A/N: Before I say anything, I will warn you that this chapter is 4,000 words - but that's not the problem. It's split up into six parts, some shorter than I'd like. Some sparky in parts 4 and 5 but predominantly S/J. Anyway, I own nothing but my life and the Cobra. Take the latter, not the former. Please. :P
Time behaved oddly at the best of times. Sometimes, like liquid glue, it would stick to your fingers and drip through drop by drop. Others, it would take an inescapable dash between each crack as it emulated sand in every way possible. In the worst case scenario, it would turn into a mixture of the two rhythms. For that reason, the moments leading up to the rebellions were engrained on the rebels' minds.
In Rodney's laboratory, one of his assistants paused mid-action. Their stylus was suspended in one hand and the tablet was left unattended on the work surface.
"Hey, why did you stop working? You're not telling me you're going to pull one like that guy who passed out the other day, are you?" Rodney startled the young scientist out of her thoughts.
"No... I'll get back to work, Doctor McKay," she reassured him. "I should be able to hold out for the time left."
She shivered. How much time was that, anyway?
Meanwhile, Jennifer approached Elizabeth and to seek out her reddened eyes. "Go," she urged - she shook her head, lips quivering, with one hand clenching John's. Comfort had drained from the limp appendage. "Please, you need to go and get something to eat. He'd kill us all if you starved by the time he woke up."
Elizabeth scanned the younger woman's face. The eyes were pleading and the smile was weary yet warm. However, the most important thing was that there was no pity left. So she caved. "I'll go."
"Thank you." Despite the satisfaction, she stayed where she was until Elizabeth had left. Jennifer paused, watching her retreating form. A protectiveness, that she'd never been acquainted with, rose to the surface.
Imagine how she'll feel when it all catches up with her. Oh god... she thought, biting her lip. I learned to be confident and feel at home here from her... I guess it's only polite to return the favour.
What the pondering medical officer didn't realise was that she was being spied upon too. A few of her newest helpers were watching. Waiting.
Teyla kept her head down in the commissary. What remained of the warm drink in her hands had gone cold and formed a floating layer of undisolved powder on the top, so she pushed it away from her. She'd insisted on 'dining' alone, so as not to arouse suspicion. Wonderful idea, she ruled, after a quick glance at the timer on her wrist. The hands taunted her in their slowness - instead, she took a mental snapshot of the room. In her mind, it was divided into three sections.
"My people," she glanced at the wide-scattered groups, "my friends," AR-2 appeared to be swapping stories of their extended days over some sandwiches, "and my enemies."
At the door, and lining the walls, stood the threat. Some were smiling, others stoic and yet more looked unnerved.
They certainly don't look as tired as us, she noted. Although, it looks like they've been worked at least a little harder than usual.
On that thought, her timer struck midday. There was a second where everything was in limbo; the rebels had realised the time was upon them and the rest of the inhabitants were trying to figure out what on earth that tiny bleeping was. Then all hell broke loose.
People leapt up from their seats, pulled out weapons and rushed at their foes. In turn, weapons were drawn across the board (half of them were only neutral, held for security). Teyla didn't have time to absorb the thundering heartbeats and the shaky punches - she slipped over to the nearest guard, hoping to remain out of his line of sight, and pressed her gun to his scalp.
"Stay still and it shouldn't hurt," she asserted. He made a derisive snort. "No? Well, I'll be forced to..."
The cold mass left his head and she saw his muscles relax. Until it slammed back into his head - she spared the body a glance as she held her gun the way it was originally intended. "Sorry about that, and the headache you'll have when you wake up. But it's the cost of siding with our enemies."
Just then, three of the members of AR-2 came over to her. The tallest asked, "What's going on?"
"The real rebellion. The so called 'aliens of Atlantis' planned this," she explained. "We disarm, free and capture. This is the first stage. The majority of people are headed to do the second - but that's not where I'm going now."
