Time Immemorial
Chapter 39: Normalcy
July 20th
2245 Hours
Dragging a cot behind her, Teyla joined the rest of the expedition in the Gate Room. The Athosian welcomed the prospect of a good night's sleep. The day had been a long one. Her muscles ached from the physical labor while her mind still reeled from the nightmarish events of four days prior.
Her day had been spent with a handful of others clearing what rubble they could from Atlantis' passageways, one by one. Without proper demolition equipment, their progress had been painstakingly slow. Thankfully, all of their people had been accounted for; they had found no one trapped, expedition members or otherwise.
Teyla looked up as the Control Room lights were turned off. She knew their newly-acquired ZMP was operating nominally, but after so much anxiety over their power troubles it was a shame to see any light willfully extinguished. The constellations of the Stargate, though, continued to glow softly. Those that already slumbered beneath its familiar form were bathed in a tranquil blue.
Just as she readied to turn in herself, Teyla's eyes caught sight of Major Sheppard, standing awkwardly at the Gate Room's eastern entrance. He looked as though he was undecided on whether to join the rest of the expedition. She tiptoed through the maze of cots to greet him.
"Major Sheppard, it is good to see you," she greeted warmly.
John smiled at the Athosian's sincerity. "Teyla, you last saw me six hours ago."
"True," she explained, "but in light of recent events it is still good to see you again."
"Thanks, Teyla. It's good to see you, too."
"Have you come to stay the night with the rest of the group?"
Looking at the throng of scientists and marines sprawled across every square inch of floorspace, Sheppard fought a rising cold sweat. The last time he'd faced the entire expedition was when he'd been dragged into the mess hall before them, bloodied and beaten, Antigonos' hard fought prize. He had nearly betrayed all of them in the minutes that had ensued. He felt so alien amongst them now.
"I guess I have. This little sleepover was the envy of the infirmary, believe you me." His gaze landed on the source of a thunderous snore. "I see Rodney's out like a light," John noted drolly.
"Now, yes," Teyla admitted, nodding toward the Stargate, "but only after demanding a 'nightlight' be left on."
"Why does that not surprise me," Sheppard answered, rubbing the bridge of his nose tiredly. "Did you check for monsters under his bed, too?"
"I am sure he is not the only one comforted by it."
John sighed. "I'm sure you're right. No one could blame them, not after seeing actual monsters crawl through this place."
Teyla placed a sympathetic hand on his shoulder. "Come. We are running short on cots, but you may take mine. I will sleep on the floor."
"No, no, that wouldn't be very gentlemanly of me. I'll find my own spot on the floor."
Teyla's brow furrowed. "Major, I know I need not remind you that I have beaten you in sparring more times than either of us can count. Your Earth-based gender customs are not necessary within this expedition."
"Of that I have no doubt," he agreed, thinking of Elizabeth. "I was just trying to be polite."
"I see."
"But if gentlemanly is not your thing, then it wouldn't be very leadership-y of me to steal your cot, either."
"Very well, as you wish. I will see you tomorrow, then, Major." The Athosian picked her way carefully through the maze of cots and stepped gingerly over those who slept on the floor. Once she arrived at her bed, she folded her legs atop it and began to meditate. After the events of the last several days, she needed to regain a clear mind and a calm spirit.
John looked around for spare cots but spotted none. He did locate neat stacks of pillows and blankets against the far wall, a mix of Ancient and military-grade emergency supplies. He'd start there. Slipping noiselessly around the perimeter of the Gate Room, he closed on his destination.
A door to his right opened as he passed. Out stepped Elizabeth. She pulled up sharply upon seeing him.
"John!" she exclaimed. "You startled me."
"Eliz— sorry," he sputtered clumsily, keeping his voice low. He motioned toward the far wall, hoping miming would make clear what his flubbed words did not. "I was just, uh, on my way to… I figured it'd be a good idea to…."
"Grab a pillow and blanket?" she offered as help.
John closed his stammering jaw, feeling like a fool. "Yes, that."
Elizabeth nodded obligatorily. She searched for the next words to fill the quiet. "So, how are you doing?"
"Oh, it's been a day."
"It certainly has." She drummed her fingers on her arm. "Listen, I'm sorry about earlier in the infirmary. It wasn't my idea. Carson was just trying—"
"No, I know."
"You left in a hurry."
