(To the readers: I tried to make section breaks, but the format won't let me. So when you see a sentence ending in "..." that is the section breaker--it's the best I could do without breaking this into very small chapters. My appologies. Hope you enjoy!)
SG-4: The Space Between
Chapter One
The punching bag swung slowly in front of Doctor Martin as she slumped her shoulders and let her hands fall to her sides. Martin sighed. It had been two weeks since she had been released from the infirmary and this was the latest activity in Tiller's rehab program for her. He was trying to help, that's why she hadn't said anything. But this little boxing exercise had been the longest ten minutes of her life and after all the coaching from Tiller the bag was still barely swinging from her last punch.
Can this get any worse? Martin grumbled.
Tiller ignored her and pulled her gloved hand back up to meet the bag. "Come on, don't get frustrated. You're doing fine," he said, as Martin pulled her hand away and slumped onto the bench along the wall.
"I think I should just stick with my microscopes and transphonic-inducers."
Not even attempting to translate her choice of words, Tiller stooped in front of Martin and pulled her gloved hands into his. "This is your first time Doc, don't get mad just cause you can't throw it like Ali."
Martin's eyes rolled and she pulled the gloves from her hands. This isn't what she needed. Pleading silently, Martin's puppy dog eyes met Tiller's and he gave in.
"Alright," Tiller said, pulling at the Velcro tabs on the gloves. "I'll let you quit this time. We need to get geared up anyway," he said, pulling the gloves free as Martin wiped her sweaty hands on her shorts.
Walking around him, Martin was quickly heading for the door when Tiller called back out to her and stopped her in her tracks. "You know what time to be in the gate room right?"
"Zero-seven-thirty." Martin grumbled under her breath, leave it to the damn Marines to train BEFORE an actual training mission.
"What was that?" Tiller asked, turning on his heels as Martin made a B-line for the hallway.
She froze in her tracks again and pursed her lips, woops…
"Yeah?" she asked, turning to meet the critical gaze coming from Tiller.
Pausing a moment, Tiller narrowed his eyes at her. She had a way of acting like a complete child sometimes and it made him want to…wrestle her. "Don't forget to ice your knuckles, they might bruise up." he said, turning back into the gym as he tossed the gloves into a TO BE WASHED bin.
Doc nodded and turned back into the hall. There were times when it was all she could do to keep herself from knocking that man up-side the head.
Two hours and fifteen minutes later, the gate came to life before Martin and as the event horizon settled she felt a wave of nausea hit her.
"Don't worry Doc," Colonel Bedard said as he laid a hard hand on the back of her pack that made her take a step forward. "The MALP readings assure us that this is a monster free planet."
After getting her footing again, Doc turned and shot the Colonel a look as her mouth dropped open. He was making fun of her! But a second later, the exasperated look on her face faded. "Yes Sir, I feel better already."
Walking past her, Bedard tightened his hand around the grip of his weapon, "Let's get outta here," he said walking up the ramp with Connelly falling in behind him.
She watched the two men disappear into the watery puddle and Tiller walked to her side, ushering her up the ramp. "Ladies first," Tiller said.
With a gulp, Martin headed up the ramp as Tiller kept on her heels. She paused only a second before reaching out to touch the puddle, but it was long enough for Tiller to catch up to her and pulled her through by her pack—again.
A heartbeat later and Martin was standing in a large clearing surround by trees and rolling hills. Tiller moved around her, expecting her to follow him as usual as he walked down the path. But she was already captivated by her surroundings and was already taken with the trees in the distance that appeared to be dancing along the pale violet horizon that faded to white. It was the most beautiful sight she had ever seen.
Ten feet away, Colonel Bedard watched as Sergeant Tiller made his way down that path. But the sergeant stopped when his commanding officer motioned back to the gate—someone was missing.
Looking over his shoulder, Tiller spotted Doc staring off into space and shook his head as he headed back toward the gate. "Hey Doc!" he yelled, stopping a few feet short of where she stood with her back to him. But she didn't respond. "Doctor Martin!" he yelled louder, this time she spun around and ran down the path to him.
Tiller was still shaking his head as they walked toward Colonel Bedard and Lieutenant Connelly at the end of the path.
"Day dreaming is not in the training manual Doc, but it'll get you shot in record time," Tiller said under his breath as the Colonel's eyes narrowed at him. She was his responsibility after all.
Bedard decided not to comment any further and turned back to Connelly who was standing a few feet off as he watched for any signs of movement in the tree line.
