Strange Bedfellows

Spoiler: Tiny, weenie one for "Letter from Pegasus", though it doesn't really qualify as a spoiler. If you didn't see it coming… well, you should have seen it coming. :) And a little one for "The Brotherhood." Nothing important, don't worry.

I've got my mojo back! At least I think I do, depends on what you guys tell me. Hint hint. No seriously, thanks for all the reviews! You've been great! It starts to pick up again at the end of this chapter, and the chapter I just finished (ch 20) is full of action.

Only a handful of chapters left!

Chapter 18: Counting On

Dammit, I must have dozed off again, John thought to himself. He was still hanging by his arms, as he had been for hours now. It was getting harder and harder to stay awake; he was so drained he found it difficult to just keep his eyes open.

Concentrate…. I need to concentrate on something. Various math equations ran through his head. He had often found that during briefings back on Atlantis, instead of paying attention to McKay's theories about thingamabobs and whatchamacallits he would doodle on his paper and run random mathematical formulas in his mind. And while his background in applied mathematics hadn't quite came in handy yet, John found it infinitely more interesting than listening to the astrophysicist yammer about… whatever he yammered about.

Starting with something he had learned in grade school, John attempted to recall all the Fibonacci numbers he could remember. Okay, easy enough… 0, 1, 1, 2, 3, 5, 8, 13, 21, 34, 55, 89, 144, 233, 377, 610, 987... 987... Come on, John! You can add 610 and 987 for crying out loud. 987... 1497 - no, 1590-something… 1597? 159-…. Shit.

Deciding to move to something easier, he tried the prime numbers. 2, 3, 5, 7, 11, 13, 17, 19, 23, 29... Hey, this isn't so bad. John was able to make it all the way to 523 before he hit a snag. His memory wouldn't let him go any further and he was growing more tired by the minute. This sucks.

Okay, pi. You can do pi. You learned it in first grade. 3.141592653589793238462643... 643... 64... Oh, come on already! he shouted in his head, exasperated. But his frustration seemed to be keeping him awake for the time being. If McKay could see me now, John thought with a smile. He had never told the scientist about his degree in mathematics - although he did once let it slip about the Mensa test he had taken - mostly for fear that he would be recruited to the base's Dungeons and Dragons club or something. Not that he had anything against the scientists; in fact he had mostly enjoyed their company. It was just that he found them somewhat… eccentric at times, and he liked to keep his mathematical abilities a secret. Besides, he had a reputation to protect.

John's thoughts automatically drifted back to the last conversation he had with Hergon. Was the man simply playing him for a fool? Or did he actually think his ridiculous scheme was going to work? In any case, John had a good mind to spill it to the Wraith, just to get a little retribution. Maybe he could use his new knowledge as a tool against them. But who knows; would that be exactly what Hergon would want? Was this all some sort of complicated, convoluted strategy of his? John's head was spinning; he couldn't make heads or tails of the situation.

He closed his eyes for a brief second, intending only to rest them and clear his head. When he opened them however, he was able to glimpse several humans, Tiny, and Number Two from the corner of his eye. He wondered how long they had been standing there and how long he had nodded off for. God, I need some sleep.

"Gentlemen," he greeted wearily. "And… things," he finished, not quite sure how to address the Wraith. Not that he cared about pleasantries anyway. John wondered what he was in for now.

He soon got his answer as one of the Wraith approached him with a knife. John bit his lip, shut his eyes, and braced himself for the inevitable burst of pain. It never came, however, and he was forced to open his eyes to see what had happened. The sight that met him he had certainly not expected: the Wraith was cutting the rope that bound him to the ceiling.

After several seconds of sawing through the ties with an ease that no human could hope to achieve, John was released. He fell to the floor with a definitive thud and his ribs were instantly on fire once more. While he remained curled in a heap and regained his breath, one of the humans - who John noticed was enjoying the show before him - spoke up.

