"Teal'c!" Daniel squinted down. Teal'c ran to the woman's side but he couldn't catch her before she slumped over and landed in a motionless heap.
"She is unconscious and badly injured."
"I have to figure out a way down."
Teal'c looked at him then at the ground. "It does not appear to be a long fall. It is only twenty feet by my guess."
"'Only twenty'? Easy to say from down there."
Teal'c stood up and walked to the spot beneath the trees. "The ground has some pliability. I do not believe you have another choice." He stepped back.
Daniel took a deep breath and unbuckled one side of his harness. He dangled sideways then tried to strap himself back in. Instead, he fell, hitting the ground on his side, then rolled onto his back with the parachute tangling him inside.
Teal'c took a knife to it and pulled it away. His shoulder and ribs hurt like he'd been punched. He glanced up to where the lifeless body of Captain Jennings swayed in the breeze.
"We cannot take him," Teal'c said.
Daniel nodded. "I know."
Teal'c sheathed the knife and gathered the remnants of the parachute in his arms. "Let's hurry."
She lay where Teal'c had left her. Her leg bled through a large laceration in the shin. There was a hint of bone; it looked like an ugly break.
Teal'c found two large branches then he was on one knee again, ripping the parachute into strips to fashion a splint.
Daniel knelt down beside her and took her hand. Her skin was cold, grimy, breath shallow and uneven. He moved her hair away from her face. Eyes closed, long, straight hair, angular features...So much like Vala, but not.
Vala's charred remains in his arms, that moment before the Prior brought her back to life. A sinking in the pit of his stomach…
She moaned, sounded like she was trying to say something. He leaned in close. Her hand was at his throat, squeezing his windpipe. Teal'c jumped to his feet but Daniel held out a hand to keep him back.
"No," he gasped. "I'm not your enemy."
The grip around his throat hadn't subsided. He locked his hand around her wrist, dug his thumb in and squeezed until her fingers relaxed.
She responded with gibberish, glared at him. Brought her palm to his chest and pushed. He fell on his ass. She elbowed the soft ground, grimacing as she struggled to bring herself upright.
Teal'c kept his eyes on her while hers were locked on Daniel. Her gaze moved to the insignias on their flight suits, to Teal'c then back to him. She kept herself propped up at an angle.
"Satisfied?" he said.
She offered a thin smile. "DanielJackson." She mimicked Teal'c's pronunciation of his name. English, succinctly pronounced like it had been practiced over and over.
"Daniel. This is Teal'c. You are…?"
"Aeryn."
He nodded. "Aeryn. Will you let us help you?" He motioned to Teal'c.
"I've set it," she said. "Just bind it."
Teal'c nodded deferentially. Daniel held her steady as Teal'c repositioned her leg and placed the splint. She bit her lip, looked like she was doing her damnedest not to cry out.
"I'm sorry about that," Daniel said.
She waved the apology away. "Did you bring help?"
"Until they send a rescue party." He fiddled with his radio, found nothing but static. He shrugged. "This is it."
"Just the two of you. You said you have John. Where is he?"
"With the remainder of our team," Teal'c said.
"Look," Daniel said. "I know you have no reason to trust us. But we have both of you now. Maybe this didn't go as planned." He glanced up at the dusky sky. "What happened to the people who took you and Mitchell?"
"Dead." She stared at her leg, reached for it then looked like she thought better of it.
"How can you be sure?"
"The… " She snapped her fingers, trying to recall the word. "Transport."
"Truck," Daniel said.
She nodded. "Whatever. I killed two of them before the truck crashed. There were four."
"The other two may be lying in ambush," Teal'c said.
"Don't you suppose if they were, they would have already found me? No doubt they died in the crash."
"You didn't," Daniel said.
"No. I didn't. Perhaps I'm just fortunate." She was dehydrated, her wounds dirty, lips pale. At her best, Daniel imagined she'd willingly go toe to toe with him or Teal'c. Right now, she didn't look like someone who could have taken down two people in the space of a few minutes.
"We should see what we can find," Daniel said.
"Right." She braced her palms against the ground and started a backward movement that made him think she was the one who planned to leave.