"Yeah… I went to the balcony overlooking the northern pier. What's left of it, anyway."
"Ah. The official John Sheppard Spot for Contemplation and Rumination."
Smilingly solemnly at her pun, John said, "Right. And the spot you and I went after our peace treaty with the Klaan, remember?"
"I remember," Elizabeth admitted, looking away. How could she forget? It had all started with a bet, a bet he had lost, and a candlelight dinner with turkey sandwiches and Powerbars. They had shared their first kiss that night, a promise of something new born from the ashes of torment. Now, as she looked back on that fond memory, she wondered if it had been a mistake.
John felt the sobriety of her curt reply. He decided not to push it. "I, uh, never did thank you for bringing me back from the dead."
She looked relieved at the change in topic. "Just returning the favor, right? Anyway, I wouldn't have wanted you reincarnated as a toad somewhere."
"Well, thanks for not giving up on me."
"You're welcome. I figured your heart was likely just as stubborn as the rest of you."
That's not what I meant, the major thought, touching the folded paper within the pocket of his uniform. Now was not the time. They had drifted askew. What once was effortless was now arduous; what they had grown and earned together was now lost. Something had frightened it away, something other than the Lacedami, John knew. Elizabeth was far too strong for that. He began to ask—
"So, eager to get back to your quarters?"
Frowning at the derailment, John answered anyway. "The window was blown out, and it looks like all my stuff went through a blender, so it'll be a while before they get my place fixed up. You?"
"Somehow mine came through unscathed. I'm letting Dr. Puhl use it until her room is repaired. Until then, my makeshift office is my makeshift bedroom." She motioned to the space behind from which she had just stepped.
"I see," John replied, looking past her. One of the smaller private meeting rooms now housed hundreds of neatly stacked papers that had, until only hours ago, still littered her upstairs office's floor. Two laptops laid atop the compact table; out of one of them wafted the notes of a Vivaldi sonata. He frowned, wishing for Hendrix again. A few pillow and blankets were stored neatly in the corner. One blanket was spread taut on the tile; she had no cot.
Clearing her throat to break the silence, Elizabeth looked around the room uncomfortably. "Oh, I've called a senior staff meeting tomorrow at 0900 to discuss our progress. We can catch you up on everything you've missed during the past few days."
Sheppard nodded. "I'll be there."
With a final bout of silence, their conversation at last reached an unbearable level of discomfiture.
John checked his watch. It was past 2300 hours. "Well," he exhaled, nodding to the pillows and blankets behind her, "maybe it's time we hit the hay."
Elizabeth involuntarily stiffened at his choice of words. She followed his eyes to her makeshift bed, her own wide with surprise as she spun back to him. She began to scan the crowd to see if anyone had overheard. "John, I really don't think that's an appropriate…."
His forehead crinkled at her apparent embarrassment. He looked back to her room and his mouth fell agape as he realized how she had — what she had — misread into his suggestion. "Oh, no, I didn't mean — I didn't mean… together—"
"No, no, of course not," Elizabeth promptly recognized, her embarrassment mounting. "I'm sorry, I didn't—"
"No, my fault. I never did have your way with words."
She was sure her face was beet red by now. She could feel the hotness of her cheeks. What was wrong with her lately? She was a trained diplomat, not some tongue-tied prude. She hid her face with a hand, suddenly wishing to be anywhere else but standing there before him.
"I'll leave you be," John offered mercifully. "'Night."
"Goodnight," she managed to reply. But she noted John didn't leave. She raised an eyebrow in question.
He started to speak but faltered, searching for that balance between delicacy and candor. His eyes found hers, imploring. "When did things get awkward between us, Elizabeth?"
"When we fooled ourselves into thinking this could work." She didn't even know where the words came from. She regretted their callous tone and wished she could stuff them back into her mouth. But they were the truth, and he needed to hear them.
"Okay," John replied, folding his arms, "that's twice now you've shut me out. Talk to me."
"John, don't."
"Don't what?"
"Just… don't do this, please. You can't just pretend that things are back to the way they were."
"Who's pretending? I'm trying to make a conscious effort to regain some normalcy around this place."
"There was nothing normal about what we had," Elizabeth whispered, stepping back into her room. "We can't do this right now."
"Why not?"