"You will remain here. Hergon wishes to speak with you." He turned an exited the room along with his companions, leaving John alone.

Weakly, he pushed himself to a sitting position and leaned against one of the walls. He could feel the blood returning to his upper limbs which briefly gave him pins and needles. It would be a while before he would be able to move them. The ache between his shoulders returned with full force, and for the first time he noticed how much it really throbbed. Too tired to move, however, John remained content sitting on the ground, eyes closed.

To his dismay, he did not fall asleep. His mind simply wouldn't let him, and his military training kept him alert for any signs of danger, one of which walked through the door at that moment. Without even opening his eyes, he knew it was Hergon. The room seemed to lose all life when that man was in it. It was darker, colder, eviler.

"Major," he addressed, knowing he was awake. He studied the man on the floor. "You do not look well. Is there anything you need?"

John suppressed the urge not to laugh again. Oh, this is rich. He could see right through the commander's façade; there was something he wanted, and if that meant being nice, so be it. And although he was tempted to ask for an aspirin, a beer, and a ticket home, John responded with a clipped "no." He wasn't about to accept any sort of help from this pompous prick.

"I see," the Klaan replied, a little miffed. "Have you thought about my proposition?"

Straight to the point. "Yes." He was going to make him work for his answers at least.

"Well? Will you agree to help us?" he asked irritably. He was getting annoyed at his prisoner's obvious lack of respect.

John cracked an eye open to see how Hergon was reacting to his disobedience. The man looked on the edge of his seat as he awaited his answer. Hey, this is fun. It's nice to have the shoe on the other foot for once. "Mmmm…" he said, feigning actually giving thought to this oh-so-important decision. "No." Then he closed his eyes again and pretended to ignore Hergon.

"What?" He couldn't believe it. "You mean to say you will not aid the Klaans?"

"Nope, sorry. No can do. You see, I'm sort of busy at the moment; got a lot of things on my plate." He opened his eyes, looked at Hergon tauntingly, and smiled. "You'll understand." He then closed his eyes once more and could only imagine the steam coming out of the commander's ears.

Several moments later, he felt himself being brusquely yanked up by his shirt and slammed against the wall. It didn't surprise him; Hergon was irate and Sheppard had only egged him on. In fact, John enjoyed this sudden outburst. It pleased him to see his once cool and collected captor, who had at one time been so arrogant and cocksure of himself, begin to sweat in desperation.

"You are making quite the mistake, Sheppard," Hergon growled. "Rest assured that after we take the city, you will be the first the Wraith feed upon." He dropped John to the floor and stormed out of the room in a huff, barking orders to his men to take the major back to his cell.

Well, John thought. That went well.


Elizabeth lied staring at the ceiling of her quarters. She cursed the endless rows of circles that decorated the ceiling and cursed the Ancient who thought that such a pattern would actually be pleasing to the eye. She had on several occasions counted all of the intricate shapes, often finding it soothing for the mind, and had found there to be exactly 1,000 tiny rings above her head. But as she tried now, Elizabeth found she could not get past the third row. After number 312 or so, she could not concentrate. Her thoughts drifted to somewhere else. To someone else.

It had been three days since she had been discharged from the infirmary. Of course, Beckett had wanted to keep her longer, but she couldn't stand everyone coddling her like she was an infant. They had all simply assumed that because she hadn't spoken much that she must have had some inner demons that only they could exorcise. How incessant questions about her well-being and what had happened was supposed to help her condition she wasn't sure, but in any case she needed to get out of there. At least her own room provided her some sort of privacy where she could be alone with her thoughts - that is until McKay decided to knock on the door during his hourly check-ins. She was getting really tired of those.

Running her hands over her face, she let her mind wander, but Elizabeth knew where it would settle. It was something she didn't want to think about. All she wanted now was for someone to pinch her, to wake up from this awful nightmare. Three days since Carson released me… so that's five days John's been gone, she calculated. Only five days…. It had felt like a millennia, like she had aged and thousand times over since he had been missing. She wondered what kind of condition he was in. He was pretty bad off when she had last seen him, but now…. Is he even still alive?

