A/N: Please note there will be a good deal of original material in here before we see canon Atlantis characters. You won't have to wait long, I promise :P Chapter One takes place around the end of season 1, where Atlantis fakes a self destruct.
"The calm cold moon—ascends, the silver forms
Of years and ages past around me float."
-Johann Wolfgang von Goeth
Prologue
Homar, April 4, 2011
The waves shimmered blue in the fading sunlight, echoing their roar as they rolled towards shore. The sand slushed over her feet with each step, her stride unsure and halting. She felt a strong arm around her waist and she looked up, a long forgotten face disintegrating into blackness. She blinked and tossed onto her side, a sudden yell causing her to sit up straight.
"Iena."
She fumbled for her dress, sweat causing it to cling to her skin. The voice yelled once more when she reached the back door, causing her to throw it open hurriedly. Before her stood three men, a litter balanced between two of them. The oldest stepped forward, his light blue eyes glinting.
"What nonsense brings you to my door at this hour, Boen? My son is asleep."
"Forgive me, but this cannot wait," said the man, slowly lifting the tarp covering the litter. An unconscious man lay there, his clothing bloody and torn. Sighing, she ushered them into the procedure room, fumbling for the lantern.
"What happened?"
"Arnas has lost his mind. He has been hunting this man until he was half dead in the forest. The Zoion bit him."
Boen grabbed the lantern, lighting it quickly. He handed it to her, allowing her to finally see the man's face. It was scratched and his tousled hair was caked with mud and blood. A stab of fear went through her and she balked, nearly dropping the lantern.
"Take him away. Get out of my house!"
Boen caught her by the wrists and said grimly, "You know I can't do that."
"I can't help him," she said, desperation in her voice.
It wasn't possible.
"Sláne is gone. You are the only one left who can."
"Why? Why do you insist?"
The man raised his voice, tightening his grasp. "Because this man came through the Ring."
Chapter One: Light
"Faith is the strength by which a shattered
world shall emerge into the light."
-Helen Keller
Thalla, Asta. March 17, 2005.
The bitter taste of iron and salt flooded her mouth while she struggled to breath in the darkness. The weight and pressure bogging down on her body suddenly disappeared in blinding white light. A single hand appeared before her and she struggled towards it, sputtering cries of help through the blood. Nothingness filled her mind, the shadows of faces passing through the light enveloping her.
"Áveo, dormáta," they said softly.
The light faded into grey, a calmness spreading through her. Abruptly it stopped, a panoply of colors and sound inundating her. Tingling overwhelmed her as she peered around dazedly, taking in her surroundings. She lay on a pallet of cloth and hay, in a white stone walled room. Sunlight streamed through long glassless windows, which were hedged outside by flowers and tall grass.
A moan filled the room, resonating off the walls. "Melody. Mel—ody."
She rolled over troubledly, encumbered by a sling across her arm. She nearly screamed. A familiar figure lay on an identical pallet, his body covered in bloody bandages and half torn clothes.
"Oliver," she whispered.
His head lolled in her direction, his eyes wide and riddled with pain. "Faith," he gurgled. "Melody, where?"
Dizziness overwhelmed her as she edged towards him, sliding cross the floor on her good arm. The single door to the room creaked open, a tall blonde woman entering with a tray and bucket.
"Who are you?" yelled Faith hoarsely.
The woman placed the tray down and sat beside them, examining Corporal Damon. She shook her head before turning to Faith.
"Leitha."
"Where are we?"
"That is for me to know."
"Why are we here?" Memories of gun shots and the scared faces of her team mates came flooding back.
"You are safe."
"How did I get here? Why did you—I need to get him home, he's dying!" said Faith fervently, grasping Damon's jacket.
"We have done for him all that can be expected. The rest is up to the Ancestors."
She slammed her fist on the floor. "The Ancestors aren't going to do anything, just like you're not doing anything. He needs doctors and sterile surgery."
"Our healers have seen him. Several of his bones are crushed, he is hemorrhaging and nothing will stop it."
"Please let us through the Stargate, I have to get him home."
"Do not try to run. It will only complicate your situation," said Leitha simply, lowering her head. She began muttering a small prayer in Ancient, her eyes fixed on Damon.
Faith propped herself next to the solider, her eyes locked on his and her hand on his head. His gaze grew ever vacant and distant, and he continued muttering his wife's name. After several minutes his eyes grew glassy and his face relaxed, his labored breath stopping. A strangled sob erupted in her chest and she lowered her palm across Oliver's face, closing his eyes shut. Leitha stood up from the body and left the room, returning with a stocky man.
