Chapter 11: Little Izzy

Sure. See you girls at home. Jack.

Carter let loose a breath she had not realised she was holding as she read the text message on her cell phone, angling the screen carefully away so as to make sure that Lexy did not catch sight of the conversation. She was grateful that Jack had not asked questions, merely agreed when she had sent him a fervent message, asking him if he minded cooking a barbecue tonight. It wasn't so much she feared he would say no – Jack thoroughly enjoyed setting fire to steaks on the rickety old barbecue in the garden – but more that she did not need him to act surprised when they showed up home laden with supplies.

Blood roared in her ears and she shifted in her seat as they approached the junction she had been dreading; the one where everything would become clear to Lexy and she would be on red-alert. A default setting for the young girl because she thought the whole universe was out to get her, everybody had a second agenda and she had to constantly fight for approval from those she refused to admit mattered.

Carter tapped the brakes, the car sliding to a graceful halt at the lights. She took a breath and paid studious attention to the traffic milling in front of her. Levering her foot off the brake and onto the clutch as she shifted gear before slipping it back again when the lights turned green. She twirled the steering wheel beneath her palms to the left. It was in that moment that Lexy had figured out where she was being taken; blue eyes darkened and fixed Carter with a steady gaze that slowly turned into a scowl of disapproval and Lexy's head whipped round so hard Carter was surprised it didn't hurt.

Carter gripped the steering wheel even tighter, the leather creaked beneath her fingers and the sweat beading on her palms was cold and clammy and felt not-at-all pleasant against the soft, sleek fabric. A heavy sigh from next to her almost had her smiling, which in turn made the teen even more infuriated. It was… normal. For a moment, a split second in a world that hadn't made sense in over a decade it was normal; Lexy was just a teenage girl who objected strongly to one thing or another as most teenagers do. She was just the Godmother who had been left to look after the girl for the afternoon.

"Why've you brought me here?" Lexy's voice shook as they pulled up, but Carter did not falter as she took the keys from the ignition and turned to face the young woman next to her.

"Because you need to see them," she was amazed at how her voice did not crack as she spoke; she had her own, less than pleasant memories of this place.

"See what?" Lexy snapped dangerously "there's nothing to see here but stones! It's a fucking cemetery," her tone was that Carter recognized, one usually reserved for mentions of Adria, facing down enemies and being sickeningly polite to the senior officers of the Stargate program who were less than supportive of Lexy's tactics in battle.

"Lexy," Carter's eyes narrowed "don't," she warned, not bothering to elaborate as to what it was Lexy was supposed to stop doing.

Lexy looked as if she was going to say something but instead she only blinked and looked out the window resolutely, Tense as a live wire as her body set itself ready for flight because when Lexy could not fight she ran, and now, it was as if all the fight was slowly slipping away from her, leaving her inexcusably powerless.

Carter winced as the slam of her car door reverberated in the silence, a breeze picked up and lifted stray strands of her hair into her face, and she tucked it back absently. Tapping on the passenger window and smiling in what she hoped was an encouraging manner at the girl inside. She had to be light and pleasant, she could not back down on this and if she let herself empathize then they would be back in the Vauxhall in a second and on their way back to the house without another word spoken.

With what Lexy was aiming to be a put upon sigh she climbed out of the car, fists clenching and unclenching at her sides. She did not look at her Godmother as she shut the door and stalked away, her boots crunching on the gravel. Carter shook her head, locked the car and followed, observing for only a moment her Goddaughter's choice in clothing; how anyone could claim that leather pants that close fitting could be comfortable she would never know.

Carter picked up her pace when she saw Lexy had stopped by the wrought iron gates that guarded the public footpath into the graveyard. It was bizarre. Lexy could reassemble and load any weapon put in front of her in record time but ask her to walk into the cemetery a few blocks away and she froze, fear flickered across her face far more prominently than if she were facing down entire troops of Adria's soldiers. It would seem the girl's anger would only fuel her so far; no power in this galaxy or the next had the force to push her through those gates. The tremors that were shivering through her body were no longer of fury, and Carter wished they could both put them down to the gentle breeze that flicked through the trees looming over the entrance, but that was not legitimately possible.

"C'mon," Carter touched her elbow lightly and felt a pang in her chest when Lexy visibly jumped and flinched away.

