Bridge Over Troubled Water2
John was the first through the Stargate, P90 slung in his arms. He dodged and darted and almost ran headlong into a herd of enormous, pig-like creatures. "Take cover!" he shouted, diving behind the DHD and firing his weapon. The huge animals snorted, charging, but veered as if hitting a force field. Their large heads swiveled, the bony protuberances shining with what looked like blood. They squealed and charged down the hill, away from the Stargate.
"Bloody hell!" Carson swore, rising to his feet. He had a firm grip of his medical kit and stared round in utter amazement. He took a deep breath as the air was hot, heavy. The oxygen content was higher here, he recalled.
Evan had moved to the DHD and was examining it. "Sir." He pointed. There were bloody handprints on some of the symbols. But in the center of the device there was a dismembered hand. It was withered, with only bits of tattered flesh clinging to it. A man's hand.
"Bath," John identified, realizing how Moira had dialed the 'Gate. "Moira!" he shouted. He spotted a blood trail on the long grass and ran after it. "Moira!"
"John! Oh no!" Carson ran after him, swinging his kit like a weapon as the air was full of noises. Grunts and growls, chattering and squealing. The planet was alive, vibrantly alive with sounds and animals and insects. Giant dragonflies flew overhead and nearly collided with the men. The ground began to shake as an enormous Indicotherium was on the move on the plain below them. The screams of birds were almost deafening.
"Sir!" Evan swerved after them and almost fell down the hill, skidding on mud as he spotted a body near the incline, dangerously close to the edge of a cliff. "Moira!"
"Moira!" John got there ahead of him and fell to his knees, dropping his gun. The woman was face downwards, almost falling over the cliff. John gently hauled her to safety and turned her so she was on her back. He stared, almost forgetting to breathe as the familiar features of Moira O'Meara came into view.
She looked terrible. Pale, gaunt. Scratches marred her face. Her rosy lips were chapped. Her brown eyes were closed. Her long brown hair was a fearsome tangle snagged with grass. Her clothes were tattered, bloody, messy and the smell was ripe. Her foot which had been snared by a vicious sub-Wraith claw was wrapped in a shoe and some cloth but blood was leaking from it and the torn flesh revealed a glimpse of bone and a pus-filled abscess.
To John, however, she was the most beautiful thing he had ever seen.
"Good Lord! Moira!" Carson fell to his knees beside John, and touched her throat, her wrist. "Pulse is weak, very weak…we have to get her back now!" He glanced down at her foot and dismay colored his expression seeing the damage. "She's feverish, probably the foot's infected with God knows what! It's been cut into but the mass has returned," he assessed with a frown.
"Dial it up!" John thrust his P90 towards Evan who took it. John snatched her backpack, swung it over his shoulder. Then he carefully lifted Moira in his arms. She was light as air and he felt a panic, but she softly moaned and the wave of relief that she was still alive was palpable. Quickly he carried her to the 'Gate and through the wormhole, the two men on his heels.
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Moira opened her eyes. She closed them again as a harsh, unforgiving light tried to blind her. She listened but could hear only silence. No, there was a strange sound, a hissing noise but it didn't sound like a snake. It sounded like equipment. She opened her eyes again, feeling a hard surface under her, but it wasn't as hard as the ground. Or as soft as the grass.
Abruptly she recognized the interior of the infirmary in Atlantis.
She gasped, sat up and stared round in wonder, not feeling the prick of pain as an IV was dislodged. A machine started beeping but Moira was too stunned to react. She stared round in disbelief, wondering if she was delusional.
"Moira! Moira, love, it's all right!" Carson moved to her, worry on his face, but he smiled and his blue eyes were full of kindness. He gently adjusted the bed so it would support her as she sat, and reinserted the IV. "Moira, can you hear me? Do you know who I am, love?"
Moira met his gaze, felt tears but forced them back with an effort. "Carson?" she whispered. Her voice was soft. Her throat felt dry. As if she hadn't used her voice much in weeks.
"Yes, love. Here." Relief shone on Carson's face. He helped her drink some water. He felt her pulse, grabbed a stethoscope to check her heart. "You're fine, love. Weak but recovering. Moira…Moira…"
"My foot?" she asked, cutting off his sudden emotional reaction. She looked down the length of her bed to see a cast enclosing her injured foot. "Oh."
"Yes, love. I saved it. I had to operate, but the infection is clear. You'll be fine, Moira. Fine. Moira." He dabbed at some tears with a hankie.
"How….how did I…you…how long have I…" Moira stammered, having trouble focusing as questions swarmed. Her memory was cloudy, inconsistent.
"You sent a message through the 'Gate. Do you remember that?" She nodded. Carson smiled. "And John led the charge to find you, with myself and Evan, of course. We found you not far from the 'Gate. We encountered those pig-like animals first, though. Is that why you had to move away from the 'Gate?" She nodded again. "I thought so. You've been out for three days, Moira. You were fighting an infection and a fever and I had to operate but you are fine now."
Moira looked past him, absorbing the information. It didn't sound real. It sounded like it was happening to someone else, but she flexed her foot in the cast and the resultant pain felt very real. She felt disconnected, out of sorts and looked at Carson, then past him again to see a man approaching. "Evan."