"Because I'm just not ready to face you!" she exclaimed. She looked around, praying no one had heard their escalating tiff. "I'm sorry." With that, she shut the door between them.
John was left, stupefied, to stare at the barrier between them.
They had both lived — and died — through the most harrowing experience he could imagine. Any reasonable person would still be shaken up. If she needed time..… No, that wasn't it. He knew her too well for that. There was something more. He only wished he knew what it was.
Resignedly, the major found an empty spot against the wall and sank to the deck. He stopped caring about pillows and blankets. Government issued bedding didn't sound particularly inviting, anyway. He pulled his knees up against his chest and watched the near fifty team members doze. As he scratched at the stitches in his abdomen, he wondered if any sleep would be coming to him that night.
Still, as the shepherd watched over his flock, one thought continued to weigh heavily on his mind.
There should have been 11 more of his team members sleeping soundly amongst them.
July 21st
0613 Hours
Elizabeth cranked the hot water knob counterclockwise as far as it would go. Word had spread like wildfire when the City's plumbing had been partially restored the afternoon prior. The lines for the locker room showers had been longer than her schedule afforded. But this morning it was her turn. And she was going to savor it.
She stepped cautiously into the stream — scalding, just the way she liked it.
She had the entire women's locker room to herself. Banks of showers remained empty. The majority of the team had not risen yet, and most of the marines that had were men. More water for me, she thought with a grin.
Oh, how she had needed this. Four days without bathing and she was starting to smell like a locker room herself. She caught her reflection in a compact mirror a kindly female compatriot had hung on the shower's piping. She looked haggard. And in desperate need of a haircut, she noted, wringing water from locks that had not been trimmed in over a year.
The bottom right corner of the mirror caught her attention. On it someone had etched, "For a good time, call," followed by a Gate address. Elizabeth allowed herself a small smile. She supposed locker room humor was locker room humor, no matter the gender, or the galaxy.
She turned her focus to the upcoming day. Showers had always been always her sanctuaries, a place for her to think clearly. Like John's balcony, she surmised.
Rubbing her sore shoulder, she allowed her thoughts to linger on her chief military officer. Had her feelings for him changed? She knew the answer was an unequivocal 'no'. So what had?
Remembering back to their earliest days in Pegasus, she recalled how he had always chased after those offworld women who'd caught his eye. As long as it hadn't interfered with the mission, she had kept her mouth shut. She knew his flirtations had been meaningless. Still, some part of her had been wounded every time. Why hadn't he ever chased her?
It was only much later did she learn that he had cared too much about her to risk hurting her. Before the Klaan incident he had kept his distance, conscientious of what the consequences might be. But that near-death experience had ignited the embers already smoldering within them both, emboldening them to take the risk mutually. They had known the rules. They had ignored them.
She loved him, more than she ever thought possible. She had never expected him to love her back — hoped, maybe, but she wasn't naive. Then Beckett had dropped a bombshell. That's not the behavior of someone 'in like.' That's someone in love, plain and simple. She would have thought the revelation would have made her heart leap for joy. Instead, it both saddened and terrified her.
She couldn't handle his unwavering devotion to her, not when it brought him harm. And she wouldn't put him in a position of losing her again. So she had been cold to him. Now it was she who kept him at arm's length, having experienced firsthand the horror and agony in their mistake of trying.
Elizabeth slowly slid her fingers off her shoulder and down her neck, trying to remember what it felt like to have another's do the same. She tried to imagine what it would feel like to have his fingers trace that path—
Stop it, she chastised herself, banishing the thought. You cannot do this, Elizabeth.
How stupid she had felt yesterday in the infirmary! How easily she had let her guard down around him. How effortlessly they had both slipped back into that comfortable relationship, like some favorite sweater. The familiar rapport, the personal banter, the close affinity — all like old times.
She knew he wanted to get back to where they were before, to — what, exactly? A dinner on the pier once a week? A few moments of seclusion when their duties could spare them? Of course, all those moments were spent looking over their shoulders, afraid of who might discover them. It had hardly been a fairytale romance. More like a star-crossed tragedy, maybe. Whatever it was, it had been complicated. She could not allow it to continue.
Elizabeth tightened the shower's knob, closing the valve. She felt the water pressure weaken against the crown of her head before it trickled away completely. Leaning forward, she rested her forehead against the wall and closed her eyes. She was content to stay there, dripping wet, for the rest of the day, but duty called. She'd make her rounds, read through more mission reports, then hold her staff meeting.