"You cannot walk." Teal'c stood up, dwarfed her. "You will only hinder our efforts to secure supplies if you insist on it."
"Frell you." She stopped moving. "Fine. If you want to see what you can salvage, I suggest to head that way."
Teal'c nodded. "Will you be all right here, Daniel Jackson?"
"Yeah. We will be." He took the gun from his holster. "If you see anything, get back here right away. This seems like the best place to take cover at the moment."
Teal'c gave her one last look, shook his head, then started toward the hillside.
"Tell me about the pod. What you did with Pilot."
"We have it. Your ship. Pilot."
"What have you done with him?" She cleared her throat, started again. "He deserves to be buried in space with his kind. If you destroy him in any fashion-"
He caught the first sign of emotion in her voice. "We have all of it, everyone, secured. He hasn't been destroyed or anything." Questions, and he didn't want to raise any false hope. "How far from the pod's crash site could they have taken you?"
"I don't know," she said softly. She leaned into his sore shoulder, eyelids fluttering like she was going to pass out.
"Aeryn. Aeryn?"
She closed her eyes, opened them like she'd gotten a shot of adrenaline. "I...I need hydration, I think," she said. "Hot...hotter than I'm used to."
"Aeryn. How did you get here?"
"I told you. Truck. Mitchell…" She took a deep breath, traced the cut on her forehead with her fingertips. "I hit my head…"
"Before that. How you got here. Earth." He pointed to the ground.
"A wormhole."
"Without a Stargate." The wormhole, in this reality or another.
"Star...gate? No. A wormhole. We were trying to close it, protect Earth. I thought he'd closed it."
"Protect Earth. From what? Aeryn?"
She swallowed hard. "Scarrans," she said flatly. "Scarrans. They'll char every metra if they come through. If they came through already." She glanced up at the sky. "Something caused you to crash."
"You think something followed you through the wormhole and shot us?"
"Do you know what it was?"
He thought about it, realized he really hadn't had a chance to think about it. All he'd known were alarms, panic and then up and out in a sickening drop.
"Before. When we were here…before." She stopped, took another breath. "Your military is supposed to be the mightiest on your planet. It was made to sound like a threat. You don't know what threats you face."
When we were here before...? "You've never been here before," he said.
"They went to Moya, examined us—This is Earth, isn't it?"
"Yes, but I can assure you. You've never been here before. We would know."
"How?"
"I..." How much could he reveal? She sat alongside him, pale, bleeding. A long way from home and defenseless.
Yet she had some information about Earth, at some place or time that seemed consistent. The U.S. military was the strongest on the planet. In spite of that, without a Stargate, without allies, the Goa'uld would have wiped them off the face of the planet.
"You talk about trust." Her voice was hoarse. "If anything happens to John, I swear I'll kill you even if it takes my last breath."
"We're all in the same boat." None of us belongs here…
She didn't respond. Her chin dipped toward her chest.
"Aeryn. Aeryn?" He snapped his fingers in front of her eyes but they gazed ahead blankly. He hit his radio. "Teal'c."
"Daniel Jackson."
"Did you find anything? I need water. She looks..." She looks like she's dying but he didn't want to say it.
"There are supplies scattered on the road before the truck exploded."
"So...everyone's dead."
"It appears so."
"Get what you can, and hurry." He turned back to Aeryn. Her breathing was labored.
"He found something," she said thickly.
"Yes." He put his good arm around her. He heard one sigh, glanced at her. Same sharp profile, hair that fell past her shoulders but in a waterfall of black, not the wild abandon of Vala's hair.
It came to him in a flash, as it did more and more, an image of his hands in Vala's hair, over her bare shoulders, then down, down, down—
"It's gonna be okay. Everything will be okay."
John followed Vala and Carter up an elevator and through a series of passageways until they reached the command deck, or bridge, or whatever the hell they called it here.
Bigger than the Starship Enterprise, as far as he could see. No Mr. Spock, no Thors…not an alien in sight. A silver haired man sat in what John thought might be the Captain's chair. Cameron Mitchell behind another crew member who manned a console. John counted maybe nine crew in all, plus the guys who stood guard over him.
