"Pieces of the Whole" (1/3) SGA
Sep. 13th, 2007 12:17 am![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
kristen999Title: “Pieces of the Whole” (1/3)
Author: Kristen999
Character(s): Sheppard with Team
Genre(s): Stargate Atlantis: H/C -Angst
Rating: T
Words: 12,900(total)---3,600 This Part
Warnings: torture
Summary: The team are captured and learn that there are two forms of torture.
Notes:I wrote this a couple of months ago and it gave me fits. I re-wrote parts and debated about posting it, since its not the most original plot in the world. Here is the result, this is not what I typically write.
Big thanks as always to Beth for her patience and care as a wonderful beta. Also thanks to Mandy for reading the rough and raw chunks in the middle of the night.
--------------------------------
The walls are gray, the same even coating of paint from the trim on top to the floor. Dull and dismal, like everything around him; every inch of the interior is a constant rainy day. The only light shines from a dying bulb above the tiny table he sits in front of; the illumination does nothing to improve the drab décor except cast his shadow.
His throat is parched. He hasn't been offered anything to drink since he’d been shoved in here and his stomach rumbles greedily. The last power bar he’d eaten is a distant memory.
Time is meaningless. His watch, vest, belt – they’d all been taken, leaving him only his BDUs and the shirt on his back when they were taken prisoner. That was ten... hell, twenty hours ago for all he knows. One thing's for sure; trying to frighten him with total boredom isn't working, but the silence is making him a little twitchy.
He doesn't know where the others are; if they are alive in another room down the hall or on another level. He’d stopped yelling a while ago, demanding the attention of the guards, once his mouth went so dry he could no longer spit. Falling asleep seems like a good idea at first, but the floor looks cold and uncomfortable and if they are watching, he won't allow himself to appear weak.
Separation is the first step in breaking down a prisoner. Or that's what he's been told.
Rodney gets up, stalks back and forth, wondering how Ronon is faring if he feels this restless. After a few circuits around the cramped cell he's back to sitting, twiddling his thumbs, telling himself to remain calm.
The door opens and his heart leaps up to his throat as he wipes his palms over his pants, wishing for the solitude of just a few minutes ago.
One of the Thlemians walks in and clicks the door shut behind him. His posture is relaxed, his expression one of boredom as if this is just another meeting. The man wears pants and a top of the same color on the walls. They are simple and dull, like hospital scrubs, and they do little to conceal the solid frame of muscle underneath.
The Thlemian’s eyebrows are perfectly trimmed curves over stony eyes. They appear to be the only hair on his body since his head is smooth and clean as a glass egg.
“I am Orate,” the man announces.
“Dr. Rodney McKay, but you already know that.”
Orate smells slightly of disinfectant. His expression is unreadable as he crosses his hands in front of him and idly plays with the silver ring that encircles his right index finger.
“Why are you nervous?”
“What? What kind of stupid question is that? Maybe it's because I've been held without food or water for who knows how long!”
“The door is open; all you have to do is walk out.”
“Oh, right, and what about this situation doesn't say ‘hello, I'm a prisoner?’”
“And that stopped you from opening it?”
“I can just leave?”
“If you want to.”
Rodney narrows his gaze, looking from his host to the exit. “Where are the others?”
-------------------------
Sheppard doesn't have a clue where his team is at the moment. The last thing he recalls is eating a piece of tangy fruit and the world tilting sideways as he tried to alert the others before succumbing to darkness. He wishes for the luxury of shade; the long row of bulbs above his head radiate thousands of watts of intense white light.
The fluorescence goes from one end of the ceiling to the other and the staggering aura above forces his eyes closed before they burn out his retinas. Spots, fuzzy red and purple blobs, dance before his lids as he huddles under the artificial sun. The light is deceptive; it holds no warmth and the hair on his arms stands on end as he shivers.
Misty clouds of his breath float in the air; the room is an ice box, sucking all the heat from his body. At some point his tac vest, gun belt and uniform top had been removed, leaving him in his black t-shirt and BDUs. Whoever had stripped him had also removed his boots and socks and his red feet curl under him as he sits cross-legged in the middle of his little prison.
He rubs clammy hands up and down his bare arms, trying to chase away the goose flesh as he rocks on the floor. He contemplates getting up and walking in circles to create friction and pump up his body heat. Squinting allows him to take in his surroundings as he stands up to begin moving.
The door opens and he spins around to face his captor, ready to make a run for it if given a chance. It's very hard to tell anything beyond shape and size, not that it matters with the Thlemians. They all look alike with their shiny dome heads, matching uniforms and the personalities of brick walls. The poster child for protein shakes enters and Sheppard is struck by an image of Vin Diesel from that movie with all the aliens who lurked in the dark.
“Who are you?” Sheppard demands.
Vin crosses his thick arms. “You should only speak when spoken to.”
“Oh, yeah? Well, I was never known for my good behavior in school.”
“You're arrogant.”
Sheppard gives a wry grin. “It's one of my better traits.”
The walking ad for Bowflex gets in his face and Sheppard cranes his neck to look him in the eyes, blinding light or not.
