Thank you so much for the reviews everyone!
Good times have been had in my e-mail inbox. :D

-- We start getting answers next chapter. But probably not in the way you're expecting. Don't hurt me.

-And, also, I think I should remind everyone this is rated T. M'kay?

(12)

.

It was quite a sight; Puddle Jumper One.

Hovering about eight feet from the ground with a sixteen-foot antennae jutting straight-up from the roof, dozens of scientists and military folk working madly underneath, trying to attach a huge metal net to the bottom, filled with the Ancient toys… Yeah, not something you see often.

"Okay, where's Zelenka?" I asked loudly over all the noise as I walked up to the group with Sheppard next to me, "I need my computer!"

"Here!" I heard his obvious and accented voice before I saw him, emerging from a crowd of scientists, laptop in his hands. "This is yours."

I took the offered computer, immediately flipping it open as I asked him, "The toys…?"

"Your program is now uploaded and ready to go." he told me, slipping in-between John and I, so he could see the monitor, "Hook it up, and all you have to do is click the 'go' button."

"Click the 'go' button." I rolled my eyes at his use of words, opening the Jumper-shield program I'd made, muttering sarcastically, "I don't know if I can handle that."

"Actually, I click the go button." John cut-in, tossing away the icepack he'd been holding to his eye, "I'm going McKay, you're not."

"Sorry to tell you this Major," I said shortly, closing the program after finding it satisfactory, "but I have to go now."

Zelenka glanced at both of our determined faces, apparently deciding not to stick around, because he disappeared back into the gaggle of busy people, commenting breezily, "I'll leave you two to it, then."

Ignoring Radek's sudden flight; "Look," I flipped the lap-top around so John could see the screen, "see here?" I pointed to the middle of the monitor, where large numbers were quickly running down, "That is my own, specially-made countdown. And we have exactly…" I leaned over the lid, "Hm, thirty-five minutes until Atlantis loses all power, and inexorably sinks."

"Yeah…?" he said slowly, clearly not getting my point.

I sighed at his stupidity before explaining, "It will take at least twenty minutes to actually fly out to the storm. It will take me at least fifteen minutes to alter the shield so this plan will work. And to alter the shield, I need to be on the Jumper." I turned the computer back towards me, "Get it?"

"Can't you just tell me how to do it?" he asked stubbornly, obviously not wanting me to go out to the electrical storm.

I couldn't help it; I laughed. "You want me to explain how to alter the Jumper's shield's so it will effectively be turned into a conduit? To you?" I chuckled again. "Oh man. No, Major. Sorry to say, we don't have the time."

"Fine ." he snapped, grinding his teeth in annoyance. "We'll both go."

"I wouldn't have it any other way." I muttered, now busy with triple-checking my earlier calculations. "You're the only one that can pilot the Jumper in that storm anyhow."

"Hm." he replied smartly to my warped compliment, turning away and raising a hand to his radio to fill Elizabeth in on the recent developments.

"Dr. McKay! We're finished!" I heard a miscellaneous scientist shout happily from somewhere in the crowd. I glanced at John, who sort of nodded at me before clicking his radio again, "Markham, this is Sheppard. Lower the Jumper and open the hatch."

It was definitely a spectacle, Sheppard and I trying to climb into the hovering ship. Markham couldn't land, otherwise he'd be crushing the toys, so all he could do was lower the access ramp. Fortunately though, John managed to get up onto the ramp, grabbing my arms and pretty much pulling me up after him. Granted, not a very stylish strategy, but it got the job done.

Sheppard took control of the pilot's seat -- discharging Markham, who quickly got out of the way and promptly left.

"Okay, closing the doors -- " Sheppard started, reaching over to pull the door control.

"Wait, wait!"

Still in the back, I turned to see Aiden jogging towards the Jumper with an obvious limp, carrying a large cardboard box.

"Sorry, you can't come." I told him once he'd reached the ramp, "The Major's feeling kinda' choosy- I barely made it myself."

"No that's not -- " he sighed, and rolled his eyes, "Just, take this." He put the box on the ramp and pushed it towards me.

It slid down the hatch and bumped my leg.

