Nobody Sees
Category: Drama/Angst/Adventure/Romance
Pairing: Shep/Weir, slight McKay/Keller.
Summary: Elizabeth ascends from her Replicator body but after re-taking human form, she lands in the hands of an enemy John has yet to encounter.
Warnings: Deals with depression, violence, all in all it's quite angsty and there are loads of light recaps of various episodes :)
Disclaimer: Own nothing, Nadda, Zip Zilch.
Authors Notes: Okay, so after finally bringing myself to watch the final season of Stargate Atlantis :S I felt the need to do a companion piece. The first chapter is set directly after The Ghost in the Machine but then it flashes forward to sometime around Brain Storm. Hopefully addresses some of the issues I had, the main ones of course being no Elizabeth and the fact Sheppard seemed a lot more reckless/complacent about making decisions. Although that last one could just be me reading into things a little too much :P
Current word count is about 25,000 words, that's a bit epic for me so I apologise in advance for not getting chapters up sooner. Constructive criticism is very much appreciated, especially with longer stories as I can be a bit out of my element... anyway, happy reading!
**
**
John exhaled sharply as his stick connected with force against Ronon's, before ducking and rolling stiffly to the other side of the room. His muscles protested the movement, burning with the strain of countless hours fighting but he didn't slow, rolling to his feet and bringing his arm down hard over his friends back. He needed this. Each solid blow rammed home the physical reassurance that he was alive, living, and for the moment enduring the pain was all he could do to keep breathing
A grunt pushed from his lips as Ronon retaliated knocking him sideways, and he staggered finding fresh blood against his temple.
The fight was fuelling him, pushing his motivation to the surface. With everything that had happened; losing Ford, Carson, Teyla being taken by Michael, and now Elizabeth's consciousness floating in space, it was all too much. Every failure weighed down heavily, crushing the air from his lungs and he broke forward trying to shake the suffocating feeling.
The large Satedan warrior side stepped the attack with ease. Initially he'd been all to happy to indulge his friend in some therapeutic combat training but the man was starting to look a little worse for wear and given the events of the day, he figured it would be smart to call an end to the fairly one sided beating. "Maybe we should take a break?"
John threw his stick aside, wiping the sweat from his brow as it clattered to the floor, "you go, I'm gonna hit the gym."
Ronon raised his head, cocking it to the side slightly. He understood the situation; beating the living daylights out of anything you could get your hands on, trying to vent the anger and frustration over a failed mission... but in John's case it felt like more than that.
Something had been off with the usually resilient leader.
At first he'd dismissed the feeling as paranoia but after being trapped together in Michael's collapsed base together, he couldn't deny something was definitely wrong. There was no adrenaline, no spark to fight the good fight and he'd seemed almost complacent about the fact his life was hanging in the balance. What's more, Ronon could've sworn he'd almost caught a glimpse of the man welcoming an end to it.
Rolling his shoulders back, he tried for a slightly less intimidating stance. "Wanna talk about it?" Whatever was bothering him it was an issue that needed to addressed but his response left Ronon doubtful of a resolution anytime soon.
"Thanks, but no." It was short, clear, concise, and accompanied by a forceful look as John stalked from the room.
He didn't want to talk.
The only thing he wanted, the one thing that kept his mind sane throughout every mission they undertook was the burning desire drown his regrets with redemption. He wasn't naive. In the beginning perhaps, when everything had been shiny and new. When Atlantis had been the city that held so much promise for man kind, but not now.
Now it was simply a matter of holding the line, fulfilling his duties as military leader and keeping his people safe. Those were the three actions that had come to define him and he wouldn't concede to furthering them. He couldn't. The pressure and consequences were already too much for him to shoulder, adding to that weight with needless emotion would send him under.
**
**
Teyla caught the retreating form of John as he literally staggered down the dimly lit corridor and frowned, directing her attention back to the training room. She'd left he and Ronon hours ago. They couldn't possibly have been fighting for such an extended length of time although deep down she suspected that to be the case.
Pursing her lips together she moved across the threshold, skimming the polished floor with light steps until she reached Ronon's side, "I thought you were going to go easy on him." She raised an eyebrow, taking in his sweaty appearance with an annoyed sigh. He knew better than anyone how Elizabeth's reappearance had affected John and while it had been beneficial for him to accept a few rounds with the Colonel, she hadn't expected it to turn into a beating.
