Let's roll.

- Todd Beamer, United Airlines Flight 93. September 11, 2001

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I was fortunate in that I didn't know anybody who died on 9/11. Like the rest of the country, I spent as much time as I could in front of the TV set, watching and rewatching the horrible images of planes striking the World Trade Center. But somehow, the story of Flight 93 always captivated me the most. Somewhere in the skies over Pennsylvania, forty people realized that they were most likely doomed. But instead of passively accepting their fate, they banded together to fight the ones that would destroy them. And, although they ultimately gave their lives, they succeeded in their mission.

What went through the heads of those people during the 35 minutes between the time the hijackers took over the plane and when it crashed outside of Shanksville? They had enough time to realize that they wouldn't be returning home. When did they decide to use their deaths to make a difference?

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The interactions between John, Rodney, and our CMO are always interesting to watch. On the outside, Rodney's a hypochondriacal whiner. Every little symptom is blown out of proportion. But put him in a setting where he has to prevent death and destruction, and he completely puts aside his own well-being. Complaining all the way, of course, but he does it.

John is almost exactly the opposite in some ways. You have to threaten him to even get him to admit he feels physical sensations. (I wonder if Dr. Heightmeyer knows how often her name is invoked to get him to cooperate.) He will also put everyone else's life and health ahead of his own, without whining, I might add.

Both of them, of course, drive Carson to distraction. The good doctor spends much of his time trying to patch them together, and then they go out and ruin his handiwork. He sometimes looks like he wants to kill them himself, except for the fact that it would really defeat the purpose. So he usually just settles for glaring and muttering incomprehensibly.

This time, though, I thought he was going to go ballistic. It was right after John, Rodney, Ronon, and Teyla came back from their mission aboard the Aurora. Carson was off-duty when they returned, and rather than wait for him, they insisted that Dr. Biro perform their post-mission checks. She's a decent clinician, but isn't used to their sneakiness. She discharged them without a second thought.

It would have ended there, except that Rodney let slip in a memo that John was having headaches. Returning the favor, John announced that Rodney might be having them, too. One thing led to another, and Carson found out that John and Rodney had used untested stasis chambers to communicate with the crew of the Aurora. Needless to say, he was not amused.

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"Idiots! They're bloody daft!" Carson looked like he wanted to say something else, but modulated his language when he saw Nurse Henning walk by. Judy rolled her eyes, obviously having heard him let loose before.

I didn't even have to ask who "they" were. "What have John and Rodney done this time?"

"They can't keep their grubby little hands off the Ancient technology! Apparently they thought it would be fun to stick their heads in random alien gadgets while on the Aurora."

Technically the Aurora wasn't alien, but I wasn't about to argue.

Carson continued to carry on. "... obviously the thought that they might fry their brains never occurred to them." He snorted. "Maybe it would actually raise their IQs a few points."

Here's a novel idea. "They must have had some reason."

"Oh, aye. I'm sure they did. And I'm sure it seemed like a good idea at the time, too." He sighed. "At the very least they could have called for medical back-up."

I didn't want to be in their shoes right now. As he turned to step into his office, I said, "So you'll be bringing John and Rodney back in for another work-up." It wasn't a question.

Carson's eyes gleamed. "Oh, yes. In an hour. And they probably won't be enjoying it."

"Get their mission reports first," I suggested. "That might give you some ammunition."

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I heard them even before I saw them.

"You know, I didn't think there were any gutters in Atlantis. But your mind seems to have found one, anyway, Colonel." John had an innocent expression on his face. I couldn't decide if I wanted to know what he and Rodney were talking about, or not.

One of the nurses sent them into exam cubicles to change into hospital gowns. There was no real reason to use them instead of scrubs, except for the annoyance factor. The first item on the agenda was to collect blood samples, and I could hear ill-tempered squawking coming from Rodney's general direction. The colonel was a little more stoic about it, at least until he started complaining about becoming anemic.

