed his fingers on each hand, both of which lay tucked close to his body on either side. The fingers were reddened and swollen and barely shifted. He imagined them moving but that was as far as they actually went. He grimaced more from disappointment than pain.

“Can’t move ‘em anymore.” Over the last hour, Carson had been periodically checking on Sheppard’s reflexes to judge whether frostbite was setting in. Sheppard feared the man was breaking it to him gradually that paralysis was the real culprit.

Sheppard grunted as another twinge erupted from somewhere around his mid-back. He took in a large gulp of air, feeling the flutter of snowflakes accompanying the cool air rushing into his lungs. His eyelashes were sparkling with the white stuff by now, as were the spikes of his dark hair.

“Just…hang in there, all right?” Rodney’s voice carried a hint of fear that Sheppard didn’t like. He could sense it in all their voices as time ticked by. The longer it took for them to reach him, the less chances he had of living. Sheppard refused to accept those odds, however. He was a positive person, always had been. It absolutely riled McKay up and that made him love the trait all the more.

“I’m hanging, McKay. In fact, I’m chilling.” Sheppard tried to sound calm and collected but underneath that façade, he was shaking like a leaf.

“Oh hardee-har har, colonel.” Came the sarcastic reply. Sheppard imagined the scientist rolling his eyes.

“Colonel, is there anything you can describe of your location that would be of help to us?” Teyla interrupted their banter.

Of all the voices that had spoken to him since he had awoken an hour ago, Teyla’s was the one that unsettled him most. With her, one could always judge just how serious the situation was. It was in her voice. Soothing, controlled, and confident was what was normal. But he hadn’t heard any of that since he had informed them of his precarious situation. He could only hear the waver in her voice, as if she were already shedding the tears that would fall upon his grave. When someone of such grace and fortitude cracked in situations like this, it wasn’t a good sign.

They weren’t expecting him to last long out here. And they were frustrated, too, given the howl of rage Ronon had emitted when they realized that they had to cross a frozen ravine and then climb the lower ridge of a mountain to reach Sheppard. A blizzard was rolling in over the peaks of the majestic mountains towering above them. Flying a Jumper in this kind of environment was suicide.

“I can’t really see much, from my position.” Sheppard answered Teyla.

There were mountains to his left and there were mountains to his right. Actually, there were pretty much mountains in every damned direction. The expansive flat field of white he was currently sprawled out on was most likely a frozen lake nestled between the rocky ridges.

“How’s yer breathin’, son?” Carson’s voice was breathy, as if he were exerting a lot of energy. Which made sense considering the team was currently climbing the face of a mountain, with swirling snow and gusting winds hampering their progress.

There was a rattle every time he inhaled accompanied by an unpleasant pressure. As long as he didn’t breathe too deeply, he was fine.

“Nothing to report, doc.”

“Ach! I highly doubt that you bugger. Tell me the truth now. Are you coughing up anything? How’s your chest feelin’? And before you give us that ‘I’m fine’ nonsense, I want the truth son.”

Sheppard allowed a long pause after that barrage of questioning. In truth, he knew his time was running out. But he didn’t want his team to know that. He would protect them to his last dying breath if he had to even if it meant a little fibbing.

“Colonel?” There was a hint of worry in the doctor’s voice as he prompted a response.

“Carson, I’m a fricken’ Popsicle, I feel cold.” Sheppard snarled.

When he avoided questions, his team knew shit had hit the fan. And Sheppard sensed as much by the Carson’s response.

“We’ll be there soon, son. Just keep talkin’.”

As soon as the good doctor finished, Sheppard realized his eyelids were now drooping. Lethargy swept over his numbing body and he found himself quickly slipping into darkness.

“Sheppard?!” Ronon’s voice was urgent and fresh in his foggy mind.

Sensation tingled back into his freezing body and Sheppard took a moment to take stock of his current situation. He had fallen asleep. For how long, he didn’t know but by the urgency of the voices in his ear, it was long enough to send his team into a frenzy of despair.

“Here.” He croaked. When did his voice get so rough?

“Thank god! Don’t. Ever. Do. That. Again!” Rodney voice barked into his ear. Flinching, Sheppard tried to shift his limbs but to no avail. He really was a frozen Popsicle. Well, at least he wasn’t feeling any pain. Though, considering where he had been shot that probably wasn’t a good thing.

“M’srry.” He slurred.

“It’s fine. You’re fine.” Rodney quickly buried his anger in regret.

“Hey Rodney.” Sheppard rasped quietly. The snowflakes were beginning to accumulate on him. Would his team have to dig him out of a snowdrift?

“Yes?”

“Up for a game of prime not prime?”

There was a pause where Sheppard could easily imagine Rodney rolling his eyes, Carson shaking his head, and Teyla and Ronon exchanging amused expressions.

“What is it with you and that annoying stupid little game?!” Rodney’s voice was edging on hysterical. Sheppard simply smiled.

“Please, just…humor me. I’m…bored.” Not much to do when one was caught in a snowstorm bleeding to death.

“Well, next time you feel like being kidnapped by the locals and shot, bring a board game.” Rodney snapped.

There was the sound of rustling and Sheppard had the distinct impression that someone was covering an earpiece to give Rodney a piece of his or her mind.

“9000007.” Came the succinct prompt.

Sheppard released a breath and found it was rather difficult to draw in the next. The cold air mixed with fluffy little flakes entered his overworked lungs and he began to cough. Hard. Panic flared within as he struggled to inhale as the need to cough became overpowering. Black fuzzy dots began to pervade his vision.

“Sheppard? John? Can you hear me?” Teyla’s voice carried a tone of fear barely contained.

The coughing subsided, leaving his throat sore and raw. Sheppard drew in air through little successive gasps. His lungs burned. The trickle of something warm ran from the corner of his mouth and down the side of his cheek. It dripped to the snow beneath him. Sheppard grimaced. There was snow of a different color beneath his freezing body. He could just begin to catch sight of the outer rim from the corner of his eye. He steadfastly chose to ignore it and answered the nervous hails coming to him over the radio in his ear.

“F...fine…I…I’m fine.” He replied breathlessly.

“Good old Captain Kirk could have had his limbs cut off but would he admit to injury? No. Of course not. You are not fine Sheppard. And we are going to get to you in time, you hear me? If you so much as think of dying on us I will hunt down your spirit and damn you to eternal…well I can’t think of anything as of yet but it will not be pleasant. And there will be no space bimbos involved.” Rodney ranted.

Breathing sucked sometimes. And so did dealing with a frantic genius that couldn’t fix something out of his hands.

“Rodney. Just shut up. I’m not going anywhere, got it? I have the best goddamn team in two galaxies coming for me and not even a little bit of bad weather is going to slow you down, now is it?” Sheppard managed to say in a wavering voice before another bout of coughing disrupted him from hearing any kind of response.

“Slow and easy, colonel, don’t try to take deep breaths, son. Yer lungs can’t handle the cold right now.” Beckett’s soothing voice came to him once he recovered.

The snow was beginning to drift against his body, of which had stopped shivering some time ago. The only tell of time for him was the snow. He dared not ask his team, for he knew it was their curse as they struggled to reach him. The comforting shroud of sleep had begun to beckon him and he wondered why he wasn’t more alarmed by the sudden onset of lethargy. Hypothermia, he surmised. Perfect. Though really, it wasn’t such a bad way to go.

“We must be getting closer.” Teyla’s hopeful voice interrupted his reverie.

“How can you tell? The snow is really starting to blow and before we know it, we’re going to have a whiteout situation and we’ll be of absolute no use to Sheppard.” Rodney bickered.

“Life signs detector.” Ronon grunted. The man had so little to say yet said everything in just as many words.

“Oh. Right.” Came another succinct reply from the scientist.

Sheppard couldn’t help it. He laughed.

“Crap, now he’s delirious.”

“Ach, Rodney. He can hear ye, ye know. Don’t mind him, colonel. You’ll be sippin’ some nice hot soup in me infirmary before ye know it.”

Sheppard could only laugh some more. He was feeling rather giddy. The snowflakes falling in rapid succession from the darkening canvas above mesmerized him. He would have reached up to touch them if he could have moved his arms. A brief gust of wind whipped ice crystals across his freezing cheeks, the bitter cold stinging and biting.

“I state that we are closer because we are now traveling downhill. If it were not growing dark and there were not a blizzard, I am sure we would be able to see the colonel from our vantage point.” Teyla continued on her tangent.

“She’s right.” Ronon stated simply.

“Yes, well, at least we know he’s still awake…maybe not lucid, but awake.” Rodney surmised.

“There’s the positive Rodney we all know and love.” Beckett stole the words right of Sheppard’s mind for it was what he had been thinking once the laughter stopped.

“Sheppard?” Ronon’s voice was tight, on guard. Something had alarmed him.

“Y…yeah, big guy?” Sheppard’s mouth was dry and he desperately wished for the tallest glass of water. Random snowflakes falling on the tongue just didn’t suffice.

“Did you say these locals were cave dwellers?”

“Ah….” It was getting harder to think. “Yeah?”

“What is it, Ronon?” Teyla now sounded alert.

Sheppard could see in his mind all four of his friends on guard, weapons raised, eyes scanning desperately through the swirling white storm. When no response came from Ronon, Sheppard further imagined the Satedan nodding towards some threat. He could only hope that the threat had not seen them.

“Ach, it’s just a dog.” Came Beckett’s exasperated voice moments later.

Muffled shouts and a sharp yelp followed by the rapid tat-tat of gunfire sparked alarm within Sheppard. Now more than ever he felt completely helpless. His teammates were risking their lives to reach him when they all knew he’d probably die before they did so.

“Wha…whazz goin’ on?” His mouth was refusing to work now. It felt stiff and uncoordinated. His frustration was reaching a whole new level.

“Just a dog? Just a dog!” Rodney shrieked in exasperation a moment later. Sheppard could imagine the scientist with mouth open, eyes wide directed at one rather belittled doctor.

“Guyzzzz?” Sheppard urged an answer. The snowfall was beginning to pick up, as was the bitter wind whipping across his body. His heart pumped sluggishly as adrenalin borne of alertness struggled to travel through his veins.

“I killed it. Don’t worry.” Ronon supplied.

“Killed wha…?”

“The biggest freakin’ wolf-like dinosaur…did you see its teeth? Son of a…. You see? You see why I’m a cat person? Jeez!” Rodney had yet to come off his heightened state of fright.

“’S too dangerous…turn…back.” Sheppard managed to say. Was it getting darker?

“Do not worry, colonel. We are unharmed. The creature has been…eliminated.” Teyla tried to soothe him. “The gunfire should have scared off any remaining threat. We will continue on to your position and you will be fine.”

“Not…worth it.” Sheppard replied through clenched teeth.

“Sheppard, don’t give up.” Ronon barked.

Blinking hard and rolling his head around, regret filled his face. He didn’t want to give the order. His final order. But life’s a bitch, wouldn’t you know?

“Turn back.” His voice was low, swallowed in defeat and rough from weakness.

Silence followed and he was almost sure they hadn’t heard him. Then Rodney spoke, his resolute voice wavering.

“No. No we won’t. We’re going to find you and….”

“Please.” Sheppard rasped. Tears threatened to spill from his eyes but they probably would freeze upon his pale cheeks. His heart ached as he wished he could spare his team from the emotional pain they were experiencing. He wished he could take it all away and make things right again. Didn’t they all when it came to hindsight?

“Rodney.” Beckett sighed, his voice full of resignation. The doctor had known Sheppard’s odds for survival were slim from the beginning. There wasn’t much he could do for the pilot without proper medical equipment and there was simply no way to hail a Jumper in a blizzard. And to make matters worse, The Daedelus was currently in the Milky Way. The odds were dramatically against them getting to Sheppard in time.

“Perhaps we could….” Teyla’s voice trailed off in despair.

“He’s right.” Ronon’s tone was final, if a bit gravely.

“Just...go.” Sheppard breathed out.

“John.” Rodney addressed him in a way uncharacteristic of him, which was noted by all.

“Take care…of each…other, will…ya?” Talking was becoming torture for him, his mouth refusing to move and the air in his lungs burning with each inhalation and exhalation.

“Please don’t give up.” Teyla responded, her voice breaking. There were tears falling upon that face, Sheppard knew.

“Please, just…please.” Sheppard begged, his voice failing him as the darkness swallowed him into a soothing embrace.

--//--

There was a consistent tap that was more pressure than feeling upon his right cheek. A gale of wind roared into his ears, the cold of ice and snow entering in one ear and across the exposed skin of his face barely felt.

A muffled noise followed the wake of the wind. Sheppard took note of the little feeling he had left in his body. Comfortably numb. He felt lethargic and happy enough to wallow in it for as long as forever. Yet the muffled noise and the discomfort of ice and snow blowing across him wouldn’t allow it.

Slowly, his eyes opened. Snowflakes had accumulated upon his eyelashes. A dark sky with sparkling white lights smothered him from all around. The storm had cleared.

The pressure upon his cheek was still there and he shifted his eyes to the right. If he weren’t so numb, he would’ve jumped in shock and surprise. It was Carson, with Teyla close behind him, both kneeling at his side, trying to get a response from him. He would have smiled but his lips refused to move. As crystal as the night sky had become, his hearing slowly followed suit.

“Colonel Sheppard, can you hear me?” Carson asked in his thick brogue, the volume growing as Sheppard’s ears grew accustomed.

Sheppard observed the thick coat Carson wore with a fur lining around the hood settled upon the doctor’s shoulders. The doctor was peering down at him with deep concern. Teyla’s face mirrored Carson’s.

“Is he awake?” Rodney’s hopeful voice carried over the gusty wind. As the night had fallen, the winds had picked up. On one note, the winds had cleared the storm, but on another, they brought a deep chill that added a bite to the air. None of them would last long in this weather.

“D..ead?” Sheppard struggled to get his lips moving. Carson and Teyla glanced at one another before smiling with reassurance down at him.

“No, colonel, you are not dead. We are here and we are going to get you out of here.” Teyla responded with a soft smile. Her cheeks were a rosy glow. Being the smallest of them all, it amazed Sheppard that she had not succumbed to the cold, much like him.

“R..scu?” Sheppard managed to mumble.

“They’ll be here soon, colonel. Just hang in there.” Carson replied with a smile of relief.

Sheppard shifted his gaze to his body. There was a thick blanket of snow upon it. In fact, most of it was freshly unsettled. It took him a moment to realize that his team must have added to the drift already accumulating upon his body. Snow was a great insulator, he remembered. Beyond this, he spied a blurry fire with two figures standing on either side. Rodney and Ronon.

Sheppard smiled as best as his frozen facial muscles would allow.

“The storm cleared just as you instructed us to retreat. Thank the ancestors, we were able to see you from the ridge and reach you before it was too late.” Teyla explained. Her voice sounded wavy, as if she was moving close, then pulling away. Yet Sheppard knew it was his own failing hearing to blame.

“Damn it, Sheppard. You had to get captured and shot on the coldest damn planet we’ve ever encountered. You should be thanking us for saving your sorry ass, you know that?” Rodney’s voice carried across the wind from nearby. Sheppard didn’t have the energy to lift his head and visibly seek out the scientist.

“He’s thankful.” Ronon’s deep voice came from not too far from Rodney’s.

“I’m just reiterating the fact that he owes us all an astronomically huge bidding that encompasses our entire life spans.”

There must have been a silent look passed among his teammates after that one because Rodney only sputtered and grumbled under his breath to spare their ears.

Warmth embraced him. Whether it was the presence of his team or hypothermia kicking up a notch, Sheppard did not care. Instead, he allowed himself to wallow in it. A thought surfaced in his hazy mind then and he smiled.

“Not…prime.” The words dropped off in a whisper as he slipped into a deep sleep.

“What?” Carson asked, puzzled.

Rodney only smiled.

--fin—

A/N: OK, so the last two sentences aren’t exactly Shep’s POV. Oh, and that number – it’s technically not a prime but some other kind of weird anomaly of a math thingy all of which I cannot possibly comprehend – I’m an artist damn it. That said, I have written a sort of aftermath to this but I have a little bit more to go on it (within the word count limit). Let me know if you are interested in reading it. Happy Holidays!

The Black Mark pt. 2

Thu, 26 Oct 2006 14:48:37 GMT

Here it is, finished, believe it or not! :D Enjoy :)

-------o-------

The drone of a military jeep carried far in the eerie stillness of the night. Night patrols in the desert often were reserved for those soldiers in need of attitude adjustments. Just one night of patrol was enough to straighten out even the most cock-bulled soldier in a squad. Every little sound in the night carried on the wind like haunting whispers. There was no way to discern the distance or direction of such sounds. And though the desert nights could be cold, temperature had nothing to do with the chills that ran down one’s spine.

So when shuffling of a rather large object met their ears, they squinted their eyes into the pitch night. That ever burning question on their minds: man or beast? Their weapons held at the ready, the soldiers were often a bit trigger happy at times like this.

One of the men on the night patrol flipped on the searchlight of his parked jeep. Light shone across gradual ripples of sand. Movement in the fading edge of the beams caught their eyes. They squinted.

A disheveled figure came into view, stumbling in the loose sand. There was blood on every inch of him. The man wore military fatigues and boots that were so dark and glistened in blood that the only way for the patrolmen to identify him as a friendly was by the shimmering dog tags dangling from his drooping neck.

Two of the soldiers immediately rushed to the man. He batted his shaking hands at them, squinting his swollen eyes. The man was in such a horrible state the soldiers were sure he would fall dead at any moment. He was wheezing and there was blood seeping from his left ear. His once spiky hair lay matted against his head. His chest was mottled with bruises and oozing flesh wounds. His pale lips were chapped from dehydration. He stumbled briefly before catching himself, shoving them off as they tried to assist him.

“Sir? What happened sir?” One of the soldiers asked, trying to gain eye contact with eyes that were glassy and unfocused.

The man was definitely disoriented, but nonetheless responded.

“I won.” He slurred, his voice deep and raw.

Before the soldiers could catch him, the man fell backwards onto the ground. He was out cold.

“Who is that?” A soldier asked. The other bent down to read the dog tags and immediately glanced back up at his comrade, eyes wide.

“John Sheppard.” The soldier stood up abruptly. “Fuck. That’s Major John Sheppard….”

His comrade’s mouth hung open in shock.

“Call the med unit…shit, Reynolds…he’s been MIA for four days.”

-------o-------

Sand. Tiny granules of earth sharpened by time. Light as the breeze. Terribly stubborn to get out of those hard-to-reach areas of man and machine.

Oh how John Sheppard hated sand.

He could feel it clumped in the tiny crevices of his ears, pasted to the waistline of his pants, accumulated within the bowels of his boots. Funny, though he was aware that he was in serious trouble, he could only concentrate on that hateful sand. The shit got everywhere. Didn’t hide red stains too well, either.

The soft beat of air being chopped by the metal blades of a helicopter played distantly in his mind. He knew he was flying…he could never escape that wonderful feeling of weightlessness, after all. It was second nature to him. Through his bleary vision, he had surmised that he was on a chopper full of medics, heading back to base camp.