"Alright, the MALP showed the ruins to be along the southern ridge line. Tiller, make sure you don't loose the good doctor this time. Check in on the hour, if we loose radio contact—meet back at the gate in five hours."
"Yes Sir," Tiller answered as he looked over at Doc. She cracked a small smile and pulled her cap from her pocket. Tiller turned and headed off toward the tree line. "Let's go Doc!" he called back.
Pulling the cap down over her head, Martin picked up the pace was almost at Tiller's side when he reached the tree line. Without a word, he held his arm out to stop her from going a head of him. "Stay behind me." He whispered, as he stepped into the trees.
Martin paused a moment and walked in after him, keeping her fingers resting on her Zat as the shadows of the forest enveloped them…
An hour later, Colonel Bedard hiked up the steep end of larger hill as Connelly walked a parallel path to his right. Bedard had counted three flowers that he had never seen before and thought for a moment to collect one or two for Doctor Martin—but the thought was quickly forgotten as his radio sparked to life.
"Colonel, this is Martin—come in?" Martin's voice broke through the signal. It was obvious that she was yelling into the radio receiver.
"Yes Doctor?" Bedard asked as he tried to force away the grin at the corner of his mouth.
"Just checking in Sir, me and Sergeant Tiller are uh—in the woods." Again, she yelled into the receiver and Bedard couldn't help but laugh, neither could Connelly.
"Find anything interesting, Doc?" Connelly asked as he cut in.
"No, just a lot of trees." She replied.
"Sergeant Tiller," Bedard cut in.
"Yes Sir?" Tiller replied.
"We're along the southern ridge about to breach the valley. We might loose contact. So keep your eye on the clock, four hours till we regroup at the gate."
"Yes, Sir. Tiller out."
A smirk from Connelly and Bedard started up the hill again. "You think she's going to grow into this?" Connelly asked.
"Give her time Connelly. She might surprise you." Bedard said as he reached the top of the hill and let his words drift off. The valley was small and as Connelly came to stop at his side, Bedard noticed a group of small castles nestled in the corner of the valley with trees surrounding them.
"I don't remember that being on the MALP, Sir," Connelly said.
Bedard thought for a moment, "Neither do I," he said, sharing the in the lieutenant's misgivings. "Let's check it out," he said as he pulled out his radio. "Sergeant Tiller—come in." Only static came back on the frequency. Pushing the button again, Bedard spoke louder on the speaker as he pulled out his binoculars and scanned the distant tree line for Sergeant Tiller and Doctor Martin. "Tiller—Martin, come back—over." Again-- static.
Connelly could hear the growing concern in the colonel's voice and he spoke up. "Sir, these mountains could be—"
"Blocking the signal, I know," Bedard said, waiving him off as he shoved his binoculars back into his pocket and let his radio hang on his shoulder. "Alright, let's go see if anyone is home—we've got four hours till we meet up with Tiller and Martin at the gate."
Chapter 19
Martin pushed through a dense area of under brush that clung to her pack and tripped over the unrelenting weeds that clung to her sleeves and wound about her feet.
Her struggle went unnoticed by Tiller who stood a head of her in a small clearing that he insisted on investigating. As she continued to fight through the dense forest, he searched the area and waited for her to reach his side—he didn't have to watch her, she was making enough noise to attract any wild life in the vicinity.
Tiller had turned away from her and was about to investigate a suspicious shadow when the forest fell silent. Martin had reached the clearing.
"It's about time—" he said, turning around to an empty forest behind him. The small clearing gave him a short range of visibility through the forest, but she was nowhere to be found. "Doc?" he called out. She didn't answer and his heart began to beat faster. "DOC?" he called out louder as he searched for movement in the trees. "MARTIN?" He was yelling now and his voice echoed through the trees but his voice echoed in every direction with no reply except for the wind...
Gripping a nearby branch, Martin tripped through the underbrush and pulled her self into the clearing. But as she straightened, Martin looked up and realized that not only had the dark forest disappeared--she was now standing in the sunlight surrounded by a field of flowers. Turning around she tried not to hyperventilate as she searched around for the forest she had been standing in only seconds before. Her hands were trembling now and she wrung her hands together as she turn in a complete circle, "TILLER?" she screamed suddenly, almost startling her self with how loud she had screamed. But no answer came back and only one thought ran through her mind, I am so screwed.