“Explain to me your rank, Colonel Sheppard.”
---------------------------------------------
“Your occupation......you are a scientist?”
“You were there when we arrived while we spoke to one of your leaders. Something wrong with your ears?” Rodney snaps. He eyes the door and wonders if he really could just walk out.
Orate doesn't smile, giving a slate of granite a run for its money. “How do you make your decisions as a man of science?”
“What's with the twenty questions?”
“For a man of logic you have very erratic emotions,” the Thlemian comments.
“I'm hungry, and, yes, a little cranky when I'm forced to play childish games with someone who makes the UPS guy seem fashionable.”
Orate pulls out a sheaf of paper from his sleeve and places it on top of the table. “What is your impression of this?”
Rodney’s eyes light up as he takes in the contents of the pages. He quickly realizes that the equations, graphs, and diagrams are for energy solutions that would make ZedPMs seem like normal alkaline batteries and snatches the papers from Orate’s grasp.
“This is incredible!” Rodney stands, clutching the data, and begins making tiny laps around the room.
“They are very rudimentary in comparison to other things of the same nature.”
Rodney flips page after page until pausing on the last sheet. “There’s some stuff missing.”
Orate pulls out another slip of paper and Rodney wonders where the all the hidden pockets are, but accepts it, furrowing his brow as he examines it. “What the hell is this?”
“It's the root of that theorem; surely as a scholar you know that.”
Rodney tosses it to the table. “You're nuts.”
“Why?”
His stomach picks that time to growl and Rodney licks dry lips, feeling a little awkward in front of the alien who doesn't even seem to blink and is way too fascinated with his every word. “It’s rubbish, that's why.”
“Really?” Orate places a hand on the table, leans way too casually, his eyes rolling sideways to the piece of paper and lazily back to Rodney. “I think you are incorrect.”
Rodney slams his hand down over the paper, crinkling it in his anger. “Two plus two is not five!”
-----------------------------
“......Then there's First Lieutenant which is a silver hash, followed by Captain where they add a mark. Now if I was in dress uniform I could show you my insignia, a little leaf looking thing which allows others to identify me as a Lieutenant Colonel that's the Air Force mind you.”
Sheppard's eyes are getting used to the fiery splotches in his vision. “I could go on but it's doubtful I'll ever see the ranks after this. My superiors and I don't always see things the same way.”
“Where are your friends?”
That's not what he's expecting because the rest of the team had all been eating the same appetizer at lunch and his fuzz-filled mind recalls watching the same expression of horror appear on Teyla's face.
Maybe it'd been his imagination... maybe he'd been the only one affected.
“Answer the question.”
“I take it I'm a prisoner then? I figured as much. Interrogation style lighting, not allowed to leave, missing the rest of my uniform. By the way, you might want to tell someone to turn up the heat.”
Vin doesn't back hand him or throw a punch like expected; he steps away to reveal the exit. “No one's holding you here.”
Sheppard wonders where the others are.
“They haven't come for you. It's been days and no one's entered through the ring to take you home.”
Sheppard knows this little game and turns his back on his captor and the door. The others are in Atlantis or are somewhere else in the city; the guy's baiting him or trying to rattle his cage.
Or maybe they are in similar cells, undergoing the same type of questioning, but either way it doesn't matter. He won't tell Vin a thing.
“If they haven't launched a rescue operation then where else could they be? It would only help if you were forthright. They could be lost or hurt.”
“You know, speaking of being helpful, I could really use the sunglasses from my vest. Nice shady things to cover up my eyes?” Sheppard peers at Vin through squinting lids.
“You'll tell me one way or another, Colonel Sheppard.”
He’d been waiting for the bad guy threat and he sizes up the alien for a quick takedown. After all, anyone who looks like the actor who willingly starred in The Pacifier has to be a pushover.
-------------------------------------
His body trembles in agitation and he hates the way the Thlemian looks at him like some unruly child. Rodney tosses the equation to the floor in a huff. Walking out holds a lot of appeal, even if being allowed to feels like a ruse, but he makes a timid step towards the exit.
Orate gives him a wry smile. “Go ahead. You're free to leave.”
The Thlemian walks over towards the opposite wall, waves his slender fingers across it until a panel shifts open to reveal a window. Rodney's hands brush the door handle as light streams through the glass to reveal another room whose walls are stark white and blindingly bright.
In the middle of the cell is Colonel Sheppard and another Thlemian, this one a lot more imposing looking with the word brute written all over his thuggish face. Rodney holds his hand over his eyes to ward off the glare from the room and his brain quickly goes over all the reasons why this is a very, very bad thing.
He storms back into the cell, peering through the glass. “What are you doing with Colonel Sheppard?”
“What does it look like I'm doing?” Orate answers, eyes piercing Rodney's in challenge.
“I don't know. That's why I'm asking.”
“Nothing. As you can tell Colonel Sheppard is fine, if not a little irritated.”
The pilot has been stripped down of most of his uniform and the alien keeping him company doesn't seem to care about personal space as the two look like they're about to square off against each other.
Rodney knows leverage when he sees it. “What do you want?”
