A/N: Now, I'm saying the disclaimer first before I spew out bulletins. Consider yourselves lucky that you get mentioned first TPTB because I own nothing. That's right, nothing. Well, I'd like to say I stake no claim to Natalia and Arthur. But I can't.
Anyway, first of all - I've been chosen for the final anthology in a poetry competition! It isn't always my forte and tends to work differently depending on what tools I'm using. But I'm quite happy about it.
Secondly, I've entered a 100-Day Challenge (500 words per day and one grace day every ten days). The rules only allow one piece to be worked on and it must be finished before another can contribute to the word count. And this, of my four stories, is the closest to completion.
And, last but not least, my computer needs antivirus. It had one that expired yesterday and will need a new one. So I'm using my iPad/iPhone for the majority of the net and Skype, and my mother's laptop (I'm typing with it now) for ease of writing. It shouldn't be long before I have one and it shouldn't affect this, anyway.
Anyway, there's Sparky in section three but some plot development too. So it shouldn't kill you if you're not a huge fan. And the last line of the last section is Sam/Jack. Ish. Now, enjoy and sorry for the long A/N.
"Argh. For Christ's sake!" A fractured groan escaped John's throat and he stretched out. Stray gunk had collected in the corner of his eyes as he slept, like a roadblock to his sight. He flicked the blockage away with one finger then stood, placing a barrier between the sun and his sight. His steps were sluggish, vision bleary. Then he came to a staggering halt, his body crushed against solid rock. A second complaint left his lips.
I forgot the damn boulder, he cursed. I'll forget my head next, never mind what I put over trapdoors.
Peeling himself off the mass, he sensed a presence nearby - Ronon stood behind him (and, if he was honest, the Satedan didn't look any better than he felt).
"Sleep well?" Ronon huffed, shaking his limbs like he was trying to roll the bad feeling off.
"No. I kept thinking about..." John, with his throat in a knot, nodded towards the entrance to the hollow. "I think I saw something but it can't...it can't be real. I've been trying to ignore it but it's not as easy as it is with back pain."
Companionable silence fell. It had a certain amount of solemnity that some would say they weren't capable of. Violence and childish behaviour, that was all they were. Ronon patted his shoulder and pushed at the rock, before he leaned back against it. Still light-headed, Sheppard joined him; the firm surface wasn't the most comfortable, though it seemed to do the job.
The planet - whatever its name was - turned out to have beautiful weather despite the wild undergrowth. Some shade of orange melded with a cool blue at the horizon, falling into the treeline. Each colour soothed the men as they let time pass, until Ronon's stomach rumbled and both realised that reclining wouldn't help.
"Normally, I'd go straight for the meat. But, after the past few meals, I think I'll look for something else," Ronon commented as they weaved in between the trees. His companion snorted in agreement.
"Honestly, I don't blame you. I think I saw a half-decent berry bush on the way up here last night," he replied in a lazy tone. "If we ever get bored and the jumpers don't work, there's a chance they might be poisonous."
For that, he received a firm thump in the arm. Yet the grin on his face only grew while they stumbled downhill towards the bush.
"So, berries. Strawberries." John added the last part upon seeing the shape of the fruit. Their colour was a little off, tinged pink. "Still berries so I was right."
"You sound like McKay," Ronon scoffed, looking around and pulling several leaves from a tree. John watched him fiddling with them for a moment, then he produced a wafer-thin look-a-like of a basket. "Used to make these on Sateda. It's not much but it's..."
"Home?" The startled look told him he'd hit the spot. "I guess we all miss things."
As he spoke, the knot returned to his throat and left him unable to say anything until Ronon had finished picking the bush (almost) bare. His gut made the cave so enticing but his heart didn't want to follow, apprehension had clouded it. Ronon tugged at his sleeve and he began to march after him.
And if it's not her? If there's nothing and I'm dragged back to Atlantis. I'll be the man who let his heart rule his damn head. Fury built up inside him. He barely registered the hand on his shoulder and the gruff request to find materials for a shelter. Tired feet carried a troubled mind into the endless throng of trees. He could see his own tear tracks, distorting any trace of him.