Huh, so he had made it after all. Surprise. Not exactly pleasant, but nonetheless, better than the alternative, he supposed. He had expected death, even welcomed it. But it seemed that wasn’t what fate had in mind for him. No, John Sheppard was a man of steel, apparently. For after surviving the death of those he had come to rescue, he had been dragged through hell, fought with the devil, and came out the other side so much worse for the wear.

Right now, he hated that sand for all its worth. Hated how it sprayed into the air in shimmering sheets, how easily it tainted with red, how it got into every little open cut on his pummeled body….

“Sir? We’re almost to the base. We’re going to take good care of you, sir. Just hang on.” A disembodied voice carried over the chopping of air.

The air was tense around him. He knew that physically and mentally, he was up shit creek. He was severely dehydrated, had lost a lot of blood, and was most likely sporting a fever. His body had been put to the test, and though he was sure he had won, he didn’t think the test was completely over with yet.

And for the life of him, he couldn’t remember the name of the captain he had rescued from the downed helicopter. All he could remember was the shoe size the man wore. Now how the hell would he know something like that?

Another voice interrupted his damning of that dreaded sand.

“Sir, look at me. I need you to look at me, sir.” Fingers were snapped and he was sure he saw movement, but he began to realize that the light was fading fast. He was losing consciousness.

He coughed. Tasted something metallic on his tongue but there was something else too. Tiny little granules of sand.

Damn.

-------o-------

Turns out the Taliban almost won. Sheppard remained in critical condition for seven days before he finally turned the corner. He wasn’t aware for most of it and found he was content with that fact. No one ever mentioned the hell the hero had to suffer after saving the day.

Well, his fellow buddies who came in for a quick peak labeled him as a hero, anyway. It was in reality, the farthest thing from what he was currently calling himself. A failure.

He had defied his CO’s orders to head into an unknown situation with potential danger. His CO had fifteen years of experience over him but somehow Sheppard found his own stubbornness overruling. He knew, damn it. Knew beyond a doubt that he could simply waltz in and save those men, bring them back to a cheering camp, and spend the night spinning stories a mile long while drowning the horrors away in a bottle or two of booze.

How naïve he had been. Now he knew better. It had marked him in such a way that no matter what his superiors had in store for him now, he knew beyond a shadow of a doubt that he would think, act, and hell, breathe differently for the rest of his life.

His profession now represented death. He was the bringer of death.

A voice sent him crashing out of his reverie and back to the bitterly bright and sunny present. Pleasant days like this were like a slap in the face to him and he could only blame his recent experiences. Confined to his hospital bed had nothing to do with it.

“Major John Sheppard.”

He turned. Gray eyes met hazel.

“General Ward Sheppard, sir.” He tilted his head briefly in greeting but a smile never formed upon his thin lined lips. His father stood in full military dress at the door of the room, hat tucked under one arm, and a firm scowl planted upon that aged and weary face.

The general stepped into the room, closed the door behind him, and came to stand at the foot of the bed. Those gray eyes drilled into him, studying him as if to find answers to questions that didn’t deserve to be answered under such scrutiny.

“Your court martial is scheduled for November 28th at 0800 hours. Do you have any questions?”

John swallowed hard. He knew this was coming, but to have it come from his father was more than a little unsettling. He averted his eyes, glancing out to the intensely bright window to his right. The light hurt his eyes, but the alternative view hurt worse. Thankfully, his father didn’t demand that he stay at attention. One small grace.

“We will never speak of this again. Any of this. You are a disgrace to the Sheppard name. I wish to have nothing to do with you when this is over. I’ve come to tell you that it is most favorable that you will not be given a dishonorable discharge. My opinions on the matter apparently don’t have warrant.”

John shifted his gaze to stare deep into eyes of hatred. Somehow it was more chilling than the looks the Taliban had given him before beating him into submission. His heart filled with immense sorrow that was accompanied by pity for his father. The man was so cold yet he could be so kind at other times. Few as those had been in his childhood, John had never completely hated his father because of it. Now…now he didn’t think he really had a father anymore.

His “father” made to turn and leave.

“Wait.” John blurted out, before he realized what he wanted to say. The general turned back with a glare. Sheppard knew what that meant. He added, “Sir.”

“Permission to speak.”

John snorted subconsciously. The man had never been at ease his entire life.

“You always had faith in the military, but not in a human being. It took me a lifetime to figure out what made you tick. You made life miserable for everyone around you because that’s all you had ever known. I actually felt sorry for you.” John paused, reading his father’s unease in the stiff shoulders, the downcast eyes avoiding his. “We aren’t that different you know. In fact, we’re too damn similar. We’re stubborn, we don’t give up, and we are loyal to our fellow man. Perfect qualities for a soldier. Gets us in trouble from time to time, too. I didn’t go back for those men to make a point. I went back not because I knew them personally, but because if I had been in their shoes, I would have liked to have known that someone out there was gunning for me. That I wasn’t a piece of shit on the wall, a speck, something to overlook and forget. That I meant something; that I existed for a reason. Everyone needs that validation. You never gave me that satisfaction. I’ve fought with everything I have to do the exact opposite. Every life counts. Every. Single. One. We grow up wishing never to be like our parents for a reason, SIR. To better mankind by doing the best we can, not to be like those who raised us. If I hadn’t gone back, I would have simply fallen in your footsteps. I couldn’t disappoint myself like that. No way in hell, SIR.”

An agonizingly long silence followed with both men staring hard at each other. The general cleared his throat.

He opened his mouth then closed it, his brow creased in a permanent frown. His eyes searched John’s. Trying to read them without revealing too much of what was going on in his mind.

“Your mother loved you, isn’t that enough?” It was a cold statement, but John read through the wavering voice, understanding the full weight of it. General Ward Sheppard was incapable of love. A hard truth, but one he had to bear.

John shifted, stifling a grunt of pain.

“Too bad I couldn’t remember her enough to know it.” John replied. His mother had died when he was two and a half: before he was old enough to remember her. Sometimes he thought he could when smelling a particular scent…that of jasmine, but it was always as faint as a dream upon waking.

“It’s best we never speak again, agreed?” The statement was shocking but it was delivered as if the man was simply commenting on the weather.

“Best news I’ve had all day.” John sniffed bitterly. His father gained eye contact once more with him. There was something in those eyes. Maybe a hint of regret? Or compassion? Whatever it was, it was gone in an instant and the general had turned swiftly and left the room. John felt hot stinging tears spring to his eyes and there was nothing he could do to stop them. Damned drugs. He could blame the painkillers all he wanted but he knew deep down it was the last time he would ever see his father.

Thank goodness family had nothing to do with blood, by his book.

-------o-------

Standing before the head honchos of the court martial felt disturbingly similar to standing before that line of Taliban trying their hand at Russian roulette. It sent rolls of unease through his already queasy stomach.

Sheppard took a few weeks to heal, going through torturous physical therapy in a German hospital for a month, then through a few grueling sessions with the military shrink. A real party. The only good thing that came out of it was that he wasn’t anywhere near sand for the entire time.

By the time his actions were brought under scrutiny, he had closed off to everyone and everything. Being numb was incredibly comfortable, he found out. Quite alluring to the point that he never wanted to leave it’s protective shell.

Standing before those men in full military dress, Sheppard locked his gaze on a point just above their scrutinizing stares.

“How do you plead?” The question had been repeated four times now, and still Sheppard couldn’t get beyond the tightening in his throat to answer.

Flashes of pain and torture would intermittently disrupt his thoughts ever since he woke in that German hospital. He couldn’t recall the full extent of his time in enemy hands, thanks to a severe concussion, but there were still the sensations that crept back in. A smell, a taste, even the feel of skin brushing up against his own sent his mind reeling. A military psychologist suggested PTSD but he was no fool. That was just a medical term derived from drug companies so that more prescriptions could be filled. No way was he falling for that shit. In reality, though, he knew it was true: he was suffering terrible nightmares, flashbacks, and feelings of intense anxiety. But he also knew he was strong, that he could overcome it, given enough time. Just leave John Sheppard the hell alone and he’d be all right. Just wait and see.

Sometimes it disturbed him that he had empty voids in his memory and other times, he was incredibly thankful. Yet it was a pity that he cringed every time he had to step foot on sand.

“Not guilty, sir.”

The board before him took their time mulling with each other, voices low to a murmur. There were a few supporters in the room, mostly John’s fellow comrades in arms. No sign of his father, of course. A few of his friends had even stood up to defend him during the trial, but it seemed their words were fruitless. The men of law seated before him did not care who he was as an individual. They only saw the facts sprawled out before them on paper. They saw a soldier who had defied orders that lead to the death of five servicemen. Three had been American and Sheppard later found out that the other two had been Canadian. It amazed Sheppard that even though he hadn’t struck the final blow for those five men, just by his being with them at the times of their deaths, he was at fault. Thankfully it was just his father that had it in for him.

“Despite the words of your fellow men as well as your own…harrowing account of events, we find you guilty under Article 92: failure to obey order or regulation as well as Article 108: damage or destruction of military property of the United States. You will now carry a permanent black mark on your record as a reminder of your wrongful actions.” The speaker leaned forward on bent elbows, his piercing gaze not even phasing Sheppard in the slightest. He continued to stand at attention, his gaze held tight on the pale gray wall beyond.

“Off the record, Major, I just want to say that if it weren’t for a certain…influence…in the chain of command, you’d see your ass out of the military so fast you would have never known you had ever served any time at all. That said, I wish to personally state that it was an incredibly stupid thing you did…but at the same time, it was incredibly brave, heroic, and downright impressive. I envy you for it. You know when to take action and you do what is necessary to maintain the objective. You’d make a great leader, major. But you don’t follow the proper chain of command and that’s what it all falls back onto. “

They stared at each other for a very long moment before the speaker continued. There was admiration in the speaker’s eyes, not disdain, as Sheppard had often seen following his return from the trenches of hell.

“On the record, we sentence you to a permanent transfer to the McMurdo base in Antarctica with two years forfeiture of pay and allowances. You narrowly avoided a dishonorable discharge, major. Don’t make us regret it.”

Swallowing thickly, Sheppard nodded once to acknowledge the speaker. Once dismissed, he swiftly turned and left the courtroom.

-------o-------

Whoever said time heals all wounds never lived long enough to discover that such a statement was pure bullshit.

Ripples of blue sparkled from horizon to horizon below him. The feeling of weightlessness consumed him. He was being transported to Antarctica direct from Afghanistan. Not like he had much to go back to the states for at this point anyway.

As a friendly military send-off, he hadn’t even been allowed to fly there himself. He had to have an escort…as if the military half expected him to go AWOL and fly to some tropical paradise to spend the remainder of his miserable life. Not that the thought hadn’t crossed his mind….

He lost himself in the cerulean blue below, only distantly noting how sickeningly similar the ocean resembled a sea of sand.

Sheppard no longer cared what his future held for him. He had nothing to aspire for…there was little chance of promotion and nearly every soldier and officer not from his unit gave him a glare that sent tendrils of ice seeping into his veins. There was little respect for him outside the circle of those who really knew what had happened back in the devil’s playground. Once it was noted he was black marked, it was as swift as a death sentence in judgment of his character.

Well, he figured tailoring to stuffy scientists studying the mating rituals of penguins would be a refreshing change. After all, there wasn’t much else in the way of excitement on the coldest place on Earth. Oh the irony: he was leaving the hottest hell for the coldest hell. How fitting, really.

Bitter, alone, and left out to rot. Sheppard blinked and shifted his gaze to the distant horizon out the front shield of the helicopter. A thin line of dull gray suggested the first vestiges of ice and snow. His final destination.

Taking a deep breath, he felt a refreshing sense of relief. Here, there would be no inquiring gazes or hate-filled glares. He was free now. He was unable to hold back the smile that crept onto his lips.

Afghanistan had taught him more than he ever wished to acknowledge at present. Yes, he had failed in his mission to retrieve those men, and save Holland (the name had come back to him a month later). But he had survived. Been through hell and back in fact and all the more wise because of it. Sure, if given the chance, he would do it all over again in a heartbeat; with the one exception of coming back with five living and breathing fellow servicemen.

Sheppard closed his eyes, took another liberating lungful of air, and opened them again, focusing them on the serenity of vast blue all around him.

He’d have his day to redeem himself. For now, he was content with simply being alive.

------- The End -------

Fic: The Black Mark

Tue, 24 Oct 2006 05:38:41 GMT

It's my birthday, so I decided to post a fic, yay for me!!! Hope you all enjoy it :)

TITLE: The Black Mark

AUTHOR: chokolaj

SUMMARY: Angsty fic exploring Shep’s black (AU I suppose). Since the show won’t do it, I’ve done it for them.

WARNING: We all know war isn’t pretty. As this fic deals with such a thing, I want you to be wary that there are some pretty gruesome things that happen or are witnessed in this fic. So if you have a queasy stomach, turn away now, please.

Also, things may not be up to military parlance or medical, for that matter, so I apologize for my ignorance.

DISCLAIMER: Do I really have to say it? We all know it. ‘Nuff said.

ETERNAL THANKS: Go to Titan5 for support and encouragement.

-----------o------------

Shep had a lot of buddies in his military career. He learned a lot about humanity, too. He lost comrades…mostly to war. But he never lost faith in them. He would fight to the death for any one of them. It was something engrained in him from birth, he supposed. He’d always been the type to bend over backwards for another, no questions asked. There came a day, however, where that charity cost him dearly. He would never forget it. Hell, the military wouldn’t let him: it was the reason he received the black mark on his record.

--o--

Shot to hell.

That was his helicopter.

And so was his career.

Sand whipped into his eyes and he took a moment to slide on some protective eye gear. The desert sun was blazing hot.

From the intelligence reports sent from mission control that morning, the spy plane had photographed a small area in the foothills of the northern mountain range. There was a small camp there. Always shifting in location, but never straying too far from the generalized area.

Taliban.

Two men from his unit were in there: a reconnaissance mission had gone sour. Five men died. Five men survived but only three of them returned to base camp, badly beaten. According to Sheppard’s CO, however, there was no way to infiltrate the area without being spotted by the enemy. By no means did the military wish for the Taliban to know about they’re little spying game. They were eagerly awaiting the enemy to make the first strike. Two lives were forfeit in everyone’s eyes. There was no going back for them.

Sheppard couldn’t accept that.

He didn’t give up: it wasn’t in his blood. His childhood for example, had been filled with disappointment and tragedy. Blow after blow and he kept getting up, looking for the good in everybody and believing that life would turn out all right. Even when it kept proving him wrong, he kept on smiling with that cocky grin, as if to say: come on, is that all you got? It was a matter of survival for him. And it worked beautifully.

Until now.

Now, at this very moment, he had so much pent up rage and frustration that he felt sure he was going to explode. His fingers itched. His eyes scanned the horizon endlessly. He was anxious, ready to strike. He needed an outlet. What a better place to expunge some of that energy: enemy territory where the rules of war faded into the reddened lines of survival of the fittest. Just him verses the enemy.

Justice would be served.

A sudden disturbance in the silence sent Sheppard flat on his stomach against the hot sand. Windblown sand obstructed his view momentarily as he visibly searched the horizon about him for that sound. It was distant: a series of gunshots. Automatic weapons fire. From the sound of it aged Russian warfare. Sheppard allowed a small bitter smile upon his lips. The enemy was close.

He scanned the immediate area beyond his downed helicopter. With little to no smoke and a shot engine, Sheppard figured the enemy wouldn’t come looking for him. He was a skilled enough pilot that he was able to maintain control of the trembling helicopter and head off a safe distance before coming down…hard.

There was little cover here. The sand dunes rose steadily towards the distant mountain range to the north, but not steep enough to lay cover behind. To his south and west, there was a line of dried shrubbery. The limbs twisted like skeletons clawing for the sky, dark and desolate. To his east, more sand, but dropping in elevation to even out to the distant rough terrain of more foothills.

Afghanistan was downright dismal. Or at least what he’d seen of the place. Even from the sky, the country had looked barren and scarred: incapable of sustaining life. Some natives may have considered it beautiful, but to Sheppard, it was hell on Earth. He had no intentions of dying on its soil. He wouldn’t give the place such satisfaction to claim another life. So it seemed he wasn’t only battling the Taliban, and soon his superiors, he was also battling the very earth he lay upon. All odds were against him. Some days were just shitty like that.

More gunfire. Followed by a muffled explosion. They were either testing weaponry, or engaging in training exercises.

The rapid beat of air expanding and contracting around helicopter rotors roared over a shift in the wind. Sheppard whipped his head around, squinting into the blazing sky to the southwest.

Shit.

Holland.

Sheppard closed his eyes and swore. Glancing back up to the fast approaching black hawk, Sheppard grimaced. He was on radio silence. He couldn’t warn his friend. Holland had probably decided to follow Sheppard’s bad example and now it was going to get him killed. Butterflies fluttered in his stomach as Sheppard bravely came to his knees. He hunched his shoulders, pointing his rifle downwards. He found himself scanning the area for the enemy, as if there could possibly be a way for him to lay cover for his friend. However, at this point he was desperate.

And there it was, spiraling into the sky just beyond the northern ridge, leaving a beautiful arching trail: an RPM. Sheppard roared and began to run towards the approaching helicopter. Sand sprayed around his boots and settled in his wake. He arched his neck, watching as the missile zoomed low overhead an eerie hiss of air left in its wake. He screamed for his friend, screamed for the missile to sputter out before hitting target, screamed for the world to be right again.

The blast rocketed him backwards.

Sand flew. A sickening smack reached his stunned ears. Sheppard lifted his head up from the ground. Holland’s helicopter had crashed not too far from his own. Sparks flew among the puffs of black billowing out of the mangled cockpit. Sheppard slammed his fist into the sand beside him, cursing out loud, staring back up at the sky. After several moments, he gathered himself up and woozily came to a stand. He stumbled the few hundred yards to the newly downed chopper to confirm the fate of his friend. To his surprise, Holland was alive. Badly hurt, but alive.

One small grace, thank the powers that be. Maybe the mission wouldn’t be a scrap after all.

“Captain Holland.” He called, keeping his voice low: sound carried in the desert and he was sure the enemy would be upon them at any moment. His friend made little movement. There was blood everywhere. Sheppard had seen so much of that by this time in his tour that he was sure he would never want to look at that color again in his entire lifetime. It made his stomach churn.

“Holland.” He called again. Sparks flew. Smoke drifted. Sand ground against metal in the wind.

A faint whimper met his ears. Searing heat from the downed wreckage warmed his already sweat-beaded face. Sheppard grimaced. His self-appointed rescue mission had just gotten more complicated.

-------o-------

“Fifteen.”

“Sorry?”

“’S how many kills I’ve got under my belt so far. You?”

Sheppard’s brow furrowed momentarily and he shook his head.

“That leg still bothering you?” He motioned with his head towards the captain’s bloody leg, wrapped in a bundle of field dressings. The sand directly beneath his knee was a growing stain of rich deep red.

