Two weeks after John Sheppard disappears, she steps through the gate and finds the world gone.
It was supposed to be a simple, ordinary trip. Earth. Ordinary. She doesn't know when she started thinking of Earth as plain, as a black and white concept. Earth was so complex just a few years ago; now Elizabeth feels she knows nothing about anything, the wars, religions, negotiations, culture. She feels as if she's missed a hundred years and going back now would find herself lost. Atlantis is home. Pegasus is the world.
They sent John through the gate on an ordinary Monday; an old friend of his had died in a car accident and his family had requested his presence at the funeral. John left with the vague air of sadness and defeat. Not for the death, merely because he felt nothing and was convinced he should. She knew the feeling, but said nothing.
They made contact with Earth, sent radio hellos. She watched John give a mock salute, half-wave towards her, before he vanished into the blue horizon. The wormhole dissolved. Two minutes later, sudden, unexpected gate activity brought her back to the control room where people were frantically checking readings and consoles.
"Rodney, what's happening?"
"Earth says…they say Sheppard never arrived. I mean—that's impossible. It's as if…"
He trails off, Elizabeth stops listening. A technician replays the General's message: "I repeat, John Sheppard never arrived. The gate activated, then deactivated."
The control rooms buzzes about her; Elizabeth doesn't know what to say.
Two weeks later, Elizabeth stands seething in front of the Stargate, angry for no reason other than that no one in the city seems clean, it's been raining for days, and Sheppard is still missing. Every single possibility, Rodney says, every one has been checked. There is no reason for the vanishing, he's not caught in the buffer, he's not on another planet and if he is they'll never find him.
The lightning illuminates the aqua paneling and for a moment the room seems lost in a golden haze, a Polaroid with too much light.
After the gate whooshes to life, she readies herself for demolecularization. Closes her eyes, and tries to empty her mind. There will be a solution on the other side. She hopes, and knows she cannot force herself to believe that.
Teyla walks in front of her, she requested to go in hopes of exploring Earth culture while helping the search. It's rather superficial, Elizabeth thinks, the greatest military man of Atlantis is gone, and Teyla wants new shoes.
Elizabeth mentally slaps herself, watches Teyla disappear into the gate, and steps through.
Two weeks after Sheppard vanishes, Elizabeth Weir steps through the gate and finds inexplicable carnage and undeniable horror.
The gate's event horizon disintegrates immediately, and she starts to cough uncontrollably in the musty air, dust mingled with the scents of rust and ancient decay.
There are bones everywhere, ribcages lying scattered across the floor with blasted skulls and gaping mouths, screaming still. Arm and leg bones, heads and grasping fingers, clawing at dirt and shattered concrete. Ceiling beams hang haphazardly above her, shafts of daylight pierce the humid air. How long since this has happened, she doesn't know. Decades, hundreds of years? It doesn't honestly matter, because eyes wide and hand over mouth, she feels her stomach sink as she falls to her knees. She's on a platform and she can't stop making eye contact with empty sockets that still look terrified.
In a split second, all rational thought ceases, she wants to scream but instead shouts a trembling, "HELLO?" hoping, hoping to God someone will wake her up, because this cannot be happening.
No one answers, the suddenly she is struck by the thought that this is not where she should be, there is no DHD in sight, and no one can possibly know where she is. In a flood of adrenaline, she climbs to her feet and trips-runs to the closest crumbling doorway. She finds herself in a foyer of sorts and bright light stuns her eyes. Summer afternoon heat pours through this outer door; the bright light is blinding when she is standing in so much darkness.
Stumbling forward, she finds herself in the center of a wide grassy slope; on all sides there is a gently sloping burm, white boards act as symbolic steps and lead up from her position to the top, at her sides—symmetrical gardens of blooming flowers and shade trees.
Directly in front of her, in front of a small tree, sits a clear, crystal glass ball. Atop it, a General's navy blue dress hat, as if someone was decapitated, the head then transformed through sorcery. It is disturbing in no way she can pinpoint, and only lends itself to the feelings of emptiness and horror surround her.
Confused and disoriented, Elizabeth does not let herself consider the implications. Behind her Hell, in front the famed Garden. Surrounded by a lush paradise, Elizabeth feels helpless. It's only been three minutes.
Striding forward, mind choking on all the scenarios, problems, impossible solutions. Earth, Pegasus, Milky Way, where? How, why? Is John here? Is anyone here? Ori, Gouald, Replicator, Wraith, her mind cycles through the villains and cannot find one to fit the situation. Elizabeth wants to call out, yell for help, but she knows that wouldn't be smart or prudent. Later she'll wonder why she was stupid enough to walk out of the stained, collapsed room and up the middle of the garden, in plain site of anyone seeking an easy target. For now, she uneasily walks forward, scanning her surroundings. There are more glass sculptures, done in classical or Greek forms, busts and large discs. Next to them, what could be a kiln.
She walks up the white steps.
At the top, bright sunlight beating down in suffocating heat, she turns to face the gate's resting place. Behind her, a black grey Turkish or Persian structure, half collapsed, one tower side still standing tall, crooked towards the blue sky. It is exquisite, even in its decay, the center of this paradise-like garden.
Too shocked and so high on adrenaline, Elizabeth has yet to break down, to realize how hopeless this is. For once in her life, she is going to believe help will come; there is no alternative. At the base of the tower, a small room, with curtains. Next to the room, a staircase leading up the side of the remaining tower. It occurs to her the black Taj Majal is out of proportion with the landscape, but she turns and begins to walk away.
A prarie stretches before her, greens, greys and blues mingled in plains and grasses. Elizabeth walks without purpose and her only sense of direction is where the gate lies situated to her position. Anyone, anyone at all could help her now.
It is growing dark, she can hear what sounds like the ocean. She can see specks of light.
Where John is now, she does not know. Where Teyla is, where Atlantis is, where Earth is, she can only guess, but her concern is only to get off this surreal ground and find some stability. The ground beneath her feels like it's shifting, tilting off balance. In a silent chant, Elizabeth repeats that she will find the answers, she will get through this, this is not as strange and terrible as it seems.
In two months, she will know why people truly worshipped the Stargate.
A/N
Please review. If my writing is awful, if you can't picture what's going on, if you purely aren't interested, but read to see if anyone died a really gruesome death/had sex etc at the end, please PLEASE, let me know. I love the concept I'm attempting to write and don't want to write it badly. I know you don't know the whole concept yet, but you should be enjoying it even so.
Disclaimer: I don't own Stargate, only my imagination.