"What's in it?" I asked curiously, nudging it away with my boot.

"Mostly some stuff Kavanagh's group put together while you were out in the med lab. They weren't sure exactly what you needed though." he told me, resting a hand on the ramp as he spoke.. "So, just the basics, y'know, flashlights that type of thing."

"Really?"

He smirked at my skeptical tone. "Yep. And actually, there's a heavy-duty medical kit that Carson insisted on when he found out about it, a crapload of extra tools on behalf of Zelenka, an' a couple parachutes." he added, adjusting his ever-present cap as he spoke.

"Crapload, huh?" I said, slightly amused. Then, "We brought parachutes to Atlantis?"

"Only a few." he answered, "So be careful with these ones."

I surveyed the packs at the bottom of the box critically. "Seems like a waste of space…" I trailed off, "Anyway, I think it's safe to say we won't need them. If the shield doesn't work, Sheppard and I won't have enough time to get out before we're roasted. So," I smirked sardonically, "no need to worry about the parachutes."

He grinned. "Just in case. I think the saying goes: better safe than sorry."

I shook my head, trying to imagine a scenario where a parachute would be useful-- maybe as a body bag? I considered morbidly, but decided not to say it. The kid was just trying to be helpful. "All right then. Thank you Lieutenant."

"I don't mean to rush you…" Sheppard called from the front, his anxious sounding voice acutely reminding me of Atlantis's desperate situation.

Ford backed away from the ramp as it gradually began to lift with a mechanical whir, saying, "Good luck."

Then he saluted me.

Surprised, I just gave him a small wave.

Though I hadn't really been planning to before, Ford's sudden show of respect prompted me to bring the box up to the front with me.

"I know I don't have to say this to you," Weir's voice came over the intercom as I reached the front, "But, I will. Be careful."

Dropping the large box on the floor behind my chair, I sat down in the seat next to John, telling her quite frankly, "I don't plan on dying today Elizabeth."

Sheppard glanced over at me with a small smile. "So optimistic."

"Well, you know me." I said with a returned grin before continuing my conversation with Weir, "I suppose this is as good a time as any to tell you --" I sighed, remembering Grodin's news from earlier, "Once the Major and I are near the storm, radio communication will be impossible, and you won't be able to scan for us. The storm will make all electronics useless."

"Don't worry, though." Sheppard added, pressing some controls as we ascended, rising through the ceiling of the Jumper Bay. "We'll be back in no time."

"Forgive me if I do." she replied, her tone laced with anxiousness. "Jumper Two will be ready to go for a rescue mission if you're not back in an hour, and the rest of Atlantis will be on standby for an evacuation if things don't work out."

I had nothing to say to that, and Sheppard remained quiet.

"Good luck." she finished, breaking the silence with a voice full of unspoken emotion.

"Thanks." we both responded simultaneously, and after glancing at each other John cut radio communications with, "Jumper One, signing off."

We were now outside, and as Sheppard made a loop around Atlantis's threshold to point us in the right direction, I was dismayed, although not entirely shocked, to see a small portion of the city already submerged. Beyond that, I made out the destruction to the Eastern Pier from the Bales, crumbling pieces from the soaring towers breaking off and falling into the ocean even as I watched.

"Your plan better work." John commented wryly, obviously noticing Atlantis's position too.

I swallowed nervously, but said - in what I hoped was a confident voice, "It will. Of course it will."

He pressed some buttons. "Good."

The drive pods slowly came out of their compartments on either side of the ship, the customary blue lights flashing as they started powering up.

We flew towards the storm.

--

--

"Ow!" I cried, for what must have been the third time in two minutes, shoving a burnt finger into my mouth. "Never get used to it." I muttered, pulling the forever-calloused finger out and shaking my hand to rid the pain; trying to calculate my next move.

"How are things going back there?" Sheppard called with impeccable timing from the front, still piloting the ship.

I didn't grace him with an answer, surveying the tangled wires I'd revealed from the Jumper's inner-workings with slight annoyance. I was resting on my knees, tools splayed out all around me, although they weren't helping much right now. I'd even brought over Ford's box and pulled out Zelenka's tools, but none of them helped either.