If only he'd looked for the trace of it.
"Meals like this. It's happening way too often." Teyla shook her head, staring down into the green jello on her plate. It just so happened to be the only colour that was being served that day; no one was quite sure whether the food was getting worse or it was just the morale.
"Did you say something, Teyla?" Daniel glanced up from his porridge with a hopeful face, but the Athosian dismissed it with the wave of a hand and she could see the man deflate. Beside him, Sam scowled.
"We can't not talk about this, it's driving me mad," she ground out, much to the surprise of the others around the table. Some turned to their meals, and Rodney used one hand to type something into his tablet and the other to shovel cereal into his mouth. However, Teyla placed her cutlery down with a sharp click.
"You're right. I'm disappointed, to say the least - even Richard managed to co-exist with the people of Atlantis. And she somehow can't find a way."
Perched at the end of the table, Jennifer cut in (her eyes were wide), "How can you just be 'disappointed'? I wasn't even there and I'm appalled! It's disgusting." Her features morphed to reflect it, as if smelling something repugnant. Those who were paying attention could tell her stomach was somersaulting by the wild look in her eyes and the hysterical pitch in her voice.
"Well done, Miss Obvious," Jack commented, having been quiet until then. Angry blue eyes turned on him.
"What's gotten your underwear in a twist?" came the biting reply from the Astrophysicist. A few seconds passed and she became worried that he didn't bounce right back with something like: 'Carter, I didn't know you kept an eye on my underwear'. Instead, he gave a half-hearted excuse.
"Me and Danny-boy have a plan," Daniel looked sheepish, "and we're kind of being ignored here."
Rodney raised an eyebrow, indignant look on his face, topped by an open mouth. And, just as he was about to dish out a retort, Teal'c gave him a silencing look then nodded towards Jack.
"We keep talking about a rebellion like someone else is going to start it and we can just jump on the bandwagon. Not going to happen," he took a deep breath, signalling that his tirade wasn't quite finished yet, "so we've got to figure something out. Rally round, she can't monitor our quarters and wouldn't dare sink as low as visiting our labs. Or here, actually."
"So, that's your plan?" Jennifer was poised, arms crossed and incredulous expression on display.
"Well, no..." Daniel took the defensive, leaping into the conversation. "There are practical plans too. Our priorities are getting her out of the way and making sure nobody has to leave. That's why we want to do it in one week's time."
Teyla nodded in approval, biting her lip. She inquired quietly, "And John and Ronon?"
"Don't worry, we can take a jumper and bring them back. Can't we, Jack?" That look was back, so meaningful. The man in question just an uttered a 'sure'. To that, Teyla sighed.
If we're Atlantis' only hope, then its hope is...lacking.
In retrospect, pulling splinters out of his hands shouldn't have helped at all. Yet John found that his pulse had finished running a marathon by the seventh. There were puncture wounds dotted about his palms, needle-like in nature but far too big to realistically be so. Regardless, they didn't betray him as he pushed aside the boulder to disappear below the surface. As he pulled away and breathed in - tiny red specks were left were his hands had been - his trouser leg ruffled.
"Wait a minute..." He gulped. "There's no wind."
Shaking his head, he returned to moving the entrance cover. It rolled away and came to stop a few yards away. His arm swiped at the sweat building up on his forehead... Then paused midway when the scratching started. Sharp. Monotonous. John swallowed again and the back of his throat burned with dehydration. Noise seemed to be coming from all directions: down from the canopy, up from the undergrowth and in the midst trees that encompassed him.
If I just go to get Ronon, we can leave, he told himself. One foot, a slight crunching of sediment. More steps followed, so did the confidence. Maybe it had disappeared.
Then pain seared through him; a dead weight sent him barrelling towards the throng of bark. Friction slowed him before he skidded to a halt in front of the trunks.
And I thought splinters were bad... He would've stayed in the foetal position until Ronon got back, but the 'dead weight's eyes were seeking him out. Damn.
John flung himself onto his feet, darting forward and throwing open the trapdoor - of course, the typical thing had to snap shut again and the growling noise from his attacker grew louder.