“I don’t get you, Shep.” Holland chuckled lightly, keeping one hand tight across his midsection. Sheppard glanced back then turned his attention once again to the ridges of sand surrounding them.

“There’s not much to get, Holland.”

He didn’t see it, but Holland rolled his eyes and winced, shaking his head with a smirk.

“Why’d you do this? Why’d you come back for them?”

There it was. It was the question that was going to end his military career. Sheppard took his time scanning the surrounding area, then his weapon, before turning to look over his shoulder at his comrade.

“I should be asking you the same thing. Damn it, Holland! Our chances for getting those men back just went from pretty damn likely to not a chance in hell. What were you thinking?” His voice rose, spittle spraying from his drying lips as he glared back at the captain. The man returned the glare, adjusting his body so he didn’t slouch so much.

“You and me: we’re not so different you know. Both come from military families. Live for speed. Don’t take life seriously. Stick by our word. Hey, you know the code. Integrity first. Service before self. Excellence in all we do. Those words are fricken’ branded into us from the beginning. You ask why I did it? Because I can’t stand to see another good man go down because he did the right thing. That’s why I did it. What’s your pathetic excuse?”

The outburst left Sheppard speechless. His mouth hung agape as he studied Holland’s pained but steady stare. He blinked hard several times, recovering from the shock to portray an unperturbed look upon his face.

“You hungry?”

Holland fell into a bout of laughter mixed with painful coughs and gasps. Sheppard made his way over to his comrade, placing a hand on his shoulder, sympathy painted across his features. All the while, his wary gaze fell to the horizon around them.

“Seriously man. I saw you with the CO. You guys were battling it out. You know you aren’t going to get outta this one…that is if you get out of this one…without some pretty severe consequences.” Holland tried to gain eye contact with Sheppard, but failed to do so. Sheppard, stubborn as he was, wouldn’t give him the opportunity.

“That doesn’t matter.” Came the stout reply.

“What does?’

Sheppard remained quiet for a few moments, chewing his lip and pondering on how he would respond. Finally, he took a deep breath, turned to Holland, and gave him the most sincere look he could muster.

“Nothing like pissing off the old man.”

“Huh?”

“Stubborn as a mule, the bastard. Always looking out for number one. Made life pretty miserable. We were always battling it out. I eventually wised up and didn’t let the old man control me anymore. The moment that happened, he lost. Point is, he never took risks, never sacrificed his own needs for another human being. I didn’t want to be like that. I wanted to be everything he wasn’t. I guess you could say I compensated for where he lacked in the grand scheme of things.”

With that, Sheppard fell silent, again scanning for potential threats.

“Never leave a man behind.” Holland shook his head once and jutted his chin out. “Simple as that.”

“Yeah.” Sheppard replied, a haunted look clouding his eyes. “Something like that.”

--------o--------

Several hours in the heat of the desert sun would make even a canteen of brown water look tempting. For that’s what the two soldiers had been intently staring at for the last half hour. An hour before that, one rather brave, or stupid in Sheppard’s opinion, soldier of the Taliban was doing a little reconnaissance. He wasn’t very stealth about it, and Sheppard spotted him before he could get too close.

Several resounding pops later and a thud sent sand spraying into the air intermixed with droplets of dark red blood. The body was quickly dragged into the carcass of the helicopter Sheppard and Holland laid refuge against. Nothing was said after that. They claimed anything of use from the body…an old Russian rifle with some spare ammunition, some kind of dried lump that could be considered a biscuit, and a weathered canteen with a few ounces of brownish river water settled in the bottom.

“You can’t tell me that guy was going to survive long drinking that shit.” Holland tried to joke. But neither of them was laughing at this point. They hardly had the energy to muster.

Holland was hiding it pretty well, but Sheppard knew the man was in a bad way. His lips were dry and cracked, his leg was slowly oozing something other than blood, and his skin was pale…too pale. And even in the ninety-degree shade the helicopter barely provided as cover, the man did not produce a single bead of sweat.

Holland chuckled then, though it sounded strained and slightly delirious. Sheppard shared the chuckle, not entirely sure of its meaning.

“What?”

“You remind me of my kid sister.”

Sheppard rolled his eyes and gave the Captain a look.

“Ah, gee, thanks?” His questioning gaze prompted the injured man into another bout of laughter that ended in painful winces and gasps. Sheppard stiffened. There wasn’t much he could do for the man at this point. And that fact alone was killing them both.

“No, no, no. Ha. You see it’s just that, she always looked at me, like she could see me for whom I really was. She had this, this sixth sense, you know? Like she could almost feel what I was feeling even. She knew when I broke up with my fiancée even before I walked in the door. See, Shep. You’ve got that look on your face now. You know? You know that I know, too. We’re up shit creek, is what we are Shep. And still you deny it. What does it take man? What does it take to get you rattled?” Holland inquired, coughing out the last few words. A few specks of red appeared on his chapped lips that Sheppard steadfastly tried to ignore.

It was funny how dying gifted one with insight.

Sheppard shifted over until he was facing Holland, one hand planted awkwardly on the man’s drooped shoulder. It was already cold to the touch, even in the blazing heat of the desert.

“Take a sip, you’re dehydrated.” Sheppard demanded, not giving Holland the chance to dig any further into his already faltering psyche.

Holland’s pale and shaking hand bumped against his arm, his eyes pleading with Sheppard to drop the act.

“Come on man, I’m pouring out my heart here. You this brutal to all the chics?”

Sheppard laughed then, genuine and pure. The wrinkles at the corner of his eyes were more pronounced than ever. Shuffling away to get a better view of the ridge behind them, he took a deep breath and faced Holland. His expression morphed into one of melancholy.

“Look, I know time is running out. But listen to me, Shep. Listen.” Holland paused, reading the man’s stony face: he had his full attention now and he wasn’t about to let that slip by now. “You do good out here, man, don’t you forget that. No matter what happens. I’ve got your back. I would’ve gone all the way, man…hell I did, didn’t I? Nothing like going down in a blaze of glory, eh? You have to remember that Shep. No matter what…..”

The next moment became but a blur to Sheppard. It was the single most defining moment of his military career.

Grains of sand and tendrils of fire mushroomed into the air along with a deafening ringing noise. An unknown force slammed into Sheppard, hurling him backwards.

The next he saw was blue, nothing but clear blue. He blinked. Blue again. He blinked again. It was the sky. He was lying on burning hot sand.

He was in the desert.

The Taliban.

Holland!

It all came back in a rush, his heart thrumming as he struggled to pull himself up into a seated position.

Smoke filled his vision briefly as he heard the familiar crackle of flames nearby. His nose smelled burnt flesh, but he could not discern from where it was coming. Carefully picking himself up from the ground, Sheppard wiped his hands clean of sand and scanned the immediate area before him.

There no longer was a helicopter with Holland lying refuge against. Instead, a deep smoking and flaming chasm lay before him. He circled in place, in shock, wondering if he had been somehow captured and dragged away from Holland. Then he turned back upon the sight of one item lying not five feet from his position.

He fell to his knees. Grabbed his hair. Sank down to the blistering sand. Tears fell from his eyes.

Just out of the line of his sight lay a single boot. Military issue. With a foot still embedded within.

War was messy. And Sheppard would never forget it.

-------o-------

After several hours of walking through the harsh midday sun, Sheppard had stumbled upon his final destination: a small camp of Taliban soldiers. They weren’t particularly hidden well amongst the rocky outcropping shadowing them from the sun. Yet from the perspective of a spy plane, they were as visible as a desert mirage. There, but not really there.

He knew he was beyond reasoning at this point. Hell he was walking right into death’s arms. Suicidal. He didn’t have anything left to lose. He only had everything to gain. Nothing like putting a positive spin on imminent death.

--o--

The confident yet delirious soldier strolled up to the three alerted Afghans with a smile and a wave. The men held their Russian rifles tight, staring in disbelief. Surely this man was crazy. He wore the clothes of the enemy, yet he was not fearful of them: quite the opposite in fact.

“Hi…you wouldn’t happen to be harboring any POWs back there, now would you?” The man asked with a drunken smirk, leaning slightly off center to look beyond them.

--o—

An object just outside his vision came swiping downwards. Everything went black.

Sheppard awoke lying on his side in a cold and dark place. He heard shuffling nearby. Whispers. A hand touched his shoulder. His head pounded. He opened his eyes. A friendly face hovered above him and he knew. Knew without a doubt that he finally had found them.

“Hey guys.” He mustered through an achy throat. He heard positive sounds of greetings and relief from a few disembodied voices.

“What took you so long?!” Came a clear voice above all others.

Sheppard laughed into sweet dark oblivion.

The next time he awoke wasn’t so pleasant.

They were kneeling, five of them in a line. He gazed into the eyes of the four men lined beside him once again in the blistering heat of the desert sun. Two he recognized instantly as they were from his unit. The other two were foreign, yet he knew by their uniforms that they were allies. That, and they sported the universal Red Cross bands around their biceps. He nodded his head at them then looked to his two American comrades. They shared a look that spoke volumes. It was time to get out of this mess.

“I swear if they gave a medal for bullheadedness I’d give it to you myself, Major.” One of his comrades stated loudly. He fired back with a smirk upon his lips.

“Maybe you can hold my hand at the court martial, too, Lieutenant?”

“Boys, boys. You both know I’m arranging for a thorough ass-kicking for both of you the moment we return, don’t you?” The man third down the row from him leaned forward to gain eye contact with the two.

“Yes, sir.” The Lieutenant replied heartily.

“Of course, Colonel.” Sheppard replied, his slightly unsteady gaze straying to the view before him. The smirk never strayed from his lips.

The remaining captives glanced at each other warily, then to the snickering Americans with raised eyebrows. The banter between them was enough for them to relax, but not enough for them to literally stop shaking in their boots. The five of them were lined up before the death squad that was currently loading their weapons not twenty yards from their position. The Taliban weren’t paying much attention to them at the moment, only talking amongst them and their superior, speaking in a tongue none of the captives understood.

They all knew this was the end for them. But facing death with a smile was their final way of saying, “fuck you” to the enemy, and the universe at large.

A voice screamed at them and the guy at the end of the line was shoved forward roughly. He nearly fell on his face before steadying his balance. The man that had shoved him from behind grabbed his wrists and forced him to place his hands behind his head. A threatening glare to the rest of the captives sent all their hands to their heads without another moment wasted.

The Taliban soldiers, in their sandy desert-colored uniforms billowing in the wind, turned to them then, weapons in hand. They stood in a line opposite them. An order was barked from behind them. The rifles rose. Five deep narrow chambers pointed in their direction, five sets of eyes glaring down from the scopes beyond.

Hearts pounded. Sweat slicked overheated skin. Wind rustled up scorching sand. Gazes filled with hate met gazes filled with defiance.

Time had finally run out. Death was upon them.

Then came the unexpected.

A decapitated head rolled into their view. Empty eyes stared back at them. A trail of red slithered from the neck to the owner’s body. The head had belonged to the man at the end of the line. The strike of the offending blade had been so swift that no sound had been made.

The Lieutenant threw up bile, bending over and crying out. The Colonel started but stilled just as quickly, knowing in his place that any action would be his last. Sheppard only stared straight ahead. But the man that had obviously served alongside the now beheaded cried out, scrambling through the sand towards that bloody mess of a head.

A shot rang out and three bodies flinched. The fourth fell to the ground without a sound.
The Lieutenant was beyond reason now and the Colonel simply shared a look with Sheppard. The five barrels pointing at them never wavered. The man giving the orders to kill was pacing proudly behind them.

Then the Lieutenant did something that most likely saved Sheppard’s life. It was unexpected to such a point that it even had the enemy stalling. He lunged out at the leader strolling behind them. He swiftly grabbed the bloodstained sword hung deftly in the leader’s belt and struck the man down. Strike upon strike. The leader never had a chance to retaliate.

The five soldiers who had trained their weapons at the captives lowered them in shock. That was all Sheppard and the Colonel needed. Screaming at the top of their lungs, they charged forward. Two of the men raised their rifles and fired. Sheppard flinched but nothing more. The other three ran. Cowards. Sheppard attacked the man directly in front of him, seeing his commanding officer strike the other remaining soldier.

Fists pummeled into soft flesh and the hard steel of a weapon rammed into his rib cage. Sheppard fell onto the earth and grabbed a fistful of sand as the Taliban soldier threw himself down onto him, never ceasing in his tirade to kill Sheppard. But for every strike issued to him, Sheppard answered with equal, if not stronger force. He could distantly hear the Colonel fighting arm in arm with another soldier, but knew the man could hold his own. Sheppard struggled with man on top of him, intending on showering that fistful of sand into his eyes.

A shot rang out and the four men stilled their actions, looking up towards where the leader and the Lieutenant had been. A single Taliban of officer status stood before them, a rifle pointed at the still body of the Lieutenant, now lying on the ground before him. A red stain was gradually seeping outwards from his head. The officer glanced up. His dark eyes burned with absolute hatred.

Sheppard felt himself being pulled up by the collar of his shirt. The Colonel was given the same treatment and then both men were driven to their knees once more. The soldiers they had been fighting held them firmly from behind.

The officer stepped forward, over the bodies of their comrades, over the severed head, and on to stop a mere yard before the remaining captives. His nostrils flared as he glared down at them, receiving only the same menacing hatred he reserved for their kind.

At that moment, Sheppard felt the barrel of a gun being pressed to the back of his aching head and he knew. He knew beyond a doubt that this was the end for him. He dared a glance out of the corner of his eyes to the Colonel beside him, in much a similar state as he. The feeling was mutual.

The officer knelt before them then, looking from one to the other, studying their uniforms, their faces…making them squirm under his scrutiny. He smiled. It sent chills down Sheppard’s back.

He glanced to the two disheveled soldiers behind them and spoke in that foreign tongue. Whatever was being said was unnerving to both Sheppard and the Colonel. They weren’t going to end things easily, it seemed.

The smiling officer backed away from them then, his eyes shifting from them to the soldiers behind them. Sheppard’s stomach plummeted. That shift of focus was the command to kill.

The barrel stationed against his head shifted and at that moment, Sheppard realized instinctively what was about to happen. They were going to make him become the witness to four brutal deaths. Sure, they were going to kill him eventually, but they knew that the best way to kill a man was through his head, not his heart. They were going to toy with him. Make him fear every moment, thinking that it would be his last. Play with him until they had their fill and then, just maybe, they’d deliver on their promise and kill him. The four men had been captured in the action of saving the lives of others. Sheppard had walked into the hands of the enemy willingly, so that he could retrieve those men. Now, the enemy was going to make him pay for thinking he could save lives, too.

The killing shot sent his heart into a flurry of rapid beats. He cowered, his forearms stationed protectively above his head. Silent tears streamed down his flushed cheeks. Second time he’d cried that day, as much as he’d hate to admit it.

He had failed. For all the world he had believed he would be returning to base camp with the rescued men, laughing over another close call and taking bets on who would get drunk and pass out first that evening. The shot had not only pierced through the flesh of the last POW beside him: it had torn a hole through his very belief in himself and his abilities.

He had failed.

From that moment forward, he would do everything in his power to regain that belief. He took a steadying breath ready to face the enemy with everything he had left within him.

Heart pounding, eyes filled with sorrow, he glanced wearily up into the eyes of the officer. There was no remorse there. Only satisfaction. That satisfaction, however, added fuel to the fire already consuming him.

That was the precise moment Sheppard snapped.

On that day, there was nothing to stop Major John Sheppard. Nothing at all.

That day, Sheppard survived.

-------o-------

Second part to follow soon - don't worry, I actually have most of written already!

Bitter: Ch. 6 (no kidding)

Sat, 14 Oct 2006 04:04:34 GMT

Believe it or not, and scarily enough it is Friday the 13th, here is a new chapter of Bitter. Surprise, surprise, ffnet won't let me post as I can't even view my fics on my account. Sent them a letter; don't know what good that'll do.

Please be forewarned that the point of view in this story shifts at random, but I figured it was pretty clear that I didn’t have to denote whose. If you’re still confused, let me know and I’ll fix it.

This is probably a bad idea to post this now, as you’ll see in the author’s note at the end, but I figured what the hell…there’s still things I need to iron out in previous chapters, but some good news is the bits and pieces of future chapters are complete.

CHAPTER 6: Risha

Fear was emanating off these new visitors to their planet in waves. So much that there was a foul scent in the air…two distinctive scents, for that matter. The third, presently unconscious visitor emitted a raw scent of fatigue and pain but nothing more.

These people did not trust easily nor did they readily offer sympathy. It was as if they were familiar in more ways than one. The Ancients had been fabled to be emotionally hardened beings. Maybe these people were one and the same.

One more emotion washed over them stronger than fear. And it wasn’t hatred. For that, they could be thankful. No, this was something different, something they couldn’t fathom.

Hope.

It was a foreign word that sent fear crawling up one’s spine. There was no such thing as hope. How could there be when there was no future left to live for?

-- o --

Rodney and Teyla had learned by now not to exchange silent messages via facial expression. Every little twitch of their muscles seemed to set the crazies off into muttering fits of curling and uncurling already tense fingers. The small group leading them through the jungle stared at them nonetheless, shoulders hunched, eyes piercing into them like lasers only to dart away just before crossing the eye line of either of their newfound travelers.

Gurgling of a very empty stomach broke their nearly silent trek. A few birds squawked in seeming protest, but otherwise, all carried on. Rodney was hungry. He rubbed his stomach, as if the notion would cease the gurgling. Scowling, he realized he had recently eaten the very last power bar of the trip. None left in his jacket pocket. None left back on the jumper…if they ever made it back. And now he wanted to kick himself especially hard: there weren’t any left in the Pegasus Galaxy either. He’d eaten the last of the stock and thinking back with brief fondness, he remembered Sheppard ranting about how they needed to ration their supplies just that morning. About how the Daedalus was a luxury line cruiser that only arrived every once in a great while, pending any intergalactic emergency that might call upon her for duty. God he missed Sheppard. Well, actually, he missed their bantering as much as it pained them both. He knew deep down, no matter how much the colonel complained, that they were the best of friends. It was a rare kind of relationship, but one that was more genuine than most.

Teyla paused in the path before him causing him to run straight into her. Her small frame was no match for his and they nearly fell off balance before righting themselves again. Teyla sent McKay another one of her quirked eyebrow expressions but this time, there was a faint trace of a smile on her lips. Her eyes, however, were wary, staring intently at McKay as if to communicate some message.

The scenery was changing…meaning they were reaching the shore now. Glancing to the group of crazies carrying a still unconscious Ronon before them, Rodney observed that they were climbing down a root-infested slope. The trees were beginning to thin here and the dirt beneath their feet was growing lighter, the black rock mingling with sprinkles of white sand blown inland. It wouldn’t be long before they would discover their fate in the hands of these unusual natives.

Glancing back to Teyla, Rodney observed her tense muscles and her calculating gaze. He knew she was ready to take these people on no matter the outcome…she would fight to the death. Just like the other two of his team. Rodney was seriously beginning to wonder who was more sane…their apparent captors or his teammates.