"I think I'll just wait in the car," her voice faltered but the determination in her eyes was like twin flames, she was trying so hard it hurt; going through those gates was impossible and she should know what was and wasn't possible because she'd grown up in the Stargate program, she'd been educated by the best of the best; impossible was not a word allowed to make frequent appearance because very little was anymore.

Carter caught her wrist easily, "no,"

What little fight still existed seemed to fall from the girl in a sheet, and Carter's grip slid from her wrist to her hand. Slim fingers curling loosely around her Godmother's palm in a fear-filled grip she could not relinquish as she was led over to a far corner of the graveyard, a tall sycamore tree looming over two granite markers, cared for and clear of all debris that littered the various graves around them. The walk was too fast, bringing her to a halt too soon. She couldn't do this.

"No," Lexy said stubbornly, coming to a halt and tensing so hard it was as if bones were about to shatter throughout her body, "no," fear laced her voice and panic was rising in her chest, she couldn't do this… not now, not ever, "I'm going back," she turned to go, panic was rising in her chest, clawing at her from the inside out, it hurt and it scared her even more than she could not handle that.

"Lexy-"

"No!" her tone was as sharp as a whip-crack, she whirled back round after only a few steps "what do you want me to do?" she gestured to the stones, voice hoarse with unshed tears and livid fury she could not rid herself of, "they're just lumps of rock, there's nothing underneath them, there's no one there to talk to!"

Carter gripped her shoulders firmly, refusing to yield even when Lexy struggled profusely and a few choice phrases were muttered under her breath, "let go of me," she whispered dangerously, her eyes were stinging but she would not cry, she couldn't… she didn't remember the last time she'd been able.

"I'm not going to do that," Carter breathed, hoping desperately her pseudo calm would ebb into the teen.

"Please Aunt Sam," she begged, refusing to look at the gravestones but at the same time unable to prevent her eyes from dancing over to glimpse them; a morbid fascination that poisoned her, even as she was determined not to yield to the venom that was slowly ripping her apart from the inside.

Carter didn't budge, "when was the last time you came here?" she asked softly, her calm surprising her almost as much as Lexy's reaction; she had expected a refusal, but not this, not hysteria... how long had she been running?

Lexy shook her head, curls falling into her face and she did not shake them away "it doesn't matter,"

"When Lexy?"

"I don't know!" she burst out in an angry, tear-filled haze, tugging her hair behind her ears "I don't know and I don't… please let me go… I'll wait in the car," the tears over flowed, coursing down her cheeks in slick, silvery patterns, Carter wiped them away with her thumb as she cupped Lexy's face in her hands, even as more fell to replace them.

"You won't talk to them, so at least try and pay your respects to their graves,"

Lexy shook her head, there were so many answers to that statement but it was all getting tangled up in her head, the resounding answer to every question was no. Don't falter, don't break. You can't stumble because you'll fall, you can't err because then you won't win and God forbid you should lose.

Carter pulled back; releasing the teenager with the same wary alertness as one would use when dealing with a particularly vicious cat. She kissed her Goddaughter's forehead quickly before moving away, giving her room to talk… or what ever it was Lexy needed to do.

She started walking, unsure as to where but made sure she stayed in sight of the markers of the Jackson graves. Keeping her head down she was able to keep half an eye on her God-daughter, her heart going out to the young woman as Lexy stood, frozen where Carter had left her, arms wrapped around her waist in that eerily familiar self-hug. She saw Lexy glance at the stones, shying almost visibly away even though her feet refused to budge Unable to watch any longer, Carter tore her eyes away, and kept walking, her feet moving faster than her brain for once and by the time she was aware of where she was it were too late for her to move away; as if her own conscience had gotten the better of herself also. With her feet planted firmly in front of a small marble grave stone, Carter found her eyes dancing over the black writing that was bold and prominent: 'Isobel Jeannie Mckay, May 16 2013 – May 16 2013' then the line beneath in smaller text but just as proud 'Beloved Daughter'.

Carter's eyes were drawn to the palm sized stuffed bear sat at the foot of the stone and she crouched down, gently plucking the little card the bear was holding and opening it with a sad smile on her face. 'Missing you always,' she read Rodney's handwriting with the practised ease of someone who was accustomed to reading illegible scrawl 'love mommy and daddy xx.'

"Sam!"

The voice is familiar and she finds herself trying to respond, groaning when she manages to move and even that tiny motion sends spirals of pain pounding through her head.