Down into the tunnel, his feet carried him towards the laboratory. The machines came into view and his eyes searched the room for aid. Trays, gloves and tiny little devices that he wasn't even aware existed. None of the surfaces had hiding spaces underneath because piles of drawers were blocking the way. Completely useless against the fast-approaching enemy. Then it hit him - no, not the creature.
He stepped forward and swept one hand over a compartment. An obnoxious tone sounded. With a frown, he tried again. There it was again.
If you're another version of Windows... he thought, rapping his knuckles against it. Next, he hooked his fingers into the gap that had been created by its minimalistic design. Paw echoes bounced off the walls. He checked behind him... A pin-prick claw could be seen creeping around the corner. John frantically hammered down on the drawers, almost blind of his actual mission. The animal's jaws drew apart, its lethal teeth were bared and strings of saliva ran from edge to edge. He backed away as it prowled forwards.
One feint and his pace increased. Another and his ankle jammed into the corner of a work station. The third and he staggered back, making contact with the cold ground. All of sudden, he was level with the feral beast - it occurred to him, at that point, that size did matter. Soon, he found his back pressed up against a pod.
And then it leapt.
He expected it to hurt, he expected his poor attempt at rolling out of the way would fail and he expected his head to spin (he'd be light, floating away)... None of that happened. Instead, when one of his eyes opened, all he saw were sparks. Taking no time to observe how they fit with the room's colour scheme, he shuffled away from them and sat up.
A choked gasp escaped his throat when he caught sight of his rival's fate; it had blundered through the glass, smacked into the back wall and blown through that. From the neck up, its body had fused with the exposed wiring. Its crimson-mottled fur seemed to bristle and the limbs it covered twitched intermittently. Cracks were starting to show in the technology, growing larger while he scrambled to his feet. The strategic soldier, who somehow turned his hands into bona fide clawing machines, kicked in. Fortunately, the glass came away without much resistance so he could seize the body inside. He hauled it onto the central table and stared down. The face that looked back made him stop.
"Elizabeth..." The words were tender. He was frozen, except for the hand that reached out in slow motion. His palm rested against the skin of her cheek. "You're real aren't you, you have to be... You have to be real."
The cold sensation her flesh gave off reminded him of just how real it was as she slipped away from him. Yet he still couldn't move. Footsteps. He stood there. Yelling. The hand against her cheek only switched positions. Someone saying his name. A hand on his shoulder followed.
"Sheppard?" John snapped out of it and glanced at Ronon. "Sheppard, what are you..."
The other man's eyes fell on Elizabeth's body. He looked back up at John for only a moment, before he grabbed him by the arm and pushed him.
"Come on, look for something. I'll take this side of the room," he ordered, hardly reaching the Colonel through the thundering of his heart. John began to swipe around and throw aside insignificant pieces of metal. "Wait, hang on."
He turned and Ronon was stood in front of Elizabeth's pod, staring up at a purple patch above the 'door'. Its contents seemed to be flowing then, before Sheppard could do anything to counter it, he picked up a tool (along with something reminiscent of a petri dish) and impaled the barrier. He stuck his head inside as the liquid gushed into the container, before re-emerging with a sharpened mechanism.
"So they inject them when they're ready to wake up..." John acknowledged. Ronon pushed the equipment into his shaking hands.
"You have to do this. Come on." The Satedan patted his shoulder and he approached the unconscious form. Gentle fingers pressed the soft skin, stretched it and built his worry over her icy hands. One of them laid in his, slack-muscled. Then the implement pierced her dermis.
Her reaction, unlike a cinematic one, wasn't instantaneous; she laid there, a limb twitched, an eyelid fluttered and (finally) a rasp escaped her.
Her eyes are exactly like they used to be, and he didn't push the thoughts away. Reassuringly, warming fingers clamped around his.
"John," she whispered, her gaze focused only on him. Tears began to seep out of the corner of her eye and he pulled her to him. He poured everything he could into the embrace - his fear, his joy, his exhaustion and his relief at being able to hold her. At long last. When she drew back, they held each other at a comfortable distance and he watched her sweep them away.