Roshan was clear ahead of them by now, leading those carrying Ronon over a small crest and into a brighter portion of the jungle. As sunlight began to filter through the thinning overhead of foliage, Rodney dreaded the suffocating heat of the jungle that was causing the sweat to drip down his back would only become worse. That is, until an amazing breeze wafted their way, brushing upon the beads of perspiration, relieving the heat if only momentarily.

They had finally reached the shoreline. The newfound breeze coming off the ocean was like a good old-fashioned air conditioner. Relishing in the relief it brought, Rodney closed his eyes briefly, feeling Teyla standing beside him, mimicking his actions. They could hear the soft pit pat of the crazies as they herded onto the white sands of the shore. Bits of wind-swept sand swept up into their faces but they didn’t mind…anything to escape the mugginess of the darkened jungle now thankfully behind them.

Opening his eyes, Rodney took in the sight before him. An impressively expansive blue sea of sparkles upon gentle ripple upon ripple stretched to the horizon, blending into an equally blue sky. Two moons hovered at the eleven-o-clock position above them.

Snaking from left to right a thin strip of wind-shaped ripples of sand glared in the bright sunlight. Feathery pale green grass wavered on the crest of the shore that bordered a contrasting bed of black bedrock along the edge of the jungle behind them. It would have been nearly impossible to land a puddle jumper here without the backend dragging into the water.

The place was serene, were it not for the group of crazy natives now laying their friend down in a small cove of shaded grass to their right. Some of them were scattering down the shoreline, running on the very lip of water bordering the sand. Others were hovering around Roshan, who was now staring down at Ronon as if in deep thought.

Rodney figured now would be an opportune moment to discuss their options with Teyla. However, she beat him to it.

“I think it would be safe to assume that by now Colonel Sheppard would be asking you how we would be getting out of this one, Dr. McKay. Because it would seem that these people aren’t exactly in their right mind. I do not think negotiating with them will help. Our best course of action would be to retrieve Ronon and get back to the Jumper. Do you not agree?” Her inquisitive eyes found Rodney’s. Sweat trailed down her face, beaded on her shoulders and arms much as it did upon the scientist.

Rodney gave her a weak smile in return. He opened his mouth ready to fire a retort then closed it. He didn’t have that kind of rapport with Teyla. Only Sheppard. Where the hell was he?

“Dr. McKay?”

Teyla was looking at him with an inquiring gaze, her brow furrowed. Rodney cleared his head and took stock of their situation. Sheppard: missing in action. Ronon: injured and unconscious. Teyla: eager to kick ass and high tail it out of there. Rodney: starved, tired, and really getting sick of this botched mission routine. Crazy natives: now lined up staring at the two as if they were the main course for dinner that evening.

So not good.

“Ah, um….” Rodney began. He paused momentarily. He began to snap his fingers like he always did when a brilliant idea bestowed him. A rather comical thing happened then…though only in afterthought of the situation. At the time, it was much more alarming.

The natives began to scream and scurry. Some ran for the path the others had taken along the edge of the water and others into the jungle. It wasn’t long before only Roshan was standing before them, visibly shaken, but strong enough to hold his own. Ronon lay at his feet, stirring in his restless sleep now, but never waking.

“I take it you had an idea, Rodney?” Teyla stated. Her voice was muffled though, as she had clenched her teeth in frustration. Her intention from the beginning had been to keep the crazies as calm as possible.

McKay allowed a small squeak but nothing more. His face was scrunched up, his features emanating the guilt he was experiencing.

No matter, for Roshan was still standing before them, as if patiently awaiting the scientist to speak. His hands were clasped behind his back and for once he was not twitching like the others. His focus was completely on them steady as if it were always how he held his demeanor.

Change of tactic. Rodney decided it was time to play up his nonexistent negotiating skills. Luckily, he had Teyla to jump in and take over as soon as she realized what he was attempting to do.

“Roshan, is it? Yeah, so, here’s the thing. We’re in a bit of trouble and we’d appreciate it if you’d let us take our friend there, find our leader and leave as soon as humanly possible. I’ll have you know that we’re all very well trained in hand-to-hand combat, so I wouldn’t try anything.” Rodney paused briefly, studying Roshan’s unwavering expression and timidly added. “How does that sound?”

Teyla gave him a look that told him to simply shut up and focused her attention on Roshan, daring a step forward. The man did not move but the fallen Runner at his feet shifted slightly.

“Please. Our friend needs our help. And our leader is missing. Surely you do not believe we would harm you. We do not intend to do so. We only wish to return to our home.” She smiled then, genuine and pure.

Roshan reflected the smile but his words were less comforting.

“You cannot leave.”

“What?! Why?” Rodney began but before he could go into a tirade, Teyla stopped him with a warning glance.

“I will take you to Risha, my twin. She sees what we do not. You will not be harmed. My word. My word.” Roshan assured them. His gaze was honest and he looked down to Ronon. “We will fix him. Fix and free. Fly away he will. Once again.”

And with that, like the sudden clouding of a bright sky before a storm, Roshan reverted back to the off-centered man they had met earlier that day. His shoulders began to hunch, his gaze began to falter, and his fists curled and uncurled in an agitated fashion. He began to mutter as well, turning sideways as if to leave but pausing when he must have realized he didn’t know where exactly he was headed. He glanced back to Ronon, a startled expression briefly flitting his features before settling back to impasse. Then, he looked up to Teyla and Rodney before him. This time he visibly started at their presence, as if noticing them for the very first time. But just as with Ronon, the moment passed, as he seemed to accept the situation presented to him. Eerily enough, it reminded Rodney of someone experiencing hallucinations to the point of accepting them as an everyday occurrence.

Roshan blinked owlishly at them, as if waiting for them to do something, anything.

Rodney and Teyla looked at each other in brief bewilderment before turning their attention back to Roshan.

“Yes?” The man asked expectantly.

“You were going to take us to Risha.” Teyla prodded.

A warm smile spread across the man’s rather haggard features. Years of craziness would do that to you.

“Risha. Twins. Her and me. Me and her. You know her?”

Rodney rolled his eyes in impatience and knew Teyla was probably mentally doing so as well.

“Let’s get past the confusion bit shall we, and move on to the part where you take us to your dear sister.” Rodney asserted. He turned to Teyla and spoke quietly. “It’s about damn time we get some answers and I’m hoping this Risha doesn’t share the same crazy gene with Roshan here.”

“What about Ronon? We can only carry him so far. He still does not look well.” Teyla’s worried gaze fell upon their prone teammate, still lying at the bare feet of the still smiling Roshan.

The abrupt shifts in the man’s demeanor was creeping Rodney out.

“Fine. Roshan, how far is it to this sister of yours?”

Roshan only blinked at him, as if awaiting the right command, like a computer. Rodney released an exasperated sigh, his impatience winning over. He was beginning to feel the effects of their extended stay as he felt the emptiness in his stomach consume him.

“Risha. Your twin? Assumingly identical looks save for being female? The one with all the answers? You were taking us to her?” Rodney’s voice began to rise as his tirade continued. His finger jabbed pointedly at Roshan as he advanced on the increasingly cowering figure. “I don’t know if you’ve noticed, but we’re in a bit of a bad situation here and we could really not waste any more time here splitting hairs over who we are and why we are and all that other cosmic bullshit and I’m really goddamned sick of this heat! I hate jungles and I hate sand. I’m hungry, tired, and I could really go for some good old fashioned Ancient technology, even if it’s covered in the worst crud this universe has to offer!”

By now the scientist was face to face with a rather stunned Roshan. Fear danced within his eyes and if Rodney hadn’t been so enraged, he would have noticed one was blue, the other green. Rodney glared at the man as sweat trickled down his reddened face.

“You will take us to Risha and you will help us carry our sick friend over there. Now move!” Rodney’s voice cracked as he shouted the command. He wavered momentarily, and Teyla was quick to offer a hand at his elbow. She recognized it enough by now to know when the scientist needed to boost his blood sugar levels or suffer the consequences.

Roshan’s face was crumpled up as if he were about to cry. His lower lip trembled and his eyes shone bright. Rodney would have felt bad if it weren’t for the light-headed feeling he was experiencing. He barely noticed as Teyla forced him down to sit beside a semi-concsious Ronon. She stood at his side and faced Roshan, the epitome of calm.

“Your sister must miss you, Roshan. Let’s go to her before she worries.” It was like she was talking to a child. But at this point, Rodney figured Roshan had reverted to just that.

Rodney could almost hear the colonel now: the people of this planet were FUBAR. A smile flitted across his pale features. The sweat upon his brow had stopped beading now, not because of the ocean breeze, but because his body was no longer able to produce it. Dehydration. He should be worried. Add to that growing list of concerns was his hypoglcyemia. He was weak, shaky, and felt light as air. He was fading fast.

Soon it would only be Teyla left to fend them. As much as he was sure she was capable, it scared him to the core. Teyla was one strong woman but there were way too many unknown variables harboring their visit to this planet. Some things were revealing themselves at an agonizingly slow rate while others were quickly raveling into larger mysteries. Rodney hated mysteries. That’s why he was a scientist…he reveled in untwisting them and turning them into the blaring obvious.

So much for their mission to the holy grail of ZedPMs, chocolate, and coffee! With that last thought, Rodney gave in to his symptoms and succumbed to unconsciousness.

------- o -------

Blearing flashes of light seared his vision. Followed by more darkness. Where was he? Dizziness assailed him. His feet snagged on something hard and the motion ceased as he was unceremoniously lifted from the ground. Sets of rough hands held a firm grasp on his wrists and ankles. He was being carried.

The darkness parading his vision swallowed him whole.

-- o --

“I will take care of him.”

Teyla’s voice, sudden, strong, and close above his head. He felt what had to be her gentle hands upon his arm, holding onto him as if the connection would keep them both safe. Whispers came from every direction.

The air was cooler here. He felt more at ease because of it. His skin was clammy and a deep scent wafted towards his nostrils reminding him that he needed a shower sooner than later. The first vestiges of hunger pangs began to make themselves known as consciousness began to take its hold. And he was no longer moving. It was time for Rodney to wake up.

The first thing he saw in the dim light was Teyla, but her attention was diverted away from him. The second thing he noted was that there was a crowd of crazies standing just beyond them, staring in the same direction as Teyla. Something had them captivated enough that none of them had realized that he had awoken.

A soft groan to his right had Rodney shifting his head to take in the sight of the bruised and cut runner lying shoulder to shoulder with him. It was a little too close for comfort. Pain-filled eyes met his and he grimaced with a small smile. He would have waved, but he was still feeling a bit out of the loop at the moment. Ronon questioned with his eyes, already sensing the tenseness of those hovering beside them.

“Eyes open.” A small hushed voice blurted. Teyla immediately directed her alerted eyes to her fallen teammates and smiled in relief. Her eyes, however, emitted warning. Something was happening.

It was then that Rodney noticed that the crazies and Teyla were crouched to the ground, hiding in a cove of heavy underbrush. His skin crawled. Lots of creepy crawly things lurked in dark places.

“You must remain quiet. We are not safe.” Teyla explained as she turned her attention back to something just outside Rodney’s line of sight.

“What is it?” Ronon’s voice was gravely, as if he was talking through clenched teeth. He was hurting and there wasn’t a damn thing any of them could do about it at the moment.

“Fighters.”

The three had already learned what that meant. Ronon personally. They remained quiet for another five minutes, time passing slowly enough for Rodney to begin feeling phantom crawling upon his skin exposed to the black soil beneath him.

A rustling of soil on the other side of the heavy undergrowth they hid behind caused them all to tense up, holding their breath. A few tendrils of tall green blades parted at the farthest point of underbrush before them. Something or someone was trying to peer in.

More soil shifted under traveling feet, this time behind them. Heads turned, but there was nothing to be done but wait for the inevitable.

And then Rodney’s stomach growled. He couldn’t have prevented it if he tried. Everyone stiffened.

Funny thing about timing: sometimes it worked for you and sometimes it worked against you. For at that very moment, a strangled cry, deep into the jungle around them averted the attention of their would-be captors. Hustled feet marched around their position and quickly faded away.

Another agonizingly slow moment of uncertainty, they let out a collective sigh. A few of the crazies stood and weaved through the underbrush that had been veiling them from plain sight. Teyla turned her attention to Rodney and Ronon, her relief clear upon her face.

“There is something you must know. A scout met us on the path with news from the plantations they maintain here. The governors, the men we met in the dome, have taken the caretakers of those plantations hostage…women and children. They’ve begun to set fire to the trees…and anything else that stands in their way.” Sadness filled her eyes.

Rodney must have blacked out once again at that point because the next thing he knew, he was staring up at a jagged overhang of black rock. The air was intensely cooler here than earlier and a light spray of wetness tickled his face. Bubbling, foaming water trickled nearby. He licked his parched lips and turned his head.

A set of eyes was watching him. One green. One blue. The green eye was clouded over: a cataract. Strands of blonde hair fell over that eye as the owner shifted her head. Her face came into view then, pale and delicate. Her gaze piercing, her soft lips permanently set in a thin line. She was observing him as if he were the most fascinating thing she had ever seen.

Rodney would have been flattered if he weren’t so spooked. Pressing his head into the soft ground beneath him, he turned his head slightly to see if he could catch a glimpse of the others. He kept the woman in his line of sight, but in his quick search, he found himself quite frighteningly alone with her.

“What’s going on?” He asked in a small voice, his eyes darting now to the small waterfall trailing over a cascade of smooth black stones.

“Do not fear me Doctor Rodney McKay.” The woman’s voice was strong, deep, and in a very strange way, comforting. Even in his limited perception of her, he sensed an air of confidence in her. She was quite unlike the others they had thus met on this planet.

And then he saw the rest of her body. She wore nothing more than a ragged neutral material that hung loosely upon her bony shoulders. Her pale skin was soft, almost angelic in quality against the contrasting black rock formation behind her. Close to her flat chest, she held her deformed hands; all ten fingers were agonizingly curled tight. Her feet were bare; her toes curled in much the same manner as her hands. As she turned to lift her ear to the breeze, listening, Rodney caught a view of her crooked spine. The deformity sent her neck jutting forward and the arch of her bony spine protruding through pale skin. When she turned back to him, her gaze was focused inward.

Rodney came to the realization that there was something tucked into his right hand. He uncurled his grasp on the object, lifting his head slightly to view it. Similar to a slice of green bamboo, it was nearly three inches long, half an inch in diameter and soft to the touch. He rolled it in his shaky fingers. The action caused a milky white substance to bleed out from the ends.

He looked back to those unsettling eyes and found them zooming back and forth from his face to his opened palm, inviting him to taste.

Rodney wasn’t a fool, however. If drinking the water was bad, who knew what eating the local delicacy might do? He was about to chuck it into the nearby stream of water when a hand shot out and grasped his wrist with alarming firmness. His gaze shot back to the woman’s, finding her lowering her chin, staring deep into his eyes as if to send him a message through mental capacity. But Rodney knew that was impossible.

Sweet.

Okaaayyy. That was definitely a woman’s voice and it definitely wasn’t spoken aloud. It sounded just like it had echoed around in his head. Blinking his eyes several times as if that would do the trick to clear such a crazy thought, Rodney looked back down at the substance in his palm. He looked back to the woman. She nodded once, a curl to the right side of her lip the only indication of a friendly smile.

A wave of light-headedness assaulted him, clouding out his vision momentarily. Blinking harshly to keep alert, he brought the substance up to his lip, stuck out the tip of his tongue and tasted. An immediate buzz tantalized his taste buds…it was pure sugar…like sugar cane, only ten times stronger. Rodney was in love. He sucked on the end of the shoot as if it were the last drops of water left in the entire universe. There was nothing more than a spoonful of the sweet sugary liquid extracted before he had sucked it dry.

Opening his eyes from such bliss, he found the woman still staring down at him. There was the faintest hint of a smile in her haggard features.

“Risha?” Rodney hazarded a guess.

It took a moment, but she blinked slowly in confirmation. She bowed her head and shrank away from him then, into the shadows of the rock sheltering them.

------- tbc -------

Author’s Note: I apologize to anyone still reading this fic. I warned it would be a WIP and even though I know how frustrating and annoying those can be, it just can’t be helped. I also know that I said that I’d start posting again when the fic is entirely done. To be honest, it isn’t. I really don’t know if it’s worth continuing, so I’ll leave that up to you guys. Sorry to sound so hopeless, but writing this thing has not been a joyful experience and I just don’t have the energy it seems to get it finished. That said, I do not like to disappoint people and I like to follow through on my word. So if I said it is going to get finished, then by the will of the universe, it shall be done. Whether that’s in this century or not remains to be seen…

Sat, 09 Sep 2006 00:24:10 GMT

Okay, so life is crappy at present and I'm taking things one day at a time. Bitter is being written one sentence at a time and I'm just not happy with it no matter what I do. I have started another fic, titled The Black Mark. Use your imagination on what that one's all about. Well, here's hoping that there will be lots of other whumpalicious fics to keep us sustained through scifi's ridiculous hiatus through January. Happy writing, everyone.

Fic: Exception to Every Rule

Wed, 30 Aug 2006 01:53:34 GMT

Fic: Exception to Every Rule

Spoilers for Common Ground

Exception to Every Rule

A Common Ground continuum fic, therefore, major spoilers. OK, so I wanted to throw in my two cents of a tag to this phenomenal episode. I leave the really juicy whumpage to the professionals (the other talented fic writers here) and instead explore a little tidbit about what would happen if Shep and the wraith did meet again and how Ronon would handle that little scenario.

Takes place in the not-so-distant future.

Darts screamed overhead, piercing the night sky as terrorized natives ran aimlessly through the sand dunes of the desert planet. Sand swirled in the air in the wake of each beam that stole another life.

Sheppard’s team had spent the better half of an hour trying to herd any they could to the cloaked jumper near the activated Stargate. They had nine minutes left before the gate would disengage and then the Wraith would have a chance to counter dial.

Sheppard stood hunched against a tall rocky outcropping. He had stationed himself halfway between the cloaked jumper and a throng of Wraith scourging what was left of the burning village. Any villagers that scurried past would catch sight of him and be redirected to the safety of the jumper. Teyla and Rodney waited inside while Ronon had gone ahead to make sure no more villagers were left behind.

There weren’t many refugees left now. Sheppard waited patiently for Ronon to round the final few to safety. His knee was giving him trouble. Long ago, Sheppard had taken a nasty spill while skiing in the Alps where he had been stationed briefly. Which meant that every once in a while, that knee would lock up, sending tendrils of white-hot pain up his leg. Of course this had be one of those times.

He shifted, his P90 at the ready, to peer around the edge of the rock. Ronon was far off, kicking up sand as he ran towards him. There was a small throng of people running in front of him, one woman carrying a shrieking baby in her arms. Ronon paused, took aim behind him, and fired off a shot. Several stuns zoomed past the group’s heads, causing them to duck in fear and ushering them even faster for escape.

