A/N: Glad you people are diggin' this story so. We're only a few chapters away from exciting things being afoot. Until then, more mental turmoil.
Ch. 7
For Want of Hope
Elizabeth folded her hands on top of the table and leaned forward. " The Cyladrans are still a threat."
Kate seemed unable to sit, hovering behind the chair instead. " I would say so, yes. I want John to tell you the details on his own, but for the time being the details aren't important. What is important is that the Cyladrans harbor deep bitterness, and we didn't even have to do anything to cause it except show up. Now, I'm not confirming that they might try something else, I'm just giving you the preliminary of what I gathered from John and his team. From a psychological stand-point, I'd say the Cyladrans warrant caution. Who knows, maybe what they did to John and Mathers satisfied their need for revenge. Then again, maybe it didn't. I just don't think we should pass off this encounter with the Cyladrans as over."
Elizabeth looked down at her hands. Really, she'd rather be hearing all this from her CO, not the base shrink, but John was down for the count in a drug-induced sleep. Kate wasn't acting as mediator for the man, she'd come on her own terms, feeling the information gleaned from Sheppard's team too vital to wait on.
What happened to John and Mathers – exactly – wasn't forthcoming. It didn't really matter though. All that mattered was the Cys being responsible for Mathers' death, and them being a possible threat to Atlantis.
Elizabeth would still rather hear all this from John so they could discuss what to do.
Speaking of her CO... " What about John?"
Kate shrugged. Elizabeth wasn't liking the helpless look on the shrink.
" He was pretty worked up last night. I can't even say when he finally realized I was the one he was talking to... Not that he even cared when he did realize. He's pulled confidentiality on me so I can't go into it too much. And – like I said – I'd rather he be the one to do the talking. I will say this; he's taking it hard (obviously) and the last thing he needed was another potential enemy to keep him looking over his shoulder. He's stressed – very, very stressed."
" Well, he's been stressed before, overwhelmed..."
" Which is probably half his problem," Kate replied. " Look, I can't get into it or I might say something John won't be too happy about. I'm pretty certain it won't be lasting – he won't want it to. He's going to want to be back on duty as soon as possible."
" Will he be able to?"
" Knowing John? Yes. But I'm apprehensious. There's going to be... trust issues."
" With our people?"
Kate shook her head. " The rest of the galaxy."
Elizabeth remained composed in the face while inside she cringed. John already had trust issues with the rest of the galaxy. They all did. How much further could one take that mistrust? Shooting blindly into a forest just because a twig snapped? Elizabeth knew John was a better man than that.
She didn't want to ask it, hated having to ask it, but had to ask it so did. " What do we have to look forward to... worry about?"
Kate crossed her arms and shook her head. " I have no idea."
The answer didn't inspire confidence.
" It's all up to John. Dr. Weir, this may be crossing the line a bit in confidentiality, but what the Cyladrans did to Sheppard would have made the Genii drool."
SGASGASGASGA
Two days later
John jerked his knee so that his heel tapped the step. From his seat at the top of the stairs, he could watch the gate when it finally rushed to life. Keeping to the side, people could hurry past him as though he weren't even there.
He checked his watch. Lorne's team would be back in the next five minutes, round about. Punctuality wasn't always a promise on any given mission.
" ... If it was really that easy do you think..." McKay's irate voice was interrupted the exact moment something hard struck John in the ribs. Both men let out a cry – one of alarm, the other of pain. John curled, hugging his chest. Rodney snarled a curse, gripping John's shoulder to steady himself.
" Colonel, what the hell!"
John sucked in a sharp, unsteady breath but kept his eyes firmly on the gate. " McKay, I'm not to one not watching where I'm going."
" No, you're the one acting like a road block! You don't want to get kicked, then get off the floor."
The muscles in John's shoulders and back pulled until they hurt. 'Kiss off, McKay'. The words made the tip of John's tongue itch to be said. Rather than speak, he ran his tongue across his molars. Getting into a pissing contest with Rodney would be a distraction, and John didn't want to miss the incoming wormhole.
