Marie stared dispassionately at the man lying strapped to the bed. On an impulse, she brushed a strand of stray dark hair away from his eyes. She watched as those same eyes moved underneath his closed eyelids. Attached to his arm was the nutrition line, and on his head, just above his right eye, was the link to his mind.
"You did good, Marie."
Marie didn't smile, or turn at the voice. She continued to stare at John's body. She wondered if the end justified the means. She wondered if the hatred she felt for herself would ever go away.
She felt the hands on her shoulders, and knew they belonged to the man who had spoken behind her. He gently spun her around, to face him. Ada smiled kindly. "You know we have to do this," he remonstrated, lifting her chin so she looked him in the eye, but she kept her eyes cast downward.
Did she know? "They aren't a risk. They never were," she said bitterly, disputing his claim.
Ada dropped his hand from her face, and frowned, not liking the change that was coming over her. "You don't know that. None of us do, and with so few left, can we take the chance?"
Marie turned back to look at John, and her eyes trailed over his body to that of McKay's, lying to the right of his friend, and trussed up in the same manner, with a wire linking his thoughts to John's. "We do now," she whispered. "They are enemies of the Wraith, not agents."
Ada was shaking his head, negating what Marie was trying to say. It went beyond that, and she knew it. "The second they detected our power signature, we had no other option. You know that when the Wraith capture them, and they will eventually capture them, our presence would be detected," Ada scolded, and he let his desperation, and his own feelings of remorse loose into his words. "I don't want to do this anymore than you, none of us do. But tell me that those two men mean more to you than our people!" he demanded. "Tell me, Marie!" He was pointing angrily at the still figures. His gray hair shook under the weight of his compassion - for Marie, for the Eladeans, and even for the two men whom he was leading to an early grave.
Marie couldn't. She wanted to rise above it. She knew that John would've said it. He would've fought to save their lives, even though the other, McKay, would have said the same thing as Ada. Two lives for two hundred, more or less - it had to be a fair exchange, but it left a bitter taste. "I did it, didn't I?" she said, defeated. "He thinks I'm taking them to the gate."
Ada again approached her, reaching hesitant hands to her arms, trying to console his daughter. "And when you get him there, we'll have the address, and we can end this, I promise."
Marie continued to stare at the figures, and her mind wasn't on the deception regarding the escape. Her mind was on the end. "Father…it won't hurt, will it?" she asked tremulously, and she fought against the pain growing inside. She couldn't bear to think of killing these men. Killing John. John, who reminded her so much of her husband. He had died fighting to protect their people's escape from their world, so that they could live here, undetected, and hopefully someday recover enough to eradicate all Wraith in the universe.
"No, Marie," he comforted. "It won't hurt."
She placed one of her hands over her Father's, and leaned her face into it, feeling like she was a little girl again. "That's good," she whispered. "I don't want him to hurt anymore."
John's world…Another sharp pain above his right eye, and John became aware of his slow move into wakefulness. He tried to get a grip on where he was, and what had happened. As the memories began to return, he also became aware of McKay, breathing raggedly to his side. "McKay?" he whispered. He waited, but all he heard was the continued labored breathing.
Damn, he'd have to get up. He forced his body to move, but it was sluggish, and the effort took his breath away. He managed to get up, and thanked his lucky stars that McKay's bed was only a step or two away. He made it, and sank down thankfully on the welcoming surface, watching McKay's body tilt towards him as his weight caused the mattress to dip lower where he'd sat. There was a line of drool trailing out the corner of Rodney's mouth, and John reached over with the edge of the blanket, and wiped it off. "You'll thank me later," he said quietly.
As he looked closer at McKay's face, another vision intruded. He was lying in a field, the grass damp with dew, and the smell of burnt flesh and smoke overwhelmed his senses. He felt rocks poking against his body, and he pushed off the ground, already looking for McKay and asking, you okay? He saw Rodney lift his head and answer him. I'm fine. This is…this is fun for me. He felt an almost physical jolt as he returned to the present. These visions were eating him alive. He still had only bits and pieces, these flashes, and still no names other than McKay.
Speaking of, he narrowed his eyes at the figure on the bed. "McKay, wake up," he tried again.
This time he was rewarded with Rodney's eyes blinking up at him. "Sheppard?" he croaked. "What…?"
"You…" Sheppard stopped, because he found himself somewhere else. He was in a large room, one he'd seen before, with a gigantic round artifact towering to his right, and McKay was lying on the ground, blinking up at him like he'd done moments ago. John had given him a half-grin, more a wry twist of his lips than an actual smile. You must have passed out, he said. A spike of pain, and his hand flew to his forehead. "…must have passed out," John finished.