Clutching his jacket, Elizabeth realized she wished she had gotten to know him more. After spending months with him in a completely different galaxy, what did she truly know about him? Sure, she had known about this flyboy's record; that she had gotten from his file. Anyone could have gotten that. He had liked Johnny Cash; she had seen the poster in his quarters. And of course college football, Ferris wheels, and anything that went over two-hundred miles per hour. Then there was the vanilla ice cream he had insisted on sneaking to the mess for in the middle of the night to get with her when he had sensed she needed a break, which was often. But other than that…? Sadly, Elizabeth realized she had learned more about him in the last week than she had in the past six months. Not frivolous, inane things like his favorite food or hobby, but real things, things of substance, like what kind of man he was. He had proven that to her.

Suddenly she longed for more time with him, to share more of those innocent moments they had together, if only to find out his favorite food or hobby. Elizabeth needed to tell him what he meant to her. What did he mean to me? she wondered, not exactly sure of the answer. Well, she knew that he had meant a lot to her. Everything, even. He was her rock, her anchor, her support, her strength, her protection. There was no denying there had been something between them, but what that 'something' was she wasn't certain of. She had gotten the feeling that he didn't want a relationship because it could potentially ruin the entire expedition, something she happened to concur with. Elizabeth had also recognized that it would completely undermine her authority if the rest of the base found out - which they undoubtedly would - that the head of the team was seeing the chief military officer. He was protecting me, she realized. Often times she got the feeling he was pulling himself away from her, like he was afraid to hurt her. Of course, he had known about Simon….

Simon, she thought. Elizabeth had never told John that she had asked Simon to move on. They had officially split only a short time ago, but their relationship had long been dead even before she had left for the Pegasus galaxy. He was always too… distant. Now she regretted not telling John. Not that it was any of his business, really, but she wondered if it would have changed anything. Probably not, she decided. Still, she would have liked someone to talk to about it instead of keeping it locked away inside her, and knew John had always been there for her in the past whenever she needed to talk. Smiling, she recalled the time when he had instantly stopped his work on a Puddle Jumper and brushed off Bates when she had come to him about the Kolya incident.

Wait. What am I thinking? She expelled the selfish thoughts from her head. John was important to all of them.

But the fact was she alone without him. Elizabeth was empty with John gone, with John taken away from her. Stolen from her.

A knock on the door interrupted her thoughts. I swear, if it's Rodney one more time…. Elizabeth rose to answer it. As the doors her room slid open, they revealed the smiling but concerned face of Doctor Beckett. Truth be told, she was surprised it had taken him this long to check in on her.

"Just making my rounds," the Scotsman informed her. When she didn't budge, he asked, "Mind if I come in and do a quick exam?"

Actually, I do mind, she thought bitterly. Elizabeth didn't feel like talking to anyone right now, didn't feel like seeing anyone right now. But she wordlessly complied and moved aside to let the doctor in.

"So what really brings you to my neck of the woods, Carson?" she wondered aloud, impatience tainting her voice.

Carson inwardly winced. "Well… I know I promised not to disturb you… but Rodney sent me," he spilled. Noticing the look of indignation on her face, he added, "He's just worried about you, lass. We all are."

She couldn't believe this. She should have known Rodney was behind this. The next time I see him, I swear-

"Besides, I brought some lunch," he offered, holding up a tray of food she hadn't previously noticed. "No one's seen you in the mess for the past few days, so I figured you've got to be hungry."

Elizabeth allowed herself a grin. "Famished," she admitted. All this time she had been ignoring her hunger and hadn't actually noticed how intense it had become until Beckett had waved the chicken and mashed potatoes in front of her face. "What about the food shortage?"