Sheppard dug his foot into the sand, ignoring the pain, and made to turn to aid in the fight. Instead, a hand wrapped around the collar of his jacket and he was wrenched back flat against the rocky surface. The back of his head connected with the rock. A rush of blood to his ears pulsated as his vision darkened briefly.

When he was able to refocus, he was staring into the striking yellow eyes of a straggly white-haired wraith.

Shit.

Screaming and more firing from Ronon’s gun could be heard in the distance. They were too far away. Teyla and Rodney would be preoccupied in the jumper…they were too far to be able to see Sheppard in his current conundrum.

His mind flashed back to his time captured by Kolya. The searing pain of that wraith feeding on him over and over was something he did not care to experience again. The thought of years being stripped off his life, his mind clouding, his joints locking up…he would not go through that again. No way in hell. But it appeared that on this day, hell had arrived.

The wraith raised its hand, ready to strike. Sheppard snapped the pin off the grenade hanging off his belt. Equally burning eyes of hatred met.

And then…recognition. Time froze. It was the wraith he had been imprisoned and tortured with. The tattoos surrounding his left eye were unmistakable.

Intense firing, Ronon’s blaster, sounded much closer. Terrified screams grew louder.

The wraith’s hand faltered and began to lower. Sheppard’s wide eyes darted to his belt. He whisked the grenade from its loop and tossed it as far from them as possible. The resulting blast seconds later had them both cowering as sand showered down upon them. The wraith took a step back, smiling.

“We meet again.”

“I seem to remember something about an even playing field next time we met.”

“It’s not so simple, now is it?” The wraith tilted its head, listening intently to the background noises of terror surrounding them. “Do you not agree that we are more alike than you once believed?”

“I’ll agree not to blow your head off if you agree not to suck the life out of me one more time, if that’s what you want.” Sheppard shifted his shoulders so that his jacket once again settled correctly upon them. He lowered his P90, his intent gaze focused only on the wraith before him. He observed as the wraith followed his lead, its tense muscles easing, its arms falling to either side.

“I do not know if that would be possible. I must feed.” The wraith stated, though he made no move to the contrary.

Sheppard tilted his head and smirked.

“Oh come now, we wouldn’t want to set a bad example. What would your peers think? Nobody likes a picky eater.”

The wraith chuckled then. Sheppard found it almost disconcerting, but he was beginning to like the wraith. It had a personality. He knew he was crossing a line here…one of his own in fact, but as with everything in life, there was an exception to every rule.

“Go. Before my friend finds you. He’s not so forgiving.” Sheppard urged the wraith, daring a step forward. “And let’s just not think about the next time we meet. I’d hate to have to kill you.”

The wraith laughed and gave him a nod of genuine thankfulness. A swoosh of the wraith’s trailing coat, and it was gone into the darkness. Sheppard released a sigh of relief he found himself surprised to be holding.

Movement to his right had him swinging up the P90, ready to fire. It was Ronon. The group he had been leading was rushing ahead to where Teyla stood in the distance, waving them forward.

“You let him go. Again.” Ronon glared at him.

“Nothing gets by you, does it?” Sheppard replied in full-blown sarcasm. He turned his attention to the raging fires of the village in the distance. The wraith were beginning to retreat. There wasn’t much left to feed on at this point.

Sheppard took the lead back to the jumper. He heard Ronon grunt in disapproval and fall into step beside him.

“Compassion, Ronon. Ever heard of it?” He was beginning to get angry now. He didn’t want to regret his decision and he didn’t need one of his closest allies to help him along.

“He’s only going to kill more. He’s a wraith. It’s what he does.”

Sheppard spun around at that point, placing a firm hand on the runner’s chest. Ronon, snarling, took a step back, staring briefly at that hand before Sheppard lowered it. There was a battle going on in Sheppard’s eyes. The colonel absently brought that same hand up to his own chest and rubbed it, his expression turning momentarily inward.

“You don’t understand.” Sheppard snarled back.

Ronon reclaimed a step forward, staring hard at the pilot.

“Make me.” More than a threat, it was an overshadowed attempt by the runner to find reason. He just didn’t get it. He admired Sheppard. He was a survivor; a fighter…he didn’t quit and he didn’t leave men behind. He’d sacrifice his own life for another. But here he was, siding with the enemy. And not just any enemy: the wraith. The single reason Ronon no longer had a home to return to.

“Ronon? Sheppard?” Rodney’s voice squeaked over the radios stationed in their ears. “We’ve gathered as many survivors as we can. The gate will commence shutdown in ninety seconds, so I suggest you get back here. Now!”

The two glared at one another a moment longer.

“Look. Put yourself in my shoes. I was dying in there. He was dying in there. We did what we had to do to survive. I wouldn’t have gotten out of there without him. He gave me the gift of life remember? Yes, he’s a wraith. Yes, he will probably kill more innocent people. But what he’s doing…he’s doing it to survive. Just like you and me. We will do whatever is necessary to survive. I know you understand that concept, Ronon.” Sheppard waited a few beats, watching as the stony expression on Ronon’s face morphed into one of reluctant acceptance. “We good?”

“Forty seconds.” A very annoyed voice erupted in their ears.

The two stared at each for another beat. Ronon finally nodded with his usual grunt.

“Good.” Sheppard snuffed. With that, he patted Ronon on the shoulder stiffly and the two headed swiftly toward the jumper. His knee ached, but at least he was able to move. Nothing a little bit of ice and rest couldn’t fix.

“Thirty seconds, people. Come on!” Rodney’s voice demanded over the radio.

“Amazing he’s survived this long.” Ronon said in a rather strange tone. Strange because coming from Ronon, a joke sounded like a threat. Sheppard eyed his teammate and allowed a smile to creep onto his face.

“We’ll work on the humor later, Ronon.”

With that, the two entered the jumper and within seconds, they had exited through the Stargate, refugees in tow. They had survived another day. And that was enough.

THE END

Bitter back in progress :D

Sat, 26 Aug 2006 05:52:07 GMT

Hi all!

I'm pleased to announce that Bitter is back in progress. If all goes well, it should be ready to post sometime in September, but don't hold me to that. The way RL has been going, I don't want to make any promises. Hope you all are enjoying season 3 as much as I am!!!

chokolaj

Bitter on hold :(

Thu, 03 Aug 2006 06:55:04 GMT

Bitter is currently on hold and I'm giving myself a month to get things in order. After my move and things in my life hopefully settle a bit, I plan to have this fic organized and written a bit better. I'm going to complete it first, edit a few things I've already posted, and present the entire fic to you, the reader, in daily installments.

That said, I've been chipping away at the fic, rethinking things, visualizing, drawing out timelines...it's an epic thing with a relevant history comparable to LOTR, scarily enough. Tonight I accomplished two timelines. One of said history and one of what happens in the fic that you'll be reading. All I can say is - HOLY CRAP! SHITE! What the blankity blank blank am I getting myself into here? ;)

Ah well, you've been warned. It's a whumper and it's gonna make you think and you might wanna lay off the caffeine for awhile afterwards. ;) I know I might.

'till then, have a good one! Don't forget to read lots of fic and leave reviews - those authors deserve it!

Bitter: Chapter Four

Thu, 27 Jul 2006 05:59:52 GMT

Here's a quickie...don't make me regret posting it!!!

Well, I’ve just had a very upsetting day so I decided to write. It’s very therapeutic. I tend to write a bit more theatrical, shall we say, when that happens – add a bottle of vino and voila, you’ve got yourself some instant angst. I hope I’m not confusing anyone with this fic so far, or losing any readers. Again, it’s been quite a while since I’ve written or been creative in the least. So I beg of you, please be patient.

That said I want to let you know that we haven’t yet caught up to the timeline of the prologue. Shep’s going to do some pretty uncharacteristic things that will most likely come back to haunt him later. You will learn more about the mystery surrounding this planet, the natives (varied as they are), and their disturbing history as well as their association with the Ancients. Again, the Heracs are a desperate people, as you are beginning to see. They suffered a great deal in the past, thus the title of this fic…they are bitter. They feel the Ancients abandoned them. You will discover through Teyla, Rodney, and Ronon, the extent of their suffering and the consequences of such. There’s a lot to be covered, revealed, twisted…and whumped. Buckle yourselves in, cause it’s going to be a wild ride. Consequences be damned.

CHAPTER FOUR: Belligerence

------- o -------

His father was standing there staring at him. Curse the man, would he ever leave? A feathery bristle of green swept across his visage, obstructing his view of the man before him. Standing there, not five feet before him was his father, in full military dress. Medals glinted in the dull sunlight cascading through the canopy from above. A scruff of white hair bristled in the slight breeze weaving through the trees. A stubborn snarl stationed upon a weathered face. Just like he had always remembered the bastard.

His heart was beating wildly in his chest but he couldn’t do a thing about it. His body was pulsing with energy and to prove it, an energizing tingling sensation was buzzing through his torso and radiating out to the very tips of his fingers and toes. He should be moving toward the battle cries of earlier. But this…whatever it was…kept him momentarily stationary.

“Go away. Better yet, go to hell.” John’s voice was sharp, to the point. His glare fixated upon the man before him. “You’re dead.”

“Stubborn old man like me? Nah.” The general waved a hand with a snort. “I know how to get to a man, John. Dig in deep and start tearing until it bleeds. Don’t stop until the screams do. It’s what I do, John. And damn proud of it.”

“Did. It’s what you did. You’re dead now. You shouldn’t be here.” Sheppard shook his head, taking a step forward before he realized that in his mind, he would have much more preferred to take a step backward.

“Ah, and neither should you.” The grin on that red-tinged face was enough to make Sheppard’s skin crawl except he couldn’t stir up enough fear at the moment to feel such a sensation. He was rather feeling very alive, ready to take action.

“You shouldn’t be here.” Sheppard was beginning to sound like a broken record. The general stepped forward until he was face to face with his son. Their noses were inches apart. Sheppard swore he could feel the heat radiating off the other man’s skin. That alone was disturbing. His father had died years ago. This shouldn’t be happening.

He realized his sweaty hands had curled into tight fists on instinct at the sudden approach. He stared deep into the hazel eyes staring back at him…so real…so mesmerizing. He found he couldn’t look away.

“Don’t drink the water.”

The statement nearly had Sheppard stumbling backward in shock. What the hell?

“’S a little late for that…but thanks for the little father son chat. It was…nice.”

Sheppard made to turn away, but a disturbingly solid hand planted upon his left shoulder turned him around to face the apparition that was his deceased father once again. The adrenaline coursing throughout his body fueled him and suppressed the fear that begged to emerge. H shrugged free from his father’s grasp and stalked off into the underbrush, not once looking back.

------- o -------

“You know, it’d be nice if just once, just once, we’d get some straight answers in the introductions and greetings back at the beginning instead of waiting until the point where all hell breaks loose and we have to find things out the hard way!”

Rodney paced back and forth, wringing his hands. His eyes darted from an unconscious Ronon resting in Teyla’s nap to the huddle of crazed natives whispering to one another and shifting in jerky movements from one second to the next. Their constant shifting was enough to drive Rodney insane.

“Rodney! Please!” Came the exasperated cry from Teyla. She had given up on trying to raise Ronon and instead was gently cleaning his wounds with the first aid kit from her tack vest. It wasn’t much, but it was the best she could do in their current situation.

Rodney paused in his pacing and looked to the man whom had warned them earlier about the water.

“What’s wrong with the water?” He demanded an answer.

The man jumped, startled at the sudden directness of Rodney’s rash behavior. He seemed to curl into himself momentarily. The hand of one of the woman rested upon his shoulder in a comforting gesture. They exchanged weary glances that spoke volumes…only in their language. With that, the man rose and came to stand before McKay and Teyla, studying the unconscious Satedan wearily.

“Friend or foe?”

Rodney scrunched his brow in question, glancing at Teyla whom seemed to comprehend the question immediately.

“Friend.” She stated softly with a gentle nod. The man nodded in return, a slight smile twitching upon his frail lips.

“I am Roshan.”

“Teyla Emmagan. This is Ronon Dex and that is Dr. Rodney McKay. We are travelers from another world. Please, if you could help us, we would be greatly…”

“No.” The man stated resolutely, shaking his head and taking a step backwards.

“No? What do you mean, no? We’re in a pretty shitty situation here, Roshan. Our bodies can’t tolerate the heat of your planet, ergo we’re sweating out most of the precious fluids our bodies require, and we’re utterly lost. We can’t drink the water because…well we don’t know why yet, but I’m not about to find out. We can’t get back to our only ticket out of here and our team leader is currently lost…though most likely on his own accord. His left foot’s a little shorter than the right, so I’m sure he’s just walking around in cir….”

“Dr. McKay!” Teyla’s abrupt reply stopped the rant before it gained momentum. Rodney appeared to gather himself and straightened, his chin jutting out.

“Sorry.” He muttered.

“Please. Follow and we will show you.” Roshan beckoned, beginning to lead the way as the rest of his kind rose from their feet. They were heading back in to the depths of the jungle, away from their only source of replenishment.

“Show us what?” McKay couldn’t stop himself. Roshan only continued onward, fully expecting the two to haul an unconscious giant along the way.

“The suffering of our people.” Roshan replied and with that, fell silent, following as the rest of the natives led the way into the trees.

Rodney looked to Teyla, who looked no less perplexed than he. Together, they gathered Ronon between them, the man never emitting a sound as they lifted his arms around their shoulders and trudged forward to slowly follow the crazies, as Rodney so dubbed them.

------- o -------

Embedded in the mud ahead of him was a rash of hurried footsteps. Five toes, heel and arch. Human. Strides measured at least a meter apart. The deepest portion of the impression, the weight, was settled on the front pad of the footprints. Running.

Sheppard sniffed at the air. He was close. He listened intently against the soft bristling of leaves, the twittering of foreign creatures…he could hear their heavy panting. They were on the move. They weren’t heading towards him, but away. Towards what, he didn’t care. He just wanted to join them. His brethren. They needed him.

------- o --------

“We missed our first check-in.” Rodney grunted. Ronon’s weight was unbearable. He shifted the limp man’s weight so that he could carry him more efficiently and turned his head toward a similarly struggling Teyla.

“Dr. Weir will presume the worst and send a rescue team, Rodney. Do not worry.”

Rodney would have stopped in his tracks, but that would have caused all three of them to come tumbling to the ground. He kept his voice lowered, eyeing the natives carefully navigating their way through the underbrush ahead of them.

“Oh, don’t worry, you say? Excuse me for being a hypochondriac, but had the thought occurred to you that if we ran into this much trouble that surely our rescue team may be shortly in need of saving themselves? This planet has thus far produced anything worthy of the label “advanced” and we have thus far failed to meet any intelligent life forms. I don’t care what anyone else says. We dialed the wrong planet.”

Teyla kept her mouth shut but silently chortled to herself. Hadn’t Ronon been the one to accuse Rodney of dialing the wrong planet not just this morning?

“Dr. McKay, you do realize the information you recovered from the Ancient database is at least ten thousand years old? Any number of things can happen to a planet in that length of time. My people alone experienced a fluctuation of discoveries and losses that both advanced and set us back. And that is not including the devastation incurred by the Wraith.”

“The Wraith!” Rodney’s eyes widened at the mention. “You don’t think…’

“I do not think so. I do not sense a fear of Wraith from these people. They fear the natural elements more so, which I find rather disturbing in itself. They are an unsettled people, Rodney. It would not do to dwell on what could be but rather to ponder what is.”

His head would have been spinning at that insight if it weren’t for the fact that he was a genius. Rodney remained uncharacteristically quiet for the remainder of their trek through the muggy, bug-infested jungle.

------- TBC --------

Short, short chapter, I know. But a bit of a teaser, too. ;P

Bitter: Chapter Three

Tue, 25 Jul 2006 05:39:00 GMT

And on to chapter three. I'm currently picking out paint samples as I am allowed to paint my new apartment. I can't tell you how weird it is that I'm so excited over something like that. Strange but true.

Sorry for the delay – again a HUGE thanks to Titan5 and the lovely comments from you readers. Couldn’t make this thing happen without you. Just a warning, I am in the middle of a move so updates won’t be so frequent. For those of you eagerly anticipating it, Shep whumping commences in five…four…three…two…one…

CHAPTER THREE: Unfiltered

They should have known better than to trust these people. McKay’s whiny voice and images of shiny ZPMs danced in their heads and that had sealed the deal. They had known before leaving Atlantis that these people hid a thing or two up their sleeve. The Ancients had them filed under something Sheppard associated as a watch list. They just didn’t play well together. This was a known fact and still they had come to the planet.

Sheppard would have smacked himself, but a fist flying into his line of sight from the left did the job for him. His head snapped back and a flash of brilliant red invaded his vision. Pain radiated from the point of impact but Sheppard was too distracted by fending off the next blow to care.

Ronon grunted beside him and he felt, rather than saw, the large man tumble to the ground with three large, bare-chested men barreling down on him. Too bad Sheppard was a bit preoccupied at the moment, or he would have found humor in the way the men flew off into the underbrush as Ronon came roaring back into action.

Without warning, Sheppard was knocked from his feet and he fell to the ground with a grunt. He saw too many of the wild men converging upon him. His back screamed at him and he panted as he fought to bring air into his abused lungs. He could hear grunts and cries off to his right but he had no idea if Ronon was the one inflicting the pain or suffering it.

His mind drifted to his other two teammates as the men around him pummeled balled fists and bare feet into him. He hoped they were safe. Ugh. There goes a rib. Ooh. That was a little too close to the boys. The abuse just kept on coming. His vision was beginning to produce flashes of random light. Through those flashes, he spied the insane rage painted upon the battle-hardy faces of his attackers. Fear danced around his fading consciousness.

Startling realization came over him…his radio! It was still nestled within his ear lobe. Why hadn’t he thought of it sooner? As he reached for it, his attackers caught on and upon seeing the radio, they ripped it from his ear. They then proceeded to stomp it out of existence beside his head.

“Point taken.” Sheppard conceded.

-------- o ---------

Slipping into the undergrowth of the jungle and away from the menagerie that was the natives been a little too easy. But that is exactly what Teyla and McKay had accomplished. Yet they could not seem to pick up on the trail of their teammates. Teyla stooped to the ground ever so often, checking for tracks, but to no avail. McKay glanced nervously over his shoulder from time to time. They could still hear the manic shrieks from afar.

“If it weren’t for the fact that we are currently lost in a creepy jungle filled with crazy people, I’d almost be bored. The lack of technology on this planet is dismal to say the least.”

Teyla would only glance back at him as he continued his monologue, never revealing her thoughts on their current predicament. McKay could tell she was worried but she was well accustomed to these kinds of situations. She was more relaxed than the gentle ripples of the incoming tide just as she could be as ferocious as an unsuspecting torrent of water churning to shore.

“Seriously, if we don’t get back to the Jumper soon, I’m going to delve into quantum theories to stave off boredom.”

They stomped through more underbrush, pushing onward for what seemed like hours when in reality, it was only nearly one. Rodney indeed began to ramble on into quantum theories and Teyla had just as quickly tuned him out. She listened intently to the life of the jungle about them. She was learning its language and she did not like what she was hearing.