Once that was done, Carson let them cool their heels for awhile. Finally he headed over to Rodney's cubicle. On the way, he handed me the mission reports. "They made for some interesting reading," he said.

I started at the beginning. It had apparently been a straightforward mission at first. Board the derelict ship, find out what had happened to it, and see if there was any usable technology. But then Teyla had made the discovery that the Aurora's crew was alive and in stasis, and things got much more interesting after that. John had entered a stasis chamber to contact the crew in a virtual reality environment, but only after Rodney assured him that the chambers were safe. (I'm sure Rodney would get an earful from Carson about that estimation.)

Out of the corner of my eye, I could see the colonel walking away from the brain scanner. He'd just finished his scan and looked relieved to be out of the machine. He wandered over to the screen to peer at a picture of his brain. Judy noticed him and went to see what he was looking at. I laughed to myself when she said, "Well, it at least proves you have one." Score: Judy 1, Sheppard 0.

Poor John. He had a deer-in-the-headlights expression as he looked around the infirmary, presumably for a method of escape. He saw me and grasped for a lifeline. "Schwartz! Please tell me that at least one person is going to take pity on me."

We had developed an odd relationship while he was turning into a bug -- not quite friends, but we did share an understanding. John had trusted me enough to ask that we kill him if his condition progressed beyond the point of no return. I promised that I would do everything possible to spare him suffering. (A/N: See "Moral Compass")

But that doesn't mean I was ready to save him from a Scottish butt-kicking session.

"Sorry, Colonel. It's every man for himself. Usually when the boss is this riled up, it's at me! I'm keeping a low profile on this one." And wasn't that the truth! As CMO and 2IC, our relationship was interesting, to say the least. We've disagreed with each other and yelled at each other. Hell, we've even threatened each other (usually with sedation or the brig, to get each other to rest). And although we had seemingly irreconcilable differences about the retrovirus research, we managed to come to an understanding.

"Chicken," John shot back.

From my vantage point, I could see the angry Scot in question, but John couldn't. So he jumped a little when a hand gripped his shoulder firmly. Then he mumbled something about Rodney and dead men. As Carson practically dragged the man back to his office, I turned my attention back to John's report.

"... captain finally believed me when what looked like First Officer Trebal morphed into a horrible mixture of human and Wraith, and then vanished. He realized right away that the crew was much too old to survive removal from the stasis chambers. The condition of the real Officer Trebal was proof of that.

"The captain was understandably distressed at the situation, but quickly grasped what needed to be done. If the Wraith were on their way to retrieve the hyperdrive data, then they could not be allowed to leave with it. He gave me the Aurora's self-destruct codes and showed me how to use them. Then he left me to address his crew for the last time, but not before making me promise him one thing.

"Colonel Caldwell and the crew of the Daedalus beamed Rodney and me directly to the bridge as soon as they detected both of our life signs. The Wraith cruisers had already emerged from hyperspace and were beginning their attack. Colonel Caldwell then proceeded to engage the Daedalus's engines at high thrust to move us away from the vicinity of the Ancient ship. We watched as the Aurora exploded, taking the two cruisers in its wake. It was an act of heroism that I haven't seen since... well, in a long time.

"Upon returning to Atlantis, all of us briefed Dr. Weir as to what had occurred. Although we were not able to obtain the classified data, knowing that the Wraith have a weakness will spur us to search for it. I have faith that Drs. McKay and Zelenka, as well as the rest of the science staff, will eventually rediscover it. The mission officially concluded with all of us raising a glass to toast the Aurora and her crew. Their sacrifice will not be forgotten."

Rodney's report was typical for him:

"... once I realized the nature of the virtual environment, it was quite simple for me to work out a means of manipulating it. After due consideration, I entered the VE to determine why Colonel Sheppard was not emerging. I found him locked in the ship's brig, of all places. However, the overly suspicious and paranoid crew locked me in there, too. We managed to... negotiate our way out.