Reaching back to my laptop, which I'd already managed to hook up with the ship's schematics (at least that part had been easy), I clicked some buttons and brought up a 3-D diagram of the Jumper.

Huh. According to the diagram, I was in the right spot, I'd ripped open the right panels, and I should be looking at the right wires.

But I wasn't.

"I don't mean to be um, naggy here McKay," Sheppard spoke up, interrupting my thoughts and turning his head so he could see me working in the back, "But we're sort of dealing with a time limit here."

My eye twitched involuntarily. "First of all, Major, 'naggy' is not a word. Second, I have a countdown right here on my computer, okay? I'm well aware of the time constraints, all right? So, just shut up and let me work!"

I glared at him, emphasizing my annoyance by slamming the lid of the laptop down.

Sheppard rolled his eyes, facing the front again.

Putting the computer to the side and digging through the wires once more, I wondered if maybe my diagrams were incorrect? As improbable as that was, since I'm the one who'd made them, it did seem to be the only logical explanation.

"Are you sure naggy isn't a word?" Sheppard pondered aloud suddenly. "Because it should be if it isn't. It's just fun to say. Naaa-geeee."

I made a resolution to find ear-plugs once we got back to Atlantis.

"Naa--"

"Be quiet!" I snapped angrily, feeling an intense amount of stress. I'd already wasted at least five minutes staring at useless wires. This should've been the easy part -- and Sheppard was really wearing on my already tenuous patience.

Thankfully, he fell silent. I think he was disappointed in my lack of response to his usual remarks-- but I was just too drained; I wanted to go to bed, I wanted to rest, and… well, let's see how much he was up for trading barbs when a city full of people were depending on him to save them in less then thirty minutes.

At a loss, I grabbed my computer, bringing up the flawed diagram once again.

"Seriously McKay, do you need help with something?" John asked, sounding surprisingly sincere now, "You're being just a bit snappish, and that usually happens when you can't figure something out."

"Which isn't often enough to mention." I grumbled, but sighed in defeat. "If you must know," I said, tapping rhythmically on the keyboard with a small pout before continuing, "the Jumper's schematics seem to have misplaced the shield mechanisms."

"Ah." he said after a moment, repeating pointlessly, "Shield mechanisms." And since he obviously had no idea what the hell he was saying, I was preparing to block him out and continue working again, but at that same moment he'd said 'mechanisms', a part of the diagram I'd been studying lit up in a bright blue color-- though it quickly faded.

"Whoa!" I exclaimed, clicking some buttons and trying to make it happen again.

Sheppard turned to look back at me, "What is it?"

"Hang on." I told him distractedly, willing the diagram to light up again. But absolutely nothing happened. "Come on!" I yelled in irritation.

"Did you find them?" he asked.

Once again, some components near the pilot's seat of the Jumper lit up on the screen. "Okay, just stay lit!" I practically begged the computer as I set it down and went to the front, trying to move John out of my way so I could get to that same compartment -- which was located underneath the piloting controls.

"Wait!" he barked in annoyance at my pushing, "Just let me put it on auto-pilot!"

I tapped my foot impatiently, but he finished quickly enough and moved out of the way.

Dropping to my knees and ripping open the lid of the compartment, I told him as I went through the wires, "Go back to my computer and tell me if the diagram is still lit."

He did as I said, but still muttered grumpily, "Would it kill him to say please?"

I ignored him, finding a group of distinctively orange wires. Orange was promising. "Well?" I called back to Sheppard.

"Well what?"

I rolled my eyes and asked mockingly, "Is the pretty picture glowing?"

"No."

I sighed in frustration, trying to understand. Why had it lit up at all?

"So, did you find the shield stuff?" Sheppard asked, then said in surprise, "Hey, it's glowing now!" Then -- just as quickly, "Wait, it's gone."

Oh. Oh! I sat back on my heels. Duh. "It lights up when you think about it." I said to Sheppard resentfully, resting a fist against my chin, plainly enviousness of his super-gene. So, not only could he manipulate the Jumper itself, but he could also control my computer when it was hooked up to it?