"Colonel Pendergast," Carter said to the captain.
"Colonel Carter." He nodded to her, glanced at John, then back to Mitchell.
Mitchell nodded like he knew what the guy was thinking. Yep, one of him, one of me. Hilarious.
Mitchell pulled Carter aside. "Thor was able to patch some spotty communications together. I gave them a quick rundown on our boy here. Let's see if we can verify any part of his story."
Carter nodded.
"General," Pendergast said. "I apologize for the bad connection."
Through the haze, the man frowned at them. General O'Neill, without a doubt. Even without the stars, there'd be no mistaking him for anyone but the guy in charge.
O'Neill looked past Mitchell. "Carter, where's your guy?"
The screen blinked out like a bad TV channel, static in and out but the voices were still strong.
"Carter, did I see Mal Doran there," O'Neill said. "Dammit, get this thing working. Carter?"
"We're working on it, Sir," Mitchell said.
"Carter?"
"I've got it under control, Sir," Carter said. "As promised."
The screen faded to black then was clear. O'Neill looked clearly unimpressed. He leaned in, appeared to grow in front of them. His expression was skeptical then his eyes went wide.
"I'll be goddamned." He pulled back from the screen as the other man moved from his chair to stand alongside O'Neill. The man's thin lips gave nothing away; his face was impassive even as his eyes looked from Mitchell to John then back to Mitchell.
"General O'Neill? What is this?"
"That's what we're getting to, Richard. Carter. That's your guy? 'John Crichton'?"
"Yes, sir."
"General, that looks like Colonel Mitchell!" The other man pointed at the screen.
"You don't say. Mitchell, you sure this isn't your long lost twin?"
"Wish it were that easy, sir."
"Don't we all. Woolsey has some information for your new friend there."
"He's a threat to national security. By orders of the President, he's in your custody until you can get him here planet side. The entire mission will be then be turned over to IOA-"
"Sir," Carter said. "Sir, with all due respect, we're much better able to deal with this from here. The worm-"
O'Neill held up his hand to silence her. "Duly noted, Carter." He reached for the file that lay on the table next to him. His fingertips rested on top of it then he slid it back toward Woolsey. "So, 'John Crichton.' What's your story?"
Carter stepped forward before John could open his mouth. "Sir, he says his father is Lieutenant Colonel John Robert Crichton Sr. An astronaut for...NASA."
"He told you that." O'Neill leaned against the table, arms folded over his chest.
"Yes, sir. General, about Daniel and Teal'c-"
O'Neill raised a hand to wave off her question. "We've lost contact. Get Thor scanning for them. There's nothing else we can do about them right now." He paused. "Lieutenant Colonel Jack Crichton. Carter, I'm surprised you don't remember him. You were at his retirement dinner. You talked to his wife for quite awhile."
O'Neill's eyes flicked over her, then to Vala, then to Mitchell, finally resting on John. He looked as skeptical of them as he did of John.
Talked to his wife for quite awhile.
Carter swallowed hard, nodded. "Of course. Yes. Sir, I guess all this..."
O'Neill nodded. "Got it. So...'John.' Jack and I haven't spoken in years but I do remember his retirement. You know, he was slated to go up on the Challenger but his son died before he could go. He never went into space again. Couldn't leave his family."
Woolsey had the open file in front of him. "Colonels, President Landry wants this man, the other one you're trying to retrieve, and Vala Mal Doran-all of it to Area 51."
"Samantha!" Vala stepped beside him. "General, if I may plead my case-"
John pushed past Vala, stepped to the front of the screen. "His wife. Is she alive? General?"
O'Neill stared him down, shook his head. "Carter, wanna take this one?"
Carter stammered. "Sir, it's been a long time..."
"Huh... Yeah. You're right. It has." O'Neill shrugged. "As far as I know, Mrs. Crichton is fine. Not heard anything to the contrary."
Nonchalant, when the answer meant everything to John. He took another step toward the portal, fist curled. Like that would make a difference.
Carter grabbed his arm. "John."