" Colonel. Colonel? Sheppard!"
The contest was inevitable, because Rodney didn't know when to stop being persistent.
But even John was aware it took one to know one. " Rodney, I have every right in every world to sit where I dang well please, so stow it."
" No, you don't because you're in people's way..."
" No he's not," a control tech said on heading out.
" Nobody asked you," Rodney snapped. " And you, Colonel, the control room has windows. Go get in everyone's way there. I mean what if one of Lorne's team is down and Beckett has to rush in here? Think they're going to be watching where they're going...?"
Alarms shattered the normally mellow ambiance of the city, and John's heart jolted with it.
" Incoming wormhole!"
John pushed himself to his feet and hurried forward. The gate exploded to life, liquid and rippling, and armed men formed a wall around the perimeter.
Lorne's IDC was announced, followed by the shield blinking off. Seconds later the team emerged, one by one, starting with Lorne. Lorne stopped in front of Sheppard, but John's gaze went past the major to the influx of the rest of Lorne's team.
" I'm sorry sir..."
John's eyes flicked back to Lorne. The man looked beat, melancholy, and subdued.
" He wasn't there."
The last man emerged, and not any from the team carried a stretcher or body bag between them. John's heart stumbled over itself.
" With all due respect sir," Lorne said. " I doubt a body's going to show up any time soon."
John's fingers curled into a tight, quivering fist, nails biting into his palm. " It will," he said, tone flat and forcefully controlled against his own raging will. He'd seen this coming, expected it, and it still wasn't easy – like holding back the wind with his bare hands. " We just won't know when."
John turned with a stiff back and marched up the steps to the control room where Elizabeth stood.
" We need to talk," he said abruptly, and without waiting for a response headed to the conference room. " You too McKay," he said on passing the physicist. In a rare moment, John was the first in the room, but wasn't planning on sitting. He paced in jerky strides, even when Elizabeth and Rodney entered.
" Shouldn't we wait for Teyla and Ronon?" Rodney nervously asked. His answer was John closing the room off. Weir moved to the other side of the table at her usual seat, but made no moves to sit down either.
" What is it, John?" Elizabeth asked in that neutral way of hers. John would have sold his soul for a piece of that calm. A headache was forming behind his eyes, leaking into his forehead to crawl deeper into his skull. He massaged the area, digging his fingers into the stretched skin of his forehead.
" I want to go get him," he stated. His heart was beating hard enough to concuss itself.
" John," Elizabeth's calm was faltering, " not just is that a bad idea, it's a terrible idea."
John turned on Rodney before Elizabeth could say more. " They use devices that hide their outposts. Isn't there a way to pick up on the signals or energy signatures?"
" Um, probably not. The devices were designed for camouflage purposes, which means they were designed not to emit any kind of a signature, which means there's probably no way of tracing the Cyladrans through their devices. If anything, the devices probably hide other signatures from other devices. So, I think it's safe to say - no, absolutely not."
John gave Rodney a look that made the physicist wither. It wasn't intentional, but John's face refused to express anything else.
" John."
John turned to Elizabeth. Her features were self-contained, but her shoulders were rigid. " Think about it John. These people are advanced, their lives revolve around remaining hidden, and they have technology not even hinted at in the Ancient database. You launch a strike against them – for a body – and we'll only end up losing more lives. John, I know you're angry, I know you want Mathers' body returned to earth, but we can't risk it, I'm sorry."
They were waiting for him to explode. It was written in every taut line of their face, in their tension, and unwavering gaze. But John was going to have to dissapoint. Increasing nausea was smothering all fury.
" I know," he admitted without compunction.
Tension of fear became tension of surprise, and both replied simultaneously, " What?"