“For you to study the equation and give me your valued opinion.”
“My opinion doesn't matter since it’s completely wrong!”
“That is not what the equation says.”
Rodney shakes his head,waves his hands about in a tantrum. “Even a child knows that two plus two is four!”
Orate shakes head. “Read it again.”
“No.”
“Do you not understand it?”
“It has nothing to do with understanding....and more with being right.”
“Who decides what’s right?”
“Logic does. There are fundamental principles in math and science.”
The Thlemian walks lazily around the cell, hands behind his back in thought. “And you uphold all these principles?”
“Yes.” Rodney's voice quivers. He doesn't like where this is going and the anger masking all of his fear begins to evaporate.
Orate's hands could smash apart bricks; his meaty fingers grip both of Rodney's shoulders in their steel traps hard enough to leave bruises. The man's forehead touches his own and, unlike Teyla's warm form of greeting, it sends chills down his spine. Orate's voice is deep, echoing more inside his mind than in his ears.
“I will always know when you're lying, Rodney.”
He tries not to whimper and releases a breath as the Thlemian lets go of him to slump down in his seat.
The left side of Orate's mouth twitches. “Do you know how many nerves in the body can be manipulated with a simple electrical pulse?”
Rodney cowers a little. “A lot?” His voice squeaks.
“Millions. By placing a simple transmitter to the base of the neck, a person could inflict pain to any region of the body, down to a single muscle fiber.”
A stone heavy hand rakes its way down his backbone and Rodney flinches under Orate’s touch.
“How difficult do you think it would be to fly a jumper if you couldn't use your hands?”
“What?”
Orate nods his head and the guard in the other room pulls out a device, tapping his thumb upon it. Sheppard cries out in bloody murder. Rodney protests, hollers and curses, briefly wondering who put in the surround sound speakers.
“Stop it, you sadistic bastard!”
The colonel holds his hands out in front of him as if they are on fire, but Orate stands stoically as Rodney's ears fill with wave after wave of Earth shattering screams. He pounds his fists against the thick glass, taking turns swearing at his captor and pleading for the other guard to stop, knowing that neither man is listening.
He can hear the questions from Sheppard's tormentor coming over an audio feed but fails to hear what they want when Orate breaks in and says, “Tell me, Rodney...”
--------------------------
“Where are your friends, Colonel?”
The centers of his hands are engulfed in a pain so intense it electrifies and maps the nerve endings in his arms, cramps his shoulders and makes the room spin. All the ligaments in his hands spasm, causing the knuckles to pop, and his fingers feel like razor blades slicing the tendons that attach to the bone.
Sheppard can't stop yelling at the top of his lungs, or curling his hands into fists to relieve the feeling of acid burning holes into his flesh.
“I'll make it stop, Colonel. Just answer me.”
Nothing will extinguish the twin infernos or remove the invisible daggers that twist in constant circles in his palms, digging deeper every second.
“I can also make it worse.”
Sheppard hones in on Vin's voice and launches from his seat, ramming his shoulder into the man's midsection, knocking his captor down. He is ready to beat his wrists into the face of the alien even if he's blind.
Vin is quick to respond, planting a boot in Sheppard's gut as he launches himself at him. All the air is knocked out of him as his captor gets back to his feet while Sheppard manages to stand back up, but it's too late.
Vin makes a point of showing off his little remote-control-torture device.“Not nice,” he growls.
He's been kicked in the kneecaps before but this is FAR worse. His legs want to buckle, but they're frozen in place. The patellar tendon that goes over the triangular bone of his knee is being pulled so tightly it feels like it’s going to snap. The rubber band of tissue stretches and stretches and STRETCHES—all the muscles spindles firing in paroxysm of pain.
His eyes water with the pain of his crucified hands and the trail of agony blazing up his femoral bundle to the lumbar region of his spinal cord.
“Where are your team mates?”
“Not... here,” Sheppard rasps.
“You're hidden deep in the city with no hope of them finding you. It would require launching an all out assault with a high casualty rate. What do you think you're worth to them? How long it would take for them to decide that it's not worth the risk?”
Sheppard has managed to find the right way to squeeze his eyes nearly closed and still make out where his captor is at the moment. In Vin’s hand he sees the remote that’s been the cause of all his suffering.
“Does... that... thing...get HBO?”
“Why do you protect them? They've left you here to suffer needlessly.... Just answer the question and you can relax.”
His body is shaking and he might just topple over as the springs in his lower back pull apart like the coils of a Slinky. “Why do you... care?”
Vin steps closer, tilting the tiny device. “I ask the questions.”
Sheppard can feel his tail bone trying to break away from the rest of his spine. “My team better be safe.....or I'll break your neck.”
“I'm sure they are safe in your city after their escape.”
Splintering. He can feel bone shattering. “Then why are you asking me where they are?”
Sheppard crumples as the pain disappears.
Every nerve and muscle screams in relief as they grow slack and the sudden release drops him like a sack of potatoes. He moans.... splays his fingers on the floor, enjoying the ice cold slate next to his cheek, his legs and back feeling like jelly.
