Story rating: NC-17
Genre: H/C Adventure/Angst
Word Count: 46,000
Beta's: Sharpes_Hussy and KraidyDragon and helpful suggestions from Kristen999.
Note: I have Swine Flu so my head's a little fuzzy therefore any mistakes here, within, on this form, with posting, etc etc are all mine.
Summary: After Sheppard is attacked offworld his gene begins to act up. Forced from Atlantis, he must turn to the man he and and everyone else on Atlantis holds responsible. Ladon Radim.
Sheppard opened his eyes to find he was lying on the ground. It had stopped raining, but it didn’t make much difference because he was soaked through anyway.
He managed to push himself into a sitting position.
His head was still throbbing.
He turned to the voice and squinted to see through the undergrowth, just as another figure, presumably Mallin rushed off in the opposite direction. He couldn’t have been out long if Mallin was still hanging around. Maybe he screwed up the dosage? Either way, a familiar voice had driven him away.
Sheppard dragged himself over to his Beretta and aimed it into the bushes where Mallin had vanished. His aim was lazy and realising Mallin had gone, dropped his arm to his side.
“Here!” he called out again.
A familiar figure angrily swiped branches to clear a path and Ronon sprinted over to his position.
“Did you see him?”
Ronon looked at him dumbly. “Who?”
Sheppard prodded the tender area around his eye and sighed. “Just help me up.”
Ronon assisted him into a standing position, and when he was upright and leaning against a tree, Ronon picked up his weapons and handed them back to him one by one. Sheppard reholstered the Beretta and hooked his p90 over his shoulder.
Ronon used his radio to let Lorne and the others know that he had located their MIA superior and said they’d meet them back at the village.
“Where’s McKay?” Sheppard asked, breathing deeply in the hope it would abate his headache. “Please tell me you haven’t left him in that cave.”
Ronon smirked. “He’s with Lorne. Figured out the cave was only minutes from their position and made it out alone.”
“So, the part about bleeding to death?”
“Overreacting as usual.”
“What happened to you?”
They started walking and Sheppard could feel the effects of his beating with every step.
“Mallin did a number on me.”
Ronon growled, “I’ll kill him!”
“No,” Sheppard snapped. “We don’t know that Ladon was involved, yet.”
Ronon glowered at him, then relented a little because he patted Sheppard on the shoulder. “Keep moving before you freeze to death.”
Sheppard hadn’t realised that he had his hands wrapped around his midsection. Now that he thought about it, he was feeling chilled to the bone, but he wasn’t entirely sure it was from the cold or because of the gut feeling that something wasn’t right.
“Mallin stabbed me in the neck,” he said, rubbing the tender area.
Ronon narrowed his eyes, grabbed Sheppard's collar and then turned him around.
“Looks like a puncture wound. Like a needle.”
Sheppard groaned wearily. “It hurt like a bitch.”
“What do you think it was?”
Sheppard tripped over his own foot and managed to clip a tree with his shoulder. Ronon reached out to right him.
“I think it was a sedative. When I was on the ground he was calling for someone and telling them he had me.” Sheppard stopped again and rubbed at his head. “I feel like I do when Keller gives me the same shit.”
Ronon was watching him closely. “You still need to get that checked out.”
Sheppard knew what he was thinking. They all knew about bio-warfare. “I will.”
They’d figure it out. It was probably nothing.
They trudged on, and the closer they got to the village, the more apparent it became of the damage inflicted by gunfire.
“Funny how that rebel group turned up tonight,” Ronon said.
“You think it was by chance?”
“I don’t know,” Sheppard told him as he uncoordinatedly climbed over a ridge.
The beams of several flash-lights could be seen up ahead, criss-crossing and jumping wildly. Then the trees thinned out and they were back at the village.
Lorne was the first to approach him, asking if he was okay, but Sheppard was moving forward to grab Ronon’s arm. Someone had to stop him from beating Ladon within an inch of his life.
“You’re not going to threaten Ladon,” Sheppard told him in a low voice.
“What the hell happened to you?” McKay asked. He was sitting on the ground with a bandage wrapped around his leg.
Sheppard handed his p90 off to Lorne and approached Ladon, who was standing in front of him with a shocked expression on his face. It probably had something to do with the way that Sheppard looked; beat up, bleeding, soaking wet, and covered in wet leaves and bits of twig.
“Your man attacked me.” He took a step forward and Ladon’s men closed in around him protectively.