McKay had slowed his breathing, and was watching him worriedly. "Another flashback?"
John was almost afraid to open his mouth. Words, thoughts…it seemed anything was up for grabs on triggering these flashes of his past.
"This is great. We're stranded, and you're going back and forth more than a shell shocked soldier from a world war."
"I'm not shell shocked," protested John.
McKay shrugged. "Denial isn't just a river in Egypt."
"That's original," retorted John. "For a genius, you suck at witty comebacks."
"Geniuses don't reinvent the wheel," McKay said, smiling smugly.
John stared at the egotistical man, and glared. "You know, I'm kind of glad I didn't remember you," he said.
"Is that the best you can do?" McKay asked, his face registering disappointment. John realized this was a game that he and McKay had played out more than a few times.
"Give me time, I'll think of something," he said. Something…images swirled, and he was standing next to a console, and McKay was there. McKay will come up with something. He saw McKay grimace, and reply, I will try, but despite what you all may think, I am not Superman. John saw himself look around the room, at the other nameless people standing around him and McKay, and he asked, was anyone seriously thinking that? John realized his eyes had drifted shut as he was ravaged by the vision. He forced them open, "You're not Superman," he murmured.
Rodney stared at him, annoyed. "I never said I was, your point?"
John took a ragged breath of his own. "Nothing," he replied. "No point."
"Twilight zone to Sheppard," McKay snapped. "Stay with me."
"Where would I go?" John asked, confused.
"Wherever you keep going," explained McKay, and the harsh edge was gone from his voice, and John realized he was being watched more closely than he had realized.
"I'm okay," he tried to reassure McKay.
Rodney didn't buy it. "You're not okay, and neither am I, but try to stay with me so we can get out of here."
That reminded John, and he wanted to smack himself for forgetting. "Marie is going to help get us home," he told McKay. The thought that he didn't know where home was intruded into his mind. McKay started coughing, and John helped him into a sitting position, patting his back, trying to help Rodney breathe.
"Jesus, Major, are you trying to kill me?" McKay spluttered.
John stopped pounding on the man's back. "I was trying to help," he said, and pulled his hands back. Once his support left McKay's body, Rodney fell back, and hit the mattress and pillow, yelping as his bandaged upper body made rough contact.
"I'm sorry, did that hurt?" enquired John sweetly.
Rodney grimaced, but John saw the look of resolve in McKay's face, and knew McKay would never give him the pleasure of admitting it had. "Not at all, refreshing, actually," Rodney gritted through clenched teeth. "You were saying?"
Right, Marie, and their big escape. "Seems Marie's people aren't as nice as they pretend to be. She's going to get us back to the gate." John kept the explanation short and simple; one, he wasn't sure how long he'd have before another flashback took him away, and two, he didn't have much to add.
Rodney tried to get settled in a position that wasn't causing him more pain, but he wound up causing more problems than before, getting twisted in the sheets. "Glad to see hormones didn't rule the day," he grouched, as he fought to untangle himself.
John reached over and tugged the problematic sheet free of Rodney's torso. "My hormones could kick your hormone's butt any day." As the sheet came free, Rodney was jerked away from John. "Sorry," he said waspishly.
The door opened, and Marie hurried in. "Ada's here, it's time to go," she said, and before John could protest, she started picking up his discarded clothes, and tossing them on his lap. He looked dumbly at the black trousers and white shirt, realizing they were the same clothes he'd been wearing. He lifted them to his face, and pulled away in disgust as the smell hit him. "Isn't there anything else to wear?"
Marie put a hand on her hip, and regarded him like he was a child pushing away his dinner plate, and refusing to eat his vegetables. "John, we don't have time for this, wear the clothes."
"Yes, John, wear the clothes," mocked Rodney.
"I wouldn't be so eager to tease your friend, Doctor McKay," scolded Marie, and she lifted some type of hospital gown off a chair, and approached McKay. Rodney scooted back as much as he could, until the pain got to him, and he held up his hands to ward Marie away. "Oh, no way, I am not wearing that nightgown," he protested.
"Just wear the clothes," John mocked Rodney, returning the favor.
McKay pointedly ignored John. "Come on, there's got to be something else?" he whined.
"Not with your bandages," Marie declared, and she lifted McKay's back off the bed, slipping the gown over his head, and tugging it down his shoulders. She laid him against the mattress, and eased first his right arm, then left, into the sleeves.
Marie turned to find John still staring, clothes in his lap. "John?"