He shrugged. "I think we can make an exception for you, love. I won't tell if you won't."

She smiled appreciatively and dug in. God, it felt good to taste real food again. It's nice to have friends who really care, she thought Maybe she had overreacted before with Rodney. He was only looking out for her. Plus, he had made a promise after all.

"Ah, now there's a smile. Now, tell me how you're feeling, lass," Carson said, turning the conversation to more serious matters.

Elizabeth proceeded to tell him about her physical symptoms: the cuts and bruises she had unintentionally ignored treating, how her swollen knee had shrunk a little in size, how she was continuing drinking plenty of fluids… although that wasn't entirely accurate. All in all, she hadn't done much of anything the past few days but lie on her bed. She couldn't even sleep when she wanted to.

"Well, you look pretty good to me," he declared after a quick examination. "Just give yourself some time to rest and you'll be up and about in no time." He paused, wondering if he should ask the next question. Carson looked her straight in the eye and asked softly, "So, how are you feeling? Really?"

Putting her fork down, she stopped chewing. Was she really that obvious? Not meeting his worried gaze, she played with her food: digging holes in her mashed potatoes, carving them into various shapes, all the while deciding how she wanted to answer. If she wanted to answer.

"What are we supposed to do, Carson?" she asked quietly. "Keep working like nothing happened?"

Beckett looked at the broken woman sitting on the bed. He was a doctor of medicine most hours of the day, but right now he was a fellow human being, a friend. But most of all, he was someone to talk to, a shoulder to cry on. Sensing she was about to say more, he let her continue.

"It's been five days now. Five days." Elizabeth made a sound that Beckett couldn't tell if it was a sniffle or a faint giggle. "You know, I keep thinking…. I keep waiting for him to walk through that door with that big goofy grin plastered on his face, just itching to crack one of his jokes."

Carson studied her once more. She looked so happy as the memory played in her mind, but at the same time she looked so far-away and grief-stricken.

Noticing his stare upon her, she looked up. "So what are we supposed to do?" she asked him again. "Just wait and hope by some miracle that he comes back? Or just move on? Should I put on a happy face, smile, and pretend it's all going to be okay? Because it's not. Not for me."

Again she received silence from the doctor. Elizabeth knew it was unfair to ask this of him. He was only trying to do his job and here she was pouring all her feelings sorrows out onto him. The silence was awkward; she felt exposed. As she opened her mouth to apologize, she was cut off.

"You know," he began slowly and gently, "as a medical doctor, I'm trained to assess, diagnose, and treat anatomical problems. It's sometimes difficult, yes, but they're nothing compared to the ailments of the heart and of the soul. And while we can more often times than not cure diseases and sicknesses, it's not that easy when it comes to spiritual, to incorporeal afflictions. The fact is, love, there is no training for such things.

"What I'm trying to say, Dr. Weir, is that with time,you will be completely fine as far as your body goes. But I think that it's time to soothe your troubled heart." With that, he gave her a knowing smile and stood to leave.

Elizabeth stared at the Scot before her, speechless. Was there some sort of hidden meaning behind his words? Had he just told her that she had the capability to bring John home? That she should at least try?

"I'll be back in to check up on you later, lass."

"Thanks, Carson." And she meant for more than just the check-up.

"Don't mention it." He turned to leave.

"Wait!" Elizabeth called after him. "I'm… sorry about the hand," she said, noticing the bandage. That was an episode she didn't care to talk about ever again.

"Not at all. Believe me, I've had worse." Carson smiled and left the room.

Elizabeth watched him go. She would have never thought the good doctor could be so insightful. He was right; she did know the location of the Wraith outpost and therefore could lead a rescue mission to go in and get John. If he did return, it wouldn't be because of a miracle, it would be because of something she had the ability to do. The question remained, though: could she handle it?