“Tell me, Colonel. What would you do for them?”
---------------------------------------------
“......what does two plus two really equal?”
“Four!”
Spittle flies from his mouth and Orate wipes it away from his chin. Rodney rakes fingers through his hair, staring in horror out the window. This isn't a camera feed; only a wall separates him from Sheppard, but what he can do about it?
Should he try to beat up his own captor or plead for him to stop this?
“Funny how receptors work.... everything's connected to one another.”
What is he thinking? Groveling sounds good.
Rodney steps closer. Orate's eyes are slick as oil. “Stop it... please.”
The alien pets Rodney's head while he listens to the guard lie to Sheppard about their whereabouts, wishing there was some way to let his team leader know that he's right in frickin’ front of him!
Orate grabs the slip of paper and holds it up. “Solve the equation.”
-----------------
“It's an easy question.”
Sheppard's boneless, desperate to let the floor swallow him whole or let his body melt into the foundation. He doesn't open his eyes, content in shutting them away from the harsh stimuli.
“You must think highly of them to endure all of this .....we've just begun, you know. I can make it a lot worse.”
“Go to hell.”
Vin paces around his sprawled form, tsking to himself.
“What would you do if I told you that they were experiencing this same type of treatment?”
Sheppard props himself on his elbows, opens his eyes to glare through the sunlight lashing his pupils. “Then I'd kill you and everyone else I could get my hands on.”
“I believe you.”
“You’d better be lying.”
“And if it was the truth.....what would you do to prevent it?”
----------------
Rodney's brain is ready to explode with his treacherous thoughts. He chews briefly on his lip. “The answer is five.”
Orates sighs. “I don't believe you.”
The vein in his forehead is about to burst. “I said five!”
Orate looks over at the window and the other Thlemian responds by glancing their way. “You know, the points in the feet can affect the entire body.”
Both captors smile at the same time in mirror versions of one another.
“Two plus two is five,” Rodney states as calmly as possible, suppressing sheer terror.
“I thought science was your passion, your vocation? I just can't accept such a response lightly.”
----------------------------
It's like he's stepped on hot spikes.
Sheppard presses his thumbs into his Achilles heel, panting harshly because he can't scream anymore. Curling up into a fetal position doesn't help... it can't control the feeling that a knife has sliced his feet open.
“Would they do the same for you, I wonder?”
Sheppard's eyes well up, but goddammit, he's not going to give his torturer anything else.
“Tell me.”
It hurts so much... he hides his face, trying to vanquish the moisture there and he hates himself for it.
Rodney has a fist full of shirt and he's shaking Orate by the collar. “Five! Five! Five! Five! Five!!! Two plus two is five! You want me to write it down?”
“But it’s not right, Dr. McKay.”
“I'll make it right. I'll prove it, damn it!!”
Rodney shoves the Thlemian away and stalks over to the window to pound on it with his fist, slamming it down each time for emphasis as he stares helplessly at his friend.
“Five.”
Smack
“Five.”
Smack.
“Five.”
Smack.
-----------------------
The lights dim in the room and his feet relax. Sheppard crawls away to huddle in a corner, wrapping his hands around his body. “I'm Colonel John Sheppard and that’s all you're getting out of me.”
His captor walks over and crouches down, his breath visible as a silvery mist in the cold as he speaks. “We already have what we wanted.”
-----------------
tbc....
Pieces of the Whole (2/3)
Author: Kristen999
Character(s): Sheppard with Team
Genre(s): Stargate Atlantis: H/C -Angst
Rating: T
Words: 12,900(total)---3,600 This Part
Warnings: torture
Summary: The team are captured and learn that there are two forms of torture.
Notes:I wrote this a couple of months ago and it gave me fits. I re-wrote parts and debated about posting it, since its not the most original plot in the world. Here is the result, this is not what I typically write.
Big thanks as always to Beth for her patience and care as a wonderful beta. Also thanks to Mandy for reading the rough and raw chunks in the middle of the night.
--------------------------------
The walls are gray, the same even coating of paint from the trim on top to the floor. Dull and dismal, like everything around him; every inch of the interior is a constant rainy day. The only light shines from a dying bulb above the tiny table he sits in front of; the illumination does nothing to improve the drab décor except cast his shadow.
His throat is parched. He hasn't been offered anything to drink since he’d been shoved in here and his stomach rumbles greedily. The last power bar he’d eaten is a distant memory.
Time is meaningless. His watch, vest, belt – they’d all been taken, leaving him only his BDUs and the shirt on his back when they were taken prisoner. That was ten... hell, twenty hours ago for all he knows. One thing's for sure; trying to frighten him with total boredom isn't working, but the silence is making him a little twitchy.
He doesn't know where the others are; if they are alive in another room down the hall or on another level. He’d stopped yelling a while ago, demanding the attention of the guards, once his mouth went so dry he could no longer spit. Falling asleep seems like a good idea at first, but the floor looks cold and uncomfortable and if they are watching, he won't allow himself to appear weak.
Separation is the first step in breaking down a prisoner. Or that's what he's been told.