Turning again, Martin gasped as she stared wide-eyed at the valley that now lay before her. "What the hell?" she whispered, as a small cottage came into focus in the distance. She stared in amazement until fear gripped her. Where was this place? Where was Tiller? He had been right in front of her a moment before and now—nothing.
Slowly she took the cap from her head and tried to keep her breathing slow and steady. She turned away from the valley and the cottage, as though it didn't exist if she couldn't see it. She closed her eyes and ran her fingers through her hair. Opening her eyes again, she saw only the field around her until she turned back to the valley. There was nowhere to go but to the house.
A few shaky steps began her descent into the valley and she tried to think of anything but what was really happening. This is what she had dreaded, this was her worst fear…she was separated from her team and on her own—and she was about to make first contact with a people from another world.
But as she neared the cottage, her hands steadied and her shoulders relaxed. Her legs didn't feel as though they could collapse at any moment and her feet felt firm as she stepped onto the front porch of the cottage. It felt like home and suddenly…she was not afraid.
Smiling to her self, Martin let out a breath as she knocked on the door. This was now here near as bad as she thought it was going to be. Actually it was relatively easy…
The door creaked and Martin snapped to see an old woman appear in the doorway. She was feeble in her movements and her eyes squinted through the light as she tried to focus on the young girl standing in her door way.
Martin smiled warmly. "Hello." Uncertain but still hopeful that the woman spoke English. She waited until the woman responded.
The old woman paused a moment and looked into her eyes--in an instant all weakness left the woman's body as she reached out for Martin's hand and squeezed it. Smiling up to her she spoke, "Hello Frances, I've been waiting for you."
Tiller had checked his watch twice since he started looking for Martin but the numbers on his watch had yet to change. This was the least of his problems. Martin had disappeared into thin air and she wasn't answering his calls over the radio. He had searched the perimeter of the clearing. But each time he stepped beyond the clearing and into the woods he would find him self on the opposite side of the clearing.
He was getting frustrated with the invisible force keeping him from leaving the spot and planted his feet in the middle of the clearing, forcing himself to take a deep breath before unhooking his pack and letting it fall to the ground. He took a drink from his canteen and reached for his radio once again—static.
He had to keep his wits about him, but all he could think about was how much sense this whole scenario didn't make. Another drink from his canteen and Tiller was all out of patience. But as he stood the wind grew stronger and ripped through the trees around him. It came to settle in the clearing and rustled the leaves at his feet.
Reminded of an old ghost story from his childhood, Tiller looked about the trees as they fell silent once again. Then he heard the voice, softly at first—he couldn't recognize it. But the second time it called out to him he recognized the plea for help and he jumped to his feet and was pulling on his gear as he ran into the forest—this time he didn't walk back into the clearing...
"I'm sorry ma'am—I think you have me confused with someone else," Martin said as she pulled out of the old woman's grasp.
The old woman clasped her hands in front of her as she spoke, "I haven't confused you with anyone Frances—come warm yourself by the fire while I make some tea."
Looking behind her, looking for the bright sun that had warmed the afternoon, Martin found only the setting sun and a chill in the air. When did it get dark? she thought as she looked into the cottage to see the woman going about in her kitchen.
Martin tried to think straight and thought about making a run for it. But when she really thought about it, she realized that she wasn't afraid. This place and this woman felt safe to her--and that was the only reason she walked inside and closed the door behind her.
The old woman moved gracefully as she returned from the kitchen with a tray of tea and sandwiches. "Now honey, you are going to run your self ragged if you don't rest a little. Come sit down and rest a while." Moving with an elegance about her that Martin had only seen in black and white movies, the old woman set the tray on a small table near the fire place and motioned for Martin to take a seat.
Suddenly exhausted, Martin took the woman's advice. Unlatching her vest, she pulled the straps from her shoulders and waist and dropped her gear behind the couch before sitting across from the woman. She already felt 10 pounds lighter.
In the firelight, she could see the woman's features better. Her long gray hair was pulled into a bun at the base of her neck, pearl studs were the only jewelry decorating her, and a soft ivory shawl hugged her shoulders as she sat in a rocking chair across from Martin.
The woman leaned forward and held out a cup for Martin as she spoke, "Frances, is everything alright?" she asked.
Taking the cup, Martin's forehead wrinkled. "Is everything alright?" She repeated. She couldn't help but laugh at the woman's question—it was as though she were asking how her workday had gone. Smiling through her confusion, Martin tried to seem as friendly as possible. "Who are you?" she asked bluntly.
