John's eyes snapped open and he sat bolt upright in his bed breathing heavily. He left his alarm clock ringing next to his bed and bolted to the bathroom. He was grateful to the cold water that poured out of the tap as he splashed it over his face. Looking up in the mirror, he stared bleakly at his own reflection. This was bad.
Really bad.
Walking back into his room, John picked up his alarm clock. He still didn't bother turning it off. Instead, he moved across to the little balcony his room had. Stepping out into the morning sunlight, he decided to vent his anger. Pulling his arm back, he hurled the alarm clock with all his strength towards the sea. It continued to ring till it hit the water with a resounding splash. With a grunt, John stalked back into his room and pulled on his uniform.
The corridors weren't quite empty, but the few who were around made sure to avoid Major Sheppard. Anyone who tried to speak to him were either blanked or yelled at. Not even Ford dared say anything when he walked past his CO.
Sheppard had a mission. He needed to see Rodney. He needed to speak to someone with a level head who was non-military and John trusted. That was really only his team, but Ford was military and Teyla was in no state. So it had to be Rodney.
Arriving at the lab door, he didn't bother to knock, but hit the button and walked straight in. Rodney was stood fiddling with a very small and delicate device. The sound of John's heavy footsteps made Rodney jump and drop the device. Just as it was about to hit the bench a small blue force field appeared around it, stopping it from smashing on contact. Rodney stared at it, quickly made a note in his book and turned on Major Sheppard.
"What the hell do you want!"
He could see Sheppard looked angry, so maybe provoking him wasn't a good idea.
"I need to talk to you."
"Really. So was the dramatic entrance necessary?"
Rodney picked up the device again and went back to studying it.
"Look, I'm sorry. I need to talk to you though. I had another dream."
For a moment, Rodney's concentration faltered. These dreams were bad news.
"Fine, but why are you telling me? You normally tell Elizabeth first."
"I made a vow not to tell the person I dreamt about."
For the second time, the device fell and hit the desk. Rodney's face became pale. He looked at Sheppard with wide eyes.
"W-w-what do you mean? You didn't dream about…?"
John hung his head, unable to meet his eyes. Rodney took a step back and sat down.
"You dreamt about Elizabeth getting hurt?"
"I dreamt she was shot."
"What?"
"I dreamt that I saw Elizabeth being shot. Twice. Then I woke up. Rodney, what if this is the one? What is this is the one where someone dies? What if Elizabeth dies, and it's my fault?"
John looked up at Rodney, tears seeming to form in his eyes. All the anger that had been pent up inside him seemed pointless now. She could die. She could die, and he couldn't stop it. Couldn't he?
"John…We have to do something."
"What can we do? We couldn't stop the rest of them."
"Maybe this is the one where you do stop it. Look, all we have to do is work out a plan. I mean there are plenty of people we could get to help. Ask around. I'm sure the whole of Atlantis would help if we asked. It could work. We would make it work. With a bit of help we can save her. Right? Right John? John? Are you even listening to me?"
John's eyes were glazed over as he stared off into some distant point. He couldn't get the dream out of his head. He kept playing the scene over and over. Each time though, it had a different ending. He'd go to her and she would be fine. He'd go to her and she'd be unconscious. The man would die when he shot him. The man would shoot him.
But, there was one that kept playing. The one he didn't want. The one where he shot the man then went to Elizabeth and found it was too late.
She was dead.
All he could see was her lying there in a pool of her own blood. Her eyes were wide and staring. Her hands were cold. She looked pale, so pale. Parts of her dark hair clung to her forehead. Her face was twisted in pain and horror.
Even though it was only a daydream, John wanted to throw up. He felt closed in. Trapped. His breathing quickened. His heart pounded. Beads of sweat began to form on his brow. It was all too much.
Without another word, John turned and ran. He didn't care where he ran to, he just had to escape. He needed air.
A balcony. He could head for a balcony.
Picking up the pace, he headed for a transporter. He didn't care where he ended up, as long as there was a balcony. Without really thinking about it, he hit a button. It was a button to an area he'd visited before. To where there was a balcony he'd visited before. To where he'd spoken to Elizabeth before.
To an area where there was a balcony on which Elizabeth was stood.