Chapter 10

John stood to the back, looking over the crowd. The dinner had been in progress for almost an hour, yet up until now he had not taken any notice of the proceedings. Instead he had been scanning the crowd; trying to look as formidable as possible. He had spotted Rodney earlier – indeed, it had been impossible to miss him, as the scientist had actually waved at him to draw his attention.

His attention shifted now to the podium as the president of some little African country stood up. He was smartly dressed and perfectly black. Most people of colour (African-Americans, whatever) were shades of brown – authors usually described their skin colour in shades of coffee or chocolate. Well, this guy would then be espresso-coloured – espresso without the creamy foam on top. But what really drew the attention was not his dramatic colouring, but the cold, cruel pig-eyes sunk in vast amounts of fat. In fact, John had no idea how the pretty woman standing next to him – hey, probably the one Rodney had spoken about earlier – could so calmly shake his hand and smile at him. But the dark-haired woman seemed serene as she smiled at the crowd. Actually, there was something about her that drew his attention; that fascinated him.

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Elizabeth smiled at the terrorist, accepting what turned out to be a gold nugget. She shook his hand and felt revulsion burning in her throat. Yet she did all that was required while smiling at the cameras, keeping in mind that this was an international dinner; covered by international media. If there was one way to get a message – even a silent one – to all those she needed to reach, this was it.

She nodded once more and Radek – on queue – stood up and came to fetch her at the podium.

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John watched as an Einstein-haired man stood up and made his way towards the podium, suddenly realising the he was the lady's date for the evening.

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Elizabeth smiled her first real smile as she watched Radek making his way through the crowd. He was one of the smartest men she knew, as well as sweet and considerate. But he was really not comfortable in a suit and tie.

As he reached a point roughly halfway between their seats and the podium, a deafening noise filled the air for only a moment before searing white pain flashed through her body and mind.

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For another moment John's eyes returned to the podium. The woman was smiling at the wild-haired man with a kind of tenderness John envied him. But in that moment an incredible explosion shook the room: a bomb had gone off beneath the podium.

People screamed and the noise of falling debris was almost as loud as that of the initial explosion. Those still able to move were running for the exits, helped along by the security and Air Force officers. But instinct picked John from the ground, where the force of the explosion had thrown him, and propelled him to where the podium had been only seconds ago. He stumbled over broken furniture and pieces of fallen ceiling. Underfoot glass crunched as he made his way inexorably forward with no regard for personal safety.

Finally he reached the point of the explosion. Already the African body-guards were helping their fallen leader to safety. It seemed that though he had been cut by the debris, he was fine. But there was another body lying crumpled amidst the fallen pieces of the podium.

He pulled away a piece of the ceiling partially covering the body. She lay on her front, her head turned to the side. Yet he could not see her face, as her dark hair covered it.

He kneeled next to her, quickly checking for any signs of injury. When he didn't find any, he carefully turned her over. She appeared to be around his age, with dark hair and delicate features. She was unconscious, yet even so he could see a determination etched on her face. Somehow she seemed painfully familiar.

It was only then that he noticed a long, silver scar on her cheek. It should have subtracted from her beauty, but it did not.

The woman stirred and he suddenly knew that her eyes would be green. Sad green eyes. Yes, she would have sad green eyes. Somehow, though he had never seen her before, her eyes had been haunting his life for over twenty years now.

And then she did open her eyes...

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Elizabeth looked at the man leaning over her. She knew him. It was almost as if her thoughts had clarified for the first time in her life, and that which arose from the clarity was the undeniable knowledge that everything Radek had said was true. Everything they had talked about and dreamed about really did happen. And that this man was true.

She smiled. "John?" she asked, but it wasn't really a question.

The man looked stricken. But as the Air Force man his uniform claimed him to be – as well as what she now knew – he pulled his emotions together. "Yes," he replied. "Do I know you?"

She felt tired and cold, but somehow that seemed insignificant compared to having finally found him. She shook her head. "No. But I've been looking for you," she told him. As she looked into his green eyes, she suddenly felt hot tears turning to ice on her face. Why was she crying? She had found the man she had been looking for all her life: she had found John.

For just a moment she closed her eyes as the light suddenly burned them. But it did not matter; everything will be all right now. All the hurt and sorrow of the past seemed to slip away on a tide of peace.