But John was gone, lost in another flashback. He was standing in front of a cell, walking around the perimeter, and he felt his heart lurch as he realized it was a Wraith behind the bars, and the Wraith was talking. You waste time…I'll provide you with no information. He felt cold determination. Wonder what hurts more, the gun shot wound or the hunger? Because I'd love to help out, but…how did McKay put it We can't meet your dietary requirements.
"Twilight zone boy!"
The darkened cell room warped, and vanished, leaving him staring at the pile of clothing. "What?" Disoriented, John looked around. Marie and McKay were staring at him, waiting. He looked down again at the black pants. As his mind caught up, he pulled the shirt over his head, and mumbled, "Knock it off, McKay." He felt like telling whoever was in charge to stop the ride, he wanted off.
Ada burst into the room. "Marie, we need to go!"
Marie helped McKay to his feet, and John didn't ask any more questions. He pulled the pants on, and grabbed his shoes, following them out the door. At the front door he slipped into the warm weather clothing that was waiting, and watched as Ada and Marie helped McKay into some kind of blanket wrap. "We've prepared a wagon for you two. It won't be very comfortable," she warned.
He didn't have time to reply, because they were already moving outside. In front of the timber fence he remembered admiring what seemed like weeks ago, was a waiting wagon with a team of horses harnessed to the frame. He thought he recognized them. "Darling and Jack?" he asked.
"Who'd you expect?" Marie asked.
He followed them to the wagon, feeling the snow crunch under the boots he'd hastily slipped on over his shoes. He felt like pointing out that those couldn't be the only two horses on this planet, but then he wondered maybe they were. He heard McKay grunt in pain as they helped him into the bed of the wagon. He sympathized with Rodney. His head had steadily grown angrier with the movements, and he felt like his brain was on the verge of exploding.
There was a pallet made up, and as far as accommodations went, he figured it could be worse. Not much…but it could always be worse. Judging from the strained look on McKay's face, his thoughts weren't shared. "Can't you give him something?" he asked, not liking how gray Rodney had gone.
Marie climbed over the back of the seat, settling next to Ada on the bench at the front of the wagon. "You know we can't, John," she replied. She picked up the reins, and clucked to the team. Marie hadn't talked about any of the emotions she had showed earlier, and John wondered if it was because they were in a hurry…or if it was because Ada was here, now, and she didn't want to admit to her feelings in front of the other man.
John stared at her rigid back, before turning away, and checking on Rodney. "You okay?"
Rodney was laying stiffly on the blankets, and John could see the white lines around his mouth that betrayed how much pain he was experiencing. Rodney grimaced. "Oh sure, having burns over half of your body, and having them bounced around feels wonderful," he said dryly. "I'd recommend it to every masochist I know."
"That sucks."
McKay lifted his head, just enough to look Sheppard in the eyes. "Why does that suck?"
John grinned. "Because you're the only masochist I know."
Rodney dropped back down with a long, suffering groan. "This is all my fault," he moaned to himself. "It's karma, for all the crap I gave Carter, while secretly undressing her in my mind."
John stared at McKay with sick fascination. "And you rode my ass about hormones?" he finally accused.
Rodney let his head roll to where he could look at John, without lifting his head. That took more effort than he had to spare. "Have you seen Samantha Carter?"
"No," said John. "What about her?"
"She's hot, Major," explained McKay. "If you looked in the dictionary under hot, you'd find her picture."
"Oh, that's too bad," John consoled.
McKay was back to looking up at the gray, cloud-skudded sky. "Why?"
"Because any girl that'd make the definition of hot wouldn't be seen in public with you."
"Ha ha…"
Marie twisted to look at the two men, and they didn't see her watching them as they fell into the easy bantering that came naturally to their odd friendship. She wondered what it would have been like living on their world, where the scariest thing to fear was their own people. They hadn't gotten a lot of concrete information from Sheppard. Most of it was interfered with by his recurrent flashbacks that took over their efforts at directing his memories, and with the exception of one he'd had while he was sleeping, one in which he'd tossed a coin sitting on a grassy hill, they'd seen nothing of his home world.
Ada pulled at her arm, directing her to face forward. "Stop that," he said, lowering his voice so only Marie could hear him.
"Stop what?" she asked crossly, equally as quiet.
"Watching them. Wishing it didn't have to be this way."
"Father…" Marie started.
Ada put a finger to her lips. "Shhhh, no more, Marie."
Marie didn't argue, but she couldn't stop from taking another look back. She wondered if she'd always be looking back after this was over.
