Termination

Never could he have imagined something as horrific as this. John was powerless, caught in this strange incubator, unable to move because of the clear material that had plastered itself against him. They'd been in these machines for hours. Hours spent staring at wide expressive eyes in unmoving faces; eyes that saw death as it claimed Kiren and Targus, beyond his field of vision.

John stared for what seemed like forever, waiting for any indication that the essence they carried had been taken. He watched as they appeared. Little tiny cuts all over Opal's nude body. As they continued to emerge, he noticed they were not cuts but fragments of her body being sucked away. He realised that they were enclosed not only by the clear material of the Sancta, but also by a rounded shield. Pieces of Opal left her body by a clear tube, travelled its length, hit the shield, and fell around her.

Opal's eyes were impossibly wide and locked on him. Knowing she could feel the piece of her shoulder leaving her body and feel the blood trail down her skin, John tried to convey his support. By looking at her intently, he tried to tell her he was sorry, he wanted to help, she didn't deserve this. Eyes could speak, but not that eloquently, so he settled for holding her horrified gaze.

All he could think was that this would happen to him; he would feel his body literally flying away. How ironic was it that the pilot would die in flight but remain firmly on the ground. Not what he had envisioned when he'd said he'd be happy to die defying gravity.

It took an eternity for Opal to disappear completely. By that time, he did not think of her as a person anymore, she had become only a body, a carrier, just as he was. He saw the essence, a deep forest green puff that came to him through the tubing and mingled with the senses that had been eased from Kiren and Targus. Eased. Right. The clear material of Opal's incubator regained its normal shape, no longer having a body to mould itself to, filled with fluids and floating pieces of flesh, tissues and bones. Filled with a…mush…that had been Opal. Such a gentle woman. She had been so kind to John, supportive and understanding. He hadn't said much to her, hadn't cared to befriend any of the others. He had been selfish; missing his home, his friends; fixated on what he'd lost to avoid the bond that couldn't help but be formed.

Friends could only bring you pain, he'd reasoned. Seeing them suffer was painful. Being without them was painful. Knowing you had never told them how truly valued they were; agonisingly painful.

People were a liability, a limitation. That's what he'd been told and held to be true but as much as he tried to hide it, John cared. It was an intricate part of him; something his grandfather had said was a great force; something everyone else had said was a weakness. He had a city full of weaknesses and a head full of memory in the form of people he had come to regard as family. A whole city of military and civilians to care for.

It was Minevry's turn. He watched her too as, bit by bit, she truly became nothing, not only in spirit but in substance. Insignificance in the grandness of existence. That's what Rodney had said the night they'd watched the Wraith darts collide with the shield: "The scope of the universe makes human life inconsequential." Of course, he'd gone on to say he was the exception, possessing the secrets of the universe in his all-knowing person, but John hadn't been fooled by the arrogant comment; the astrophysicist had hidden depth. John had come to learn he, himself, didn't.

Too soon, Minevry was reduced to parts of a whole. Reddish liquid filled with human fragments. A gruesome tumbler; half full or half empty? Pessimistic or optimistic views of the world were ridiculous; realism was what you needed when you were dying.

Useless, he was utterly useless. He hadn't saved anyone. He watched Nihel as he had watched the other women. He tried to show her that she was not alone, that in those last moments he accompanied her, but he was sure she was not convinced. He was not with her, not really. He was seeing all the people he hadn't managed to save before her. She was one of many and he was so sorry. His courage had failed him. He'd failed everyone.

Nihel was gone. They were all gone. Oblee stood close, watching him as he had done the others. He was sure she smiled. She had a right to; the love of her life was coming back to her as soon as John became a puddle. A puddle! Wasn't that what he had always been? Without a true shape, always adapting to any boundaries?

He felt a sting, something akin to a shaving nick, and knew it was starting. His destiny would be fulfilled and how many people could say that? How many people knew their purpose! He did; he simply didn't know who he was anymore. Somehow, it was important. He wanted to die with a certain understanding of his life, of himself. What was he worth? Was he correct in believing he was irrelevant? Not in the metaphorical sense but truly, a speck of immaterial?

Yes… … …no!

He closed his eyes tightly in an attempt to keep the pain hidden away. He couldn't believe in himself anymore. As much as he wanted to and knew he should…he just couldn't. There was doubt; sneaky, malicious, nefarious doubt. It questioned his every thought and ridiculed him. If he tried to force himself to believe he was of consequence it would bring forth arguments that convinced him he wasn't. John wanted out of his own skin quickly; it was the only way to make the pain go away completely. Doubt was too strong an opponent to be fought or reasoned with.

John opened his eyes; they locked on stormy blue ones and he came to an obvious conclusion. Doubt had nothing on Rodney McKay.