"Ah." Realisation dawned on them. "Natalia."
"That's right, somebody has to stop her." Teyla sucked in a breath when she caught wind of a grunting match on the other side of the room. She peeked past her companions with narrowed eyes. Then she continued, "We can free all but two of the prisoners without her. Regardless of the need for her removal, the tablet she carries around controls the cell that Jack and Ronon are in."
"We're coming with you." She didn't argue, didn't refuse to put them in danger. They needed all the valiant, semi-reckless personnel they could get. So she gave a curt nod and began to weave through the crowds.
A set of knives came flying towards her - she ducked, barrelling towards the two guards in front of her. Teyla burst out the other side, sucked in fresh air and started to move again - this time, she took to a steady run. Another one of the trio called to her, "Where are we going?"
"Her office. Eating with the rest of us is below her, it seems."
"Well, she doesn't work so that has to be it." Slowing down a little, the four of them came to a stop in front of a grinning Samantha Carter. "If you don't mind, I'll join you. She has a lot to answer for."
Teyla took in her demeanour, as she noted the clenched fists and determined gait. After a second, she gave her two clipped nods.
"Okay. Under one condition - any anger you may feel towards her, don't take it out on anyone else. Not even that snivelling advisor of hers," she commanded.
"Wonderful choice in advisors, really." Sam rolled her eyes and they continued on.
"If the cafeteria was supposed to be fun, this'll be a riot!" the smallest of AR-2 called over the din. Sam snorted and searched for entrance to the crowd - a mass of arms and legs, blood and sweat - then Teyla reached for her arm.
"Remember what I said. All you need to do is take them out of the picture-" The Athosian was cut off when the Colonel shook her head.
"I'm not bothered about them, Teyla. I don't want that kind of revenge," she paused, turning to the other woman, "I don't even know which kind I want. But she's my victim."
Natalia was covering, for want of a better word, in the safe harbour of her office. Her shoulders quivered in spite of her close-to-crumbling mask. Both women stopped for a moment and marvelled at the phenomenon. The crowd's shape fluctuated again and two rebels stumbled into her vicinity. A moment later, when they launched themselves back at their attacker, the dictator herself was still pinned with stubbornness to the back wall. A look of affirmation and Teyla and Sam began to fight their way towards her.
It was like being submerged in scolding water. Every sleight of movement set nerves on fire, every breath forced you to consume the suffocating atoms around you and every outcry was dulled by the crush of claustrophobia. Just as Teyla felt herself being strangled by it all, she caught sight of clear space. Yet a hand clamped over her wrist and wrestled her back inside the labyrinth. She let out a hiss and took an inarticulate stab at the woman's face with the weapon in her hands (she bore in mind that it was the second time she'd done so that day).
When she crumpled to reveal a rasping Samantha Carter, who muttered, "Nice multi-tasking."
"I try my best," Teyla replied. From that moment, they were face to face with Natalia. She stepped up and, reaffirming her authority, planted her hands on her hips.
"Well, well, it's the psychopath and the abomination." Smirking, she nodded first at Sam and then at Teyla.
"Says the sadist with self-esteem issues," the former snapped back. Then she held up a hand and added, "By that, I mean too much esteem. Just in case you didn't get that the last ten times."
Natalia made a noise of disbelief, as she advanced upon the blonde. Frown on her face, Teyla let out a theatrical cough, watched the attention all on her shoulders and had to continue the fit of spluttering to hide her mirth. The Ice Queen opened her mouth to convey her disgust, transfixed on a spot on the ground where she swore Teyla's saliva had landed. Distracted, she paid next to no attention when Sam slipped past her. Her fingers had found the edge of the tablet, but Doctor Alexander had finished her rant. Sam's heart took a leap from one of Atlantis' balconies, while three pairs of eyes looked from the porcelain fingers that approached the screen to the only thing standing in their way.
"You can't win, there are people out there who will stop you." A gun was raised - the oppose stared into its depths.