"Hey... Me and Ronon, we came... I had to find you." Elizabeth nodded, halting his ragged breathes with a gentle caress of his hand.
"I didn't even know I was lost," she replied, with an odd shiver. It was almost as if she was unnerved to be there. She looked between the two of them, frowning, and then gave John a curious look. "You're not here officially, are you?"
"No," Ronon admonished. "Things have changed on Atlantis, a lot. Nowhere near how it was when Woolsey was around."
"He's not really a circling wolf anymore. If I'm honest, he's been accepted as 'one of us' in most people's books." John gave her a meaningful glance.
Then he saw her eyes flit over to the decimated pod. The corpse was still hanging from the breach, a tiny fizzle of energy making its appearance every now and then. John shrugged and Elizabeth mirrored the action. It was probably a story for another time, especially as a stored yawn possessed her. Without verbal conversation, she somehow bid them goodnight and laid back on the surface.
"Shut down the system," she noted and gestured in the direction of a button on the side of her pod, turning onto her side. It was positioned in a depression in the material and had the same baffling symbols beneath it. Then, when she sensed their confused looks, she added, "I can read the label. Why? I can't..."
Elizabeth swallowed. That was something new.
The next day brought about the first stage of preparation - for those leaving, of course. In the minds of those who'd been at that decisive lunch, it was disheartening to know the rebellion hadn't even started and spirit was already lost. An Athosian family were spread out in the gate room. The couple, who appeared to be in their thirties, were making quiet arrangements with one of the Gate technicians while the elder woman balanced an oblivious child on her frail hips. Their sons chased each other up and down the steps, riotous and loud. Listening to their shouts echoing about the Gateroom, Daniel sighed and hunched forwards.
I guess this is why people like this place - lots of balconies to lean on, he mused. A scolding call came from the stations yet the boys carried on.
"I don't blame them," he mumbled, only just audible. Without so much as a greeting, Jack came into view beside him.
"Don't blame who?" he asked. His hair was mussed, his clothes were disorganised and grey had snaked into his eyelids. The archaeologist gave him a knowing smile (or at least something close) then nodded towards the children.
"Those kids. They're getting kicked out of their home but they still try to be happy. I can't really blame them for going mad with it, either. Know what I mean?" As his sentence finished, Jack pulled at his shoulder and began to walk away from the scene; one of the boys had sat down, looking sombre-faced.
"Walk and talk. It'll just put you off, you'll be in pieces by the time we make our move and I'll have to act all caring in front of other people. Sounds bad, right?" He grinned and gave Daniel a smug look when the man in question chuckled. Something in him lifted at the comfortable jesting stance. It felt normal, like they were back in the SGC and making new discoveries each day. "Anyway, have you talked to anyone yet? About..."
"I have. A couple that migrated here when their planet was damaged and one of Atlantis' other teams got permission to bring them back. Apparently, it was in the first year," Daniel explained. His companion nodded, realising that they'd have particular resistance if they'd been accepted 'without clearance'.
Upon gaining a slightly more long-term perspective of the technological city, both men had realised that (if at all necessary) the population boiled down to three types of people: the kind that were loyal to the majority and would fight beside in a revolt, those who didn't actually want to choose and the people who would back 'Natalia's lot'. Whatever their reasons were.
"By the way, Jack, I get the feeling there's something wrong with you and Sam. What happened?" He glanced over at O'Neill and saw him watching his feet.
"Daniel, you know what? I've been asking myself the same question for a long time."
A/N: Let me know what you thought. :P If I don't reply to reviews, it's either because I truly am busy in real life or other sites have eaten me. Here's the recap:
John and Ronon have a brief conversation about home and set off to get breakfast, but something is after John.
An awkward meal leads to Jack and Daniel sharing their plan to go after their missing colleagues.
John is attacked by a strange creature, is chased into the lab by it and manages to defeat it via electrocution. In the process, he discovers an unconscious Elizabeth Weir and rushes to revive her.
Jack and Daniel talk about the rebellion but the latter steers the conversation towards Jack's relationship with Sam...