A small part of her hoped he wouldn't attend.
0900 Hours
Elizabeth stepped into the conference room, her tablet in hand. She had expected the eight vertical louver doors to pivot open automatically as she had approached, but only half of them functioned. The others remained immobile, some perched slightly askew, damaged from the battle.
As she sat down at the head of the table, she took mental note of the attendees: Doctor Beckett, Doctor McKay, Captain Ford, Teyla… and John. He sat in the chair farthest from her. She wondered if that decision had been a subconscious one or not.
"I see the rumors surrounding the City's restored plumbing system are true," Rodney greeted, noting her still damp hair.
"Miracle #83 complete, and only 974 to go," Elizabeth replied. "Please continue to spread the word. The Gate Room is starting to smell like a gym."
"The combat engineers expect to certify ten more personal quarters as habitable by the day's end," Teyla informed the others. "That should help alleviate the overcrowding in the Gate Room."
"Thank you, Teyla. How is everyone coping with the close quarters?"
"They are managing. I believe many are even grateful for the protection and peace of mind that comes with proximity."
"I'm glad they're able to find a silver lining in all of this. How about our food supplies?"
"What was not destroyed is dwindling," Teyla admitted. "Sergeant Stackhouse and I will venture to the mainland this morning. I am confident my people can help."
"Our Puddle Jumper just returned from its recon mission, ma'am," Ford piped in, knowing what Dr. Weir was about to ask. "There was no evidence of the Lacedami encampment on the mainland. Whoever was left must have just packed up and pulled out."
Elizabeth tapped the tablet's stylus on the table thoughtfully. "I think we can all agree that it won't be too upsetting if we never see them again. Continue to keep an eye out for them, Captain. Even if they left this planet for their homeworld, we can't forget there's still a civilization somewhere out there that wants Atlantis destroyed."
"I'll add them to the list," Rodney muttered sardonically.
"Speaking of which," Elizabeth said, turning toward her chief scientist, "have our long range sensors picked up any sign of the Wraith?"
"Not a one," the Canadian answered. "But I can't say for certain they're not out there, not with sensors only running at 50% duty cycle. We could scan a lot further out if I could dial them up to full power."
Elizabeth held up a hand. "Rodney, we talked about this. For now, the priority is Atlantis' shield. You said it yourself: we're not certain they're not out there — Wraith or Lacedami, on this planet or headed for it. Until we are certain, we need to remain prepared for an attack at any moment."
"Yeah, but back to the whole food thing," Rodney pleaded. "If we could just take the shield offline again for two minutes, I'm sure I could scrounge enough power to dial the Gate to one of our allies in this galaxy, maybe the Klaan or something—"
"The shield stays up, Rodney."
"Right," the dejected scientist mumbled.
"What is the current status of our power supply?" Elizabeth pressed on.
"Same as before, I'm afraid," McKay responded. "As you know, the Lacedami ZPM was delivered to us fully charged, but for reasons unexplainable until only just recently, its energy levels significantly decreased shortly after we put it into use."
"And what are those reasons?"
"Well," Rodney enlightened, "for one, the onslaught of Wraith plasma fire on the City's shield, not to mention the Darts' kamikaze runs at it."
"But I thought the City was able to withstand a lot more for a lot longer durin' the original siege of Atlantis," Beckett disputed.
"You're an excellent straight man, Carson. That is true, but you're forgetting two things. One, they had three ZPMs back then, not just one. And two, what they didn't have back then but we did was this." McKay held up the ascension device. "I suspect that the sudden burst of energy that was powerful enough to take out the Wraith ships and enemy soldiers took a toll on the shield far greater than that from any plasma bombardment, increasing the demand of vacuum energy from the ZPM's internal pocket of subspace, increasing the device's entropy, and further depleting its energy reserves."
"Bummer," Ford commented.
"Hence why, despite finally being in possession of a ZPM, we can't evacuate to Earth via the Stargate, or even run the sensors at full capacity without bringing down the shield. The power draw is just too much," Elizabeth summarized, her tone slightly dejected. "Nevertheless, it sounds like you are now reasonably sure that we're in a stable spot. Good work, Rodney."