Rodney gets up, stalks back and forth, wondering how Ronon is faring if he feels this restless. After a few circuits around the cramped cell he's back to sitting, twiddling his thumbs, telling himself to remain calm.
The door opens and his heart leaps up to his throat as he wipes his palms over his pants, wishing for the solitude of just a few minutes ago.
One of the Thlemians walks in and clicks the door shut behind him. His posture is relaxed, his expression one of boredom as if this is just another meeting. The man wears pants and a top of the same color on the walls. They are simple and dull, like hospital scrubs, and they do little to conceal the solid frame of muscle underneath.
The Thlemian’s eyebrows are perfectly trimmed curves over stony eyes. They appear to be the only hair on his body since his head is smooth and clean as a glass egg.
“I am Orate,” the man announces.
“Dr. Rodney McKay, but you already know that.”
Orate smells slightly of disinfectant. His expression is unreadable as he crosses his hands in front of him and idly plays with the silver ring that encircles his right index finger.
“Why are you nervous?”
“What? What kind of stupid question is that? Maybe it's because I've been held without food or water for who knows how long!”
“The door is open; all you have to do is walk out.”
“Oh, right, and what about this situation doesn't say ‘hello, I'm a prisoner?’”
“And that stopped you from opening it?”
“I can just leave?”
“If you want to.”
Rodney narrows his gaze, looking from his host to the exit. “Where are the others?”
-------------------------
Sheppard doesn't have a clue where his team is at the moment. The last thing he recalls is eating a piece of tangy fruit and the world tilting sideways as he tried to alert the others before succumbing to darkness. He wishes for the luxury of shade; the long row of bulbs above his head radiate thousands of watts of intense white light.
The fluorescence goes from one end of the ceiling to the other and the staggering aura above forces his eyes closed before they burn out his retinas. Spots, fuzzy red and purple blobs, dance before his lids as he huddles under the artificial sun. The light is deceptive; it holds no warmth and the hair on his arms stands on end as he shivers.
Misty clouds of his breath float in the air; the room is an ice box, sucking all the heat from his body. At some point his tac vest, gun belt and uniform top had been removed, leaving him in his black t-shirt and BDUs. Whoever had stripped him had also removed his boots and socks and his red feet curl under him as he sits cross-legged in the middle of his little prison.
He rubs clammy hands up and down his bare arms, trying to chase away the goose flesh as he rocks on the floor. He contemplates getting up and walking in circles to create friction and pump up his body heat. Squinting allows him to take in his surroundings as he stands up to begin moving.
The door opens and he spins around to face his captor, ready to make a run for it if given a chance. It's very hard to tell anything beyond shape and size, not that it matters with the Thlemians. They all look alike with their shiny dome heads, matching uniforms and the personalities of brick walls. The poster child for protein shakes enters and Sheppard is struck by an image of Vin Diesel from that movie with all the aliens who lurked in the dark.
“Who are you?” Sheppard demands.
Vin crosses his thick arms. “You should only speak when spoken to.”
“Oh, yeah? Well, I was never known for my good behavior in school.”
“You're arrogant.”
Sheppard gives a wry grin. “It's one of my better traits.”
The walking ad for Bowflex gets in his face and Sheppard cranes his neck to look him in the eyes, blinding light or not.
“Explain to me your rank, Colonel Sheppard.”
---------------------------------------------
“Your occupation......you are a scientist?”
“You were there when we arrived while we spoke to one of your leaders. Something wrong with your ears?” Rodney snaps. He eyes the door and wonders if he really could just walk out.
Orate doesn't smile, giving a slate of granite a run for its money. “How do you make your decisions as a man of science?”
“What's with the twenty questions?”
“For a man of logic you have very erratic emotions,” the Thlemian comments.
“I'm hungry, and, yes, a little cranky when I'm forced to play childish games with someone who makes the UPS guy seem fashionable.”
Orate pulls out a sheaf of paper from his sleeve and places it on top of the table. “What is your impression of this?”
Rodney’s eyes light up as he takes in the contents of the pages. He quickly realizes that the equations, graphs, and diagrams are for energy solutions that would make ZedPMs seem like normal alkaline batteries and snatches the papers from Orate’s grasp.
“This is incredible!” Rodney stands, clutching the data, and begins making tiny laps around the room.
“They are very rudimentary in comparison to other things of the same nature.”
Rodney flips page after page until pausing on the last sheet. “There’s some stuff missing.”
Orate pulls out another slip of paper and Rodney wonders where the all the hidden pockets are, but accepts it, furrowing his brow as he examines it. “What the hell is this?”
“It's the root of that theorem; surely as a scholar you know that.”
Rodney tosses it to the table. “You're nuts.”
“Why?”
His stomach picks that time to growl and Rodney licks dry lips, feeling a little awkward in front of the alien who doesn't even seem to blink and is way too fascinated with his every word. “It’s rubbish, that's why.”
“Really?” Orate places a hand on the table, leans way too casually, his eyes rolling sideways to the piece of paper and lazily back to Rodney. “I think you are incorrect.”
Rodney slams his hand down over the paper, crinkling it in his anger. “Two plus two is not five!”