She needed to get out of this room, to think. Maybe one of the piers would be the perfect spot. Exiting her quarters, she gradually made her way down one of the hallways. It was slow-going because of her still stiff muscles and joints, but she welcomed a stretch of the legs. As she mindlessly walked the corridors of the great city, passers-by couldn't help but cast inquisitive glances in her direction. She got the feeling that some were genuinely concerned for her welfare, but others simply were curious as to how the mighty leader of Atlantis was coping now that she had fallen.

Unconsciously, she stopped in front of one of the doors. It led to someone's quarters. John's quarters, she realized. Hesitating for only an instant, she opened the doors and entered. Chills ran down her spine. Elizabeth had only been in here once and until now had never actually noticed his room. It was small, out of the way. The interior was utilitarian: only a desk, chair, and shelf accompanied the bed. For some reason, she had expected it to be a mess, but in fact it was in pretty good shape. Not immaculate, but pretty clean.

The bed was still unmade, just as it had been the morning they had left on the mission to Klaan. Smiling sadly, she noticed the Johnny Cash poster still hung above the bed. Running her hands along the desk, her eyes locked on to War and Peace. Page eighteen, one page past where he had been several months ago, she noted amusedly. Elizabeth fingered his extra set of dog tags that were hanging over his lamp before they moved to the drawer of his desk. Opening it, she found stacks and stacks of papers on which were written various plans he had apparently put together in his free time. There were so many, maybe even hundreds - surely enough to make Rodney jealous - complete with diagrams, charts, everything. They were on a variety of topics, ranging from how to more efficiently use the Puddle Jumper's energy consumption to a theory on how much energy in Atlantis was lost due to friction and heat. It was amazing; Elizabeth wondered why he had never mentioned them. And here Rodney had once criticized him for being too frivolous.

Buried under the papers were a 9 mil and a VHS tape. Elizabeth guessed it was his beloved college football game, the one with Boston College versus Miami and the famous Hail Mary pass. Then there was a picture of him in his flight suit standing next to another fellow pilot in front of some sort of helicopter Elizabeth could not identify. John had his arm around the young man and they were both grinning like idiots, like he had just told one of his patented jokes. Elizabeth could tell they were in the desert from the sand and hot sun in the photo. Turning it over, she read what was hand-written on the back. "Captain John 'Sparky' Sheppard, Second Lieutenant Bobby 'Doogie' Lilam, USAF. 417th Expeditionary Mission Support Squadron, Kabul, Afghanistan. March 21, 2002." It was dated three months before Doogie had died. She could not help but laugh out loud, though, at John's call sign, 'Sparky.' It certainly did not fit him. There must have been an inside joke behind that one.

Taking the picture, she sat down on his bed and took a deep breath. Elizabeth let her eyes wander around the room. It was him, she realized. His quarters had every aspect of him in it: a little disheveled here and there, practical but lighthearted, and full of surprises. Closing her eyes, she could even imagine him alive there with her. But that isn't the case, she reminded herself. He's probably dying right now. He was gone; she had seen it with her own eyes. But you can make it the case. You can get him back. No one else on this base knows where the outpost is; only you do.

She sat with her eyes closed and argued with herself. She wanted to help John, she really did, but she didn't know if she was strong enough. Would she be able to go back there and face her tormentors? What were the odds on a plan even working anyway? What were the odds he was still alive even?

Elizabeth ran her thumb along his photo. She remembered how he had told her of his friend Doogie, how the experience had torn him apart. She didn't want that to be her. The difference between this situation and Doogie's was that John's hands had been tied; there was nothing more he could have done. Elizabeth's, however….

Steeling herself, Elizabeth took a deep breath and rose to her feet. John had never left anyone behind and she wasn't about to either. She at least owed him that much, and if that meant facing some stupid, selfish fears, than she would face them.

With renewed determination, the leader of Atlantis strode out of John's quarters and made for the briefing room.


