Once again, standing ovation for Angela!
Notes: Very small, hidden, a wink of a spoiler for Epiphany. We're back on track, I sincerely hope you'll enjoy!
Surrender
Today was the day he, John Sheppard, would cease to exist.
Not that he cared, really. He didn't want to exist as the organic equivalent of a Tupperware and with the knowledge that he did not deserve this life. He knew if he lived, he would feel like a fraud and resentment would only serve to bitter him. How did you retain a sense of self when you knew, you knew, you were naught but a shell. A pale copy of a much-loved man. He could rage, he could deny it until his last breath; it would never change the fact. He was nothing. He couldn't face a life of self-doubt. Hell, he'd known what he truly was for a week and already he was becoming a neurotic mess.
No, better to allow Banee to return; it was meant to be.
Oblee had vaguely explained to them what was to happen. She'd admitted she didn't know much about the effects of the process, but that she could make educated guesses. He hoped she made the McKay kind of guesses because those usually turned out well. Usually.
They were to be assembled and be blessed with the unending repose, as Oblee had poetically put it. In Sheppard terms, it meant they'd give what they had and go bye-bye. In re-engineering the device used to create the force field he and his team had found themselves in, Oblee assumed she would be able to gently ease the essence parts from them. The assurance that it would be painless had left them utterly uncomforted. Somehow, it had not held the ring of truth. She could ease to her heart's content, it wouldn't make it easy on the concerned parties. Concerned parts. On them!
They made their way through the forest, Oblee in the lead walking hurriedly.
Like lambs to the slaughter. Or rather like cans to the compactor; emptied of their content and ready to be destroyed. The 'Banabees', as John called their little gang in what he thought a clever play on words, were speaking amongst themselves. He lagged behind, lost in thoughts.
Never again would he be able to experience the enjoyments life brought. Flying and the exhilaration of defying gravity, of going up into space. Exploring new worlds and experiencing things so few on Earth ever would. Living in the lost city of Atlantis! Making friends with aliens. Real, honest to god, non-green, very reassuringly human aliens! Befriending so many different people from various places. Czech Republic, Scotland, Thailand, Greece, Poland, Argentina, Bali, Egypt, England, New Zealand, Canada.
Friends. He'd never see them again and was glad it would not concern him much longer. He'd already spent six months away from them not so long ago and what a number that little adventure had played on his psyche! Even though this separation had been much shorter, his throat tightened and he didn't try to fight the tinge of depression that coloured his eyes. John didn't know when he had started needing these people, wanting to know them. Unfortunately, it had happened and he now had to suffer the consequences. He'd only ever lost people through death. It was a familiar concept, he knew how to deal, how to move on, but this was different. They were alive, somewhere out there, probably looking for him. It was regrettable that he would most likely never be found. Still, he was comforted by the simple fact that they were searching.
Elizabeth would stay strong, the veneer would not crack. Interesting how they had slowly adapted to each other. A little cautiousness had passed from her to him. She risked more, he risked less. She would risk a lot for him and Ronon would push for more. He was loyal and wouldn't hesitate to do whatever it took. He and Teyla offset each other so well. Ronon would be in relentless pursuit, shoving anything that got in his way while Teyla would evaluate the situation and take the path most likely to lead to victory. Vigorous and fierce Ronon, persuasive and refined Teyla. Their mere presence brought security to John's life; a rare occurrence in this world where saving your own was the prime directive. Carson had to be the one who upheld this the most. Save your own. In his case, it was simply save, no matter who or what they may be. The man had wanted to help a Wraith! That spoke volumes of a person's character. Of course, putting up with Rodney's hypochondriac antics was enough to prove how strongly he believed in the Hippocratic Oath.
John worried about Rodney, about his obsessive need to…to what? Why was it that his gigantic amount of self-importance shrivelled to a mere need for sustenance when the lives of his people where at stake? He'd forget to eat, to sleep, to do anything but the set task. This time, the task was most likely to find John. He hoped someone dragged him away from his work once in a while. Ah, he had a great team; they'd stick together and drag him to the mess.
Stick together. They sure had experienced it in the literal sense on that platform. Waking up cuddled to McKay was an experience he would rather forget. He ran a hand through his hair and pulled sharply on a few strands in the hopes of driving away the doubts that assailed him. God, he hoped they were alive. Please, let them be alive! They had to be!
Whilst he had been trudging through his brooding thoughts, they had made great progress on their trek and were nearing the edge of the forest. Oblee stopped and reached her hand out to the field that prevented them from leaving. She seemed to grab only air but as she pulled, a slight swish could be heard. Letting go, she turned to them, a beaming smile upon her face.