"Sam!"

Her eyes flicker open and she winces as the light over head sparks before cutting out completely and a light from further down the corridor illuminates the face floating hazily in front of her with a soft glow.

"Are you okay?" his hand ghosts over her forehead in borderline professionalism and the other clasps one of her own firmly, convulsively squeezing it in his sweat-slicked palm.

"Rodney?" she whispers, pushing herself to sit up and doing so somewhat sluggishly. She frowns at him and touches the back of her head tenderly; a swelling the size of a golf ball is sensitive to touch and has her hissing in pain, the blood matting her hair is sticky on her fingers as she pulls them away.

"Can we have a medic over here please?" Rodney calls out into the empty corridor, his usual impatient tone of voice tainted only slightly by concern.

"I'm fine," she says, voice barely more than a whisper as she begrudgingly accepts his help to get to her feet, shaking as she does so.

His eyes narrow critically, "you need to get to the infirmary,"

She shakes her head, "nuh uh," she responds stubbornly, "I need…" she loses her trail of thought, her whole body is coursing with a dull fire and panic settles in her gut as she realises that this hell might not yet be over "where'd Adria go?"

"She's gone," Rodney answers stonily, putting her arm over his shoulder and the other around her waist.

"As in…?"

Rodney nods, unable to stop the smile that spread across his face in hysterical elation, because they'd done it, once more team Sheppard and Mckay have managed to pull another miracle out of their asses and they've managed to push her back long enough for them to… There is no fixing this, he knows that, the mountain is half destroyed, the damage is so severe they hadn't been able to activate the self-destruct and the bodies are piling up fast; the smell of blood is thick and acidic in the air; "we won,"

She feels a sudden wash of exhaustion hit her, "how?" she asks breathily, needing to no more before the imminent crash. They've all be awake for… how long now? She can't remember, it's hard to comprehend a time before the resounding crashes and explosions, the terror that filled the halls and the screams that echoed down the corridors, filling every room, the panicked cries over radios for back up they were never going to get.

"I don't know," he answers almost tensely, because he can't claim this one, he doesn't want too, he approved the idea, astonishingly he had been able to use what was left of the computer systems to provide a distraction long enough for Sheppard to send the nukes through the 'gate, he'd made the iris creak shut, quivering alongside the giant naquada ring it was housed in before the explosions ricocheted off the just-barely-closed trinium shield, "some tactical plan of Sheppard's. I didn't ask," he's lying, and he knows his wife will figure it out soon, but he doesn't know if he can handle her looking at him with the same disgust he can feel curling in the back of his head that he does not want to acknowledge, just for a few more minutes, if that's all he gets, he wants them to be devoid of all guilt-eliciting stares that will haunt both himself and Sheppard for the rest of their lives.

Sam smiles to herself, that would be Rodney speak for 'I asked, didn't like it, we argued and he won', or at least that's what she lets herself think. Rodney can't lie, or he can, he's just awful at it, something is going on, there's something more to that 'tactical plan' but now is not the time to ask, for now she will share his delight… vertigo tips her world on an axis, sending it spiralling in blurred colours around her head "that's…" she stumbles and caught her feet harshly, she tells herself it's exhaustion or a minor concussion, nothing to worry about, she does not want to think about anything else "that's great," a bit of an understatement but – she stumbles again.

"Woah," he says, shifting his hold "I'm not carrying you anywhere so stay awake," even as he speaks, his grip grows slightly tighter and the hand around her waist strokes her stomach absently, the warmth resonating from his palm is reassuring.

"She was moving earlier," Sam whispers as they get into the elevator, she leant heavily against the wall as Rodney tapped the button for the infirmary level; it's a miracle that it's still working, her heart tightens for a moment as she thinks of Vaughn's team and she finds herself hoping that someone has managed to rescue them but there's a nagging voice in the back of her head that's telling her no.

"Oh?" he asks, resuming his position at her side.

Sam nods; the she pales, her breath catching in her throat as it dawns on her, God why didn't she think of it sooner? "What if…?"

Rodney looks at her, concern and panic filling his blue eyes "what if what?"

She looks at him desperately, and he hugs her, crushing her to his chest and it's comforting, helping in discarding such horrific thoughts from her mind, but she still dare not speak "she'll be fine," he breaths into her hair "she'll be fine," his voice trembling even as he said it, neither of them want to think about this but they don't have a choice, they have to contemplate the worst but their minds are revolting, refusing to even think for a second that something could have gone wrong; Sam can hear her heart roaring in her ears.