McKay bobbed proudly in his seat. "Yes, well, I'm just happy that the rolling blackouts are over, and I don't have to take the stairs now if I don't want to."
"Do you ever want to?" Ford poked.
"Well… no. That's the point."
"Doctor McKay is right," Teyla added. "We are in a much better position than we were previously. We have shelter, air, water, light, and each other; that is all we need."
"Thank you for your optimism, Teyla. After the last few days, you have no idea how much I value it," Elizabeth expressed genuinely. "Rodney, one more thing. Any luck salvaging any technology from the Lacedami's Ravens?"
The physicist shook his head somberly.
"All of the ships were blown to bits by the Wraith, ma'am," Ford explained. "There were a few pieces of hull we could recover, but not much else."
"That's unfortunate," Elizabeth sighed. "It would have been nice to have something to show for our troubles."
"We have our lives; that's all that matters," Carson spoke up.
"Very true," she said with an appreciative nod. "And how are those lives, Carson?"
"I'm happy to report that everyone is stable, even my worst cases," the doctor replied. "Corporal Kuhn is still in a wheelchair but her severed femoral artery and sartorius ligament are healin' nicely; Sergeant Liu has been confined to bedrest after I dug a bullet out of his diaphragm; Dr. Grodin is on his way to a full recovery from a gunshot wound to the collarbone."
"Well done, Carson. Thank your team for me."
"Aye, I will. An' I hope you haven't forgotten about your twice daily checkups, Dr. Weir. You, too, Major."
Elizabeth smiled humorlessly, remembering how the last one had went. "Of course not, Carson." She addressed the entirety of the group. "You all have your assignments; you all know what to do. We'll do this again tomorrow morning."
With that, Atlantis' senior staff rose from the table and left. John lingered afterward, as he often did when she needed him as her sounding board. He sensed she had more to say.
"You were quiet through all of that," she noted with concern.
"Still playing catchup," he answered. His tone was neutral, professional, absent of its usual vivacity. In truth, he no longer knew how to carry on a conversation with her in any other way. "So, what's next?"
"Actually, I thought about learning to swim," she kidded.
John could not find the humor in the joke. He looked away, the wounds still far too raw.
Clearing her throat, the diplomat apologized. "I'm sorry, that was in poor taste."
"It's fine."
Frowning, Elizabeth felt the rift she had torn open between them expand with her ill-conceived attempt at levity. She had just assumed that she could take a page from his book, using humor to diffuse the situation. Apparently she wasn't very good at it.
"There is one more piece of good news," she said. "While we don't have enough power to evacuate to Earth, Rodney was able to conclude that a stable wormhole between Pegasus and the Milky Way could be maintained with the power that we do have for 1.3 seconds — not enough time to send a person but—"
"But enough time to send a message," John deduced, intrigued. "When can we send it?"
"We already have, two days ago. I wasn't willing to lower the City's shield until then, and not since, not even for 1.3 seconds."
"So what did the message say? A request for help, a status report?"
"Yes, and more. Rodney was able to make use of an encoding technique he developed with Colonel Carter that allowed us to send a high compression data burst to the SGC full of mission logs, specifications on Atlantis, a portion of the Ancient database.…"
"I would love to see their faces when they open that zip file," John said. "You're right, that is good news."
"Actually," Elizabeth continued, "that wasn't even the good news. Our message was received."
Sheppard raised his eyebrows expectantly. "And?"
"And last night we got word that the USS Daedalus — Earth's newest battlecruiser — was pulled out of space trials and is on her way here. With a fully-powered ZPM aiding her hyperdrive, she should arrive three days from now."
"That's fantastic," John breathed, genuinely surprised. "Wait a second, how do you know this? I'm guessing the SGC didn't dial us back. If their Gate had a ZPM this place to be overflowing with SG personnel and fully stocked with emergency aid."
"Earth's only ZPM was already onboard the Daedalus for compatibility testing before the ship and her crew were rerouted for this mission. Given our relatively stable status, they thought it was best to send supplies and personnel with the Daedalus at the expense of a few days' time, but with the added bonus of some extra firepower in case our new friends decide to take another run at the City. The Daedalus had just reached their maximum comm range when they made contact via subspace radio yesterday."
"Damn," John said appreciatively. He could hardly believe it. "I don't mind admitting: we could sure use their help with the recovery efforts."