"Kasen," murmured Leitha. "Bury him in the garden."
Silently Faith followed them outside and collapsed on the grass, her legs still weak and painful. They carried him to a shallow wide hole and lowered him in, covering him with dirt and stone. Numb, she scratched a small rock against a flat one, inscribing a cross and his name upon it. She stumbled to the head of the pile, placing it next to a small wreath of plants.
"Goodbye my friend."
.-.-.-.
The shadows grew along the high stone fence surrounding the garden. Damon's grave stood in stark contrast to the green overgrowth, which contained several other unmarked mounds. Faith spent the day sitting on the deep sills of the room she had woken up in, her mind and body continuing to hurt. She ignored Leitha's attempts at distraction and Kasen's relentless monitoring of the cottage grounds. As the sun lowered behind the trees, Leitha returned once more with a stranger at her side. The woman shook Faith from her trance.
"Miss."
Scowling, Faith pulled away. "That's Dr. Stuart if you please."
"You are not of the healing profession," said Leitha flatly.
"The academic kind," said another voice.
Faith's head shot up, and she swung towards Leitha, finding a tall middle aged man next to her. His grey streaked hair and light blue eyes gave him a harmless and wise appearance. He raised a hand in greeting, but she stared at him scrutinizingly.
"Who are you?" she said blankly.
"Boen Talar," he answered. "And you I presume are Dr. Faith Stuart of Atlantis." She raised an eyebrow, but remained silent. "You are now on a planet called Asta."
She eyed his stained and disorderly clothes, noticing several strange markings in Ancient on his uniform. "If that is so, how did I get here from Pareil? Is this the planet which was at war with them?"
"No," said Boen. "Asta is ever at odds with her neighbor, but we do not attack without provocation. I am not a soldier, but rather a protector of Asta and her people."
Leitha coughed loudly. "Should you be telling her this sir?"
He commanded the woman from the room, and continued. "I am an Alier, a member of the Hereis, the guardians of Asta's Ancestral Ring and the planet's safety. We were present on Pareil in peaceful negotiations when you arrived, disrupting it. We demanded equal access to you once we learned your planet of origin. However the Pareans openly attacked both your group and mine. Your remaining comrades barely managed to escape. Same for us. We took you and the soldier with us. If we had not, you would be dead by now, or clad in irons."
"Perhaps I ought to thank you for taking us as prisoner instead?" said Faith bitterly. "You denied freedom and proper medical treatment to a hero. What kind of people do you hold yourselves to be?"
"We prolonged your lives, even if by a day," said Boen sharply. "We paid for your rescue with the lives of our people too. The Pareans passed through the Ring with us and slaughtered several families in Thalla before we stopped them. Your people left you for dead; even they could not have saved your friend."
Faith rose to her feet and said, "We have more advanced technology."
"But you are not gods, nor the Ancestors themselves. Only they could've saved him." He lowered his voice slowly. "I am sorry for your loss, we will try to accommodate you within reason."
"Then allow me passage through the Stargate."
He bowed his head. "That neither I or anyone else can allow. The Ring is sacred and very powerful. We do not allow anyone but Alieri through. And if you value your life, do not speak of its existence to any outside of my kind, at the cost of your life." He motioned to the tray of uneaten food by her pallet. "You are still wounded and in pain. Your friend's has ended, he is at peace. Do not prolong your own agony, it will not help him."
The door shut as he left, leaving Faith to sob on the windowsill.
Thalla, Asta. March 27.
"Dr. Stuart."
Faith's eyes snapped open at feeling the hand on her shoulder, and sat up quickly. She made out Leitha's face in the faded pink light of dawn.
"What?"
"We must prepare you," said the woman. She handed her a grey bundle, Faith's Atlantis uniform.
"Why?"
"I cannot say, only put these on."
Curious, Faith slid into the familiar uniform, which had been mended and laundered, but retained bloody stains. It felt oddly tight compared to the flowy and loose clothing she'd been given by the Astaians. As she exited the bedroom, Kasen and another man seized her by the shoulders.
"Do not scream, we will not harm you."
They bound her wrists, covered her eyes, and loaded her into the back of what seemed to be a wagon. Anxiety and suspicion gnawed at her belly, growing when they finally stopped. The familiar voice of Boen greeted her, but he did not remove the bindings. They entered into a building, the sound of their footsteps echoing before they stopped.