"Yeah," Sam agrees hoarsely, it's hollow and obvious she doesn't agree, but even so she knows Rodney doesn't know it either, it's simply hope and oh how she wishes that he's right.

The embrace only ends when the bell chimes almost wearily and they climb out. Walking into the infirmary with its bright lights surrendered them to the clinical arms of the doctors and nurses who are dashing from bed to bed, patching up wounds, swapping IVs and administering various forms of pain relief. The normally quiet rooms are filled with crying personnel and screams of pure agony; the entire infirmary looks like a disaster area. Adria's forces had not spared even the hospital.

"Sam," Carolyn hurries over, leading the couple to a couple of chairs.

Gurneys are no longer being used as methods to transport people but now as permanent places to rest as there is absolutely no where else for them to go; the smell of smoke, blood and tears is thick in the air and Sam almost chokes on it, Rodney looks decidedly green through the dust and grime clinging to his face.

"How're you feeling Doctor Mckay?" Carolyn asks politely as she produces a penlight and starts flicking it in Sam's eyes, obviously not entirely satisfied with the results she does it again.

"Exhausted," he answers distractedly and for once, his own health is not even second on his list of priorities; first Sam, then the baby, then him… family does strange things to you but he doesn't regret a second of it "the baby…"

Carolyn nods, gesturing for a nurse to bring her the ultrasound trolley as she pockets her penlight "you have a concussion." She says, smiling in thanks as the obviously busy nurse brought the trolley over before disappearing as she's called by someone else "albeit not a serious one." She flicks on the machine and picks up the transducer "now let's take a look at your baby shall we?" she smiles at them both and Sam immediately lifts her shirt; she doesn't even flinch as the gel is applied liberally.

"Now it might take a few moments to… ahh there we are," Carolyn points at the screen, "you see her?" she vaguely traces the outline of the baby on screen.

"She's not moving very much," Rodney observes; eyes narrow as they fix on the flickering blue image "is she okay?"

Carolyn swallows, horror settling in her gut but she answers so quickly it scares her even more "yeah," her voice is slightly higher than usual but neither one of them noticed it; she can't believe she's just done that "she's absolutely fine," oh my God it won't stop, she can't stop… she waits only a moment before flicking the machine off and putting the transducer back, terrified she's going to say something else, she passes Sam a box of wipes to clean the gel away as she pretends to hear someone call her name. "I have to go…" she looks to Rodney because for some reason he's easier to look at "I'll send someone over to check you out as soon as there's someone free. Just sit tight for now,"

She leaves the trolley at the foot of a lieutenant with a temporarily splinted leg and hurries out of the door; heading into the corridor and making it no where near as far away as she hopes before the tears overcome her and she is forced to bury her face in her hands as she weeps uncontrollably; a dam breaking inside her and filling her chest with incontrollable sobs she feels obscurely guilty for surrendering to. It isn't fair. What part of her job description said she'd have to deal with moments like these? This was like dealing with the aftermath of a small war, of a terrorist attack… so many injured. So many dead and so, so many who would be getting an officer of the United States Air Force turn up on their doorstep to say that they're loved one has 'died in the line of duty, fighting for his country and his people'.

It wasn't like a war or terrorists, it was. A fight built on hatred and things that didn't even make sense; innocent men and women thrown senselessly to their deaths because at the end of it all no one remembers the people themselves that fought the battles, just the outcome. The people never mean a thing. But nobody ever said she would have to tell one of her best friends that her baby had died; nobody told her the lies would fall so quickly from her tongue.

This was unreal… the number of injuries and fatalities too high to count; for every man that is lost, his entire family is too. She deals with this sort of thing, she's been trained too but this time… there are just so many in her infirmary that aren't going to make it through the night. These are to be the last few hours of their lives and instead of spending them with their families. They're going to be forced to lie in a sterile environment being pumped full of drugs that aren't going to work and being told by smiling nurses and lying doctors that they're going to be fine. They wouldn't even get to say goodbye to their families.