Fabulous.

"Really?" he said, sounding only slightly surprised. Then, "Yep, it's lighting again."

I went back to work, carefully pulling the wires apart. "Goodie for you." Well, that bothersome mystery was solved, and I'd found the shield wires. Everything should be smooth sailing from here. "How much time?" I called to Sheppard, pulling at a particularly stubborn wire.

"Uh," I heard some clicking, then, "countdown says twenty minutes and some change."

My jaw flexed involuntarily. Twenty minutes until Atlantis would be either destroyed or saved. Both depending on me.

No pressure though.

"Wire cutters please?" I called to Sheppard, blindly reaching a hand behind me and snapping impatiently.

A moment later, I felt the tool being pressed into my waiting palm. "Only because you asked so nicely." John said, voice dripping with mock-sweetness.

Distracted: "Uh - huh."

I needed to convert the shield into a conduit; relatively easy to switch now, going to be a real bitch to fix later.

Sheppard, who had sat down in the co-pilot's seat, was watching me now, rubbing unconsciously at his bruised eye and leaning an elbow on the controls while resting his head on his hand, a strange mixture of emotions clear on his face. I sympathized with him. If our positions were switched, and I was the one who had to watch another person fix this crisis, while I could do nothing, I'd be going crazy.

"Would you get out the flashlights from the box?" I asked him, cautiously taking apart the shield's safeguard mechanism.

He disappeared into the back, keen for something to do, while I went back to the task at hand. We wouldn't want the safeguard getting in the way later, but it was still weird to dismantle it. There wouldn't be any second chances with it gone.

Sheppard came back, holding a flashlight in either hand; a large heavy-duty one, and a more delicate pocket-sized one.

I took the smaller one from him, saying, "Kill the lights."

He blinked in surprise, but just a moment later, the Jumper was shrouded in darkness, the only light coming from the stars outside through the front window.

I heard a rumble of thunder, and the rain was starting to pick up.

"Mind explaining why I did that?" Sheppard asked, clicking on his light and pointing it at me.

I'd already turned on mine, holding it between my teeth to illuminate my work while still using both hands. "All power, excluding engine-capability , will be converted to the shield." I explained with slight difficulty over the flashlight in my mouth. "If we left the lights on, the power would be sucked out along with the lightning… basically making it hell to replace once we got back."

"Ah. You don't want to have work to do extra work later." he said with understanding. "Gotcha'."

"Oh good." I deadpanned, then hissed in pain from a sudden shock from the wires, pulling my left hand out and shaking it.

"You all right?" he asked, his light focusing on my singed finger.

I nodded, immediately sticking my hands back into the compartment, saying ruefully "Just another battle scar to show the ladies."

His laugh was genuine. "You and I have different definitions for 'battle scars', I think."

"Yes." I smirked, intertwining another shield wire with an environmental scanner, "My scars show obvious intellect and subtle, yet precise work. Yours… " I shook my head, still grinning with the flashlight in my mouth, "Not so much."

"Hey, my scars impress the ladies." Sheppard argued glibly, tossing the light back and forth between his hands and smiling fondly. Obviously lost in thoughts of the past, he commented softly, "I have no doubts there."

If I hadn't had such imperative work to do, saving Atlantis and all, I would've asked him to elaborate. Who doesn't like hearing about the ladies? Regretfully, I had to say, "Okay, time to focus. I've got to convert this shield."

He set his flashlight on the ground pointing towards me so I'd have more light to work with. "Right." Sheppard sat down in the co-pilot's chair again, sighing deeply and staring out the front.

Minutes ticked by as I feverishly disconnected, reconnected, removed, and cut wires, getting shocked more frequently then usual. Lack of light, sleep and food tend to do that to a person. In a way, I was grateful for the painful sparks. It kept me focused, and stopped me from drifting off into those random memories that I'd been prone to do these last couple days. The silence was only broken by rain pounding heavily on the outside of the Jumper and the threatening rumblings of thunder.