"We are before the inner circle of the Hereis. They are here to question you. Do not be afraid, do not show fear. I will remain by your side," whispered Boen.
Faith nodded. "You could've just asked me here."
He moved the cloth, the light blinding her momentarily. She was in the exact center of a wide circular chamber, its architecture and design a mix of ancient and new. At the forefront, a half arcing table stood with nine chairs, the wall behind it emblazoned with a mix of colorful old tapestries. Occupying the furniture were three women and six men, ranging from mid twenties to elderly in appearance. Faith swallowed her anxiety into the pit of her stomach and stared at them stoically.
The eldest female spoke first. "We are the Hereis Council of Asta. We have brought you here to inquire about you, to see whether you pose a threat. State your name."
"Dr. Faith Mercia Stuart, scientist and explorer at your service."
"Why are you here?"
"I was brought here against my will and without my knowledge."
"Then where are you from?"
"Atlantis," said Faith unsurely.
"The city of the Ancestors? But you are merely human," said the council woman.
"Yes. My homeworld is a planet called Earth, in the Milky Way galaxy. We rediscovered Atlantis a year ago, after the Ancients abandoned it and returned home to our world ten thousand years ago."
"Are you aware the Ancient city has fallen?"
"What? No that cannot be!" said Faith, her voice rising.
"It fell after battle with the Wraith, it was annihilated."
Larson, Andrew, Connie.
Faith's hands began to shake, and she swallowed hard. Boen placed a hand on her shoulder, gripping it tightly.
"Due to this situation, we have denied your request to leave Asta, and have forthwith buried the Ring."
"You cannot do this," said Faith vehemently. "My people have done plenty for your galaxy."
Most of the council took turns arguing with her, learning more about Atlantis' situation and the events that had transpired, including their waking the Wraith.
"I think we have enough," said the eldest man. He looked across the table at every member, and five of the nine raised their hands. "Very well. Dr. Faith Stuart, we sentence you to death."
"I thought you were here to just question me," she blurted out. "What in God's name would lead to this?"
"Your people's grave misuse of the gifts the Ancestors left us, and disrespect for human life has—"
"Do you not know what we have given up by coming to Pegasus, to dying in vain with Atlantis?"
"Yes and out of mercy, you shall meet a better death than your people."
"Why would you save my life, only to end it now?"
"Such are things and the nature of what has transpired. We did not authorize the action which brought you here."
Boen stepped forward, his hands held outward. "Honored fellows, I have spoken much with this woman the past week, and read the notes she keeps on other civilizations. Rarely have I seen such insight and respect as this woman shows towards others. Her heart was shattered over the death of a single team mate, imagine the pain she is in from learning the end of all she knew. I ask you to look at a woman in the prime of life and see what she may yet contribute to our cause and that of humanity."
There was a hush amongst the council and they looked towards each other, as if reading one another's thoughts. A single man rose from his chair and walked towards her, their faces locked upon the other. Out of the nine, he had not spoken or voted through the entire interrogation. His grey eyes delved into hers, as if seeing straight into her mind. He loosened the bindings on her wrists and took her palms, still gazing at her. After a few minutes he stroked her forehead and returned to his chair.
"She shall not die."
The room exploded in a sea of voices, every member of the Hereis shouting at him. The eldest councilman held up his hand, silencing the others.
"Sláne, is this what you want? Do you understand the ramifications you may suffer?"
The man nodded his brown haired head. "I am sure. I will vouch for her life and all will abide by my decision. Remember I put you in that place of honor."
Grimacing, the older man motioned to Boen, shooing them from the room over their continued arguing. Relief and fear flooded Faith as she allowed Boen to seat her on a long wooden bench.
"What just happened?"
Boen smirked at her. "The old fool tried to make an example out of you and Sláne saved your life. You are bonded to him now."
"Like a slave?" she said in shock.
"No, as his charge. Your actions will reflect on him now, and he is made vulnerable. For some reason he has done you great justice."
After fifteen minutes, the chamber opened, her rescuer exiting into the hall. He strode to them, a warm smile on his face.
"It is settled, you are free to come with me," he said, stopping in his tracks. "Why do you frown?"
"Why—why did you do this? What do you expect from me?"