John shook her off. "General O'Neill, I need to see my father."
"General," Woolsey broke in. "May I remind you that the President was very specific about this."
O'Neill flicked the back of his hand toward Woolsey like he was nothing more than an annoying little fly. "You've made that point, Richard." He turned his attention back to the screen. "Colonel Mitchell, let's not stir up any hornets' nests here. Get these two locked up. As soon as you find Daniel and Teal'c let me know. O'Neill out."
The screen went blank. Just like that. No explanations, no questions.
He turned to Sam. "You know my mother. You know how this goes, Samantha. Don't tell me you don't. This. All this." He opened his arms wide, closed them again. "This mess we're tangled in."
Mitchell held out his hand to Carter in invitation. "Well. I can't explain it."
Carter nodded. "The multi verse theory of quantum physics-"
"Or one of you, one of me, leading millions of possible realities...and we're in the wrong one. All of us."
"Colonel Mitchell?" Pendergast said.
"Ignore him, Colonel. Crichton, shut up, will you?"
He was standing outside a wormhole, looking down into an abyss, an infinity of places and possibilities...
Absolute engrossment is key...
Musta taken a wrong turn at Albuquerque...
"The longer we stay, the worse it'll get," John said. "The further away we get from setting this straight, the more likely we are to be stuck here forever." He turned to Mitchell. "Have you talked to your folks?" He looked at Carter. "Or yours?"
"My father's dead," Carter said.
"Yeah, so's my mother. If we don't set this right, a whole lot of other people will be too."
"What the hell does that mean?" Mitchell stepped forward, hands at his side, too near the gun on his thigh for John's taste.
"I mean something is not right. We don't have time for details."
"Oh, I think we do."
Samantha Carter slid in front of him, held out her hand to stop him. "Cam." She turned to John. "What's the last thing you remember before you crashed?"
"Trying not to die. Our Pilot...He wasn't meant to be in that pod for that long a time-"
Vala yanked on his arm, cleared her throat. He pulled away then turned, saw it: Guns pointed at him.
"Cam!" Carter said.
"What is all this?" Mitchell said. He faced the squad, his hand moving to the holster on this thigh. "Stand down."
"Sirs, we're under direct orders from General O'Neill. We're to take them into custody now."
"Like hell." John turned toward Vala, then back toward the men. Swung like an idiot.
One man grabbed his fist, twisted his arm behind him. John felt a pop, then pain through his neck and shoulder.
He squirmed, ignored the burning in his arm. Mitchell jumped into the fray, caught him by the collar.
"Goddammit, you're not helping yourself," Mitchell said. "You need to calm down."
"You need to let me go." He pulled forward, slipped out of Mitchell's grasp. Hands, guns-he kicked, caught someone in the groin as the guy doubled over. Twisted, arm on fire...tried head butt someone else in the stomach.
Vala was there, the olive green of her flight suit stark against her long dark hair. She chewed on her lip, foot tapping, brows knit with worry. She shook her head at him, but made no move to fight or flee.
He saw it right before he felt it. One bolt of blue white light. The room seemed to dust Vala's hair, face, clothes. Colors melded together like one giant trip down the rabbit hole. Mitchell's voice came from somewhere far away as he hit the deck.
He lies in a field, arms stretched out, the sun's heat radiating against his bare skin. The grass around him thick and tall. He squints against a bright blue sky.
Lazy like a summer Sunday afternoon. Nothing ahead of him but another day where he wouldn't have to worry about school, or chores, or whether his father was returning home.
Dad…dad was at the stream, fishing. Visiting grandma's house out where she knew all the neighbors by name, where they'd known his father almost from the day he was born. People she went to church with, people who brought casseroles and sat with you when someone died.
The house had meant peace and quiet, family, calm.
Lying here now, he smiles at the memories. Grateful he has the good ones to cling to, grateful that he's still able to push pass the bad.
"John." Aeryn's fingers graze his lips, reaching for the blade of grass he holds between his teeth. "What's that?"
He plucks it from his mouth and hands it to her, watches as her long black hair spills forward, covering her bare breasts.