"The guy didn't give me much of a choice," Ronon rolled his shoulders back with a loud crack, "you're right, some thing's up with him."
Teyla nodded, unsettled but not surprised by the admission. She'd first noticed the increasing distance growing between herself and John months ago but she'd assumed it was due to her pregnancy. Clearly the news had come as a shock and in truth she'd expected a little animosity over the decision but the more she thought about it, the more his behaviour shifting seemed to be unrelated to the announcement.
Even after he'd gotten used to the idea he seemed more hostile and reckless in his actions, putting the safety of Atlantis and it's inhabitants unnecessarily before his own. When they'd been in quarantine, locked out from the city's command system, he'd scaled the looming tower without so much as batting an eyelid and it was more than simply swallowing his fear for the greater good. There was an acceptance in his eyes that whatever the outcome, he'd be okay with it and that alone was enough to scare her.
"Perhaps I should speak with him?" She titled her head curious for the larger man's insight on the matter but his gruff response did little to reassure her.
"I tried, he's not interested." Ronon lowered his arms, folding them neatly over his chest. Whatever was going through their leader's mind it was safe to assume neither one of them would become privy to it in the near future. "Give him some time," he suggested, knowing it wasn't the answer she wanted to hear but failing to come up with an alternative, "he'll come around."
"And if he doesn't?" Though she hated jumping to worst case scenarios, that was more McKay's style, there was a niggling feeling in the pit of her stomach she couldn't quite shake. In their line of work if he didn't snap out of it the consequences would speak for themselves.
"He will." Ronon tightened his features determinedly.
Aaccepting any less simply wasn't an option. Sheppard had saved him from a life under constant Wraith influence which meant whatever he needed to do, be it physically knocking the sense back into him, he would. He owed the man that much.
**
**
John inputted a faster speed on the treadmill, pounding his feet against the rubber grip mat as it spun wildly. His breath was coming hard and fast, spreading a dark haze around the edge of his vision but he didn't care. Once again the physical sensation was driving him, sending his emotions into a numb void where they couldn't be reached and he relished the chance to forget for a moment.
Even if it was only because the burning pain in his chest took precedence.
He didn't want to think about their latest encounter, the consciousness that claimed to be Elizabeth holed up in some manufactured body. It wasn't her. He'd stated as much right to her face, even though he would never truly believe it.
Not that it really mattered.
He could spin the information any way he chose, the truth was he wanted it to be her. Even in a form completely unreminiscent of her previous one. He'd already jumped the gun once, requesting she be allowed to remain behind on Atlantis in the replicated body. He couldn't help it. He was desperate, longing for her presence to once again roam the hall, for her to find him in the middle of the night and reassure him they were doing the right thing, he was doing the right thing.
God, he missed that.
Increasing the speed by two he felt the burn spread throughout his thighs, bringing with it a new release. For a moment he thought he might pass out but the feeling ebbed as he adjusted to the new limit, pushing himself further than what should have been possible. That was the story of his life. Every corner, every turn presented a new challenge seemingly more difficult than the last but he always managed to find away round, though not always without consequences.
Once again Elizabeth had paid the price and once again it had been dealt by his own hand.
He'd looked her in the eye, claimed she was no longer the women he remembered and solidified the doubt remaining in her own mind. Her actions from there on in had been solely to prove to him she was who she claimed to be, including the selfless act to betray the other replicators.
By the time he realised that was her intention, it was too late.
The air compressed in his lungs and his hand flew out gasping for breath as the speed reduced to a walkable pace. He was exhausted, barely gathering enough strength to slump from the humming machine. He knew he couldn't keep it up for much longer. Eventually Ronon would call him on it or Teyla, but until then he was determined to find what little comfort he could in the gruelling regime.
The walls wavered under his tired gaze and he lowered himself down, resting his back against the cool tiled floor. He knew he ought to move, at least so he was partially hidden from the doorway but he didn't have the energy.
Five minutes. He just needed to rest for five minutes.
That was the last thought his mind kept hold of as the darkness descended and he welcomed it with open arms. Tomorrow was another day, another correlation of seconds and minutes to whittle away whatever hope he might try and reclaim. He was done trying to deal with the fallout; for now, he was just going to sleep.