The woman sat back in her chair and nodded slowly. "I'm Grandma Aralie of course." She smiled and dismissed the young girl's question as she took a plate from the tray and filled it with small sandwiches, then held it out to Martin.
Taking the plate, Martin shook her head. "You're my Grandmother?"
"Of course not," she smiled and dropped two cubes of sugar in her own cup of tea.
"Then why did you say your name was—"
"Oh honey, when you get to be my age everyone calls you grandma."
Martin sat silently for a moment and tried to rationalize this in her mind but a thick fog had set in her memory and the events of that morning escaped her now—she couldn't even remember what she had for breakfast.
"What is this placed called?" Martin asked, rubbing her temple as the first sign of a headache tightened under skin.
"Drink your tea dear, it'll make you feel better," Aralie said, smiling over the rim of her teacup as she sipped her tea.
Taking the cup in her hand, Martin tried to hold it without the fragile cup slipping from her hands. A few sips later and Martin felt her body growing weak—the effects were quick.
The lights began to dim around her and as Martin slipped into unconsciousness she could hear the old woman singing softly in the distance.
Chapter 20
His heart racing, Tiller pounded his boots into the ground as he ran through the trees. Jumping over holes and tree roots, he held his weapon to his chest as he ran—and then he heard the voice again.
"I'm here! DOC? Where are you!" he yelled, bracing his hand against a tree as he fought to catch his breath. He searched the distance for movement but saw nothing. The voice called again, softer, and he picked up the pace as he ran toward the voice that called out to him. The trees became thicker as he ran and soon he slowed down and was forced to climb over the branches as he tried to find the voice that was pleading for help...
Standing on the ridgeline, Connelly looked out over the valley and the castles nearby. "This is going to turn out bad, isn't it, Sir?" Connelly asked as he looked over to his commanding officer.
"It could be worse," Bedard answered.
Glaring now, Connelly made sure not to look too disrespectful. "Sir?" he asked, trying to imagine something worse than losing the Stargate.
Looking through his binoculars again, Bedard searched the valley they had just walked from. "Well, we could be taken prisoner by cannibals—that would suck."
"Oh—well, when you put it that way Sir—I guess it's not that bad," Connelly said, looking back at the castles in the next valley. He was trying to remember when this adventure of theirs turned into a scavenger hunt for the stargate. All he could remember was the Colonel searching the Tiller and Martin and then he heard the two words that he never wanted to hear from his commanding officer, Oh shit. He turned and instantly tensed as Colonel Bedard looked back over his shoulder. "Sir, what is it?"
Bedard took a deep breath before speaking. "Connelly. Tell me what you see," Bedard said, pointing pass the hills.
Silently, Connelly walked up to his side and shook his head. "Nothing, Sir."
Bedard nodded and tried not to believe what he was about to say. "The Stargate Connelly. Where's the Stargate?"
Tiller was exhausted when he finally tripped over a tree root and fell into a tree with his chest slamming against the bark of an over grown tree. He fought against the pain in his chest that begged him for rest—when he heard the voice again.
Stumbling to his feet once again—his ankle burned with pain as he ran through the woods once again towards the voice. The voice grew louder as he ran—he was getting closer.
"Martin!" he yelled as he searched through the bushes around him. "Martin! Where are you?"
As he ran, he came across a large bush that blocked his path and he attempted to jump over it—only to get his feet caught in the branches and come crashing to the ground...
After a moment he sat up and found himself inside the large bush. Darkness surrounded him and he had to flip on his flashlight to see that his legs were tangled in the bush. He pointed the light to the left and saw nothing. As he guided the light to his right—Tiller almost dropped the light as he focused on what laid before him….
After they realized that the gate was gone, Bedard just started walking back to the clearing. Connelly hadn't said a word yet. He didn't know what to say, other than the obvious…
They had already been walking for 15 minutes, but as Connelly looked back at the castles for a glance, he realized something odd…"Sir—" he asked, his voice shaky as he hoped that he was wrong in his observation.
Turning around to see his Lieutenant panic stricken, Colonel Bedard walked back to him and grabbed his vest to get his attention. "Connelly! What's wrong?" he asked as the young man's eyes grew wider with every second.
"Sir…look back at the castles…"
"What of it Connelly?" he asked more persistently.
"Sir—we aren't getting any farther away from them."