"They're too busy with people who will stop you. So it's just us in here," Teyla countered. "Sam, take the tablet. I can handle things here. It's just a matter of making sure the plan falls into place."
Absorbing the silent fury Natalia had sunken into, and the tense muscles that showed beneath Teyla's skin, Sam began to say, "Are you sure? I-"
"Would much rather be with someone else, I presume." She received a knowing look. People were moving into the small and one nod from her friend told her where she should have been.
The corridors felt longer, the cargo heavier too. As she got closer to the cells, there were people on benches or on the floor or against the wall whose wounds were being patched up - not all of it was graceful, or helpful, but the ex-prisoners seemed at peace just breathing in the clean air. Without a word spoken to them, she entered the room where the last of her captives remained. The controls in the room, after Ronon's attempt at a jailbreak, had been mangled. So she held the tablet in front of her, the whole time hiding her eyes from the caged men.
"There you go," she muttered. The field dropped - she stared as it fell, glistening into nothingness - and the door opened. Ronon launched to her feet, made for the door and called a quick 'thank you' over his shoulder, as if energy had pooled inside him every day he'd been forced to stay put. In a rush, the air fled the room.
"Hey." When her eyes finally met with his, the latter pair were brewing tears. Breath caught in her throat, her mouth turned dry.
"Hi," was her short, snipped response.
All the barriers are gone. Why are you making more? The interrogation blundered into her head, a force to be reckoned with. She objected, They keep me standing. I need them.
Just then, her gaze rested on Jack: pallid, drained and almost beaten. It almost felt like she'd have to collect the pieces of him from the floor. Pain creased her face. "C'mere."
Before she knew it, he'd taken one reluctant step and fell into her arms. Sam let her fingers thread into his hair, soothing words fell from her lips. Her cheek was pressed against the side of his and her breath tickled his ear - she could feel his breathing as his chest expanded and contracted against her.
"What's going on?" Jack probed, his arms still holding her firmly against him.
"They're fighting back," Sam elaborated. "They just started, it was all chaos, there wasn't any time to explain. I helped. They're bringing Natalia down here... Jack?"
"Yes?" He gazed at her, dream-like. Tears trickled down his cheeks.
"Later. Don't cry, you'll make me cry too. So," she paused, slipping her hands into his, "later."
He brushed a thumb over the back of her hand. With that, he could be placated.
His eyes. They were open. Not that the prospect was abnormal in any way, but he felt like they hadn't been so in a while. In fact, despite the tingle at his fingertips and the burning in his shoulders, parts of his body were senseless. But John Sheppard was awake.
His first attempt at speech was hopeless, his words melding into one another until they were no longer intelligible, yet he persisted. Light burned his retinas, a cacophony of noises pestered him and the holes in his memory stretched out ahead of him like huge chasms. After a unlabelled period of time, he gave up trying to voice his thoughts and took stock of his situation. The infirmary's familiar walls surrounded him and the sheets were precisely as he remembered them. Part of him just took satisfaction that his bones hadn't been crushed.
"Hey," he managed, with an gut-wrenching scratch to his tone, "anyone around?"
"Finally! We thought you were a dead man." Carson emerged from the corner of his vision, incredulous expression and all. There was movement all around (John couldn't quite tell who or what it was), none of it clear to him. Then, when his friend considered the relevance of his statement, concern kicked in like adrenaline and started by saying, "How do you feel?"
"Like an idiot." John watched Carson's brow crease. "I have no idea what happened between then and now."
"Well..." Carson began, passing a flustered look to him. "Perhaps we should save that for later. Anything you remember, anything you need?"
"Elizabeth, I remember Elizabeth. She was here, wasn't she?" John eyes were filled with expectancy. Carson nodded and held up the jacket on the chair beside him.
"Jennifer said something about going to get something to eat but that was a while ago. She'll be here soon," the doctor reassured his patient (if they could even claim those titles, after all those years). "Now, how about something to eat and drink?"