This isn't happening. Not again, Ford thought. Just when he had thought he had dealt with all opposition to coming up with a rescue plan - namely that of Sergeant Bates - he had to hear it again, this time from Kavanagh.

As before, Ford, Teyla, and McKay all stood on one side of the office, all adopting defensive postures, as their opponent stood across the briefing room's table from them. Kavanagh stood with arms crossed. He wasn't about to give in so easily, especially with Bates backing him up. Aiden noticed Bates hadn't said a word the entire time, but his mere presence angered him. He had thought the sergeant had been put in his place before. Now he wanted to rehash the issue?

"Look," Kavanagh began, "I'm just as happy as the next guy that Dr. Weir is back."

Yeah, I'm sure you are, Ford thought, rolling his eyes. It was no secret Kavanagh despised Dr. Weir, and he certainly didn't approve how she handled most of the city's operations.

"But this is ludicrous," he continued. "We can't go storming back there just to get Major Sheppard back. It's insane. We have no way of finding him without Dr. Weir's help, and it's painfully obvious she too petrified to be of any assistance."

"'We?' Just who do you think this 'we' is? You're not going anywhere, Kavanagh. You'll be happy to know that your sorry self will be safe and sound back here on Atlantis. Not that we would expect you to ever risk your neck for someone else," Rodney muttered. How did this chump ever end up on my science team? And Bates? 'Head of security?' He's no better than a Wal-Mart rent-a-cop.

"That's beside the point."

"Did Sergeant Bates put you up to this?" Teyla inquired.

Kavanagh stared at her with contempt, as if she had just found out the truth. "That's not important. What's important-"

"Bates, you're going on report as soon as we get this thing resolved," Ford decided.

"- is the security of this city."

"Security of the city?" Rodney asked. "And what exactly would you know about that? From what I've seen, you spend your days either holed up in the lab, at the mess hall, or taking unapproved breaks in the media room, so please, do tell. I'm really curious as to what you can contribute to the security of this base." His sardonic tone was not missed.

"McKay. You're one of the smartest guys on this base; you of all people should see how irrational this whole thing is!"

"Oh, please, Kavanagh. Don't play that card with me!" This was getting heated. They were now practically shouting over one another.

"Listen. If you want to get yourselves killed, fine. But we have Bates here."

"Wait, wait, wait. What are you saying, Kavanagh?" Ford asked. He hoped this wasn't going where he thought it was going.

The scientist may have been a weasel, but he wasn't about to be intimidated. Smiling like he was some divine prophet, he answered. "I'm saying…. The major is gone. But the fact is, he was just a grunt. Expendable. He can easily be replaced."

His words hung over them all and a heavy silence descended upon the room. Even Bates cringed. He didn't know Kavanagh would go that far just yet.

Ford could hear his heart beating in his own head as he tried to control his infuriation. He really didn't say what I think he just said, did he? The looks on his fellow teammates' faces confirmed his suspicion, though, and left the young lieutenant wondering what the laws against murder in the Pegasus galaxy were.

McKay opened his mouth and was about to lay into the man when he noticed a shape in the doorway. Noticing his gaze, four other pairs of eyes followed his stare and came upon the figure of Elizabeth Weir looking at them. She bore an expression of confusion on her features.

Oh… shit, Ford thought, grimacing. How long had she been standing there?

Elizabeth walked into the room, ignoring as her body protested the movement. Her brow furrowed in puzzlement. She had only caught the last few sentences Kavanagh had said, but it had been enough. How could anyone be so cold? It made her sick.

Kavanagh swallowed as Elizabeth stopped in front of him, her gaze indicating her extreme displeasure with the scientist. "D-D-Dr. Weir," he stammered. "I… I was just-"

A slap to the face caught the off guard physicist by surprise.

The bitch hit me! "How dare you!"

"No, how dare you," Elizabeth shouted over him. She had had plenty of practice at doing that. "I wish I could say your obvious lack of concern for the other members of this expedition surprises me, but ever since coming to this galaxy I've learned to expect nothing more from you."