After a particularly excruciating shock, I started feeling a tingling all over my body. I was surprised to find the hair on my arms were standing on end. Still surveying my arm, I asked the Major, "Is it just me, or -- "

"No. I feel it too." he said, sounding awed. "It's the storm."

I glanced up, preparing to ask him a question, but instead, burst out laughing; the flashlight falling from my mouth. "Your hair!" I pointed at him, laughing some more.

"What?" he demanded incredulously, lifting a hand to his head. His hair, always, um, uniquely styled, was now standing straight up, giving him a peculiar resemblance to Don King.

He realized why I was laughing after patting his head, futilely try to push his electrically charged hair down. He frowned, looking down at my gleeful face. "It's not like your hair is looking any better, McKay."

Unintentionally, I repeated what Sheppard had just done, patting my own head to push down the offending hair. I gave that up quickly though, knowing it was a futile effort, leaning on the pilot's chair and pushing myself up to my feet so I could see out the rain-soaked window instead. "We must be getting close."

Sheppard nodded, still pushing on his defiant hair, which kept rising up. "Almost there."

The sight was amazing. "Whoa."

Still far in the distance, vast and towering clouds waited for us, looking like they were too heavy to be rolling around in the sky like they were. Countless lightning bolts streaked across the night sky, reflecting off the now sinister appearing ocean and giving the impression that the storm was twice as immense as it really was.

The spectacle caused me to recall a brief time, back on Earth, back in the college days even - when I shared an apartment with an eccentric fellow named Gregory.

Greg loved storms; practically lived for them. Planned on becoming a professional storm-chaser once he graduated; ignoring my critical remarks on that profession. I didn't think any Storm-Chasers were listed in the Forbes Fortune 500, I told him one time. He'd replied with something like 'neither are psychotic little bomb builders.'

I'd punched him in the nose, he'd broken one of my telescopes, then we went out to our favorite bar and got drunk.

Back in those days, it wasn't unusual for me to be woken in bed during one of those storms, and look up to see Greg gazing out my window, in a sort of trance. My room had the best view of the sky he always told me enviously -- wanting to swap. But I wouldn't switch with him. I'd worked hard to sound-proof that place so I could explode things in peace.

I shook my head, brought back to the present by a resonant clap of thunder.

Greg had been a nice roommate; head screwed on a little sideways, sure, but nice.

God, I was being nostalgic lately, but at least… well, this memory felt more like a nostalgic memory then the others had. More like I was just pining for the good ol' days-- and not being forced to relive them.

Turning away from the ominous view, I went to the back of the Jumper to grab some tools, lit only by the light from my laptop's monitor. I leaned down and grabbed a scanner, but the scrolling numbers on the screen caught my attention.

Seven minutes.

We'd be cutting it close, I realized while I looked for another tool. I was almost finished with the shield, thankfully, but there were still some details to take care of.

"Ah, there you are." I rejoiced quietly, grabbing the fuser I'd been searching for. I stood, straightening my shirt and started back to the front. I paused, still in the back of the Jumper, tilting my head slightly to the side. That was curious. "Do you smell something?" I asked John.

"Uh," he audibly breathed-in, "No. What is it?"

"Well, I'm not sure but…." I sniffed again, "I think I smell sulfur."

John was sitting sideways on the copilot's seat; still watching the menacing storm, "Is that bad?"

I shrugged. "It can't be good, can it? No." I answered my own question, deciding I should find the source before this turned into something bad. And since John wasn't smelling it, it must be coming from the back. I turned around, bringing out the scanner and pressing some buttons.

Hm. Scanner showed nothing unusual. I lowered the device, looking up, maybe I'd just been imagin --

I felt my heart skip a beat.

The glow from the laptop revealed the bottom half of someone sitting in the back of the Jumper, back resting on the wall with legs sprawled out in front of them.

I tried to say something to Sheppard, but my mouth didn't seem to work anymore. I think I might have squeaked.

The legs twitched, and the person shifted, leaning forward so that I could see who it was.

Brendan Gaul's startlingly white eyes stared at me accusingly while blood dripped down the left side of his creased and youth-less face. He was holding his head at an odd angle, the shadows hiding most of his features.

Except those eyes. The eyes were angry and sad and staring and I couldn't look away.