"Kiren, I am sure you will be glad to see more of this world."
"Indeed I will Oblee. Our accommodations have been most pleasing, but I was a hunter, used to travel regularly." He looked down sheepishly, "I must admit I have missed it."
Oblee reached out and stroked his cheek in a motherly fashion. John couldn't believe how deeply disturbing that was. She thought it acceptable that they would have to give their lives despite the fact she had come to regard the earliest arrivals as close friends. Whenever he raised the question of the dubiousness of her actions, she simply said that their lives had never been theirs to begin with. What was he to say, it was true! Still, it upset him to see his life finish like this, to know he had never been genuinely alive or with a purpose, other than give his soul back.
Oblee was going to kill them and had convinced the others that this was a good thing, that it was praiseworthy. Hell, she'd managed to get sympathy from John. The problem was, she was not doing this out of malevolence but out of her love for Banee and he had a little problem hating her for it.
How confusing could this get! He knew it was wrong, he knew he wanted to live, yet he had no wish to do so with the knowledge he had garnered here. He was John Sheppard and no one could dispute that fact, but John Sheppard was only a pale copy of Banee. If he were to escape, in a great show of miraculous intervention, would he be able to forget what he was, would he be able to quell his anger, his doubts and go on? He couldn't fight something he believed. He was nothing. As such, it was only right that he would fade away.
He followed them out of the forest into a flowered field in which five contraptions encircled a sixth one. They looked like incubators but were oval-shaped. Funny really, incubators that looked like oversized clear eggs. They were linked each to the neighbouring and all to the middle, the core. He knew where he was going and his stomach tried its metaphorical hand at rebellion again.
"These are the devices of which I have spoken. They will allow me to release Banee's essence and perform the assemblage." She clapped her hand together in glee. "Banee will return! I could never fully express the joy you are bringing to my life."
To John's surprise, Targus laid a hand on her shoulder and spoke. "It is our pleasure to contribute to this joyous event. You know we have come to care for your plight and believe it is our fate."
"I know, Targus, and I am grateful. I will finally return to my life, as it was before Banee was exiled, and you will have fulfilled your destiny. This is cause for rejoicing!"
John wouldn't go as far as rejoicing anytime soon, but he'd be glad when this was over. Wanting to get away from yourself because you were no longer yourself was distressing and extremely confusing. He watched Oblee walk around the devices and open them. The top seemed to collapse on itself and disappeared to allow an opening to form. She verified the connections between the devices. Once it was done, she approached them, with a spring in her step.
"Come. It is ready. Come!"
Beckoning to them, she walked to the closest device.
"Kiren! Please, come."
Kiren hesitated. Afraid, now that the moment had come to give his life for a man he would never know. He looked to them with uncertain eyes. Targus smiled and nodded, as did Opal. Minervry moved her hand in what John knew to be the equivalent of 'thumbs up'. Nihel frowned and John remained stoic. What was he to do? He was afraid too. He was torn. The insanity had to stop one way or another.
Kiren stepped closer to the device and prodded it tentatively. It gave under the pressure but normalised when it was taken away.
"Do not worry Kiren, the Sancta cannot harm you!" She stood behind him and put her hands on his shoulder. "You must disrobe and take your place."
He nodded and proceeded as instructed. Oblee went to a small console standing beside the middle device. Kiren was meant to be standing in the anatomical position while the incubator material shifted and moulded itself to enclose him, like a second skin. He panicked and struggled but was quickly overpowered, frozen in a restless pose; a strange effigy.
John knew his stomach had called for reinforcement as a pounding headache came to intensify his apprehension. He didn't need his body to tell him this was all kinds of wrong. Kiren's eyes continued to blink rapidly. He was conscious and terrified.
"Targus! Proceed to the Sancta please!"
They each took place in their intended device, wide terrified eyes blinking dazedly, and before long John was left alone with Oblee. She hadn't left her post at the console nor did she do so when he refused to go. She simply turned to him with a sympathetic look, but then she spoke her voice held a hint of exasperation.
"John. How can you refuse? It is your destiny! The only purpose you have. The reason you are alive, the reason you are here! We have discussed this already! I understand your reticence, but you would only be living a lie. This is not your life to lead! Surely you must see you are negligible in the grand scheme of the universe."
"I know." She was right. Even if he did attempt to leave and return to Atlantis he would live with the certitude that he was not meant to be. By keeping the essence, he would be killing Banee. How could he dictate who had the right to exist? He carried Banee's life inside. It had never been his; he had no claim to it.
"Please John, it is time…"