Snap.

A twig? Teyla scanned the depths of the trees shading them from the mid-day sun. She caught movement thirty yards from their current position. She brought her arm up, fist bound tight. McKay nearly ran face first into said fist and stopped abruptly.

“What? What is it?” His wide eyes darted around frantically. McKay had never been one for the outdoors. Computer keys and coffee mugs clinking in a lab were sounds he was most attuned to.

Teyla stared at him out the corner of her eye, her face set in caution. She tilted her head, like she often did when trying to sense the Wraith.

A small rustle in the underbrush fifteen yards in the opposite direction had both spinning around, bodies tense and at the ready for attack.

“Ow!”

McKay’s exasperated voice was louder than Teyla would have liked in their present situation. She gave him her signature disapproving lift of an eyebrow. McKay rubbed his head, peering up into the thick overhang of branches.

A small object came hurtling down at him and this time, he narrowly avoided impact. It bounced harmlessly off the rich soil beneath his feet. As his eyes rested upon the object a look of annoyance spread over his face, all fear melting away in an instant. He stooped to pick it up and twist it in his fingers. Glancing upward, he suddenly hurled it back to whence it came.

A sharp yelp came in reply.

Fear came stampeding back. Teyla drew closer to McKay, the lean muscles in her shoulders tightening with tension.

Another object came hurtling downwards. Teyla caught it swiftly and brought it up so that both she and McKay could identify it.

“Huh, looks like some kind of over-sized walnut…OW!”

As the third “walnut” smacked into his forehead, giggling could be heard within the heights of the trees. Teyla peered out of the corner of her eyes at McKay with amusement. She could not stop the smile from forming upon her lips.

“It seems you attract children on nearly every inhabited planet we visit, Dr. McKay. Perhaps you should introduce yourself before more of them catch on to this…sport.”

McKay jutted his chin out ready to fire back a retort when another walnut nearly collided with his left shoulder. He stooped down, grabbed one of the walnuts and hurled it back upwards into the trees.

“Hey!” Came a child’s whiny voice.

McKay smiled in a smug fashion. After waiting several moments to see if anything would become of his retaliation, the teammates began to move forward again. After another twenty minutes, McKay noted that Teyla was tense, glancing about the trees more frequently.

“What is it?” McKay asked, immediately sensing her unease.

“They are following us.”

“Who?” McKay began to search frantically through the thick trees with his eyes.

“The children.” Teyla remained serious only for a moment, before chuckling light-heartedly.

“Don’t do that! You could have given me a heart attack!” McKay raised his voice. After settling down, his eyes still scanning the trees, he became serious. “Why are there children in the trees?”

“I do not know.” Teyla murmured with her head tilted to the left. “I can only sense four at the moment.”

“You can sense them?” McKay had stopped in his tracks to stare at Teyla in wonder. She would have rolled her eyes but she chose to state the obvious.

“I can hear them, Dr. McKay. I believe from the variety of sounds that there are four. They hide themselves well.” At her last statement, she searched the trees, narrowing her eyes as she caught movement beyond a thicket of trees. Just a flash of tan-colored skin: but nothing more. McKay was already off on a tangent by now as she turned her attention back to him.

“Considering the Heracs were once tantamount in intelligence to the Ancients, I’m finding a lot of things about these people rather substandard, Teyla.’ He began to tick things off with his fingers splayed before him. “They don’t appear to have any technology, which goes against everything we’ve learned from the database about these people I might add. They have crazy people running loose in the jungle. The government, if that’s what you want to call those guys in togas, flew the coop because of a little fire. And there’s no air conditioning.”

McKay paused a moment to catch his breath. Sweat was rolling off his skin at an alarming rate. Their canteens were almost empty and they’d need to refill them sooner than later. “We shouldn’t be surprised they have children living in trees. If only Earth would take a hint and outlaw children in public places….”

Teyla paused, stopping enough in her stride to cause McKay to nearly stumble. He glanced back at her in surprise. She narrowed her eyes at him.

“Have you not considered that perhaps they live this way out of choice? Just because they appear not to live in ‘great’ kingdoms of metal or possess technology to ‘ease’ their hardships does not make them any less intelligent than you or I.”

McKay crinkled his brow at this new introspection. He was unaware that Teyla had resumed on through the trees when another crack sent a sharp report of pain from his head. Seething, he glared upwards and moved forward to catch up with Teyla. Light-hearted giggles carried on the light breeze.

------- o -------

Once when he was nearly seven, Sheppard fell from the massive oak tree in the backyard. He had fractured his femur in two places and had to have two screws surgically implanted to help in fusing the bones back together. After an entire night of miserable pain, his father had told him to quit whining and just suck it up. Men weren’t supposed to show weakness. Pain was only useful for reminding us that we weren’t immortal. Sheppard hadn’t had a very loving relationship with his father.

Now, the pain was beyond excruciating. He hurt in places he hadn’t previously been aware of, if that were even possible. It took every bit of willpower to command his arms and legs to shuffle across the rich cool black soil beneath him. One arm in front of the other, feet dragging behind…a bit of adrenaline would fuel him every so once in a while and he could command his knees to join in on the forward momentum. So when he realized he couldn’t just suck it up this time, Sheppard began to laugh out loud, even though it sent stabs of pain radiating across his chest. What was one more bit of pain anyway?

His laughter sounded muffled against the thinning underbrush surrounding him. When Sheppard had awoken…funny because he hadn’t been aware of losing consciousness in the first place…he had found himself alone in the underbrush. The remnants of his radio were still scattered beside his head. But Ronon was nowhere to be found. Wherever he had gone, Sheppard sincerely hoped the man wasn’t in such dire straights as him. He also bleakly hoped that Teyla was slapping McKay upside the head in his honor for the predicament they had landed themselves in.

No technology for play makes for a very useless McKay. Sheppard thought giddily, another bout of laughter escaping his split lip. The blood was already dry.

One arm in front of the other, pull legs forward. It was the mantra that passed through his mind like the news ticker in Times Square.

------- o -------

Ronon awoke to several hands slapping his bruised cheeks. A low growl began to rumble in his throat, eliciting said hands to immediately withdraw. Opening his eyes, Ronon sat bolt upright, startling the mass of bodies surrounding him. There were torn raggedy old clothes draped upon skeleton-like bodies. Wild straw-blonde hair shot out in every direction, long and short. Wide frantic eyes of blue or green or gray darted from one thing to the next.

Drawn faces, malnourished even, glanced from him to each other to the surrounding trees of the jungle. From Ronon’s count, there were at least eleven of these people…the natives that had nearly trampled him and his teammates.

Where was Sheppard?

Glancing around, his dreadlocks flipping back and forth, Ronon found only the constantly shifting natives blocking his view. They were watching him. They appeared intimidated by him. His aching body told of the abuse he had suffered not too long ago. The threat – those bare-chested men – were nowhere in sight.

“Water.” Ronon requested, finding his canteen missing. One of the natives must have taken it. He found comfort in the fact that he had seven knifes hidden strategically about his person.

A young blonde man knelt before him. His hair would have given Sheppard a run for his money. A genuine smile spread across his fatigued features. His teeth were perfectly white. Blue eyes flitted over Ronon’s dirt and blood-streaked body.

“We’ll get you some. Not a worry, friend. Not a worry.” He reached out to pat Ronon on the shoulder but found a massive hand clamped around his wrist stopping movement all together. He followed the length of the arm up to Ronon’s meaningful glare. Nonetheless, the man appeared not to be intimidated.

“We must take you to the shore. It is safer there. You want water. We have water. Clean water. Pure water.”

“Clean, pure water.” The others began to chant the words, the smiles almost contagious in appearing on every one of their faces like little lights flipping on in the dark.

Ronon narrowed his eyes in question.

“I need water now.” He knew they were far from the shore and the heat of the jungle would only make things worse. Add to the list his mounting pain and his questionable ability to walk on throbbing, bleeding legs…he wasn’t going to make it very far unaided.

There was some commotion. A couple of shrieks emitted from those standing in the rear.

“Nonononononononono!”

Another figure emerged to the front, this one a female whose hair flowed to the mid section of her back, frizzy and unkempt. A matching pair of blue eyes rested upon Ronon and she knelt down beside the man. She shook her head.

“Please, come with us.” She held out a frail hand as if to offer assistance to Ronon. Ronon brushed her off rather rudely and stubbornly lifted himself off the ground. Those same hands reached out and supported him as he swayed. Black dots danced in his vision briefly before clearing. Titling his neck from side to side produced a satisfying snap of cartilage and bone readjusting. Ronon shrugged his shoulders as the natives gathered about him, ready to leave their position.

“Lead the way.”

------- o -------

One arm in front of the other, pull legs forward.

Sweat rolled off his bruising face, dripping off the tip of his nose. The heat was beyond sweltering and all he could hope for was that it was nearing midday, thus the temperature would surely begin to drop. However, it was foreign territory: it would normally take days to learn the song and dance of this planet. Sunset, sunrise, the three moons and their effect on the tides, weather patterns…all these things of nature that speak louder than words but much too often ignored.

Something made him pause in his disrupted flow of thought. Trickling. Liquid…water! He hadn’t realized until now (perhaps it was the pain, dumbass) how thirsty he was.

He had nothing on him…not his weapons, his tack vest, not even his canteen. And he knew by now, as he realized some short time ago, he no longer had his boots. Which meant his knife hidden in a strap about his ankle was also absent. Damn, should’ve brought spares. Another giggle escaped his lips. Yes, he was delirious. But hey, if that dulled the pain, then by all means, let’s sing the Macarena!

He paused in his trek forward and listened. A small smile formed upon his face and he winced from the use of bruised muscles. The water was close. He could even feel the air around him grow cooler with each drag forward.

One arm in front of the other, pull legs forward.

Finally, he caught sight of a gentle bubbling stream of clear liquid cascading down nearly jet-black smooth pebbles. The brush edging the stream was nearly non-existent. His access to leaning over the banks was as simple as lying flat on his abused chest and dipping a trembling hand into the refreshingly cool water.

------- o -------

Sweat was practically pouring off of them at this point. Teyla and McKay found themselves almost sluggish, placing one rather unsteady foot in front of the other. Their water supply was gone. So were the children that had been trailing them, as far as Teyla could determine. She insisted that she could hear the trickling of water not too far off from their position.

They trudged onward.

------- o -------

Sheppard threw a splash of water over his face, rubbing his face tenderly and relishing in the brief comfort. He slowly eased himself forward a bit more and began to scoop water and trickle it over any exposed wounds he had about his body. And there were plenty among his now shredded uniform. Wasn’t like those came by the dozen, either.

------- o -------

Finally, they had found water. It was a river with white foamy water tumbling over rocks and cascading down a slight slope in the jungle. The trees were thinner here, allowing sunlight to pour down upon them. The hot rays blazed down on their sweaty skin as McKay filled their canteens. It was the least he could do after upsetting Teyla earlier.

He screwed the cap onto Teyla’s canteen and proceeded to fill his own. When it was nearly full, McKay brought it to his parched lips.

“STOP!”

Startled, his hands fumbled and he dropped the canteen straight into the fast-moving water. He let out an exasperated sigh, threw his head back and spun around to yell back at whomever had spoken.

To his surprise, he found a rather battered Ronon surrounded by a mass of the crazy natives from earlier. Teyla was standing close by, alert, but from the look in Ronon’s eyes, the only danger of the moment was currently focused on McKay.

“What happened to you? Where’s Sheppard?” He stood abruptly.

“Don’t drink the water.” Ronon’s stoic voice carried through the clearing. The warrior was losing steam, swaying on his feet. He looked ready to topple at any moment.

Rodney backed away from the river, staring at it as if it were a vile thing. He came to stand beside Teyla and heard a whump. Looking over, he found Ronon lying flat on his face with a couple of the natives rushing to his side, patting at his face. Ronon didn’t move.

------- o -------

He scooped up a mouthful and slurped from his cupped hands. Immediately, Sheppard sprayed the water out, his face scrunching up in shock and disgust. The water was bitter. Amazingly cold, but disturbingly bitter. Shaking his head as if to rid of the notion, he took another sip. This time, he kept the water down, relishing as it flowed down his throat and into his empty stomach.

------- o -------

“Ronon.” Teyla’s soft voice called over the rushing water. She had his head cradled in her lap and she was gently tapping him on the cheek.

The group of natives was huddled together in crouched positions a few yards away near the trees. They were whispering to each other. They appeared to be on constant alert: their movement rash, eyes darting all around.

McKay was pacing behind Teyla. He maintained a little distance from the natives. Wringing his hands, he would occasionally glance over to see if Ronon had regained consciousness.

“I need to be doing something. I need to be working on something.” He muttered. He was beginning to realize how fond he had grown of tinkering with Ancient devices just as much as he was in discovering them.

“Just once, I’d like to find a nice planet where the people are friendly and willing to hand over any ZedPMs they should so happen to possess.”

“Rodney.” Teyla’s voice was a warning. He glanced up to find a young man standing before them, a smile plastered on his face in a gesture of friendliness.

“The water is bad. Bad. Bad. Bad. Don’t drink the water.”

“Yes, we already established that…” Rodney prompted, waiting for the native to continue, hoping to finally get some answers.

“Filtered water, that’s what we did. Do. Done. Dead. No more. Water clean. We keep water clean, pure.”

Behind them, the natives began to chant quietly. “Clean, pure water.”

After a long pause in which Teyla and McKay exchanged perplexed glances, McKay glanced back at the seemingly harmless river.

“What’s wrong with the water?” His voice squeaked.

“They contaminated it.”

------- o -------

At first he didn’t notice. The pain of water contacting open flesh wounds temporarily disguised it. But then, after he had taken enough slurps, he sensed a tingling numbness taking over his body. That was the best he could describe it as. His aches and pains were beginning to ebb away. His clouding mind was clearing. Everything began to appear brighter and more colorful around him. Sounds of faraway creatures increased in tone and quantity. And that bitter taste in the water began to slowly die away.

Something strange was happening to him. He knew it. But for some reason, he simply didn’t care anymore. Strength returned to his muscles. His heart beat faster. Adrenaline pumped into his veins with such ferocity his head was spinning. Whatever this was, he liked it.

Sheppard struggled to a stand, a rush of light-headedness blackening his vision momentarily. He took a testy step forward and found he could support his own weight. He smiled. Far away, he heard a battle cry. He turned to this noise, knowing deep down the source of it. His aches and pains seemingly forgotten, he rushed into the depths of the trees.

------- TBC -------

A/N – Now we’re getting to the bulk of the story and how f**ed up this planet really is. Shep is going to transform in a way and the others are going to learn a bit more to unravel the mystery they have stumbled upon. Who contaminated the water and why? What does it do to one who drinks it? What happened to all that technology the Ancients gifted them? And it all just keeps on twisting…so stay tuned!

obsessed much?

Sat, 22 Jul 2006 07:57:45 GMT

Strange but true....

I was walking through the lobby of the hospital the other day and I shit you not, I heard the desk clerk say to someone "Dr. Beckett..." and the rest was just gibberish. I thought I was hearing things until she said the name again. OK, not very strange you say.

But then I was going with a friend to Chicago yesterday and I saw a billboard advertising this lawn care biz or something and you wanna know the name of it? McKay. WHOA.

And if that wasn't much of a coincidence, I was driving along the lovely lake here and happened to glance at the street name nearby and it was... Shepard Ave. Spelled like it is so not so close to our Shep but enough.

It's kinda like when you get a car and begin to notice that car everywhere, in the exact same color you have, too. Association. Obsession. Coincidence.

I'm just going to go with downright strange.

Bitter: chapter two

Wed, 19 Jul 2006 16:14:51 GMT

Finally, another chapter update! Hope you enjoy it :)

Thanks again to Titan5 for looking things over for me!

:: :: ::

CHAPTER 2: Out of the Frying Pan

When the three finally climbed up and entered into the refreshingly cool atmosphere of the dome, they were taken aback. Standing in a half circle along the far end of the dome opposite from them were 12 men of varying heights, all dressed in white robes and all pierced with a single shard of bone through their noses. There was nothing else to occupy the interior of the dome and if they had had time to observe, they would have noticed that they could see clearly out the glass as if it weren’t even there.

However, the man they had encountered in the jungle stood in the center of the dome beside a very stiff Sheppard. The colonel’s weapons were missing. In fact, his tack vest had been stripped from him. The expression on his face was stony and his eyes flashed a warning to his teammates.

Seconds later, there was struggling as they found themselves being stripped of their weapons. Ronon was the hardest to persuade, but one glance in Sheppard’s direction told him he should comply.

“Colonel, what is going on here?” Teyla demanded to know. She watched their weapons being dropped precariously into a square hole in the floor at the feet of the men across the room.

“You are Ancients.”

Again, not a question. The tone of the man standing next to Sheppard was accusatory.

“No, actually.” Sheppard replied curtly.

The piercing gaze the man standing beside him was chilling. Enough for his teammates to dare to take another step forward, on the verge of pouncing in the event that Sheppard be attacked.

“We demand to know why you abandoned us!”

The man was almost shaking with rage. The row of men beyond him glared at the newcomers. Some of the men were even snarling. Their fists were clenched tight, gathering the material of their white robes, clawing at something to quell the need to strike flesh.

The air was tense in the silence. Even in the refreshing coolness within the dome, they would have much preferred the unbearable conditions outside. To say their situation was precarious was laughable. Who were these people and why were they so angry?

“Listen, we’re just try…” Sheppard began to speak in a reassuring manner when a hand slapped him across the face, the contact resonating throughout the dome. His head whipped to the side from the force of it.

Ronon advanced several steps before he had two men grabbing at his arms, their fingers digging painfully into his bulging muscles. Teyla stepped forward as well, with Rodney following suit, but they knew they were powerless to do anything. Sheppard straightened, rubbing his reddened jaw sorely and narrowed his eyes at the man.

“Ten thousand years.” The man punctuated every word, his lip curled in a bitter snarl.

“The Ancients left Atlantis ten thousand years ago.” The words had spilled out of his mouth before he had even considered the consequences. Seconds later, Rodney was the one rubbing his jaw sorely after the man standing closest to him had struck him. Apparently, speaking out of turn wasn’t tolerated.

The men remaining on the opposite side of the room began to converse with each other in hushed voices. They regained their composure and grew silent as the apparent leader standing beside Sheppard glanced their way.

“Please, there must be some misunderstanding.” Teyla began. A hand rose to strike her but in one fluid motion, she stopped it with her own, grasping the wrist of the man behind her and twisting it. The man’s eyes bulged in surprise. And then they glazed over with pure spite. No woman was going to strike him down. He struck Teyla on the collarbone in a move so sudden she was on the floor before the others could comprehend what had happened. Teyla moaned, reaching for her upper chest and rubbing the spot sorely. It wasn’t a damaging blow, but enough to keep her down momentarily.

Ronon shuffled in the iron grip of the men holding him. Rodney only whimpered and Sheppard grew that much more pissed. Teyla glared up at the man whom had struck her and helped herself off the floor. She was not much shorter than the man, staring him in the eyes with menace.