-----------------------------
“......Then there's First Lieutenant which is a silver hash, followed by Captain where they add a mark. Now if I was in dress uniform I could show you my insignia, a little leaf looking thing which allows others to identify me as a Lieutenant Colonel that's the Air Force mind you.”
Sheppard's eyes are getting used to the fiery splotches in his vision. “I could go on but it's doubtful I'll ever see the ranks after this. My superiors and I don't always see things the same way.”
“Where are your friends?”
That's not what he's expecting because the rest of the team had all been eating the same appetizer at lunch and his fuzz-filled mind recalls watching the same expression of horror appear on Teyla's face.
Maybe it'd been his imagination... maybe he'd been the only one affected.
“Answer the question.”
“I take it I'm a prisoner then? I figured as much. Interrogation style lighting, not allowed to leave, missing the rest of my uniform. By the way, you might want to tell someone to turn up the heat.”
Vin doesn't back hand him or throw a punch like expected; he steps away to reveal the exit. “No one's holding you here.”
Sheppard wonders where the others are.
“They haven't come for you. It's been days and no one's entered through the ring to take you home.”
Sheppard knows this little game and turns his back on his captor and the door. The others are in Atlantis or are somewhere else in the city; the guy's baiting him or trying to rattle his cage.
Or maybe they are in similar cells, undergoing the same type of questioning, but either way it doesn't matter. He won't tell Vin a thing.
“If they haven't launched a rescue operation then where else could they be? It would only help if you were forthright. They could be lost or hurt.”
“You know, speaking of being helpful, I could really use the sunglasses from my vest. Nice shady things to cover up my eyes?” Sheppard peers at Vin through squinting lids.
“You'll tell me one way or another, Colonel Sheppard.”
He’d been waiting for the bad guy threat and he sizes up the alien for a quick takedown. After all, anyone who looks like the actor who willingly starred in The Pacifier has to be a pushover.
-------------------------------------
His body trembles in agitation and he hates the way the Thlemian looks at him like some unruly child. Rodney tosses the equation to the floor in a huff. Walking out holds a lot of appeal, even if being allowed to feels like a ruse, but he makes a timid step towards the exit.
Orate gives him a wry smile. “Go ahead. You're free to leave.”
The Thlemian walks over towards the opposite wall, waves his slender fingers across it until a panel shifts open to reveal a window. Rodney's hands brush the door handle as light streams through the glass to reveal another room whose walls are stark white and blindingly bright.
In the middle of the cell is Colonel Sheppard and another Thlemian, this one a lot more imposing looking with the word brute written all over his thuggish face. Rodney holds his hand over his eyes to ward off the glare from the room and his brain quickly goes over all the reasons why this is a very, very bad thing.
He storms back into the cell, peering through the glass. “What are you doing with Colonel Sheppard?”
“What does it look like I'm doing?” Orate answers, eyes piercing Rodney's in challenge.
“I don't know. That's why I'm asking.”
“Nothing. As you can tell Colonel Sheppard is fine, if not a little irritated.”
The pilot has been stripped down of most of his uniform and the alien keeping him company doesn't seem to care about personal space as the two look like they're about to square off against each other.
Rodney knows leverage when he sees it. “What do you want?”
“For you to study the equation and give me your valued opinion.”
“My opinion doesn't matter since it’s completely wrong!”
“That is not what the equation says.”
Rodney shakes his head,waves his hands about in a tantrum. “Even a child knows that two plus two is four!”
Orate shakes head. “Read it again.”
“No.”
“Do you not understand it?”
“It has nothing to do with understanding....and more with being right.”
“Who decides what’s right?”
“Logic does. There are fundamental principles in math and science.”
The Thlemian walks lazily around the cell, hands behind his back in thought. “And you uphold all these principles?”
“Yes.” Rodney's voice quivers. He doesn't like where this is going and the anger masking all of his fear begins to evaporate.
Orate's hands could smash apart bricks; his meaty fingers grip both of Rodney's shoulders in their steel traps hard enough to leave bruises. The man's forehead touches his own and, unlike Teyla's warm form of greeting, it sends chills down his spine. Orate's voice is deep, echoing more inside his mind than in his ears.
“I will always know when you're lying, Rodney.”
He tries not to whimper and releases a breath as the Thlemian lets go of him to slump down in his seat.
The left side of Orate's mouth twitches. “Do you know how many nerves in the body can be manipulated with a simple electrical pulse?”
Rodney cowers a little. “A lot?” His voice squeaks.
“Millions. By placing a simple transmitter to the base of the neck, a person could inflict pain to any region of the body, down to a single muscle fiber.”
A stone heavy hand rakes its way down his backbone and Rodney flinches under Orate’s touch.
“How difficult do you think it would be to fly a jumper if you couldn't use your hands?”
“What?”
Orate nods his head and the guard in the other room pulls out a device, tapping his thumb upon it. Sheppard cries out in bloody murder. Rodney protests, hollers and curses, briefly wondering who put in the surround sound speakers.
“Stop it, you sadistic bastard!”