She pinches the thick, green blade between her fingers. Examines it like she expects it to do something, then brings it to her nose, sniffs, regards it and him with a mix of curiosity and uncertainty. "Does it taste like anything?"
"Like you. It makes me happy."
Her smile lights her up, transforms her from the woman he knows to the little girl she never was. There's innocence in it, something he only sees when she smiles like that. It makes him feel like her world is entrusted in his hands. A peace and perfection to her smile that settles him.
"I never thought I'd like your planet, but I like this place." She moves her hair behind her shoulder and tucks in close to him. He's warm in his center, feels himself aroused but neither of them are in any particular hurry. They're alone, undisturbed. All the time in the world.
"My folks loved it here…Mom…this was her favorite place. We can live here. Stay here forever." He encircles her with his other arm, turns to face her and holds her in his arms.
"Grandma Crichton's." She nods against him. "The baby…the baby would like it here, I think."
"Mm-hmm." His lips have found hers; she parts them slightly, then she pulls back. He reaches out, moves strands of hair away from her face.
"I'm tired… I don't want to run anymore. I don't want to fight anymore." Her eyes look past him. Somewhere else. To someone else.
"I know." The real her, the part he can feel, the part that lights up when she looks at him…it's here in front of him.
He's tired too, tired of making messes of everything.
"The baby…" She lays her head against his chest. "The baby is yours, John."
Was that what he was waiting for? He knows this much, had finally acknowledged it and accepted it: If she was his, then every part of her was too.
He pulls her to him slowly, lips and bodies fusing.
"Aeryn…"
"John!"
He blinked. Vala's face blossomed into view. She was on her knees beside him, hands hovering over him like she was contemplating where to touch him first.
"Oh, thank God!" She sat back on her heels. "You...you've been down for quite a while."
"I-" He shook his head and struggled to get up. Stretched, felt his shoulder get pissed off in response.
"No, don't do that." She winced a little. "They just put that back together. In here. In front of me." She shuddered. "I heard a terrible pop...I...I thought they'd done something else to you. You didn't move."
His head was swimming in the images it had conjured up.
Aeryn. Earth. Home. Dad. Mom.
…Mom…?
"John?" Vala snapped her fingers in front of him. "Come on. Stay with me. What is wrong with you?"
"Someone shot me. Who the hell shot me with that thing—You?" He shook his head; it responded by pounding behind his eyes.
She shook her head. "Sam. It's a zat. Better that than the alternative. Those men had guns and they were ready to use them. You know, they'd have no compunction about shooting either of us. What were you thinking?"
"Nope. I'm done answering your questions. They put you in here for a reason."
She stood above him, hands on her hips, her smile mocking him. "Go ahead. Tell me why."
"It's a game, a way for them to gain my trust, to trick me into doing something because you look like Aeryn—" He wouldn't be fooled again.
She smirked. "Not everything's about you. Apparently in this reality, I'm quite the prize. Smuggling, thievery—I really have no idea of the extent of my crimes, though I could probably venture a pretty good guess. But I do know this. It's only through Sam's good graces and sway over the general that I'm not rotting in some cell at Area 51. And who knows how long that will last."
She crouched down next to him, whispered in his ear. "So, you're not the only one with problems, John. And you don't know everything there is to know about me."
"Fine." He held out his good arm. She grasped his wrist, helped pull him to his feet then released him. The room spun around him. He closed his eyes to steady himself.
Vala reached for him but he swatted her away. "So, if you're so valuable, how did we both end up here, together?"
"Thank Mitchell for that one. Those men—they're not necessarily under the same chain of command but he holds some sway."
"Well, lucky us. Since you're such a world class criminal, you're getting us out of here."
"To go where, exactly. We're in a ship, for heaven's sake. A ship? In space? Far from anywhere? And you said it yourself. You don't even know where all this will lead."
He scanned the room: a set of bunk beds, no toilet or sink, no footlocker. Just bunks. No matter her protests, it wasn't by accident that they'd put her in here with him. She could have gone to a separate cell easily. It would have actually made a lot more sense from O'Neill's perspective.
