In The Company of Fear - 2004 Re-write

(An epilogue to "In The Company Of Shadows")

by elfin

John smiled up in awe at his command staff assembled in front of him.

Sitting cross-legged on the couch, surrounded by gifts wrapped in coloured paper he couldn't remember a time when he had felt this happy.  Or this safe.

On the table in front of him, a cake lit by ten candles, the unoriginal but still meaningful words, "Happy Birthday", written on the top in blue icing.

He hadn't remembered until Michael had woken him with a card.

Four weeks since his ordeal on Z'Ha'Dum and he was recovering slowly; his physical wounds almost gone, his psychological injuries starting to fade to memory. Franklin wouldn't let him back to work yet - he still wasn't sleeping well and unsurprisingly he seemed to have developed a myriad phobias.  But he was healing, albeit slowly.

By the time he'd finished, the floor was carpeted in wrapping paper. Susan had given him a new cream-coloured wool sweater - one size too big - like the one he'd been wearing for the past four weeks, the one he'd picked the sleeves to bits on.

Stephen had somehow found a 'dream-catcher', superstition told that if it was hung above a sleeping man, it would catch bad dreams before they had the chance to reach him.

Zack had located an ancient hand-held game of Pac-Man and a package from G'Kar contained a book of Narn poetry - written in Narn (Garibaldi had offered to lend him his translator).

Even Londo had sent a card.

They popped open a bottle of non-alcoholic champagne and cut the cake - after the traditionally out of tune rendition of "Happy Birthday To You." And there were the usual rowdy cries of "speech".

John looked overwhelmed, Susan had also decided, privately of course, that he looked cute sitting like that in amongst the mess.

Michael met his wondrous smile with one of his own,

"Well?"

"Er.... I don't know what to say, I'm not gonna ask how you knew," he grinned at Susan as he said, "Nothing's sacred around here. But thank you all..."

He was interrupted by Stephen's link.

"Franklin."

"Doctor, we have an emergency in Medlab 1."

"I'm on my way." He shrugged at the others, "Sorry - gotta go."

They all had things to get back to, and eventually Michael and John were left alone. 

So Michael gave him his gift; a snowball to replace the one he'd broken the night Anna had arrived.  The night he'd known what hell really could be.

But after a time the smile began to fade.

"I have to do something Michael," he murmured with a sigh, "this is starting to drive me nuts! I know I'm probably not ready to take back command, but I could do something - even of it's only sorting out the oxygen-consumption charts."

"You are desperate, aren't you? I'll have a word with Susan."

"You've done so much - working through this with me... I don't know what I'd have done without you."

Combing his fingers through John's silver-streaked hair, he spoke sincerely,

"I love you John, I'd die for you, so whatever I can do - I'm here."

~ ~ ~

Stephen rushed into medlab 1 -

"What's happening?"

The question was directed at everyone, Hobbs answered it.

"We found him collapsed inside one of the arrival bays, he's covered in radiation burns."

Stephen approached the gurney and looked into the face of his newest patient.

"Oh my God..."

So many things raced through his mind at that moment, but one thought was louder than all the rest.

*Let him die!  Leave the sonofabitch to die. He deserves to die.*

But he was a doctor, and in the end that was still the most important thing to him. He had an oath, he had to stick to it, whatever the consequences.

~ ~ ~

Susan stared in disgust and hatred at the charred man sleeping in the IsoLab.

"He's going to make it, isn't he?" It wasn't a question of hope.

"Yes. I don't know how he survived or even how he got onto the station, but he's going to make a full recovery - with the exception of the scarring."

"Have you told the captain?"

"No. I really don't know how to - I think I was hoping that someone else would volunteer."

"I'll go and speak to Michael - he need to know first, I think he's the only one of us who could break the news to John."

~ ~ ~

"Computer, close and lock door!"

Susan got the words out before Garibaldi make a dash for Medlab 1 with only one thing on his mind; he was going to kill Morden himself.

"Don't do this - it's not worth it, we have him under armed guard, he's not going anywhere."

"After what that bastard did to John..." he choked back tears that had collected through every conversation he and Sheridan had had. "He doesn't deserve to live."

"I know, but we can't do anything about it. We've arrested him and the moment Stephen discharges him we'll lock him in the brig and leave him there."

