Turtledoves in the Snow
By Dragon's Daughter 1980
Disclaimer: Other than being a fan, I have absolutely nothing to do with Stargate: Atlantis in any way, shape or form.
The freezing breeze sweeps gently across the sleepy settlement, chilling his cheeks and numbing his nose. The deep snow crunches crisply underneath his well-insulated boots and the slick ice underneath the fine powder threatens to undermine his footing. His fur-lined cloak, while warm, occasionally flaps open to let in a blast of icy air. He didn't get much sleep last night, or the night before, so he's pushing exhaustion as he trudges through the snow.
He's never been happier in his life.
She walks with him, two lovers—no, husband and wife, on their first stroll out into the vast universe as a single soul existing in two people—moving in the early morning light. The clouds above them are turning from a stormy gray of the pre-morning to a soft lavender gold of the winter dawn. He knows he is riding high on a wave of exultation and giddy joy, but he doesn't care because her gloved hand is interlaced with his, her arm bumps against his with every stride, her warm breath mists in the morning air, and she's alive and she's wearing the matching mate to his wedding ring on her finger.
The snow comes lightly down from the sky, the sparkling flakes drifting through the crisp air until it alights on their cloaks. The delicate crystals sprinkle her hair with miniature ice prisms that catch the light and grace her curls with a thousand tiny diamonds. She makes her way carefully down a hidden path that only she knows and he must follow, trusting to her guidance and knowledge of the area to keep them on safe ground. He has no doubts about her ability to do so.
He holds her hand tightly through their thick, warm gloves as they stride through Nature's fragile, yet treacherous painting. She leans against him, humming quietly under her breath. He presses a kiss against her temple, thankful that she is with him now, in this moment. She flashes her brilliant smile at him, one that is as radiant as the sun in the midday sky. Clouds of warmth frame their every breath, but they are content in their silence. Here, in the moment, Time falls away into Eternity and seconds trickle past like the slow melt of the winter snow.
They walk on together, their footsteps squeaking as their weight compresses the fluffy snow into hard ice. Two sets of tracks fall behind them as they move up the steep hillside, the sharp outlines of jagged rocks softened by the snow. He's breathing heavily from his exertions to keep up with her while she's barely out of breath. A part of him notes the oddness of this situation because she's certainly not used to long hikes across hard terrain, not like him. When she slips, he instinctively steadies her and she grabs onto his arm with both hands, a breathless laugh escaping her. She smiles at him, and reaches up to caress his cheek. The fur is soft against his chilled skin. He stares into her lively green eyes and is struck by the sudden sadness he sees within her soul.
"There are a lot of things I didn't tell you before—"
He lays a finger on her lips, shushing her, "That doesn't matter, not now. You're safe."
She shakes her head slowly, brushing his hand away, capturing his fingers with her own, "Please. Listen. We don't have much time.
"I should have told you before, but I was too scared about what was happening, that I would lose you before I could even say what I wanted to say, and then when it came down to it, there was no time, and no way to tell you, and I'm sorry, I'm sorry for everything that I did that hurt you, for every delay because I was so scared."
She speaks softly, rapidly, the words pouring out her like a confession, and he realizes, because it is a confession, and he doesn't understand. They have forever together, why is she so panicked, her words clipped and rough, urgent to the point of alarm?
"Yes," she tells him firmly, conviction in her voice, "that was my answer: Yes. I…I wasn't expecting you to ask me, that's why I didn't respond, but I—I love you. I love you. Please, don't ever forget that. I'll find my way back to you, I promise. Don't give up looking for me, and I'll never stop fighting to come home."
"I don't understand," he whispers. She's crying now, tears running down her cheeks to crystallize in the cold, "You will, you will understand, but you have to wake up now."
"I don't understand," he repeats again, but icy tendrils of cold understanding are beginning to snake their way through his thoughts. "Isn't this real? Didn't we rescue you? Aren't we…"
She shakes her head, a quiet sob escaping her as she tries to blink back her tears, "No. Not yet, not yet, John. I'm not free, not yet. You have to find me. I'm just over that ridge," She points to the top of the hillside with one hand, "and I'm still alive. I'm still alive, no matter what they tell you. This can be real, if you want it. But you have to wake up now."
He tries to reach out to touch her again, but his hands refuse to obey, dangling like heavy weights by his side. When he moves his fingers, a bone-deep spike of pain shoots up his arm and he grits his teeth to catch his breath. She shushes him, her hands pinning him down in a silent order not to move.
"Why?" he asks simply and she smiles with heartbreaking sadness, "You need to. You have to hold on. They're coming for you; you have to believe that."
"John? John, can you hear me?"
She turns her head at the sound of Teyla's strong voice and smiles again, her relief clear in her expression, "Good. They're here."
"Stay back."
"I don't understand," he tells her and she shakes her head slightly in exasperation because she knows they both understand, but she still tells him, "You'll see."
"I am perfectly capable—"
"Rodney, please, Ronon is right. This snowpack is very unstable."
His knees suddenly give way and he finds himself sprawled in the snow, his legs aching at the unnatural angle and pressure, the sharp edge of a rock cutting uncomfortably close to his spine, cold surrounding him. It hurts to breathe. She kneels down next to him, her eyes full of pain, "Hang in there; they're going to take you home."