"I don't disagree. I've already broken the news to the rest of the expedition."
"Yeah? How'd they take it?"
Searching for the right words, Elizabeth settled on, "Maniacal glee? I half expected a dozen letters of resignation to be on my desk by now. I haven't gotten a single one."
Nodding appreciatively, John agreed with the sentiment. "They're a good bunch."
"The best." Her eyes fell for a moment. "I couldn't blame anyone for wanting to leave, though. Not after this."
"No," he agreed solemnly. "As much as I'd hate to lose any one of my men, I wouldn't stop them if they wanted to take the next wormhole back to the SGC." He looked to Elizabeth, a thought occurring to him. "I bet the SGC wasn't too happy to learn you waited two whole days before checking in with them."
"I stand behind my decision," Elizabeth answered quickly, defensive. "And what about you?"
"I stand by you," he answered simply.
Elizabeth nodded, grateful for his unwavering professional support despite their recent personal strain. He was her rock. She felt ashamed for momentarily forgetting that. "The SGC is going to have a field day going over what we discovered. All these epiphanies about Earth's history, our piece in the cosmic puzzle, how the roots of our culture have spanned the universe…. It makes one feel extremely small, doesn't it?"
"I guess it does." And after a moment's more thought, "It feels kinda good."
"Yes, it does. The Lacedami, their ATA gene, their ties to Earth. There is something exhilarating, something liberating about uncovering the history of the human race." She paused a moment. "It's just too bad we can't share it with the human race."
"Well, until little Timmy and Susie get their top secret security clearances, their fifth grade history books are going to have to stay the way they are."
"I suppose so," she said with a sigh.
John empathized. "It is a shame, though, especially given…."
"What?"
John regarded her with a darkened expression. "Especially given that some good people died for that knowledge. And no one will know why."
"They didn't die in vain, John."
"Didn't they?" he challenged. "What good is their sacrifice if the reason for that sacrifice can never be shared? The world should know what happened here. The families of five sergeants, two corporals, two privates, and two civilians should know."
"Someday they will know," Elizabeth affirmed. "It won't be today or tomorrow or even ten years from now, but someday this will all be declassified."
"Right," John acquiesced, not in the mood for an argument. "Ascension, god-like powers — I can see that going over real well with the American public."
Elizabeth was forced to admit that his concern was founded. "That will be a hard pill to swallow for many of the world's religions."
"Do you believe in God?"
Caught off guard by the question's directness, Elizabeth answered, "I've visited far too many cultures, in this galaxy and our own, to say for certain what his or her name is or even how many there are, but yes, I do believe something's out there." She asked cautiously, "And you?"
He supposed he should have expected the followup inquiry. "I've seen too many friends die to believe in a god."
Elizabeth understood, but it still tore at her heart to hear him so despairing. She knew him well enough to know that no words of hers would console him. It made what she had to say next even more difficult.
"Listen, I thought it'd be a good idea to hold a memorial service for the expedition members we lost, before the Daedalus and her crew of all new faces arrive," she began. "It might give the team some needed closure, maybe even help with the healing process."
John's eyes fell to the floor for the briefest instant. "It's a good idea."
She choose her next words carefully. "Given that most of the casualties were military, I was wondering if you'd like to participate." She looked to him for a reaction. "But I understand if you'd rather—"
"It would be my honor," the major replied. Damn his own inner demons; they had been under his command. They had been his responsibility. The burden of their send-off was his alone. It was his duty and his privilege to see that their final mark on the world was one fitting of their spirit, strength and courage.
"Okay," Elizabeth accepted. She hoped she was doing the right thing.
"Will that be all?" he asked, sensing their business had concluded.
Frowning at his propriety, Elizabeth nodded. "Yes, Major." There was no frivolity behind the use of his rank this time. Her eyes trailed him regretfully as he made for the exit.
"Thank you for…" she called suddenly after him. But she trailed off, unwilling to verbalize the pain she was feeling. Thank you for respecting me enough to leave our issues out of this conversation. Still staring open-mouthed at him, she composed herself and merely said, "Thank you, John."
"Sure," he answered with an understanding nod before taking his leave.
She could tell that he had still heard the words she hadn't said. She was thankful for that, thankful for allowing her to be the coward that she was. They were solving nothing; she was merely kicking that can down the road.
"Dammit," she cursed under her breath.
TBC