"It's not enough."

"But it's all we're going to do Michael. And you have to tell John."

~ ~ ~

By the time the alarms sounded in medlab, it was too late - Morden had killed four guards and had gone.

Garibaldi was half way to Sheridan's quarters when the alert was put out, he started to run.

John ordered the door to open before he answered the BabCom call.

At first he wasn't sure who it was that stood there, the man's face was so badly burned.

But when he spoke, all the horror and pain and humiliation flooded back in a tidal wave of memories John had fought so hard to bury. His first instinctive reaction was to back away, to go for his link, to call for help.

Morden's speed was phenomenal, John could barely believe someone in such a bad state could be so strong.

He moved forward, viciously back-handing Sheridan, knocking him off balance. Taking the captain's upper arms with both hands he shoved hard, throwing him back on to the couch.

Shocked, John looked around, searching for an escape.  His eyes strayed to his link and he moved to activate it. 

Morden made a grab for his made and broke three of John's fingers in a heartbeat.  The resulting scream was a shrill cry laced with hysteria.  

Lifted the PPG he'd stolen from one of the guards, crouching down until he was eye-level with Sheridan, he placed the end of the barrel heavily against the man's head.

"Order the door to lock, and I promise I won't kill you."

Predictably, John shook his head.

"Order it to lock, your security clearance only."

But no words came and Morden understood that Sheridan knew worse than dying. 

Roughly, running out of time, he slapped John again, then pushed his knees apart and grabbed hold of his genitals through his trousers. Tears started over John's cheeks, his eyes so full of pain that for an instant what was left of the human Morden had once been wanted to turn the PPG on himself. Instead he increased the pressure of his grip, "I'll let go if you lock the door."

Swallowing hard, John simply whispered,

"Go to hell."

Garibaldi skidded to a stop at the door of John's quarters. He hit the announce button once, shouting John's name.

Morden's voice was calm and low; he knew he'd won.

"Lock the door or I'll kill him the moment it opens."

John's face crumpled, but he spoke clearly.

"Computer, lock door, security clearance Sheridan, Obsidian."

"Door lock activated."

Morden let go of him and lowered the PPG,

"That's better captain - now why the tears, um?"

John stared at him, not speaking.

Inside his mind the fragile walls he'd built around the memories of what he'd been through on Z'Ha'Dum had come crashing down.

He'd only been conscious for twenty days since his rescue, he'd had precious little time to construct mental defences against everything that could still hurt him and it had taken a second for all that he had built to be destroyed.

But part of him had grown stronger and as he sat there he hunted for that part. He fought to control his breathing, and once he'd calmed physically, he started to calm mentally - he was on Babylon 5, only a door between himself and safety.

The people out there were not going to give up, they'd find some way of getting him out of this, but he had to give them time. He took a deep breath, and slowly brought his legs down until his feet were on the ground.

He started to regain some control.

Morden watched him with interest. He had some idea of the emotional effect of what they'd done to him on Z'Ha'Dum, but he hadn't really given it a lot of thought, he'd had plenty to keep him occupied since Sheridan's escape.

Seeing the captain in this state caused him a welcome surge of pride. Unconsciously he picked at a flaking piece of skin on his hand.

Obviously, they had devastated him personally as extensively as he'd damaged them, but on a somewhat smaller scale. He waited until the captain pulled himself together, knowing that this would be easier if he was thinking straight as well as how to send him back to that particular edge if he needed to.

"Better?"

"What are doing here Morden? You should be dead. You look like you're dead."

"Flattery will get you nowhere." He sat down on the chair opposite. "You can relax, at this moment I have no sexual interest in you at all. I'm came back here to remind you which side you are actually on."

"It's over Morden."

The other man smiled, not a very pleasant sight; and John winced as the burns on Morden's face reddened. "It's far from over. You caused some major problems but I can assure you, we're counting our losses and they're not as great as you obviously think they are. And of course, we still have an ace to play."

"And what exactly would that be?"

"You."

~ ~ ~

They couldn't override John's command code - everything they tried was bringing up 'Access Denied' and Garibaldi was getting desperate.

"We're running out of time.  Do Something!"

~ ~ ~

"What do you mean, me? You tried that on Z'Ha'Dum and I wouldn't play ball - I'm definitely not going to now."