Gaul suddenly twisted his neck so that his whole head was revealed. Mushy brain was exposed in the dim light, bits of his skull mixed in with it. Blood was gushing freely, and running through what was left of his grayish hair.

The smell of sulfur singed my nostrils, it was so overpowering now.

"You…" his gravely and dead voice groaned, still facing the far wall, only letting me view his ruined skull, "You did this to me…"

I couldn't move, I couldn't think, I didn't even realize that I was shaking.

Gaul slowly turned his face back towards me, lifting a weary finger and pointing it at the nasty hole in his head, "You did this…" he uttered, his jaw moving unnaturally as blood began trickling from the corners of his mouth.

No, no, no. This wasn't happening. This couldn't be happening. We'd buried Gaul and Abrams near the Athosian camps. Weir had said nice things, everyone had said it was a pity, and then I was left with the image of Brendan's dead body seared forever in my mind. In my head. Not… not here. Not now.

"Look at my head…" Gaul ordered as if he'd read my thoughts, still pointing, "I'll never use it again… I had potential. So much potential….and you…" The hand dropped, and now he just stared, the obvious anger and resentment held in his gaze stifling me. "and you killed me… You did this…"

My eyes were starting to sting, and I realized in some distant, sane part of my mind, that I hadn't been blinking.

Regaining a bit of sense, I felt I had to defend myself to this hideous abomination, "Th - the Wraith did it…" I managed to whisper.

Gaul sneered, his mouth twisting in an ugly fashion that caused more blood to spurt from its sides. "The Wraith didn't give this to me." His voice had more conviction to it now, and the gun he'd used to splatter his own brains against the Hive Ship walls suddenly appeared in his hand.

"McKay?" A voice called questioningly from behind me; but I didn't really register who it was. I think what was left of my logical mind had fled to the deep recesses of my brain so it wouldn't be tainted by this… this highly irrational event.

Gaul was watching me, gun resting in his limp hand.

"You aren't real." I said- wondering who exactly I was trying to convince.

His eyes flickered sadly before his hand tightened its grip on the sidearm, slowly lifting it up, the muzzle turned towards his already destroyed skull. "You did this…"

"No." I realized what he planned to do; begging softly. "Don't."

He frowned despondently, creasing the aged face that surrounded youthful eyes as he prepared himself to pull the trigger; and it was those eyes that made me -- against my will -- go back to the day that it all happened.

Gaul, still young and relatively happy with life -- hadn't even wanted to go down the planet, I remembered. Telling Elizabeth how radio communications would be difficult, ignoring my obvious signs to stop talking. Abrams had been nervous too, but more excited about the prospect of searching an abandoned ship then his friend.

Dividing and leaving the two inexperienced scientists together had been stupid, I realized now. Should've had Sheppard with Gaul. Gaul could've used the military support -- he'd been unreasonably scared, and Abrams would've been okay with me.

But you can't go back in time. God knows how many times I've wanted to -- going over the string of disastrous events again and again, when I should be sleeping in bed, or when Teyla goes on too long telling us about a possible trading partner, or when Sheppard makes me take some hand-to-hand combat training sessions and I don't want to listen to his explanations for every little thing.

It happens a lot.

When I wait too long to start a new project; I'll suddenly be back on that planet -- remembering the moment the gun went off -- me not wanting to turn around to see what I knew was going to meet my eyes, but feeling like I had to.

And now it was happening all over again. This -- this already dead Gaul was about to kill himself again, and I couldn't even move.

It was almost a blessing when he pulled the trigger this time, because the top half of his body collapsed into the shadows of the Jumper, and I didn't have to see him anymore.

"McKay!"

I jumped, clutching a hand over my racing heart as I spun around.

Mr. Paulsen, my unnecessarily cruel fourth-grade teacher stood there, hands on his hips.

"What?" I asked breathlessly, thoroughly confused. I think I had been expecting someone else, but I couldn't remember who. "You?"

With a sneer he glanced over at the back of the Jumper, then down at me - because, suddenly I was nine years old again, and he towered over my shaking self. "You idiot! Look at what you did!"