"Aren't you coming?" he asks, the words coming out slow and a little slurred. He tastes metal on his tongue as she shakes her head slowly, "Not yet. You have to bring me home, and you will." She caresses his cheek, "I know you will. I'm right over that ridge, remember that, when you see this hillside again, remember: I'm right over that ridge, and I'm waiting for you."
"Rodney, Ronon! He's here!"
She leans down and kisses his cheek, a cold tear dropping onto his skin. "I love you, John. Don't ever forget that."
"Sheppard, you'd better not die on me, or I'll—I'll make sure—"
"McKay, shut up and help."
"I love you too, Elizabeth." His last sight of her is her sad smile before she disappears into the frosty air, as if she was never there at all.
Then Teyla and Ronon are leaning over him, shaking him awake with almost frantic movements and Rodney's in the background, his nervous chatter shattering the silence. Radios and talking, questions and words, babble about snow and rocks and unstable ice, and it all just flows over him into a muted gibberish as his world burns with pain, but then Ronon does something and he—
The end results of a mission gone pear-shaped are a long list of injuries and being grounded from active duty for at least the next two months. There's talk of avalanches and absentminded Colonels who don't watch their footing when they should (that escalates into a full-scale sniping argument before Keller intervenes with a glare). Throughout it all, he doesn't say a word about what he remembers in the long hour it took before his teammates found him, broken and buried in the snow.
He wonders if he hallucinated it all to stay alive. It wouldn't be the first time it's happened—cue Rodney and Carter—but a part of him doubts it. It's that same part of him that wants to believe that it wasn't the fevered imagination of a dying and desperate man still mired deep in grief, that she… He wants to believe that she's alive out there, but logic and the universe, it seems, wants to say no, she's not. He doesn't know what to do.
He finally decides to do nothing. As long as he's grounded, he can't do anything about it, and he doubts she wants him to drive himself crazy with all the ways her words could be interpreted. He holds on tight to her words and the promises she made. Even if they're not true (yet), he might have the chance to make them reality. Fate can be changed, but it has to happen at the right time.
When he steps back through the 'gate again, he tucks her memory next to his heart as his team goes forward into the vast unknown. If he hesitates a little when they arrive during a planet's winter cycle, with fine snow and slick ice covering the ground, his teammates don't say anything about it. After all, one avalanche is still one too many for all their tastes.
He's lost track of how many missions they've gone on since that ill-fated trip to the land of ice and snow, when they again 'gate to a planet that looks exactly the same. There's ice underneath the fine powder and it's only through trial and error (and some major bitchin' on Rodney's part about sinkholes and crevices), that they find the village path.
When they arrive at the small settlement, he feels his heart skip a beat in sharp recognition, because he's seen the layout of the low-built houses falling on either side of a main road before, but he doesn't have much time to contemplate the strange sense of déjà vu he feels because they're being pelted with jagged rocks. The villagers aren't angry, but terrified, and it's only after all of them are bleeding from minor scrapes and cuts that the natives stop throwing things (and screaming like the Wraith have come). There's a bit more shouting from where they've taken cover to where the natives have hidden themselves before everyone agrees not to kill each other and just talk.
By the time the team is swept into the main gathering hall, Ronon's angry, Rodney's furious, he has a headache and Teyla goes to work making nice with the natives. It's running like a typical mission until the head clansman apologizes and explains the reasons behind the rock-throwing greeting. Ronon snarls under his breath, Teyla pales a little, Rodney bitches about technology and he wonders—well, he's wondering about a lot of things.
He attempts to talk his team out of following him on recon. All three of them look distinctly unimpressed. Ronon shoves him out into the snow, Rodney grumbles "smartest man in two galaxies, hello!" and Teyla just arches her eyebrow as he dusts himself off. He sighs and takes point, following the path that she showed him all those months ago, and ignoring Rodney's mutterings behind him. Eventually, they all fall silent as they approach a steep hillside, the same steep hillside he has seen before.
Snow begins to fall in a steady sprinkle from the sky, covering everything with a fine white powder. The wind is just as cold as he remembers it, and the crunch of the snow is identical to his memories. Halfway up the hill, he stops and takes a breather. Teyla and Ronon don't need it, but Rodney does. He needs it as well, but it's not because he can't breathe. It's because he knows what he's going to find over that ridge, and he knows it's going to be a long, hard fight to make her words a reality, but they're this close, this close to a better future for themselves. He can't afford to screw this up.
I'm right over that ridge, and I'm waiting for you.
The words dance softly on the winter breeze that brushes past his cheek, freezing his tears before they can escape. This is not the time for crying, not until he finds her, not until she's safe. She has had faith in him for all this time, and he can't fail her now. He glances at Rodney who waves impatiently that they can move on and the entire team continues their silent trek through the snow. They peak over the edge of the ridge, and he swallows at the sight before him. While his brain plots strategy and infiltration routes into the sprawling Asuran base before them, his soul sighs with relief and terror because he didn't hallucinate her at all. He's not hallucinating now either.
John, I'm here, and I want you to take me home.
He will.
He does.