"Due to my elegant little algorithm, we had instant access to the ship's computers. Unfortunately, the communiqué that Colonel Sheppard was seeking had been erased. He sent me to disengage the Wraith and to make sure the crew on the Daedalus didn't get itchy trigger fingers. After the Wraith had been successfully dealt with, Colonel Sheppard entered the system one final time.

"Simultaneously with the Wraith cruisers entering the system, the Colonel and I beamed back onto the Daedalus. The Aurora was destroyed, in the process taking the cruisers with her. Although I did not interact with the crew to the same degree as the Colonel, they seemed a loyal and dedicated lot."

Now I could understand why neither of them wanted anyone poking and prodding them too hard. After being connected telepathically to a crew of our 10,000 year old ancestors, they had to watch as the crew sacrificed themselves to give us a fighting chance. They most likely wanted some time to reflect, not the banality of a post-mission check. As to why they didn't follow up later, well, by then their usual orneriness must have kicked back in.

I jumped to avoid being hit as Rodney suddenly stalked out of Carson's office and left the infirmary. A few minutes later John followed, whistling jauntily. He gave me a cheeky grin as he also walked out. I raised my eyes to the ceiling and slowly started counting.

"Schwartz!" Yup. And I'd barely made it to four. This was my cue to exit, stage left.

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Again, that would have been the end of it, but I ran into the colonel in the cafeteria later that night. It was a little before midnight, but the pantry was always open for people working the late shift. The medical staff were usually prime candidates, as were Rodney and his minions. I rarely saw John here, though. Either he wasn't usually awake at this hour or, more likely, he just forgot to eat.

I had my hands wrapped around a cup of coffee when he walked in. I was tired, having just finished an emergency gall bladder removal. Although the members of the expedition were almost disgustingly healthy, every once in a while something like this popped up. It was fine with me -- it gave me a chance to practice something other than trauma surgery. I would have preferred it occur at a more normal hour, but I'll take what I can get.

Eventually I put the cup down and began writing a list of things to do on my PDA. I would swing back to the infirmary one more time before going to bed. I had to check on Sergeant Sanchez and make sure he wasn't having any postoperative fever. Then I had to head to the lab to make sure one particular experiment was running smoothly. (I'm not a researcher by any stretch of the imagination, but I've been helping with some of Carson's ATA studies. If we're successful, hopefully the gene therapy will work on me the next time we try it.)

A new mug of coffee suddenly hit the table in front of me with a thunk. John was grinning at me when I looked up. "I figured you might need this," he said, "You've been staring at that PDA without writing anything for at least ten minutes."

I took it sheepishly. "Thanks, I guess I do need it."

"I thought you guys didn't need to sleep for days on end," he teased.

I snorted. "It's a myth, perpetrated by hospitals that don't want to hire extra personnel. Want to sit down?"

"Don't mind if I do, doc." John settled his lanky body into the chair across from mine and ran a hand through his "non-regulation hair." (Elizabeth had ribbed him about that in her annual holiday memo.) Then he started tossing an apple from hand to hand.

"Sooo..." I drawled innocently. "How did you manage to get away from us so easily today? I'd have thought for sure that you and Rodney were toast."

"Easily? What are you talking about; we got our asses handed to us," John said ruefully. He took a bite of the apple and chomped noisily. "We're not grounded, though, so I guess it could have gone worse."

I nodded, agreeing with him. For a few minutes there was only silence, although I could see him eyeing me cautiously as we ate. "What?" I finally asked.

"You medical guys. You never see the big picture. The four of us were exploring the only Ancient warship we've ever found and trying to do it with two Wraith ships approaching. So when we found a way to communicate with the crew, did you really expect us to just wait for backup?"