She has to go back in there and tell two of her friends that their baby was dead, that she'd lied to them out of her own selfish need to make herself feel better. How was she supposed to do that? They had tried for months to conceive that child and Doctor Mckay had been the happiest anyone had ever seen him as he'd practically bounced around the SGC telling everyone he met that he was going to be a father. Sam had been just as elated although slightly less flamboyant in her enthusiasm to tell her friends about her baby. And she's supposed to take that away?

Carolyn jumps when she feels a hand on her shoulder, wiping angrily at the tears "Cam," she says in surprise, the tears started again though she had not been aware that they had stopped and the sobs catch furiously in her throat. She doesn't resist as he pulls her too him, hugging her tightly and whispering nonsense into her hair until she's calmed down enough to speak, she doesn't want to. She wants to hide forever, pressed against his chest and inhaling a strange combination of scents, smoke, sweat, oil and something so distinctly Cam she finds the rapid hammering of her heart slowing to more manageable levels even as the hysteria threatens to break her voice "I'm sorry," she cries, going to wipe her eyes again but Cam beats her too it, brushing away stray tears with the backs of his fingers.

"What's wrong?" he asks, his concern evident and burning deep in his eye; it hurts to look because she can see something else, something foreign but stuck there that will never, ever leave after this.

She flicks her hair back with a small shake of her head, reaching into her pocket and producing a piece of plastic-wrapped gauze, she tears the plastic off and presses the gauze to the nasty gash marring his forehead.

He catches her wrist, wincing when it tugs on the deep wound marring the tender flesh of his palm and curling up around his wrist. He pulls the gauze away after a second, the blood has pretty much dried, it only looks wet because it's mixed with the sweat, dirt and whatever the hell else he's managed to get himself covered I, the bitter sting tells him that tears have probably found their way down as well "Carolyn…" he whispers because it makes his chest hurt to see her so distraught "what's wrong?" he repeats, determined to find out because, and the irony does not go unmissed 'a problem shared, is a problem halved'.

"I didn't…" she starts crying again and she wishes she could regain enough control of her emotions that they wouldn't stop and start like this, she bites the inside of her lip until she tastes blood and it makes he feel sick to try and keep the tears at a manageable point "I lied to them, I told them that she was okay but she's not… she's dead and…"her chest feels tight and she knows, medically, why that's happening, but the fear still sets in, still makes it worse as she gasps for breath.

Taken aback by her outburst Cam blinks owlishly, his mind stubborn and uncooperative "woah, hold up, you lied to who about what? Who's dead?"

So many dead… so many injured. The numbers are too high; the expected survival of those not yet lost is too low to even contemplate. Nothing is as it should be.

Carolyn sniffs uselessly; "Rodney and Sam… they're baby… she didn't make it," she thinks she might choke, that passing out is a more viable option than this, but the blackness refuses to welcome her as she cries out "I told them that she was fine!"

He frowns "what?" he whispers breathlessly, then it dawns on him, the awful truth stunning him for a moment; he pales "Sam's baby…"

Carolyn shakes her head in confirmation "she didn't make it," she speaks hoarsely "and I told them that she was okay!"

Cam pulls her into another hug though that might be because she looks like if he doesn't, she'll collapse of her own accord and he is so exhausted he doesn't think he could pick her up again "they're happy aren't they?" he asks softly because he knows why she did it, he does not blame her and will be by her side - if that's what she wants – when the lies cannot go on, and she has to tell them the truth.

Carolyn nods against his broad chest, her arms wrapped tightly around his back.

"Then leave it," his voice is thick and sounds obscurely foreign but he kisses the top of her head anyway, "just for a little while let them think that she's all right,"

There had been no room for anger when she had been told. Rodney had left the room at the next available moment and she did not blame him, words had washed over her in a useless haze. She had not cried, not for hours, yet when she had started, she had not been able to stop, sobbing into her pillow, curled on her side, arms wrapped around her swollen belly as she howled for the youngest victim of Adria's butchery.

At some point that night, Rodney had slunk back into the infirmary, and without saying a word, climbed onto the narrow hospital bed, enveloping her in a tight embrace as he shed his own tears, hot and wet against the back of her neck, by that point she had been beyond crying, staring blankly at the incomprehensible shapes the semi-darkness created. Instead, she had clasped one hand firmly around his, interlocking their fingers as he wept and she found herself sinking into a blackness she would never be able to fully escape from.

Author's Notes: Please review!

Next Chapter: Carter comes to a conclusion, and Lexy has to confront some of the ghosts of her past.