"That was Justin's idea, always humane until he got angry, then he swung too far.  He was always like that. He wanted you to give in, he wanted more than anything to hear you say you were wrong and he was right - but you didn't and rather than let you go they would have killed you. There is another way."

Slowly, Morden lent forward and touched three fingers to John's face, one above the left eye, one below, and one on his right cheek. Sheridan sat very still, fighting down panic as Morden touched him again.

"Some months after you arrived here, you were abducted by Striebs. They tortured you, tested you and you escaped after they shot down the ship. Didn't you ever wonder what they did to you? Why you were left with three small holes in your face?" John brought him into focus, his mouth had gone dry.

No, he'd never wondered.  But he was wondering now.  He'd assumed that they were going to fit him with an inhibitor of some kind, like the one they'd fitted on Ta'Lon. The alternative didn't bare thinking about.

Morden's mocking voice broke into his thoughts, "You were to be one of the first - a test sample to find out if the new human link into the central processing core of the ships actually worked. There are three tiny points of technology in your head Sheridan.  And it's time we used them."

John pulled back from the touch, suddenly terrified.  At least on Z'Ha'Dum he'd had himself - he knew himself and knew that he wasn't going to give in to them.

But if the implants in his head really did give Morden control over him....  He tried to think rationally; Morden could have been lying. If they had placed it inside his head why hadn't they used it on Z'Ha'Dum? Why had Morden raped and tortured him if there had been a faster way?

"You can't control me," he stated finally, "If you could you would have done it already."

Morden was smiling, sitting on the coffee table in front of him.  Next to the cake that still remained after he'd blown out the candles... after they'd cut it....

"You mean on Z'Ha'Dum?  I didn't want to then." He leaned in closer, "I enjoyed what I did to you, Sheridan. I dropped you from the pedestal every one had you on.  I never told you how good you felt, did I?  Let me give you a small demonstration of the control I can have over you."

Morden put his fingers back on John's face, over the three almost invisible scars.

There was nothing for a moment, then he could feel it.  It was like being scanned by a telepath, only more intense, like someone walking around in his mind, probing.

He could feel Morden there, could sense the loss of control, as if he were slowly being drugged. He was still aware of himself, but it was as if he was a spectator, watching from private viewing gallery but with no control over his actions.

"Now you're mine captain."

John could feel his skin, his nerves were sending him signals, but his responses were being ignored.  First his actions, then his reactions were taken over by the second mind that was in his head.  He was trapped.

John started to panic through pure instinct and Morden sensed it, working quickly to calm him down. He had to be careful now - if John went down he'd take his mind with him; they'd both wind up dead, if he was lucky. He soothed John's reactions, relaxing him totally before continuing.

"I'm in control of you now, John, let me show you."

Sheridan sensed the pleasure before he felt it - he had relaxed, against his will. But it wasn't his will that counted any longer, it was Morden's. He could do nothing but watch as the other man sat back slightly, and moved scarred hands down his body, over his clothed chest to his thighs.

The part of John that could only watch was trying to pull away, it get as far from the touches as possible.

But his body and mind were ignoring him.

Silent tears welled in his eyes as he felt the erection, felt the pleasure instead of the natural sense of humiliation and terror. He tried to talk, tried to scream, tried to beg Morden to stop, but no words came out, all could hear was his own voice betraying him, moaning at the pleasure Morden was giving to the part of him that was no longer his own.

He watched, the tears breaking and sliding over his cheeks as Morden unbuttoned his trousers and took them down, over his feet, along with his boxers. The part of him that wanted this was winning, drowning out the protests in waves of pleasure as Morden moved to kneel between his legs and take his cock into his mouth.

All he could do was cry, no other part of his body would obey him.  He knew he was betraying himself, he knew his erection was getting bigger, could see his hips thrusting to meet the back of Morden's throat.

Morden grinned as his shifted Sheridan's thighs apart further, and reached down with the fingers of one hand, pushing between his buttocks to find his opening.  Deep inside his mind, John let out a deafening scream, so loud that Morden winced.  He lifted his mouth from Sheridan's cock, still pushing against the entrance to his body.

"You hate this don't you?  You're trying to fight it.  I can feel you resisting me, but look at yourself captain, your cock wants me, and I think your ass does too..."