Punctuated by the rumbling of his stomach, John chuckled and replied, "That'd be once, thanks. Something big, I feel like I haven't eaten in days..."
"Trust me, you'd be surprised." Carson laughed, eyes dancing with joy, disconnected John's IV and disappeared into his office in search of a spare water bottle.
"Oh, and, Carson? I can't feel my feet!" All he heard was the groan. No, he wasn't fine. But he was awake - somehow, he got the feeling that it was significant in more than one way.
It's anarchy... Elizabeth gripped the corner of the wall, listening to the distant shrieks. They were distraught, and tiny agitated cries followed each word. An uneasy feeling spawned within her at the notion that they were getting nearer. First the crowds, now this. Are we all animals now?
She'd made her way to the nearest (only) source of food. However, she'd been interrupted by hordes of fighters: immersed in combat, furious, borderline inhuman in their behaviour... From there, the masses had forced her down corridor after corridor and allowed her escape mere moments before she'd heard the noises. No one noticed her. Those unconscious had become natural roadblocks. The ex-leader didn't look at their faces, fearing she might recognize one of them and confuse herself even more.
"Is this your plan?" was the shrill cry from the other end of the corridor. "Kill me? You say you're better, but you're not. Not if that's what you want."
"Doctor Alexander, it does not matter what I want." Teyla spoke, her voice low and her words clipped.
"It might not matter to you but what about the others? They hunger for some kind of twisted justice and, whatever you do, they'll get it!" Elizabeth flinched as the final note bludgeoned her ears. One of the doors slid open and two people emerged, as Natalia, Teyla and their entourage came into view. Writhing against restraints, she was a wild visage of tousled hair and beady eyes. Teyla's nails dug into her biceps and, with the support of Teal'c and Daniel, the Athosian hauled her down the corridor. An eyebrow was raised and a tool dropped. She barked, "What are you looking at?"
"Do you really want us to answer that?" Another door opened and someone else poked their head out. All they received in response was a snarl, accompanied by bared teeth.
"Then again, you don't really have the choice," their companion affixed, peering at everyone else. "Am I right?"
Natalia's three captors gave another firm push, to which she reeled off a chain of cursing and wailing. Torturous noises echoed in Elizabeth's mind, drawing more people out of their hiding places to see a new form of a chaos. Spite radiated from the taunting crowd. They were like jeering children in a playground and she couldn't bear it; they were nothing better than bullies, proving that cold woman right. I won't stand for it.
"Stop!" she commanded. Silence fell around their ears. A ruffling of fabric told her that she had their attention. "Please, stop behaving like savages! Throwing your pens and clipboards and shouting like petty little babies... You should be ashamed."
"Why? Doctor Weir, she tried to kill us," pleaded the person who'd been snarled at. Lost looks rippled through the crowd and a sob broke look, growing into a desolate moan.
"All we want is to be free. I came from a planet where everything was controlled by one person. You guys told me Atlantis was different." The red-eyed young woman stepped to the front of the crowd. "My sister helped to get the jumper team over to the planet. That stupid, crazy, heartless little assistant knocked her out with a stunner. No telling what it'll do to the baby. Or her!"
Her chest heaved as she sucked in another breath, and Elizabeth felt her cheeks dampen. The words were strangled when she began again, "If-if you want something to lock her up for, there... There's your damn reason... We'll stop behaving like that, if you start understanding how much I'd rather die than live any longer under her 'leadership'. I didn't just put my freedom into this, I put my life into it."
A hand rested on her shoulder so she curled into it, a fragile frame wracked by tears. Elizabeth adopted a solemn look. Though she knew any display would be empty, she wanted to reach out and comfort the girl.
"Hello?" Teyla's radio crackled to life.
"Yes, Carson?" She leaned down to its holding place to answer it, her hands only leaving Natalia once to press a button.