Evan smiled, reaching her. He touched her hand, as if having to make certain she was real. "Moira. Moira! Thank God! How…I mean…you…Moira!" He suddenly caught her in a hug.
Moira smiled, returning the hug. "Evan! Evan, I…you…where's my camcorder?" she asked suddenly, looking round.
Evan raised a brow at the odd inquiry. "Your what? Moira, we, we, we thought you were dead." He took a seat near the bed, his hand enclosing hers. His blue eyes were full of emotion. "We even went back twice to look for you but we couldn't find you. We couldn't get a read on your tracking device. Was it cut out of you?" he asked, glancing at her arm but the white scrubs concealed her upper arm from him. "We…Moira…we thought you were dead." He swallowed as remorse assailed him.
Moira nodded. "It's all right, Evan. Where is my, my camcorder?" she repeated, as if it was the most important thing at the moment instead of her seemingly miraculous survival.
"Moira, we tried, we looked for you, I swear! We tried! Colonel Sheppard wouldn't let it go and neither would I, but after we couldn't find you at all we just assumed, we just assumed…how the hell did you survive? The sub-Wraith dragged you away!"
Moira looked away, closing in on herself. "I need my camcorder, Evan."
"Why? Are the answers there? Did you film something significant?"
"No, just animals…I need my camcorder! Where is my camcorder?" she cried, tears in her eyes as a panic seized her. She met his gaze. "Where is my camcorder?"
Evan glanced at Carson who was watching her. "Um, okay. I think Colonel Sheppard has it."
"What?" she exclaimed, then blushed and stared at her hands. She was tangling her fingers together over and over and over. "I…I need it. I need my camcorder, Evan! He can't have it! Please, Evan, I need my camcorder!" she said, starting to weep as she met his gaze. "Do I, do I still have a room here, in Atlantis?" she asked shyly, as if afraid to learn the answer.
"Of course you do, love!" Carson assured.
"Yes, of course!" Evan agreed. "In fact your room hasn't been touched since…since we lost you. Colonel Sheppard's orders. I guess he really felt bad about losing you, guilty that we couldn't find you or save you…Moira…we…" He broke off as guilt assailed him.
"I want to go to my room, please, Carson? I need to go to my room and try to, to feel like myself. Okay? And I need my camcorder! I need my camcorder!" she cried, voice rising to hysterics. "I need my camcorder!"
Carson touched her shoulder. "All right, love. Evan, why don't you escort Moira to her room. Look, love, I've got crutches for you, all right? And then Evan will go and get your camcorder." Carson adjusted the IV. "Relax, love. Evan will get your camcorder and then you need to rest, all right? You can answer all of our questions later when you are feeling up to it. Evan."
Evan stared at Moira. He freed her hand, and followed the doctor across the room. "Doc, is she all right? I mean…what the hell?" He took the crutches that the doctor handed him.
"She's fine. We can't imagine what she's been through and we need to give her time. All she had were that camcorder and that backpack. That was all she had of Atlantis, of her life with her before this, and no doubt it helped her hold on. So get her camcorder for her and let it be, for now."
"Okay, doc. If you think that's best…but we have to know how she survived. Doc, she is Moira, right?" He glanced back at her. She was staring at her hands again, lost in herself.
"Yes, Evan. She is Moira, one hundred percent. Help her to her room and don't ask her anything about her ordeal. We can't push her, not yet. Be sure to get her camcorder for her and we will go from there. Gently now, Evan. Gently."
The two men looked back at Moira. Both were worried, curious, and relieved.
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John was in the conference room, the doors shut. He was staring at Moira's backpack. He was holding the camcorder in his hands, turning it round, recalling how he had fixed it for her. How he had used her ponytail holder to keep the two pieces of the camera together. How her long hair had fallen loose in a glorious cascade of browns and reds. How he had wanted to run his fingers through it and feel the silky softness.
He played the footage again. It was corrupted in places, but was mostly of the various prehistoric animals they had seen on the planet. Most of the footage had been erased and replaced by newer scenes, of the sub-Wraith and then of the curious proto-humans they had encountered. But one scene from that expedition remained.
One fragment.
The camera had panned from the populated plain to show John standing, laughing at something off-camera. It only lasted a few seconds, this piece of film, and it was starting to show the wear and tear of being repeatedly, endlessly played.
It was a telling clue.
Everything else had been recorded over, even footage of the prehistoric animals that had so utterly captivated Moira. But not this. Not this brief footage of John caught in a candid moment. He couldn't remember what he had been laughing about in that brief moment. In that brief moment before all hell broke loose and he had lost Moira. Seemingly forever, but she was back now. Returned to him, but they were strangers. They had just met on that mission, and despite all the future visions and the meeting with the alternate Moira John knew that they were still strangers and things would be odd between them.
He didn't know what to say to her. He didn't know how to proceed. He was utterly clueless as to how to approach her after over a month when he had assumed she was dead when in fact she had been fighting for survival on that planet, seemingly abandoned by him.
He expected her to hate him, to vilify him or to blame him. He expected she would want nothing to do with him. He expected her to berate him, and he wouldn't blame her. Not at all.
Except for this piece of film which told him a very different story.