Violently he two fingers into John's rectum and at the same time took the man's cock back into his mouth.

The pain of penetration never came but John knew it should have been there.  He wanted to die, yet he didn't seem to be able to tear his disgusted gaze away from where he and Morden were joined. He watched himself arching into the repulsive mouth, could feel his orgasm rushing up, spreading out from his belly, into his groin and chest. Nearly there he briefly put his head back, with the intention of crying out.

He caught sight of the small cake knife on the table, the lights glinting off the blunt blade.  He searched around in his mind, struggling to ignore the onslaught of pleasure, hoping Morden was too busy to notice him looking around inside his own head.  And finally he found a tiny fragment of control.

He surged forward while Morden believed the powerful suggestions in his mind that said that the ecstasy was threatening to overcome him. Reaching out his arm with monumental determination, he picked up the knife between his thumb and his broken fingers. He had to forcefully stop himself from using the mental link to pass some of the agony to Morden, sealing his cry of pain away in his blocked-off mind.

Morden smiled up at the beautiful man above him, he found Sheridan so attractive, so masculine, and it turned him on beyond reason to realize what he'd done to him on Z'Ha'Dum, how low he'd taken him, until John himself was disgusted with his own behaviour.

When he'd come to Babylon 5 this time he'd had no intention of doing anything like this, but it was so good to control his man, to make him scream, he wanted to hurt him so much, he wanted to destroy him, watch this great captain fall until he was begging for mercy. He could feel Sheridan's orgasm starting, both in his head and in his groin.

At the moment that John came Morden pulled back.  He released John's cock and smiled as his cum splashed across the his thighs and onto the couch, he pushed his fingers deeper into the opening, long nails tearing at the newly healed skin. Then he broke the mental link, giving John back his control and his feelings.

It was a mistake.

The moment Morden let him go, devastation hit John hard.  He looked down at his limp cock, the results of his orgasm splattered on his bare thighs and in his pubic hair.

He screamed. This time the sound erupted into the room; and after a moment, Morden's cry of pain joined it as John brought the dull blade of the cake knife down into the middle of his back with the force of all his rage.

After a long time, Sheridan started to hear the shouts from outside his door.   He didn't want them to see him like this. 

Violently pushing Morden's dead body off his legs, he reached for his trousers.  Both hands were shaking and only one was of any use.  He struggled with his clothing but eventually managed to pull them on and pull his sweater down over the open fastenings.  Only then did he give the command to unlock and open the door.

The moment of comedy seemed so out of place as Zack brought the force of the axe down into mid-air. He was standing at the front of the group, recovering quickly to take in the scene in a moment.

"Captain...." 

Michael pushed passed him, followed by Susan and Stephen.  And then the door closed and Zack was left to stand guard while the rest of the security detail was dismissed.

"I've only just heard.  I'm sorry."  He turned to look at Marcus where he stood at his shoulder.  That the ranger could move like that no longer spooked him.  But his turning up as and when he was needed still did.

"Morden's dead."  Michael spoke the words with very little feeling.

"I know.  What happened?"

Michael shrugged.  "There're three implants his head.  It looks like they were put there when he was abducted by the Strieb. I don't if Morden used them somehow. I think he may have raped him again..." his voice cracked but he held onto his control tightly.  "Why can't they just leave him the fuck alone?"

They seated themselves on the low chairs at the back of the observation area.  On the other side of the glass, Franklin was preparing to cut into John's face andhead. He wasn't certain that Garibaldi was in a state to watch this, but if he insisted on staying Marcus would stay too.

And so they sat.  And watched.  And waited.

~ ~ ~

Several hours later John was back in Medlab's High Dependency Unit.  He was still out from the anaesthetic and Stephen had told them it would be a couple of hours yet before he was awake enough to speak to them.

He explained to Marcus and Garibaldi that the implants had been tucked into the ridges on the surface of the brain.  He'd had to cut through the skull to remove them. It had been a dangerous operation to perform on someone in John's condition.  His body seemed to be in trauma; a quick examination before the op had confirmed evidence of sexual assault. 

Michael listened to Stephen in silence, before going to John's side.  It was late, and sometime later only Michael's voice could be heard in the quiet of the medical facility.

"Yeah."

"Did I kill him?"

"Yes."

"Good."

Fin
by elfin