The colonel holds his hands out in front of him as if they are on fire, but Orate stands stoically as Rodney's ears fill with wave after wave of Earth shattering screams. He pounds his fists against the thick glass, taking turns swearing at his captor and pleading for the other guard to stop, knowing that neither man is listening.
He can hear the questions from Sheppard's tormentor coming over an audio feed but fails to hear what they want when Orate breaks in and says, “Tell me, Rodney...”
--------------------------
“Where are your friends, Colonel?”
The centers of his hands are engulfed in a pain so intense it electrifies and maps the nerve endings in his arms, cramps his shoulders and makes the room spin. All the ligaments in his hands spasm, causing the knuckles to pop, and his fingers feel like razor blades slicing the tendons that attach to the bone.
Sheppard can't stop yelling at the top of his lungs, or curling his hands into fists to relieve the feeling of acid burning holes into his flesh.
“I'll make it stop, Colonel. Just answer me.”
Nothing will extinguish the twin infernos or remove the invisible daggers that twist in constant circles in his palms, digging deeper every second.
“I can also make it worse.”
Sheppard hones in on Vin's voice and launches from his seat, ramming his shoulder into the man's midsection, knocking his captor down. He is ready to beat his wrists into the face of the alien even if he's blind.
Vin is quick to respond, planting a boot in Sheppard's gut as he launches himself at him. All the air is knocked out of him as his captor gets back to his feet while Sheppard manages to stand back up, but it's too late.
Vin makes a point of showing off his little remote-control-torture device.“Not nice,” he growls.
He's been kicked in the kneecaps before but this is FAR worse. His legs want to buckle, but they're frozen in place. The patellar tendon that goes over the triangular bone of his knee is being pulled so tightly it feels like it’s going to snap. The rubber band of tissue stretches and stretches and STRETCHES—all the muscles spindles firing in paroxysm of pain.
His eyes water with the pain of his crucified hands and the trail of agony blazing up his femoral bundle to the lumbar region of his spinal cord.
“Where are your team mates?”
“Not... here,” Sheppard rasps.
“You're hidden deep in the city with no hope of them finding you. It would require launching an all out assault with a high casualty rate. What do you think you're worth to them? How long it would take for them to decide that it's not worth the risk?”
Sheppard has managed to find the right way to squeeze his eyes nearly closed and still make out where his captor is at the moment. In Vin’s hand he sees the remote that’s been the cause of all his suffering.
“Does... that... thing...get HBO?”
“Why do you protect them? They've left you here to suffer needlessly.... Just answer the question and you can relax.”
His body is shaking and he might just topple over as the springs in his lower back pull apart like the coils of a Slinky. “Why do you... care?”
Vin steps closer, tilting the tiny device. “I ask the questions.”
Sheppard can feel his tail bone trying to break away from the rest of his spine. “My team better be safe.....or I'll break your neck.”
“I'm sure they are safe in your city after their escape.”
Splintering. He can feel bone shattering. “Then why are you asking me where they are?”
Sheppard crumples as the pain disappears.
Every nerve and muscle screams in relief as they grow slack and the sudden release drops him like a sack of potatoes. He moans.... splays his fingers on the floor, enjoying the ice cold slate next to his cheek, his legs and back feeling like jelly.
“Tell me, Colonel. What would you do for them?”
---------------------------------------------
“......what does two plus two really equal?”
“Four!”
Spittle flies from his mouth and Orate wipes it away from his chin. Rodney rakes fingers through his hair, staring in horror out the window. This isn't a camera feed; only a wall separates him from Sheppard, but what he can do about it?
Should he try to beat up his own captor or plead for him to stop this?
“Funny how receptors work.... everything's connected to one another.”
What is he thinking? Groveling sounds good.
Rodney steps closer. Orate's eyes are slick as oil. “Stop it... please.”
The alien pets Rodney's head while he listens to the guard lie to Sheppard about their whereabouts, wishing there was some way to let his team leader know that he's right in frickin’ front of him!
Orate grabs the slip of paper and holds it up. “Solve the equation.”
-----------------
“It's an easy question.”
Sheppard's boneless, desperate to let the floor swallow him whole or let his body melt into the foundation. He doesn't open his eyes, content in shutting them away from the harsh stimuli.
“You must think highly of them to endure all of this .....we've just begun, you know. I can make it a lot worse.”
“Go to hell.”
Vin paces around his sprawled form, tsking to himself.
“What would you do if I told you that they were experiencing this same type of treatment?”
Sheppard props himself on his elbows, opens his eyes to glare through the sunlight lashing his pupils. “Then I'd kill you and everyone else I could get my hands on.”
“I believe you.”
“You’d better be lying.”
“And if it was the truth.....what would you do to prevent it?”
----------------
Rodney's brain is ready to explode with his treacherous thoughts. He chews briefly on his lip. “The answer is five.”
Orates sighs. “I don't believe you.”
The vein in his forehead is about to burst. “I said five!”
Orate looks over at the window and the other Thlemian responds by glancing their way. “You know, the points in the feet can affect the entire body.”
Both captors smile at the same time in mirror versions of one another.