But O'Neill hadn't ordered them here, together. Mitchell had.
A lifeline? Or a trick.
He moved unsteadily to the lower bunk and sat down, his head in his hands. Bones, muscles-it was like he'd crashed into a wall. He moved his jaw back and forth, stretched his shoulder just a little.
"That Star Trek thing..." His hands muffled his words. "The thing you used to get me here..."
"What? Star Trek?" She paused then nodded with a grin. "Oh, right. The beaming technology. No. We're not doing that."
"But you know how."
"I know a lot of things."
"Who's watching on the other side of that camera?"
She glanced up and waved. "Colonel Mitchell, I'd imagine. Samantha's likely too busy trying to get us out of this mess."
"Can you disable it?"
"The camera?"
"Yes, the camera." His head was throbbing now, the pain in his injured jaw radiating upward.
"And what happens then? I suppose you're proposing that we take them down, one at a time, as they come through the door..." She glanced around the room. "We can unbolt the bed—no, wait. That might require tools. We can hit them with the pillows, throw the blanket over their heads—I was a thief, not a fighter. I mean, I know my way around a weapon, and I've had my share of fights but-"
He held out his hand. "I get it."
"I don't think you do." She leaned against the bed, arms crossed over her chest. "We're weaponless. Even if I could get us out of here—and, make no mistake, I probably could, given enough time-I don't have the technology at my disposal to get us where we'd want to go. Of course, the fact that this isn't my world doesn't help. I have no idea what's out there. Even I know when to regroup."
"You don't understand..."
"No? I don't understand what it's like to have your world turned upside down, to find out you may have changed the fate of a universe? And I'm not only talking about this little trip of yours." She shook her head, then sat down beside him. She stared straight ahead, pensive.
"Daniel and Teal'c," she began. "If they were sent to retrieve her, then they will retrieve her. If General O'Neill is anything like the general we know, I have no doubt he'll help us too."
"There are hell of a lot of 'ifs' in that statement."
She nodded. "Yes. Aren't there always?" She put her hand over his. "Your parents…your mother…"
"Off topic," he said. "I need to see my father."
"For what it's worth? If I were you, I'd want to see her again."
"And what good would that do? You said it. We're not supposed to be here, in any context. Tell her, 'guess what mom, I'm alive and you're dead. For real.' It doesn't work that way." He grabbed the bed post and leveraged himself to his feet. Went to the door and kicked it. The sound reverberated through the room.
"You're not going to kick down that door."
"Not if you keep yammering at me." He turned his attention back to the door.
"SG1 believes in second chances. So do I, as it happens. Is that what you need to fix?"
He glanced at her. She stared at him without guile, waiting.
"You think we have a second chance to 'fix' something. Hell, this is such a fuck up, 'fix' is an understatement. Where the hell do I start?" He turned to the door and rested his forehead against it.
He was standing at a hospital doorway, watching his mother sleep. She was fitful, her face twisted with pain as IV lines draped her body. He hadn't wanted to wake her, even when the sleep was uneven.
He knew it then, he knew it now. And he'd faced her once already to know that there was no going back. You didn't get do-overs.
He leaned against the door, looked at Vala Mal Doran. Her face held the barest trace of a smile, her eyes inviting She looked small and alone against the grey blankets.
"I let Aeryn down," he said. "She shouldn't have come with me. I let her down."
Vala shook her head. "Not yet. We're not done with this yet."
"Yeah?" He gave the door another kick. "Hard to do much when I'm sitting here locked up with a reminder."
In the pod, Aeryn standing beside Pilot. Snapping her fingers in his face, bracing herself against the console and chair, trying to kickstart him back to life. Useless, as Pilot's eyes closed...
"So, you'll just try to knock down a metal door. Is that it?" Vala stood up and went to where he stood until they were nose to nose. He tried to turn away but she grabbed his arm and held him back. He almost expected a punch to the gut. Instead, she was smiling.
"What're you doing? We need to get out of here."
"Yes. But we need a much better plan. Yours isn't doing much more than leaving scuff marks for some hapless corporal to clean up."