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As she opened her eyes, he felt the answers he had been looking for all his life in her gaze. Her eyes focussed on his as she smiled. And then she called his name.

For a heartbeat his world came to an end. Her eyes were so sad he felt his heart breaking; yet she was smiling. Sad green eyes...

"Do I know you?" he wondered out loud. But as she knew him, so did he know her.

If he had thought her sad green eyes could tear at his heart, then the peace that came over her as she spoke again was enough to drive any man to his knees. "No," she said on a whisper. "But I've been looking for you."

For a moment her green gaze locked with his and he could see all of his future and relived all of his past through her eyes. Then her eyes closed on a smile.

Suddenly afraid she was gone; he took her in his arms. He held her head close to his shoulder with one hand; with the other he stroked her hair. Desperately he wanted to call to her, but he did not even know her name.

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She felt warm breath on her face and she forced her eyes to open. It was John; holding her. She tried to reach up to him; to wipe the sorrow from his eyes, but she did not have enough strength to lift her arm.

Instead she did the only thing she could. For a last time her eyes locked onto his. "Thank you for finding me," she told him.

Gently he shook her. "Don't go," he pleaded with her. "Not now that we've just found one another."

She only smiled. "I've loved you for so long," she whispered. Every breath now was a battle of its own. "I will love you again on Atlantis," she promised as the world faded.

The sound of tearing metal; followed by the silence of eternity. Then, out of the darkness, the light of birth...

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"I will love you on Atlantis," she whispered. Then the sad green eyes closed one last time and he actually felt the life leaving her body. He pulled her closer: so close it hurt. But then, his heart had broken on her whisper.

Part of him wanted to scream and shake her: beg her to come back; demand doctors to restore her life.

Instead he gently kissed her eyes. I will love you on Atlantis, he heard her final words echo in his mind. "On Atlantis," he promised; having no idea what that meant yet feeling absolutely sure that was how it was meant to be.

How long he must have sat like that he did not know: long enough for another to join them, though.

"It was supposed to be different," a strange voice softly said. John looked up at the strange man that had been this lady's date. Aside from a few abrasions, the man had survived the explosion intact.

"Who was she?" John asked. His heart might know her, but his mind could not supply a name.

The man kneeled next to them; on the other side of the woman he still held in his arms. Carefully John lay her down on the dust en debris. The stranger with the strange accent touched her hair.

"Her name was Elizabeth Weir." For a few seconds the man stayed silent. Then he looked up at John and smiled wryly. "You are her John, no?" he asked. "The one she has been looking for?"

Looking down once more, John nodded. "What happened here?" he asked of the stranger.

The man shrugged. "Destiny," he said; aware John wasn't referring to the explosion, but to the strange encounter.

Another presence joined them: Rodney.

No, not just Rodney, but another man as well. This man had light brown hair combed into a Mohawk and a gentle face. He seemed familiar, somehow. As familiar as the man with the strange accent.

"Oh, dear," the newest arrival said in a thick Scottish brogue. He reached down towards Elizabeth. "Let me see, I'm a doctor," he assured them.

But John knew it was too late: his hands were covered in blood. And indeed, the doctor pushed away her jacket to reveal an immense gash in her chest: the red of blood lost on the black of the jacket, but bright against the white silk of her top.

The three of them looked down at Elizabeth. What could one say in a moment like this? What was there that could ever make this moment right again?

"It was supposed to be different," the Czech – for John knew that was the accent – softly told them. He reached slightly into her top, but just as John wanted to protest, the man withdrew his hand. Trailing from his fingers was a gold chain that he carefully lifted over her head. He handed it to John. Now the piece of gold – still warm from her skin – lay cooling in his palm. The Czech pointed at the symbol on the pendant. "That is the point of origin," he cryptically said. He tapped it once more. "That is earth."

Then he turned the pendant over to reveal another symbol: this one so familiar it nearly took John's breath away. The wild-haired man pointed at it. "And that is Atlantis," he said the same moment John breathed the name himself. Atlantis. This was what she had meant: I will love you on Atlantis. Somewhere out there was a city they both loved yet had never seen: a city where they should have lived their lives.

John closed his hand around the pendant as he got up. He looked down at the dead woman.

"Goodbye, Elizabeth," he whispered. But it was more than just her he would be leaving behind on the cold floor.