"I -- I -- I didn't -- "

He shook his head in disgust, "Trying to show off again, Rodney? Well look at that." he pointed behind me, in the direction of Gaul's body. "Look at it!" he ordered when I still hadn't moved.

Hesitantly, I turned my head, nearly fainting in horror when I saw Gaul sitting up once again, brandishing a new and gruesome hole where his left eye should've been, smoke rising lazily. His lips pulled back and he was grinning at me with bloody teeth.

"It didn't work." Mr. Paulsen said mockingly, moving to stand beside me. "He's not dead like you wanted. He lives on in here." He poked the back of my head almost painfully. "Forever."

If I'd had anything in my stomach to puke, it would've been on the floor by now. I tried to get away from the horrifying sight, taking a step backwards, but ended up stumbling on shaky legs and falling onto my rear.

I whimpered from the floor, "Please, I… I just…"

"What are you sniveling about now, Mister McKay?"

I lifted my eyes from the floor, ignoring Paulsen and gazing at Brendan regretfully; remembering our last moments together, back on the planet.

Why couldn't I have stopped him? If I'd just been paying more attention… taken that damn gun away, maybe. …Not shown him his reflection in the mirror…

So many wrong choices were made that day, and I couldn't take it back -- ever. Gaul was dead, and it didn't matter that I hadn't pulled the trigger. It was my fault. He had been part of my science team, and I'd let him down. Allowed him to blow a hole through his own head.

I swallowed convulsively, trying to gain enough control over my shaky and nauseated body so that I could speak.

"I'm sorry. I'm so sorry." I finally admitted tearfully to Gaul's corpse -- and, I realized in a strangely distant way, to myself.

He blinked his only remaining eye, but didn't reply.

Mr. Paulsen leaned down and grabbed my wrist, twisting the upper-half of my body around to face him, "Do you think that fixes everything?" he hissed, spittle raining down on my face, "What about them?" He put a hand over the top of my hair -- my hair -- my electrically charged hair-- What? How? My mind reeled from the sudden uncertainty.

I -- I was supposed to be doing something with Don King? I had to, uh -- I was so confused! There was something about a countdown, I think -- shields, or a city? Why couldn't I focus?

I stared at Mr. Paulsen, and I swear, for just a second, his face flickered and someone else was looking back at me.

But it was gone as quickly as it had come.

Suddenly, the world around me began to dissolve, and I tore my gaze from Paulsen, looking in a strangely disconnected way to see what could be happening now.

Rain poured from a dark sky, and I numbly realized I was sitting in the middle of a field I'd played in when I was a kid. My brain wondered slightly how I was back in Vancouver, but that thought was quickly swept away. Where else should I be?

Paulsen was there again, wrenching my arm to gain my attention. He pointed out towards the expansive field behind me, rain dripping from his finger. "Look at them. All the people you don't deserve."

I didn't want to, dreading even the thought of it.

But I did.

Slowly -- hesitantly -- turning to see…

Well.

To see everyone.

Mom, clasping her favorite copy of the Bible, looking at me with shame written across her face -- Jeannie. An impatient little eight year old version of Jeannie, two pigtails bobbing energetically as she stomped a foot, angry that I'd broken another of her toys with one of my experiments -- My dad. No longer dead, just very old and frail looking, before he'd succumbed to the cancer. Always, always with the disappointed eyes -- A crying Sarah. Damn, how I missed Sarah. I should've said yes.

There were so many people. People from choir, high school, church, college, all the places I've worked… For every stage of life, there was a person I'd let down.

They all watched me with sad, angry, disappointed or ashamed looks, standing silently in the field, oblivious to the rain pounding down on their heads and shoulders.

They were all there; every single person I'd ever met. All of them -- and I'd hurt every single one of them. In some insignificant way; or something so horrible it made me flush in angry embarrassment to think about it.

My heart broke.

Paulsen was right. I didn't deserve them. I didn't deserve anyone.

But even as I looked around and seemed to see every person I'd ever known… I felt… Incomplete. Something was missing… a big part wasn't there… there was.. something…
… I just couldn't remember...

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tbc