O'Neill didn't trust her, but apparently trusted Carter quite a bit… So far she'd copped to being an ace thief of some sort, implied that she'd broken out of something, and had enough of a history to warrant being locked up. What good was any of that to him?
As if to answer the question, she pinned him against the door, surprisingly strong, and put her mouth to his ear. "We're out of camera range, right here," she whispered.
"Yeah. There's not room for two." Her body pressed against him clouded his head.
Aeryn, always Aeryn.
"You're going to attack me. Make it look good."
"Are you nuts? Guns on the other side? Remember that detail?"
"Details!" She took his hands in hers, raised them to her chest. "Go ahead, push me." Her eyes mocked him—so you want to do something? Do it.
He pushed, harder than he'd planned. She stumbled, fell. Thudded her head on the floor. She blinked up at him in surprise. Gave him a brief nod.
He rushed to her side, fell on his knees, face near hers and his back to the camera. She grabbed his coveralls, pulled him toward her. Head butted him. Pain rattled his skull some more.
She sat up, rubbed her forehead for just a moment then knocked him to the ground. Straddled him. Smiled.
She was crazy.
Bolts clicked on the other side of the door.
"I'm very sorry about this." She slid her knee up between his legs, faster than he could respond, landing him squarely in the crotch.
Pain flamed through his gut, breath caught in his throat. She peeled off him and he rolled onto his side, curled up in the fetal position, legs weak, groin throbbing.
The door opened. Guns? It hurt to even move his head. He saw the tips of Vala's shiny black boots as someone pulled her to her feet.
"Colonel Mitchell, we have a situation." The voice was male, near his ear. "We need medical assistance."
Mitchell's voice sounded over the radio. "I saw it all. Get him to medical, right now. I'll deal with Vala."
The men grabbed him under each arm and hauled him up. He wasn't sure where to hurt first—balls, shoulder, head. He shuffled between the two men, his eyes on her as she waved at him, a satisfied smile on her face.
The men escorted him through corridors, half dragging him until they reached what looked like a medical facility. They dropped him onto a gurney, explaining to the person on duty that John had taken one in the balls.
"I'll take care of him, Sergeant," she said. "But you'll be right outside?"
The Sergeant nodded. "Yes, ma'am."
"I'm sure we'll be fine." She turned to John. "Right?"
"Sure."
The Sergeant left them alone. John lay on the gurney. The room had a series of beds but he was the only occupant. The throb in his groin had subsided a little.
"I guess that was one way to get out of the cell," she said. She extended a small hand, surprisingly strong when he shook it. "Dr. Janet Frasier," she said. "John, is it?"
"Yeah." He moved to sit up.
"Lie back, please."
"I'm good. I need to see Mitchell or Carter."
"Let's get this taken care of first."
He lay back, stared at the grey ceiling as she examined him. He winced at the pain in his shoulder; she left his private parts alone, thank god.
"Vala," he began. "She gonna be okay?"
Maybe there's something you need to fix.
"Vala Mal Doran is lucky she's up here and not in Area 51," Frasier said. "She'll be fine."
SG1 believes in second chances…
Think, Johnny boy.
Second chances.
My folks loved it here…Mom…this was her favorite place. We can live here. Stay here forever
Her space/time signature will be familiar.
Powerful.
Mom's ring on Aeryn's finger.
The ring. Lost.
Aeryn. Lost.
Mom. Lost.
Mom's ring on Aeryn's finger.
Dammit, Einstein!
Fear. Fear is the answer.
What are you afraid of, Johnny?
"Oh, god," he said.
Frasier stepped back, concern creasing her brow. "What is it?"
He shook his head. "I need to see Carter. I think I know." He laid the backs of his hands over his eyes. "Please. I'm good. Just let me see Carter."
"All right…Just...just don't go anywhere." Frasier turned and stepped away.
He closed his eyes.
He stands on the ice floe, the area around him shrinking fast, just enough room for both his feet, and only if he holds very still…
No room for error.
Your next journey - may lead - to a permanent…
To a permanent...
To a permanent unrealized reality.
"I understand." He said it out loud. "Do you hear that, old man? I understand."