“Two plus two is five,” Rodney states as calmly as possible, suppressing sheer terror.
“I thought science was your passion, your vocation? I just can't accept such a response lightly.”
----------------------------
It's like he's stepped on hot spikes.
Sheppard presses his thumbs into his Achilles heel, panting harshly because he can't scream anymore. Curling up into a fetal position doesn't help... it can't control the feeling that a knife has sliced his feet open.
“Would they do the same for you, I wonder?”
Sheppard's eyes well up, but goddammit, he's not going to give his torturer anything else.
“Tell me.”
It hurts so much... he hides his face, trying to vanquish the moisture there and he hates himself for it.
Rodney has a fist full of shirt and he's shaking Orate by the collar. “Five! Five! Five! Five! Five!!! Two plus two is five! You want me to write it down?”
“But it’s not right, Dr. McKay.”
“I'll make it right. I'll prove it, damn it!!”
Rodney shoves the Thlemian away and stalks over to the window to pound on it with his fist, slamming it down each time for emphasis as he stares helplessly at his friend.
“Five.”
Smack
“Five.”
Smack.
“Five.”
Smack.
-----------------------
The lights dim in the room and his feet relax. Sheppard crawls away to huddle in a corner, wrapping his hands around his body. “I'm Colonel John Sheppard and that’s all you're getting out of me.”
His captor walks over and crouches down, his breath visible as a silvery mist in the cold as he speaks. “We already have what we wanted.”
-----------------
tbc....
Pieces of the Whole (2/3)
![[identity profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/openid.png){kind=small}
no subject
Date: 2007-09-13 05:02 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2007-09-14 12:59 am (UTC)Surely Rodney will find a way to prove 2+2=5, but not to the Thlemian's advantage?
The Thlemians got what they wanted from Rodney, he just doesn't know it yet.
no subject
Date: 2007-09-13 05:19 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2007-09-14 01:00 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2007-09-13 05:42 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2007-09-14 01:01 am (UTC)Thank you
no subject
Date: 2007-09-13 05:44 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2007-09-14 01:02 am (UTC)Thanks
no subject
Date: 2007-09-13 06:59 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2007-09-14 01:02 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2007-09-13 10:31 am (UTC)Poor Rodney. His torture is worse than Sheppard's. I can't help but think he somehow failed his captor's test.
no subject
Date: 2007-09-14 01:03 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2007-09-13 11:00 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2007-09-14 01:05 am (UTC)More Shep whump you say? Oh my yes, this whole fic is just one big excuse for it. lol
Thanks hon!
no subject
Date: 2007-09-13 12:47 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2007-09-14 01:06 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2007-09-13 01:42 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2007-09-14 01:06 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2007-09-13 02:33 pm (UTC)WOW!
no subject
Date: 2007-09-14 01:07 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2007-09-13 04:01 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2007-09-14 01:09 am (UTC)Ronon and Teyla to the rescue?
Magic eighball says doubtful.
:-P
no subject
Date: 2007-09-13 06:13 pm (UTC)Excellent beginning, I can't wait to read the rest!
no subject
Date: 2007-09-14 01:11 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2007-09-14 01:19 am (UTC)I love the icon!!
no subject
Date: 2007-09-14 01:33 am (UTC)Dar-jeeling made that icon, I love the color in it, Joe at a bar..perfect combo :-P
no subject
Date: 2007-09-13 07:04 pm (UTC)Then to have Rodney's little scientific brain challenged and tormented. Logic torment.. I can't think of a worse treatment, well, except that he gets to watch John scream. *shivers*
This is so very veeeery compelling. Every nail-biting bit of it. Ever torturous pain receptor tortured bit of it. And you've been beating yourself over THIS? Jeesh.. love, this is amazing. I'm just so glad that you've given us your posting schedule else I'd just curl up dying looking for more and wondering when. Now, THAT is torture. :D
no subject
Date: 2007-09-14 01:13 am (UTC)Next post n a few hours and once again many thanks!
no subject
Date: 2007-09-13 08:27 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2007-09-14 01:20 am (UTC)Thank you
no subject
Date: 2007-09-13 11:27 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2007-09-14 01:21 am (UTC)Thanks
no subject
Date: 2007-09-14 01:22 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2007-09-14 01:35 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2007-09-14 02:01 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2007-09-14 03:08 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2007-09-14 02:26 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2007-09-14 03:10 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2007-09-14 03:25 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2007-09-14 03:43 am (UTC)Um, however I am looking for someone to write a plot bunny I really want to read! lol Always up for a fic exchange in the future :-D
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Date: 2007-09-14 03:59 am (UTC)Love to do a fic exchange in the future. Working 2 jobs right now, so I'm swamped at the moment, but would like to do it when things slow down a bit!!
no subject
Date: 2007-09-14 07:42 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2007-09-14 04:18 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2007-09-14 05:53 am (UTC)I posted the 2nd chapter tonight.
BRILLIANT
Date: 2007-09-15 11:43 am (UTC)This...? Could be an episode in series 4.
But at the same time, its better than anything the SGA writers
could ever come up with.
Yinka