"Do you know where Elizabeth is?"
"I'm right here, Carson." The woman in question approached, taking the radio from its slot. "What's wrong?"
"Nothing's wrong. Actually, I'd say it's pretty right. Well, mostly right... I'm rambling, aren't I?" he babbled, hearing Elizabeth chuckle on the other end. "Anyway, I have a guest for you."
"Hey, 'Lizabeth." A gasp escaped her lips and a hand came up to her mouth. Unadulterated emotion shone through in her beaming smile, elation couldn't hold a torch to it. Her heart swelled when, even with slight tinniness, he uttered, "Missed you..."
"I thought I'd find you here. They said you didn't show up at the infirmary," Sam voiced, assuming a position beside him on the bed. "I think...now is later. And I'm sorry."
"Sorry?" Jack glanced up at her, brows knitted. "You're saying sorry?"
"I know I should've said this a long time ago. I probably shouldn't have done what I did to you in the first place. It's appalling that it takes this much to make me realise what I've known all along..." She paused and reached for his hand, soft fingers meeting rough and calloused ones. A warmth spread up her fingers and she saw his gaze soften.
"Should've done what ages ago, Sam?" At her lack of response, he insisted, "Hey, I won't bite. Tell me."
He's not angry... She refrained from narrowing her eyes and let out a sigh. In his favour, he sat calm - without a cough, a gentle squeeze of her fingers...
"I do love you. If I weren't so stubborn, you'd know already. So I hope you can forgive me. Even if I did let you rot in a cell." No sooner had she finished speaking than he pulled her into a tight embrace. Hands threaded in amongst soft blonde strands, caressing the skin beneath them. His arms met at her back,
"Don't ever apologise. I'm not even going to try and understand why," Jack began, with humour in his voice (a timbre that vibrated through her and dragged out a reluctant laugh). "Besides, it doesn't matter now that we're here. I waited years, a month or two won't kill me."
"Nearly killed us, though. I'm glad she's gone..." Sam pulled back, smiling a little. Then she held up a finger, as if something had just popped into her mind. "Talking of that, they put Arthur in a cell. No one really knew what to do with him, I don't even think he did."
Jack mumbled in acknowledgement and tugged on her hand, sitting back on the bed. Wordlessly, Sam curled into the side of his body and nestled her head some place between his shoulders and chest. As the surface rose and fell beneath her, she couldn't deny the feeling of home to engulfed her. Gentle breathing, her hand tracing soft patterns on his stomach and the way he leaned down to press a kiss to the skin of her shoulder - all that time, they never made eye contact. Jack wrapped an arm around her, feigning the need to share her body heat.
He's done it once, maybe twice. Three times a charm, she thought.
"Sam?" Rustling told her that he'd inclined his head towards her, so she turned hers upwards to meet it.
"What is it? Hurry up, I'm," she yawned and repositioned her head, smirking as he winced at the makeshift dagger her chin made, "completely tired out. Bet you couldn't tell, hmm?"
"In all honesty, I'd never have guessed," he replied. Sober all of a sudden, Jack asked, "Can I kiss you? And, this time, can you not be all indifferent?"
"Why don't you try and see what happens?"
Before she knew any better, his lips had descended on hers in a sweet kiss: messy, uncoordinated but sweet in every undeniable delay. Sam reached up to toy with the hair at the nape of his neck, while they sank further into the cushion. A fleeting sentiment passed her by - had she really been kissing his lips last time? Or was it like a defective drug? Temperamental unless you believed in it.
A/N: Thanks for reading, and for your continued support. I'm starting work on Chapter 15 today - the first chapter where my notes are incomplete. I have an outline from there to the end. All bringing it to a close...that'll be reopened. In Night Begins Here's sequel. And some of the add-ons. But, warning, that'll be a while. I have other fandoms, other series to write and a truck-load of things to sort out in old story. Until next time, bye!