“Women do not speak.”

Teyla chewed the inside of her lip, biting back a retort. She wasn’t stupid. Responding would only goad the man on into striking her again.

By now the team had noted the air of authority these men held from both their intense personas as well as their efficient ways of dealing punishment. For once, even Ronon was beginning to think these new opponents were a little out of their league.

It was hostile ground. No one dared make a move. Finally, Sheppard attempted to regain control of the situation.

“We can help you.”

The man beside him began to laugh. It was quiet at first then grew into a comically maddening sound that was joined by echoing laughter from the others. Sheppard exchanged uneasy glances with his teammates. Ronon tried to shrug his way out of the grip the men continued to hold on him but to no avail. They were stronger than their appearances made them out to be.

“Let the fighters have them!” A voice cried from the other side of the room.

“Fighters?” Rodney squeaked, his face paling.

The men seemed to have reached a mutual decision and the one standing beside Sheppard smiled devilishly. Sheppard shared another look with his teammates. Things were about to get messy.

In one swift movement, Sheppard brought his fist up and slammed it into the man’s face. As the man staggered backwards and the other men started to react, Ronon, Teyla, and even Rodney joined in the fray, striking at the men nearest them.

Ronon sent two men skidding across the polished stone floor of the dome. Teyla had two more spinning from her blows and landing in heaps at her feet. Sheppard was pinning the leader down on the ground with his foot as the man squirmed. Two men were approaching him from behind but no one else seemed to be aware of his situation. Or Rodney’s for that matter, as he was currently locked in a strangle hold, sputtering for air.

“Fire!” Someone shouted frantically.

“They’re back!” Another warned.

There was a blur of white descending upon the small opening the team had climbed up from. The men were retreating quickly, disappearing before the Atlanteans had a chance to register what was happening. The leader squirming under Sheppard’s foot jabbed him in the knee and Sheppard went down with a grunt. The man scrambled off to join his men, far too quick for even Teyla to catch him.

Bringing his knee up to his chest, Sheppard massaged it with both hands and rolled onto his back. He was vaguely aware that his teammates were straightening themselves out after the attack as well. Through his pain-laced eyes, he saw the bright blue sky above, a piercing sun glaring down upon them. Shadows flitted across his vision. Tendrils of wispy black filtered across the sun. His gaze followed the dancing tendrils downwards. Creasing his brow, Sheppard finally saw the reason for the men’s hasty exit. Just across the small clearing outside the dome from whence they came was a raging wall of flickering orange flames consuming the white tinder of the trees.

Hands were grabbing at his arms and lifting him up. Sheppard staggered in Ronon’s grip as he put weight on his sore knee. The throbbing pain was bearable as he placed more weight on it and decided it was fine.

“You guys okay?” He asked. Rodney was sporting a split lip and a blackening bruise across his throat. Ronon had a cut above his right eye and scratch marks across the length of his left forearm. Teyla had a few more wisps of hair shooting at odd angles from her head, but she was otherwise unscathed.

“Nothing we couldn’t handle.” Ronon grunted.

“That didn’t go so well.” Sheppard commented on their attempt at first contact.

“Gee, which part gave it away, Sheppard? The first time they hit you or the second?” Rodney rolled his eyes. He rubbed his throat and made a show of wincing as he swallowed.

“We have to leave.” Teyla said in a strong tone. Her eyes reflected the flickering flames as she watched them grow larger.

“That’s a great idea, Teyla. However, if you haven’t noticed, our only way out is presently being consumed by a raging wildfire.” Rodney responded as he tested his back for any sore spots. Ronon rolled his eyes at the scientist and looked to Sheppard, crossing his arms.

“Someone set that fire and they knew who.”

Sheppard nodded in agreement.

“Whoever set that fire wanted to flush our guys out of here. They probably ran right into an ambush.”

“Ah, guys?” Something in Rodney’s voice caused them all to turn in the direction he was facing. There were faint wisps of smoke beginning to curl up from the hole on the far end of the dome. Their only exit.

In a sudden rush, all four raced to opposing ends of the dome, running their hands along the glass surface and even the floor, desperate to find something that could lead them to safety. The smoke began to thicken, drifting upwards and traveling to the center of the massive space. The air became hotter and the sun’s rays began to grow dimmer. The smoke was going to suffocate them.

Coughing now, their eyes tearing, the team found themselves losing ground. Teyla was the first to go down to the floor on her knees. Then Rodney. Soon Ronon and Sheppard joined them. The air was coolest and freshest along the still cool stone floor. The smoky air was growing thinner. They were starting to gasp and choke.

Suddenly, hands were on them, dragging them across the floor. Because of the smoke, they were subdued…not even Ronon could muster the strength to struggle. And to their fortune, these hands were guiding them to an unseen exit near the center of the dome floor. The cover was perfectly cylindrical and silently opened as if by magic. Pieces that had formed the circle retracted into the sides of the newly revealed exit. Darkness greeted the escapees from below. The team was unceremoniously dumped into the exit, their anonymous rescuers following shortly thereafter.

The rescuers had been swift. They must have had something covering their faces. For none of Sheppard’s team, albeit in their current state of distress, could clearly make out their identities.

As their senses came back to them, the team found themselves resting in a small tunnel filled with refreshingly cool dry air. There was a small hint of light off to their right, leading back into the depths of the jungle from what they could see. As they straightened themselves out, coughing the last of the smoke out of their lungs, they looked to see who had rescued them.

Even in the darkness, they could see the eyes. Mad, menacing eyes sparkling with glee. There were four sets of them. Their features were hard to make out, but the team could already tell the four were of a different status on the social ladder. Their dirt-smudged clothes were ragged and torn, hanging limply off their bony bodies. Their hair was short and ruffled…not unlike Sheppard’s. And their faces were drawn out. Three were men and one was a woman.

A distinctive noise, not unlike the call of some kind of monkey traveled to their ears. Those manic eyes focused on the light at the end of the tunnel. Without so much as a glance, their rescuers skittered out of the tunnel and into the light of the jungle. The team glanced at each other befuddled.

“Too much caffeine?” Rodney suggested. If it had been any other situation, he might have gotten a snigger out of at least Sheppard. But by now, the colonel had reached the end of his patience.

“We’re leaving. We can find that switchback we saw on the cliff face and bypass the fire that way to get back to the Jumper.” Sheppard commanded, standing upright and swaying unsteadily for a moment. He brought a hand up to steady himself against the carved rock of the tunnel. He wasn’t the only one feeling light-headed by the sudden movement. The others got up as well, taking a moment to recover.

“But…but…ZedPMs! They built ZedPMs, Sheppard! How can we just walk away from that? We have to…”

“Rodney!” Sheppard turned to face the scientist, his tone sharp. Rodney shut up abruptly, staring with fear into the glare of intolerance. “The natives aren’t exactly rolling out the welcome mats. There are no energy readings. Face it. There’s nothing here.”

Sheppard turned towards the tunnel exit and began to lead them out. Ronon and Teyla gave Rodney looks as they turned to follow. His jaw hung open.

“The colonel is right, Rodney. There’s nothing here. We must return to Atlantis.” Teyla reasoned, her voice fading as she walked further away from him. Rodney snapped out of his reverie rather quickly, glancing about the darkness fearfully and rushing to meet up with his team.

Once they exited the cave, they came to see they were on the northern side of the dome, just below the cliff. Great billows of black smoke rose into the sky above them. A large expanse of bushy green vegetation stretched out before them, ending in a sliver of white bordering a sparkling blue sea. There was a rather sharp drop off immediately to their right and ahead of them. But to the left was a narrow pathway carved into the weathered black stone. The pathway was large enough for two people to walk side-by-side.

The team began to make their way along the pathway, noting that it began to lead into a slight decline instead of an incline. Though they couldn’t see too far into the distance where the path led them, they could tell it didn’t take them where they needed to go. Up. The Jumper was on the other side of the mountaintop. The fire wasn’t the only obstacle now.

“Is anyone else beginning to think the people of this planet are a little crazy, or is it just me?” Rodney pondered, gesturing towards the treetops at large that they were presently towering above.

“Define crazy.” Sheppard paused in his trek. He turned to stare hard at McKay, his eyes boring into the scientist as if he were the very definition of crazy.

The path started to turn sharply and descend in the opposite direction. They had reached the first switchback. The path was beginning to grow littered with small plants and loose rock. They were just beginning to reach level with the top of the trees of the jungle. The air was getting heavier. That same unwelcome mugginess was greeting them as they descended into jungle.

After what seemed likes hours, and eight switchbacks later, the team finally made it to the bottom. The path opened up into a broad clearing beneath a canopy of leaves providing the relief of shade. By now they were all covered in sweat and panting in the stifling hot air. Teyla and Rodney took sips from the canteens they still had on them. Ronon shared his water with Sheppard. They took in their surroundings as they rested, noting that the forest floor was a little more crowded with undergrowth here. Foreign creatures, most likely birds, chirped and cooed in the branches above and around them. If it hadn’t been for their dire situation, they would have probably enjoyed the serenity of it all.

And just like that, fate screwed them again. Charging screams filled the air from off to their right. A moment later, matching screams could be heard further off in the opposite direction. All four snapped their heads in the direction of each new sound, alarm jumpstarting their hearts into a fury of beats.

More screams, this time closer.

And suddenly, breaking through the underbrush, were more natives, similar in appearance to their rescuers. Their fists clenched and pumping into the air, their faces drawn out in fear or excitement. Maybe both. They appeared not to notice the team as they raced right past them. One came so close to colliding with Teyla that her hair flitted in his wake.

From the opposite end of the clearing, another group of these peculiar natives came barreling through. Without so much as a glance, the team decided as one to high tale it out of there. Ronon and Sheppard headed off in one direction and as Teyla and Rodney made to follow, the first group rushed between them, separating them. Before they could catch up, Ronon and Sheppard had already disappeared through the underbrush.

Teyla looked over her shoulder to Rodney as they darted through the mass of bodies running around them. Rodney was trying his best not to panic. He kept his eyes trained on her, willing her to go faster. Another flood of bodies rushing by nearly sent them both to the ground. The natives were crisscrossing one another, and they appeared not to notice the confusion they were creating.

Teyla grabbed Rodney’s wrist and dragged him in another direction. Within a minute, they were both out of harm’s way, hiding behind a thicket near the otherwise comical scene before them. The natives would appear to be charging at one another, then right when it looked as though they would hit, they’d simply pass each other by.

“We have to find Sheppard and Ronon.” Teyla said, keeping her voice hushed. It wasn’t as if the natives would hear her. They were having too much fun screaming at each other.

“Please, please don’t let this be a mating ritual.” Rodney rolled his head on his neck.

:: :: ::

“Sheppard, we’ve lost Teyla and McKay.”

Both men paused and turned to look behind them.

Nothing but a great expanse of trees and undergrowth.

“Ah, crap!”

They both took a step forward when something made them turn back around.

Standing in the undergrowth just yards from their position were five bare-chested men. Their darkened skin perfectly concealed them amongst the low-lit surroundings. They were bulky…their muscles even more defined than Ronon’s. The expression on their faces was one of intense rage.

Ronon and Sheppard glanced at each other.

“Shit.”

:: :: ::

TBC

Please review…I’ll give you lots and lots of chocolate…I’ll even have it molded into Sheppard, or maybe even Atlantis…that’d be cool! Seriously, though, I just want to know if I’m on the mark or if I’m losing your interest. Remember that this story twists and turns so you have to keep up with it to understand how we get to the prologue and exactly what happened to Shep and the consequences of that. Sorry, I tend to write stories that make you think. Major Shep whump, my friends, I promise!

rambling

Wed, 19 Jul 2006 06:05:29 GMT

Let me give you a little bit of advice. Do not let stress overcome you. What do I mean by that? Everyone has stress and everyone deals with it in his or her own way. However, there are times when stress becomes excessive, even to the point of, after prolonged "exposure", we adapt to it. But this wears you down physically and mentally.

This is a part of what lead to my latest bout of creative burnout. And in turn, it also led to depression. (Genetics certainly screwed me on that one, too.) So this lovely snowball effect has led me to a not-so-easy stretch in my life.

So let that be a lesson to all those who get a little to high-strung a little too often. Ugh, anyway, I'd say more on the subject but I'd rather not....moving on to better and brighter things..........

I FINALLY saw No Man's Land!!! Excellent episode...I think it's right up there with Rising a few other choice eps. Loved everyone in it...Weir does kick ass and it's nice to see her flex her muscles. Shep, oh Shep, dreamy as ever. I could go on and on but I've only seen the ep once so I won't. *sigh*

Bitter's coming along. I warned you all it'd be a WIP, didn't I?!

Bitter: Chapter 1

Sun, 16 Jul 2006 04:41:12 GMT

OK, here's the next installment of Bitter. A huge thank you to everyone who has reviewed so far...I was astonished and inspired. You don't know how close it came to me just giving up on this fic all together.

Bear with me guys, this is going to be a little slow at first, but there's a lot of background you need to know for later on. And I'm still trying to get back into the swing of things, too. So have patience and I award you all with a ton of virtual chocolate in the form of this next installment.

“These guys are the ultimate trade partners. Builders of ZedPMs and an added bonus…” McKay turned to look back at Ronon & Teyla seated behind him in the PuddleJumper. To say the scientist was giddy was an understatement. “The Heracs boost a healthy coffee and cocoa trade, or rather the rough botanical equivalent of such.”

“We can hardly contain ourselves, Rodney.” Sheppard replied, his voice drawled in sarcasm. He kept his eyes upon the HUD as he piloted the Jumper through the outer orbit of yet another unexplored planet. It was another one of those planets where the Stargate was situated in space.

During one of the slower periods on Atlantis, some of the scientists had uncovered a plethora of gate addresses to planets the Ancients dubbed as “advanced”. McKay and Zelenka took over the discovery from there, working with Elizabeth to translate any information they could find on these planets and the people inhabiting them. One planet in particular had stood out amongst the rest. Situated on the far reaches of the Pegasus Galaxy, quite isolated from other solar systems, resided the planet Herac. It was a rather small planet, nothing special to note of its features except to say it contained only one continent, and a very small one at that: it was comparable in size to main island of Hawaii.

The thing that had captivated the three however was the documented relationship the people of Herac had with the Ancients. Elizabeth discovered that the planet’s abundant resources were unique in such a way that it was the one source in the entire galaxy for all the materials used to create a ZPM. Upon discovering this, the Ancients nurtured the rather simplistic Heracs along, supplying them with technology to better their way of life. In return for such gratuity, the Heracs manufactured the ZPMs, seemingly a never-ending supply to the Ancients.

McKay had nearly fallen off his chair at this discovery and proceeded to beg Elizabeth to allow them to go on a mission to Herac. Elizabeth was hesitant. The information in the database was at least ten thousand years old. Were the Heracs still around? Had the Wraith wiped out the civilization? Had the Heracs known the Ancients had retreated from Atlantis? Did they even produce ZPMs anymore? Whatever they would find, it was worth the look. There might even be a warehouse stocked full of unused ZPMs, for all they knew. Or at least McKay would have given all his chocolate to wage that there was.

So here the team was, circling the tiny marbled planet of white and blue, scanning the surface for the usual energy readings. Ronon was sprawled about in his chair, arms lazily draped upon the arms of his chair and looking rather bored. McKay was twitching in his seat in eager anticipation as he searched for energy readings on the HUD. Teyla was focused inwards, probably thinking of her people back on the mainland, in the midst of another harvest. Sheppard was calm and in control, flying with such ease he could have gone to the back of the Jumper for a quick sandwich and a nap and still maintain control over the spaceship.

The Jumper shifted slightly as Sheppard began to lower them into the planet’s atmosphere. From the trajectory he had chosen, they would arrive above the continent within the next few minutes. To ensure their safety, and to follow protocol, Sheppard cloaked the Jumper. One could never be too careful.

“Unbelievable.” McKay muttered and shook his head. All four leaned forward slightly, looking down upon a tiny green spec among the glittering sparkles of blue stretching from horizon to horizon. Of all the planets they had ever visited, this one took the prize for smallest land mass. It made it difficult to believe the database listed the local population at one million.

As they drew closer and the land mass began to consume most of their view out of the Jumper, they realized the entire continent was covered in a thick blanket of dark green trees. The climate readings on the HUD suggested the land mass was situated in a tropical zone. Not a cloud in the sky and plenty of misty haze hovering over the majority of the trees. Muggy and hot. Sheppard crinkled his nose, his mind briefly thinking of all the kinds of bugs that liked to inhabit jungles back on Earth. Most of them were rather large and scary.

The only impressive feature besides the occasional glimpse through the trees at shimmering rivers or lakes was a single mountain that rose four thousand feet from the sea of green into a blackened rocky tabletop protrusion. There was a mass of trees growing upon the surface and along the layers of exposed black rock. There were abrupt drop-offs along the entire circumference of the mountain and there appeared to be at least one switchback trail carved along one side. This mountain resided at the far western edge of the continent, with three sides surrounded by crashing waves of the ocean and blazing white sandy beaches that proceeded to encircle the entire continent.

As the Jumper drew closer, they finally saw evidence of civilization…or something close to it. At the Eastern tip of the tabletop mountain was a massive dome. From the distance, it appeared as a smoky glass globe cut in half and perched precariously at the edge of a tall cliff. For the view it offered, the structure was most likely an observatory of some kind. Other than this, there were no other visible structures, and still no energy readings. Little dots began appearing on the HUD’s LSD, scattered sporadically around the landmass. There were even a few within the dome at the moment.

“Where do we land?” Ronon inquired, trying to see past McKay’s constantly fidgeting mass. Sheppard raised an eyebrow at this question as he continued to visually scan the surface below them. True, there wasn’t much of a flat surface for them to land. Even the beaches were thin and narrow and he didn’t trust that the planet’s tides were very forgiving. After all, there were three moons orbiting this planet.

“There.” Teyla pointed towards the mountain. It took a keen eye to spot it. On the far western edge of the surface was a dip in the level of the trees revealing a small clearing.

Sheppard maneuvered the Jumper so that they could get a better view, lowering down to hover above the mountain. As they flew by the dome, they noted they could not see beyond its glassy surface. When they arrived above the clearing, they could see tendrils of green vines and shrubbery taking over a flat slab of ebony-colored stone. In some ways, its shape reminded them of Atlantis. Seeing as the Ancients had once been frequent visitors of the planet, this was more than likely a landing pad for Puddle Jumpers.

Minutes later, Sheppard had landed the Jumper upon the surface and the team was gearing up to head out. The Jumper remained cloaked. Even if the locals were familiar with Ancient technology, it had been ten thousand years. Judging by the overgrowth of vegetation the team was betting there hadn’t been too many visitors since.

As soon as the back of the Jumper opened, the team found themselves momentarily out of breath. Hot and humid had nothing on this planet. Sweat already began to bead on their foreheads. The blazing hot sun glared down at them as they emerged from the shade of the Jumper and into the clearing. As far as jungles went, this one was pretty ordinary at first impression, not unlike those found on Earth.