Colonel Bedard looked over Connelly's shoulder to the castles. They hadn't gained any distance. "What the hell is going on here?" Bedard yelled as he let go of Connelly's vest and looked back and forth from the castles to where the gate had been. "Something isn't right here—" he grunted, as he stormed off through the hills once again heading to where the gate had last been seen.
"Sir!" Connelly called out.
"WHAT?" he yelled, not turning around as Connelly caught up with him.
"Sir—we've been walking back to the gate for at least a half hour—but we aren't any closer—"
"Your point?" he grunted as he stopped walking long enough for Connelly to catch up with him.
"Maybe we should check out the castles."
"Why?"
"Something is obviously keeping us from going anywhere but where it wants us to go Sir—maybe we should just go with it."
"Maybe we should just GO with it?" he yelled as he turned in a circle and took off his cap. He shook it out for a moment and pulled it back down over his head. "Ya know—this is how people die in horror movies."
"Sir…" he said as Bedard turned and started walking toward the castles.
"We'll do it your way Connelly…but if we get caught by the bad guys it's YOUR FAULT!"
"You found me." She fought to breathe steadily as she spoke but her voice barely carried over the wind in the trees.
Tiller looked in amazement at the young woman before him. She lay adjacent to his feet, her ankles and wrists bound with twine; her uniform was torn from being pulled through the bushes and the countless small cuts all over her body had marked her uniform with her blood. But he was more concerned with the blood on her forehead.
"Martin—what happened?" The bush pulled at his feet as he struggled. With the flip of his utility knife the branches were no longer a restraint.
He moved to her side and took her hands in his as his slipped his knife between her hands and cut the twine from her wrists. Martin lay on the ground, waiting patiently for her freedom. "What happened? Did something grab you?" he asked as he took the twine and tossed it aside.
Martin didn't answer. She only reached for him, seeking the safety of his embrace as soon as her hands were free. He pulled her close and tried to straighten her hair that clumped at the base of her neck. "Doc…" running his hand over her hair he tried to calm her as best he could. He had to get her to talk; he had to know what had happened. "Doc—talk to me." he whispered softly. Her only reply was to pull him closer as her body began to shake. "It's okay…" he said, trying to hold her as tight as he could until she relaxed in his arms and drifted to sleep.As she slept, he lifted her arms to check for injuries. Aside from minor scratches from the bushes, she appeared unharmed. Reaching down to her feet, he cut the twine around ankles and rubbed it between his fingers before tossing it aside. She had struggled against her bindings and blood dried around her ankles where the twine had cut into her skin.
His first priority was getting Doc back to the gate and back to the base. But the woods were dark and unfamiliar. He would have to wait until Doc could move on her own. And in the darkness, he laid down at her side and waited for her to wake.
Chapter 21
"I don't believe this," Bedard said as he noticed that they were nearing the castles as Connelly had thought.
"Sir?"
"I feel like I'm stuck in some bad Twilight Zone rip off…"
"Sir—look," Connelly said, as he stopped in his tracks a top a hill that bordered a small river. On the other side of the river two young women walked along the riverbank.
"Well, they don't look dangerous."
"What do you think, Sir?" Connelly asked as he pulled off his sunglasses and looked down at the women.
"Alright—ya know…this it why we have Martin. I'm no ambassador."
"We can start by saying "hi", Sir," Connelly said as Bedard nodded towards a footbridge that led over the river.
"Alright, let's go introduce ourselves."
Martin drifted from her dreams and into the waking world. The fog of sleep lifting slowly as she felt the soft cushioning around her. If she didn't know better, she would say she had been drugged into sleep but as her eyes opened and she focused on her surroundings—she remembered where she had been before drifting off into sleep.
"There you are," the old woman said cheerily from across the room. She sat in her rocking chair as she knitted. Her small feet barely touched the floor as she rocked back and forth. "I was wondering when you were going to wake—guess you needed more sleep than you thought."
"Where am I?" Martin asked. Sitting up on the couch she held her head for a moment and then got to her feet.
"You're safe my dear—don't worry your head about it," she smiled as she spoke, as if to laugh at the situation.
"What did you say?" Her words struck something in Martin and she was awake now—something didn't seem right about this.
"I said don't worry about anything," the woman said, not looking up from her knitting needles.
"Where are my friends?"
"They are fine…should be here soon."
"They are coming here?"
"Of course," the woman said as though this was information Martin should have known. "You didn't think they'd leave you behind did you?"
"Well…considering my track record—it wouldn't surprise me." She had to smile at her own comment. In truth, she knew they wouldn't leave her but a part of her still thought that they cared nothing for her beyond her abilities.