"I assure you Dr. Stuart, I want nothing more than gratitude. I kept your life for you, and all I expect is for you to one day trust me. I will never take what is yours to give, and I vow I will care for you as I do my own. You are coming with me to Homar." He loosened the collar of the robes he wore, and strutted further down the hall. "I will meet you back at the cottage"
She flexed her wrists and met Boen's eyes troubledly. He nodded assuringly. "Do not be afraid. Sláne Rodaen is a good man. His intelligence, skills, and wealth surpass that of any man I know. He is generous to a fault and once saved my life. You will come to know him as I do."
They returned via wagon to the cottage, where Sláne was waiting for them. He led them to the bedroom, where Faith and Damon's belongings were now piled. Eagerly she dug into the packs and looked up at him puzzledly.
"Our weapons, scanner, and ZPM are missing. What did you do with them?"
"The weapons were confiscated and buried, you will not need them. The others I presume were lost in the skirmish on Pareil."
She narrowed her eyes and remained silent, repacking her books, notes and equipment. She looked forlornly at the garden as they left, a single dog tag swinging around her neck.
.-.-.-.
The second day of travel ended their rendezvous through extensive woods, the terrain becoming hilly and rural. Faith grew used to the bouncing wagon, the motion often lulling her to sleep. She did not speak to Sláne unless he asked her questions, but he usually left her alone. As it bumped over a particularly bad spot in the road, Faith awoke, a book slipping from her fingers.
Sláne tapped the driver's seat hard. "Olen Talar, watch where you're going or your father will know why I shall no longer hire you."
"Sorry sir."
Sláne picked up the dropped novel and studied it before handing it back to Faith. "Who is Huckleberry Finn?"
"A very naughty boy," she said.
"I would keep that in the house once we reach Homar," said Sláne. "It will be a dead giveaway you're not from here."
"Gee and I thought it'd be the accent," she replied.
"That is why you are going to be from Trahi, north of the mountains. Only four people have ever survived the trip from there. The mainland is huge, but most of its uninhabitable or unreachable."
"And I'm such a good actress that everyone will believe me instantly," said Faith wryly.
He raised an eyebrow. "Everyone will take my word for it."
"Why?"
"What?"
"Why does everyone hold you on a pedestal?"
"I'm not the best one to answer that," he said quietly.
Olen suddenly pointed at the road ahead. The houses thickened in a swarm at the end, varying from white stone to wood buildings.
"Homar."
The dirt road became paved and they drove into the heart of the small town, the wagon stopping in the main square.
"We need to acquire supplies before we hit the house," said Sláne, jumping down.
"What am I, chopped liver?" said Faith, her feet dangling from the back.
Sláne smirked and grabbed her by the waist, lowering her to the ground. Unsteadily she limped along with him, hiding her face behind his shoulder. No one paid her much attention, but were very talkative with her escort.
When they were finished, Sláne called to Olen. "We'll walk the rest of the way."
"Are you nuts?"
"It isn't far," he said, laughing.
At the edge of the square, a series of white columns stood at the base of broken stairs, where a familiar sight stood standing atop it, an Ancient control chair.
Mesmerized, Faith pointed. "You have a lot of these don't you in this solar system."
"Go up and sit in it." Ignoring him, she stumbled up the steps and quickly plopped down. "Put your—"
She placed her hands on the webby interface and was reclined backwards, a hologram flickering to life above her head. A series of small galaxies appeared, two popping over the others. The image died after three seconds, Faith pushed back forward.
Sláne stared at her astonishment. "No one has done that in twenty years. You carry the inheritance gene."
She shrugged and pulled a pocket knife out of her clothes, kneeling down next to the platform. She pressed upon it, feeling the ZPM panel.
"Sweet."
Sláne bounded up the steps and forcibly towed her away. "Do not toy with that, it is sacred to these people."
"It's a machine," she said blankly. A dozen bystanders were looking at them and whispering, making her paranoid. "Why are they all doing that?"
He pulled her close. "That chair has not been activated in twenty years, since Olen Talar touched it. Only occurrences of the inheritance gene cause this to turn on."
"I know about the ATA gene, my brother has it too. We were using it back on—"
"Faith, only members of the Hereis possess it. This is the only reason people are brought in."
"I'm starting to not have such a favorable opinion of your people," she said, pulling her arm from him and walking away down the road.
.-.-.-.
The sky was alight in a dust of blue, the heavens above shining brightly. Faith leaned against the porch column, gazing up enraptured. The hum of nights insects filled her ears, and the thickness of night pushed against her breath. She stood watching the heavens wheel past, wondering what awaited her in the future, and at stars end.