John planted both hands on the seat in front of him and leaned forward heavily. The ache in his head oozed into his shoulders, down his back, and a tsunami was thrashing around in his stomach. " I know. I just... wanted to... It was just an idea." He desperately did not want to go where he had no choice but to go, say what he had no choice but to say.
Weir squinted. " John? Are you all right."
John swallowed and flicked his tongue over his lips. " Call..." he faltered and cleared his throat. " Call it off," he blurted. " Don't send anyone else... for Mathers'... body." Each word was a hammer blow to the gut, and a bitter, metallic taste was seeping into John's mouth. " I don't... want to run the risk of anyone else being taken. It's taking too long..."
Elizabeth nodded guardedly. " I agree."
" Well," said Rodney, " if that was your real plan then why not just say so..."
" Because I had to try!" John snapped, then clamped his jaw shut. He really did feel one word away from puking. Elizabeth moved away from her seat to take Rodney by the arm and direct him out the opening doors. John caught the words 'go get Beckett', and oddly enough found himself mentally urging Rodney to hurry. He flinched when Elizabeth next took his arm and guided him into a seat.
She didn't say anything, just stood by him like a sentinel.
John closed his eyes, massaging his forehead. " I can order to leave his body behind - but I can't tell you what happened to him. That make any sense to you?"
Elizabeth's hand moved to his shoulder and squeezed. " One was a necessity. The other can wait."
John opened his eyes. He opened his mouth in preparation to spit out his story, but the moment the images struck his mind, he gagged, lurching forward. Lucky for him, nothing came up say for that sweet taste that always heralds the vomit. He swallowed it back with a shiver and ground-out curse.
" Ah crap... that was a really bad idea." He slammed the table with his fist. " Why is this so freakin' hard!" Then he gasped. " Ah man, I really don't want to leave him there. Not with those people. They're probably..." feeding him to their eraks. Again, another bad idea, and John did another gag.
" John," said Elizabeth. " Don't try to talk about it. Today just isn't the day either. Maybe tomorrow."
" Or the next day, or the next," John muttered. " This is stupid. They're sick, freakin' sick... They're doing this on purpose." He shook his head. " And I have no freakin' idea why." Then he held up a single finger. " But I knew they would. I knew, because they're superb liars. I mean if you played poker with these guys they'd win every time. Hell they should be on freakin' Broadway! I actually believed that there was a freakin' chance they might return Mathers." He dropped his hand on the table with a slap. He shook his head again at himself and this apparent naïve streak he seemed to be having.
He had wanted to believe Mathers' body would be dumped at the gate, whatever it's condition. Belief had been a fake smile aimed at himself to satisfy his moral compass long enough for him to force himself through the gate. Then, once said and done, he had stretched and stretched it, riding the small flicker of hope that – maybe, just maybe – the Cyladrans had a molecule speck of humanity enough in them to hold to their word and hand over a body that was of no use to them.
Or, more appropriately, leave a mutilated carcass to rub in the Earthling's faces. Fake smiles hid nothing. John hadn't been fooling himself, just feeding delusion. It had been the only way to deal, to keep from storming back through the gate with guns blazing and his body dropping because it was too soon.
He had been saving himself.
Selfish be thy name. Selfish be thy game. Rodney has me pegged.
" I believed," John breathed. He twisted his upper body around to look up at Elizabeth imploringly. Self preservation was a choice, and he didn't want to continue down that road, not over something as simple as saying what had happened. " You need to know..."
Elizabeth looked at him apologetically - sadly. " Too late," she quietly replied.
Beckett arrived with McKay on his heels. John glanced at the doctor, then looked up at Elizabeth.
" Gotta go," he resignedly said. He stood, and by keeping his mouth shut didn't even need bodily support on heading to the infirmary. He was only a quarter way there when not even remaining tight-lipped did any good, and his stomach expelled everything it'd tried so hard to digest.
SGASGASGASGA
A/N: I do love to mentally whump that man. And you know what? It's only going to get worse (evil laughter echoes from afar).