"Nah, probably not. But it is getting a bit boring, patching you four up every week. Oh, and by the way, I've lost a ton of money on Radek's betting pools." Zelenka will bet on just about anything, including the number and type of injuries sustained by various team members on their missions. "So if it isn't too much trouble, do you think you could check with me before getting whumped again? I'll tell you what to break."

"You're all heart," said John. But the corners of his mouth quirked upward into a smile. "Seriously, though, we're aware of the risks we take. I won't let any of my team do something that doesn't have at least a chance of working."

I leaned back and folded my arms across my chest. "But what about you?"

"What about me? If the captain of the Aurora was willing to sacrifice his ship and crew to give us a chance, how can I do any less?" A brief look of sadness crossed his face. Despite his flip words, it was obvious that he was deeply moved by the Ancient's actions.

"So what exactly happened?" I asked. Maybe it would shed some light on why John seemed to think he was expendable.

He took a deep breath and let it out in a sigh. "When I first met the captain, he was working frantically to fix his hyperdrive. To get back to Atlantis and deliver vital information, or so he thought. He was working himself to death because he loved his home that much. The look on his face when he realized he wouldn't be coming home was awful to see."

John stopped, and I waited for him to continue. He stared at the table in front of him for a long minute. Finally, "Despite knowing that 10,000 years had passed and his own people were gone, he chose to continue the fight for his home in the only way he could."

"And his descendants," I pointed out. "It had to have helped, knowing he was saving the many-times distant children of his people."

"Probably true," John admitted. "So then it makes even more sense for me to be prepared to do the same."

How to respond to that? Absently I wadded up a napkin in front of me and began batting it back and forth. "You know what the problem is with that kind of thing? It only works once."

John raised one eyebrow in response.

"Yeah. You said it yourself. The captain knew they were too old to live for long outside the stasis chambers. So this was his last chance to contribute to the fight. You, on the other hand, still have much more work to do."

He scowled at me. "Are you asking if I'm subconsciously looking for a way out? Carson asked the same thing, and you know I don't believe in that psychobabble crap."

"Oh, I know that," I told him calmly. "Hell, you wouldn't even talk to the shrink after almost mutating into a giant bug." I couldn't understand that. Personally, I found reading Kafka traumatic, never mind experiencing it firsthand! "I'm just saying that you seem to singlehandedly want to save us all. It's appreciated, but it's okay to let other folks in on the action, too. And God forbid you actually withdraw from a fight now and then."

Without looking, John pitched his apple core over his shoulder towards a trash bin. Of course it went straight in. "He who turns and runs away, lives to fight another day?" he asked sarcastically.

"I'm sure you'll figure out a more politically correct way to say it, but essentially yes. The Wraith are going to be here for a long time to come. Selfishly, I wouldn't mind having you around to save my ass for most of that time."

He was silent, then changed the subject by smirking at me. "You save my ass as much as I save yours. And how come we always have these deep conversations, doc?"

I knew I wasn't going to get any further with this argument tonight, so I shrugged and pitched my rolled up napkin at the trash bin. It missed by a mile. (In my defense, I played college football, not basketball.) "I grew up with a rabbi and a yenta in the household. What else did you expect?"

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Let's roll. Notice the plural in that rallying cry. Because whether the hijackers are armed fanatics with box cutters or life-sucking Wraith, it takes more than one person to bring them down. Somewhere over the skies of Pennsylvania and somewhere in the heart of a different galaxy, two groups of brave people realized there was no going home. Their heroic actions benefited us, the ones they left behind. I hope I made John realize that the best way to honor that was to stay alive to continue the fight. Do I think that he's going to suddenly become the epitome of caution? Of course not, but hopefully he'll think for an extra minute or two before rushing in where angels fear to tread. And hopefully he'll be willing to share the risk, since that may just be enough to ensure success.

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A/N: Yenta means meddler, someone who tries to fix other people's problems.

A/N: I started writing this when Aurora first aired in September, 2005. Obviously the anniversary of 9/11 was very much in my thoughts.