“Let’s get this show on the road.” Sheppard commented, adjusting his tack vest and tightening the clip attaching his P90 to his vest. “What do you have for energy readings, Rodney?”

McKay already had the detector in his hands and was making a sweep of the area in a wide circle. He slapped the side of the thing in frustration and took a few steps forward, in the general direction of the dome they had seen earlier. Even though it had been a large structure, they could not see it from their limited view above the trees surrounding them.

“Nothing. I got nothing.” McKay fiddled with the detector for a moment while Ronon and Teyla took up points around the perimeter, silently scanning the shadows of the nearby jungle. Sheppard stepped up to McKay to view the screen of the detector for himself.

The heat was bearing down on them and the shade of the trees was enticing. Even in the few minutes they had been here, they were already tiring. Ronon took a swig from his canteen. Sheppard released an exasperated sigh.

“How can there be nothing, McKay? I thought you said these people were advanced. ZPM gods, even.” Sheppard put his hands on his hips, staring the scientist down. His patience was already growing thin. The heat was unbearable, worse even than Afghanistan.

“Is this the right planet?” Ronon inquired. All three turned to McKay. The scientist’s mouth dropped open in shock and his eyes widened.

“Oh! I get it. The genius must’ve dialed the wrong gate address, that’s it! Of course.” McKay threw his hands up in exasperation before turning his expression into a look of loathing.

“We all make mistakes Rodney.” Teyla replied, doing her best to console him.

“Hmm. Now that’d be a first.” Sheppard smirked. McKay stomped his foot and crossed his arms.

“I. Did. Not. Dial. The. Wrong. Address.” McKay stated through clenched teeth. He looked each teammate in the eye before continuing. “I’d be careful with the insults. If it weren’t for my aptitude for coming up with ingenious ways of saving your collective asses every time we run into trouble, you’d all be dead.”

“And it’s a wonder how we survive the other half of the time when you screw up.” Sheppard retorted.

“Wh..wha…” Rodney stuttered before shaking his head in defeat. “We should head to the dome. Seeing as it’s the only sign of civilization, it’s our best bet for establishing contact with the locals. It’d be nice to finally meet someone with enough intelligence to engage in a decent conversation.”

“And I was just starting to think you liked us. All right. Teyla you take point. Ronon, keep an eye on McKay and I’ll take our six.”

“Why do you always assume that I’ll get into some kind of trouble?” McKay slapped his hands to his sides in exasperation.

Sheppard had turned away but shifted so he could allow McKay to see his expression of endearment.

“It’s what you do best Rodney.” With that, the colonel waited silently as a glaring McKay strode past him, Ronon taking up his six and Sheppard following shortly after. Teyla lead the way into the depths of the trees, her P90 raised and ready.

* * *

“I just don’t understand.” It was the fifth time the scientist had said it. Ronon growled. “Just go ahead and threaten me, Chewie. I don’t mind keeping that supply of Snickers all to myself.”

Ronon glanced back at Sheppard with an air of impatience. Sheppard caught his eye and smirked.

“Guys, guys. Let’s save the threats for any uncooperative locals we may encounter, shall we?”

By now, the entire team was drenched in sweat, their faces red with the exertion of navigating the rocky terrain of the jungle. There was little shrubbery to hamper their efforts and pleasantly enough the spindly pale white trunks of the towering trees around them were few and far between. Aside from the few draping vines, there was an expansive space that was cooler than the air above the canopy of waxy leaves above them. So far, they hadn’t seen any evidence of the coffee or cocoa trees this planet supposedly grew in abundance.

“I find it difficult to believe that a million people once inhabited this planet.” Teyla announced, pausing in her advance through the trees. Sheppard noted the unease upon her face.

“Yeah, I was wondering that too.” Sheppard replied, watching his footing carefully as he nearly tumbled on a few loose rocks – the same mineral as that of the black stone they had landed the Jumper on, he noted.

“Still sure this is the right planet?” Ronon dared to ask a second time. Because they were all beginning to seriously doubt this had been the home to a million people, the caffeine source of the universe, and the holy grail of ZPMs. It was all beginning to sound a little too good to be true.

Rodney emitted a shriek and stopped in his tracks. Teyla raised her P90, Ronon rushed forward, stunner at the ready, to stand at her side. Sheppard joined them and all four stopped to view a short, dark-skinned man robed in white from shoulder to bare toe. He was bald and wore a spear of white bone through the middle cleft of his nose. He stared at the newcomers, his mouth hung open in shock.

“Hi.” Sheppard began but stopped short when the man took a step forward, continuing to gape at them.

“You are from the city of the Ancestors.”

It wasn’t even a question.

Sheppard exchanged weary looks with his team before stepping forward to greet the man formally.

“Ah, I guess that depends on who you are and why you think that. See, my friends and I happened to be passing by and wished to introduce our selves. I’m Lt. Colonel….”

“You came in a vessel from Atlantis.”

Sheppard didn’t continue. Again, his team exchanged weary looks. Was this guy psychic? In the Pegasus galaxy, anything was possible. The man’s shocked expression transformed into one of inquisitiveness laced with pain.

“Why did you abandon us?”

Silence. Sheppard was almost sure he could hear the sweat from his nose splat onto the rough terrain at his feet. The man stood there, frozen in his quandary. The team was completely perplexed. Who was this man?

“Please, tell us who you are and how we may help you.” Teyla was serene in her offering, yet her finger never left the trigger of her P90. They were all alert. Time and again they had learned to never let their guard down.

The man’s seemingly harmless persona shifted as suddenly as the light breeze that began to flow down upon them. The breeze was cool and the man’s face even colder.

“It does not matter now. We have managed quite well on our own.”

He made to turn then, leaving them shrouded in mystery.

“Wait!” Sheppard took a step forward, lowering his weapon and raising a hand to show a gesture meaning no harm.

The man glanced back, his face stony, his mouth curled into a snarl. His eyes flashed with contempt.

“You will see.”

The man retreated back into the depths of the trees, his form fading in the dimming light of the late afternoon.

Ronon motioned to begin tracking the man when Rodney lifted an arm up to block him. Ronon glanced down at the arm blocking his chest, then scowled at the owner of said arm.

“Are you crazy? Wait, don’t answer that.” He lowered his arm. “He could be leading us into a trap.”

“He wasn’t leading us anywhere, Rodney. He was leaving. Probably because of you.” Sheppard supplied. He had completely lowered his weapon now, relaxing and trying to relish in the breeze that had picked up around them. Ronon and Teyla mimicked his actions. Teyla took a rather large swig from her canteen and rested the surface upon her brow momentarily. Her hair was getting stringy and frazzled in the mugginess. Ronon sat down upon a small boulder and proceeded to drink from his canteen as well.

“What are you guys doing?” Rodney was growing exasperated.

“Cool off before you faint on us.” Sheppard ground out as he lowered down onto his haunches and unscrewed the cap of his canteen.

Beaten into submission, McKay placed the energy signature detector into his tack vest and fumbled into another pocket to retrieve a Power Bar.

“What flavor is that?” Ronon asked, glancing at the Power Bar hungrily out of the corner of his eye.

Rodney began to stuff the bar into his mouth at a faster pace than normal, mumbling a response that nobody could decipher. He discarded the wrapper in his pocket and wiped his hands together before proceeding to lean against the trunk of a nearby tree. He washed down the power bar with a swig from his canteen and eyed the trees around them, studying them as the team studied him.

“For the last time, there are enough power bars for this mission and the Daedelus is due back with a whole shipload of goodies in five days. Deal.” McKay stated, his gaze never leaving the canopy above.

After five minutes of rest in refreshing silence, Sheppard announced it was time to move on. Over the next twenty minutes, the team drew deeper into the jungle. The trees grew closer together the further they progressed, with smaller plants thriving in more abundance in the rich black soil. The terrain was becoming more difficult to navigate as well. Teyla, in all her grace, nearly fell face first into a steep incline when a few stones came loose beneath her. The four clambered up the incline and came to an abrupt stop at the top, realizing they had reached their destination. The jungle had grown so thick here that they had not even been able to see the light of the clearing until they were in it.

Just a few paces ahead of them towered the smoky glass dome they had seen from their arrival. The dome was well over ten stories high and just as wide. Even from this close, they could not see through the glass. It even appeared as if the smoky surface were alive, with faint swirls of misty white snaking about the shiny smooth surface. As the team emerged from the shadow of the jungle and into the searing heat of the sun, they realized there was no visible entrance to be seen. They’d have to circle as far as they could around either side to find one, if there even was one.

McKay had dug into his vest to retrieve the detector and was now analyzing the structure. He shook his head and without a word, the team knew there was still nothing to be detected.

From their position, they could see that the dome perched off the edge of towering cliffs to either side of them. There would be no way to completely encircle the dome to find an entrance. For once, they were at a loss as to how to proceed.

Sheppard bit his lip in thought, staring at the dome. He glanced back into the darkened jungle behind them and proceeded to walk over the edge of the incline they had previously climbed. His team watched him quizzically.

“That’s it.”

“What is it?” Teyla inquired, tilting her head. The others followed as she came to join their leader.

“There has to be an underground entrance.”

“Over here.” Ronon called. He was perched at the top of the incline several feet away from them, looking over the edge.

The team joined him to view a dark opening in the rock just below the ridge they were standing upon. They carefully climbed down the steep surface and came to stand before the entrance. It was a natural opening in the rock, as far as they could tell. Nothing manipulated by the hand of man. So far, the dome had been the only evidence of such.

Flipping on the flashlights upon their P90s, Teyla and Sheppard pointed them into the entrance. They could see very little, for the walls of the tunnel were made of the same black rock, thus most light was absorbed rather than reflected. What little they could see showed them the tunnel was not long and ended at a shaft of light shining down from a point above. Sheppard went first, followed by McKay and Ronon, with Teyla taking up their six. They traveled as quietly as possible, knowing that they were heading into a potentially hazardous situation…as far as they knew this was the only entrance to and thus exit from the dome.

Only a hollow silence greeted them as they came to stand in the swath of light spilling down from a small opening in the rock above them. A few divots existed in the face of the wall before them providing enough support for one to climb up and into the dome above. Being the leader, Sheppard went first. It only took the look in his eyes for the team to understand he wanted them to remain hidden at the first sign of trouble. With that, Sheppard headed upwards into the light.

A moment later, they could hear Sheppard calling down to them. They looked up, momentarily blinded by the light.

“Ah, guys? You might want to come and join us.”

Us?

* * *

Update on Bitter

Sat, 15 Jul 2006 19:24:26 GMT

Would love, love, LOVE to see No Man's Land but doesn't look like it's happening anytime soon. :(

Anyway, update on my fic, Bitter. I'm working on it right now, I swear! I had at least another two chapters written before I even posted the prologue but now that I've twisted the plot around even a bit more, I'm gonna have to either re-work it into the fic in some other way or flush most of that down the drain. But hey, that's what writing is all about, isn't it?! So I'm working on the beginning chapter now and hopefully that'll set the pace for the rest of the fic. I know what I want to happen, it's just a matter of how best to tell the story and keep the interest alive.

Bitter: Prologue

Sat, 15 Jul 2006 06:58:56 GMT

Bitter

by Chokolaj

Rating: T

Genre: Drama/Angst/Action/Adventure

Summary: Never hold a grudge. Sheppard and team get entangled in the collapse of a society ten thousand years in the making. Shep whump!

Disclaimer: I don’t even own a single damn chocolate bar right now so just go right ahead and try to sue me. (Now please don’t take that literally!)

Author’s Notes: Aren’t there always? Unfortunately, I couldn’t avoid this being a WIP, so sorry in advance. This is a twisting tale of mental and physical anguish. Oh yes, Shep will receive the brunt of the whumpage, but there’s enough to go around the universe in this one. Finally, this is my first SGA fic, so please don’t lose your head if I make a mistake or two. It’s been a long time since I’ve written anything and I’ve had one hell of a creative burnout recently. I’ll do as best I can, but I make no promises. Please be kind if you choose to review. :)

Special thanks to Titan5 for looking this over for me!

John Sheppard opened his eyes to a wall of green blades...grass, his mind supplied. Focusing his bleary vision, he observed a tiny little bug scurrying up one of the blades before it took flight into the sea of blue above him. It hurt his eyes to follow its track so he allowed his gaze to fall back upon the grass. A vague memory of pain erupting throughout his body clung to his consciousness briefly before flitting away as the bug had.

He observed his hand pressed firmly to the ground before him, really seeing it before feeling it. It was then he finally noticed he was lying on his stomach, his cheek pressed firmly to the slightly cool ground beneath him.

The little bug returned then, landing on the tip of his nose. Sheppard would have batted it away, but found himself too weak to do so. The green and white striped little bug, the size of a ladybug really, scurried with miniature legs across his skin, tickling each pore as it meandered about.

Every muscle in his body seemed to buzz in tempo with the insect. The soft ground beneath him lulled him; a gentle breeze ruffled his hair and the grass nearby. He felt content on lying here for an eternity. He was exhausted.

And his nose itched. The little bug crawled along the bridge of his nose, inspecting each of his pores as if looking for a new home to burrow into. The itching began to spread like tendrils across his nose, around his nostrils, lacing its way upward to his sinuses. Oh how he wanted to relieve that itch. But he couldn’t even twitch a finger at the moment.

Where the hell was he anyway? How had he gotten here? Desperately scanning his memories, he struggled to pull up images and conversations to organize them into some kind of timeline. He remembered Atlantis...that was good. No apparent long-term memory loss, he confirmed. He remembered just this morning berating Rodney for eating the last supply of power bars. Short-term memory: intact.

Now the itch was so unbearable it became a demand for a sneeze. Sheppard’s eyes began to water as he could do nothing more than be tortured by one very tiny little bug. It reminded him of McKay. Speaking of which…where was his team?

Grunting, Sheppard willed his uncooperative body to shift so he could lie on his back. The insect took the hint and flew off into the breeze. He was on the verge of that sneeze but it refused to come. Damn bug. He hated bugs.

After what seemed like an eternity of struggle, he finally accomplished his goal by rolling slowly onto his back. He gazed up into the nearly blinding sky of midday. Above him hovered a nearly full sphere of pale white off to the right accompanied by two much smaller spheres to its lower left. Three moons. Ok, so he wasn't on the mainland. Not even the same planet. His wandering gaze fell to the towering jungle of green swaying gently all around him. Was he still in the Pegasus Galaxy? He sure as hell hoped so. It seemed a lot of planets they visited in the past two years looked disturbingly alike.

He shifted his head ever so slightly to the left. He cleared his achingly dry throat, licked his chapped lips, and croaked out a pathetic call to his teammates.

"McKay?"

The twittering chatter of a flock of birds passing by overhead broke the otherwise serene stillness about him.

"Teyla? Ronon?"

A sudden breeze picked up, tossing the upper branches of the trees. The motion would have been soothing if it weren’t for his suddenly racing heart. The beating pounded in his ears, above the whispering of the leaves. The breeze settled down just as suddenly as it had began and oddly enough, so did his heart. Where the hell was everyone?

He was alone, as far as he could determine. He finally realized that he was dressed in only his basic BDUs. His thigh holster, along with his trusted 9 mil and P90 were missing. But not the knife concealed in his boot…he could still feel its reassuring presence against his ankle. A shiver passed through his body, starting from his chest and radiating outwards through his limbs. Not so much from the lack of a chill in the rather suffocating heat of this new place than from his unsettled nerves.

With extreme effort, he finally pulled himself upwards into a rather hunched over position, his legs bowed out before him and his arms resting upon them. His body was beginning to tell him stories of abuse. He felt like he had battled 20 Wraith. He smirked. If he was still in the here and now...hell, he must've won. That battle would have made a killing on pay-per-view. Tilting his neck from side to side, he heard little cracks and felt little twinges of pain accompany them.

As he took in more of his surroundings, he realized he was in an open clearing covered in a soft blanket of wavering grass. The grass was tall, nearly a foot in height. The jungle of trees surrounding him were spindly, with tufts of green sprouting only from the swaying tops high above him. He blinked still bleary eyes, focusing them to search the depths of the darkened jungle around him. No sign of his team. No sign of civilization for that matter. He couldn't shake a feeling of uneasiness. He was sitting prone in a sunny opening. An enemy could be easily ob-serving him from the shadows of the trees, ready to perhaps finish its job.

And suddenly, he felt odd. Tiny shimmering spots of light danced across his vision as a rush of blood roared through his ears. Shaking his head to rid of the discomfort, he came to realize that his lungs felt constricted, and if anything, his heart had begun to race even harder. It actually hurt, pounding with such ferocity that he felt it would surely burst.

His muscles began to tremor and he unwillingly collapsed back onto the soft surface of the grassy clearing. His vision faded and he blinked his eyes in a fight to stay conscious. His heart hammered. Beads of sweat rolled down his face from the exertion tolled upon his body. Panic threatened to overwhelm him.

And then eerie calm blanketed him. His heart began to slow. His breathing steadied. A flow of adrenaline washed through his veins, gifting him with renewed strength. He bolted upright, senses coming to such clarity and alertness it felt as though someone had tossed a bucket of ice-cold water over him. Something had happened to him. He was different somehow.

He narrowed his eyes and a devilish smile twisted upon his sweat-drenched face. Flitting along in the lazy breeze was that tiny little bug not twenty yards away in the shadows of the trees. The gentle buzzing of its wings resonated loudly in his ears, just as if the bug were mere inches from him. His hands curled into fists.

In a fleeting moment, he was racing through the underbrush with the stealth of a wild cat. Not a whisper on the wind announced his advance.

The pitch of the buzz dipped and heightened as the unsuspecting bug made its way from blade to blade of undergrowth. A shadow passed overhead. The buzzing ceased. SMACK! An unseen creature spooked from its perch in the trees above rustled further into the shadows.

Lowering his chin and grinning in victory, Sheppard gazed at the small mess of green and white remains now smeared across his palm. A shift in the wind caused him to drop his hands to his side, tilting an ear up to listen more intently. Footsteps splashing through water…he counted the beats and detected ten potential hostiles. They were far from his position but gaining ground fast. Sheppard whipped his head around to look back to the clearing from whence he had originated. It was time for a hasty retreat.

He had one final fleeting thought before his mind clouded into darkness…just what the hell had happened to him?

* * *

TBC

brand spanking new

Sat, 15 Jul 2006 06:15:51 GMT

Welcome to my livejournal. I'll try to make it more personal soon, but I'm too tired to work on it right now. I'm very frustrated that I cannot see season 3 yet. But at least I'm not the only one. In the meantime, I'll work on my fic and try to get all posted sooner than later. I'll post it at both ffnet and here for now.

Thank you so much to everyone who has replied to the first installment. Let's just say I was completely knocked off my chair by the response. Wasn't expecting that at all! Great motivator as it is, I'm still having trouble with being able to write it, even though I know what I want to happen with the plot. Don't worry, I don't like to leave people hanging so I'll do my best to get it together and posted in a timely manner!