"But-"

"I'm not finished." She paused and let the notion that she had the supreme power sink in through the scientist's thick skull. She was way beyond angry at this point. "Now. If you were actually able to put your ego aside, you would be able to see that Major Sheppard in an invaluable part of this expedition. We wouldn't be here today without him, and may I remind you that he has saved your ass, both of your asses -" she said, looking to Bates as well - "on countless occasions. And if anyone on this team is expendable, it's you." She didn't add that his comment had also hurt her personally.

"But there are Wraith out there!" Kavanagh cried.

"And believe me," she warned, lowering her voice and getting into his face, "that if they do somehow get into this city, I will make sure you are the first they feed upon." Of course she didn't mean it, but she did enjoy the look of utter terror that crossed his face.

"And you," Elizabeth said as he turned to Bates. "Do I have to remind you that is your CO out there?"

"No, ma'am." This was a fight he couldn't win and he knew it.

"Good. Then I will let him deal with you when he gets back. He'll be home shortly." She dismissed the pair and turned to her friends who had a look of pure shock on their face. "What?" she asked innocently.

"Um…" Rodney tried. "It's just… wow," he laughed.

Forgetting his company, Ford smiled and added, "You just handed them their asses on a platter!" He coughed, realizing what he had said. "If you don't mind me saying. Ma'am."

"Not at all, Lieutenant. Now, I need to know our status," she said, eager to get this conversation on the right track.

"Since you have returned, Dr. Weir, we have sent two probes through the Stargate to the planet Klaan," Teyla explained. "The first was able to detect a group of eight Wraith guarding the Gate before it was disabled by one of their Stunners. The second, which was sent two days ago, revealed that the Wraith still stood watch over the Gate before it, too, was immobilized."

"No troops or Puddle Jumpers could possibly make it through, for obvious reasons," Ford clarified. "Even if we cloaked, all they would have to do is fire blindly as soon as the Gate connected. So we toyed with the idea of sending grenades through first. But then we realized the Wraith could easily step out of the blast radius and avoid the detonation altogether."

"And then we believed C4 might be the answer." It was Teyla's turn again, but Rodney intervened.

"But any detonation of that magnitude in such close proximity to the Gate could easily destroy it." He threw his hands up. "So we're stuck."

Elizabeth took it all in silently. They had been busy while she had been.… While I had been pitying myself, she admitted. She was ashamed. All that time could have been used planning a rescue mission. But there was no time to dwell on that now; there were more important mattersat hand.

"Okay, McKay, I want you to send in another MALP, see what's going on."

"Ma'am…." Ford was cautious. He wanted to go get the major as much as everyone else, but he felt it was his duty to inform her of the risks. "We only have one MALP left, and if this one-"

She held up a hand to silence him. "I know, Aiden. Let's just see what turns up, all right?"

"Yes, ma'am." He had been hoping she would say that.

"If we get an all-clear, I want a Jumper ready to go with a full team of Marines on board."

"I'm coming, too," Rodney stated.

"As am I," Teyla added.

Elizabeth looked at her team. They were the best anyone could hope for, and she now understood why John had risked his life for them on many occasions: because he knew they would do the same for him - no matter how much he didn't want them to.

"I figured you would," she smiled.

"Elizabeth…. You realize this means that if we get the go-ahead, you're going to have to go with us?" Rodney asked, ever-concerned.

She nodded, not hiding her nervousness at all well.

"And you're going to be okay with that?" he continued, genuinely worried how she would handle returning to the place where she could have died.

Elizabeth sighed and looked him in the eye. "Do I have a choice?" She returned her resolute gaze to the now active Gate. "Send the MALP."

TBC


Yes, I decided to make Carson all cool in this chapter. I love Beckett, yay! And no one like Kavanagh, so I had to find an excuse to do that. I'm sure you'll forgive me, though, hehehe.