"Ah yes…well, I'm sure Lieutenant Connelly has forgotten all about that little slip of yours. Don't worry about it honey—you'll get the hang of things soon enough."
Martin's heart-beat tripled in the three seconds it took her to register what the woman had just said. How could she possibly know about her shooting Lieutenant Connelly?
"Who are you?" Martin asked as all weariness left her body and she stood from the couch with fear in her eyes.
"I told you honey, everyone calls me Grandma." She smiled softly as she spoke, only looking up to Martin when she noticed that she began to walk back to the door. "Now, now—take a seat and let your body rest a little longer. You'll need your strength."
"I'll need my strength? For what exactly?" she asked, her back now inches from the door—she could run from the house if she acted now. The old woman would never be able to catch her.
"I wouldn't be so hasty to leave, Frances." The woman said as Martin opened the door.
"Why is that?" she asked. Turning into the open doorway she stopped dead in her tracks as she saw the scene that lay before her. The green grass and beautiful skies that had been there before were now replaced with a blank canvas. Darkness lay beyond the front step as though the world had disappeared entirely and nothing existed but the house. Her choice was clear— she closed the door and turned back to the old woman who still sat in the rocking chair knitting.
"Now, I made you a lovely sandwich, it's on the counter in the kitchen—that is if you're hungry yet." She smiled with an all-knowing sense about her that was familiar to Martin. She ran the events through her mind and concluded that at the moment she was in no danger—besides, she was starving...
"Martin…wake up…" Tiller whispered. His fingers brushing away the hair from her face as her eyes opened. "There you are."
"Tiller?" Her voice quivered as she spoke. Pulling her arms from their resting place on his chest, she moved away from the warmth of him.
"Yeah, it's me. Are you alright?"
"I think so."
"What do you remember?"
She sat up-right and Tiller rose and let her shoulder press into his chest for stability. "I was walking through the woods and…my feet were caught on something. I tripped and…then…something was pulling me. I screamed for you to help me…but it moved so fast…I couldn't see where it was taking me. And then—it let me go, and you found me."
"It's alright…it's alright." He tried to comfort her as she fell into his chest once again seeking safety from the terror that gripped her soul from within.
"I couldn't see it!" she cried. "But, the sounds…the way it breathed…"
"Hey…come on…" Pulling her into his arms, she sat like a child across his lap as he enveloped her in his arms. "It's going to be fine—we'll meet back with the Colonel and the Lieutenant and before you know it you'll be romping around the base in you slippers again." He smiled at the memory of her in her pajamas and those slippers.
"You remember my slippers?" She smiled through her embarrassment—why would he remember such a small insignificant detail?
"I remember everything," he whispered as she met his eyes with her own. It was only a second that their eyes met before their lips followed the example.
Her lips were as he remembered, soft and smooth as they melded with his own. His fingers found their place in her hair once again as he pulled her closer into his embrace…
"General O'Neill?" Walter was dreading this report, he wanted to wait until his shift end—then it would be Sergeant Wilkins that would have to give the report.
Beyond the doorway in front of him, General O'Neill sat at his desk—as he had done for the last two days.
"Is it good news Walter?" He spoke without looking up from the paper on his desk. A mixture of rage and helplessness ran through his veins and fed the cold-hearted soldier within him. He had never stood by and let this happen before, and it was killing him to stand by while his own people were stranded off world.
"It was the same Sir. The MALP—"
"WALTER!" he voice echoed through the halls like thunder as his fist came crashing down onto his desk.
With a nod of his head Walter left the doorway.
O'Neill had crossed the line—and he knew it. He shouldn't have yelled at Walter. He should have more control over his emotions than this—why was it so hard to keep his rage in check?
"Sir?" The female voice was familiar and he didn't even look up before responding to the one word she had to say to say everything she was thinking.
"Not now Carter," he grunted as he pushed the papers on his desk into a stack and stuffed them into a file.
"Sir—"
"Carter—" He looked up this time, seeing the determination in her eyes as she walked into the office and closed the door behind her.
"I know…" His voice was softer now as the tension in his body faded. All he had ever needed was her presence to ease his tempers. Had she known this all these years? Is that why she was here? Is that why she was now sitting across from him silently staring into him eyes, giving him the strength he needed to work through this? His nerves calmed settled and he took a deep breath before attempting to speak. "It's been four days Carter—four days and no word from them...if Frank was able to make contact, he would have done it by now."