These last 10 miles were the most difficult they had traveled so far. Elizabeth was so tired, she could imagine laying in the middle of the road and sleeping for a week. But every time she looked over at John, at what he must be going through, her resolve strengthened as did her determination to get him home….alive…too.

She understood, finally, what drove him onward and the realization was almost unbearable. She was his mission, and he would go to any lengths to make sure she got home; to make sure he completed the mission. The thought terrified her. She knew what he would sacrifice in the line of duty. She had seen his resolve on the stairs to a doomed jumper during the siege of Atlantis.

Unlike the day before when they had been able to walk comfortably for several hours at a time between patrols and sentry posts, today was a constant cat-and-mouse game of avoidance and the gratefully rare firefight. Most likely because they had disrupted the patrol routine by shutting down the bridge, there was a steady trickle of enemy soldiers on the road, walking in twos and threes from both directions. So they stayed in the forest just off the road most of the time, only venturing out onto it when it was the easiest way to cross a stream or the occasional dry gulch.

It was on one such crossing that they were spotted by a patrol coming towards them. The two startled enemy soldiers managed to fire a couple rounds harmlessly into the landscape, only to be cut down moments later by the steady, sure return fire from Sheppard's 9 mil. From the place he had shoved her, behind and back to back with John as he fired, Elizabeth thought she heard him counting, very softly to himself, "one, two…three, four, five."

She averted her eyes as she walked past the two dead men, but several steps later realized John had stopped to rummage at the bodies. Turning back with a hard swallow, she watched him pick up and study the two enemy handguns he had collected. His interest quickly turned to annoyance as the weapons refused to open, and in fact, refused to function in any way at all. After spending another minute or two wrestling with the things, in disgust he aimed one into the forest and pulled the trigger several times. It didn't even click.

Frustrated, he threw the useless chunk of metal far into the trees, too angry to even grunt at the stabs of pain the violent motion caused through his body, although Elizabeth saw him clutch his side tightly with his elbow thereafter. Seeing the anger shadowed with concern still smoldering in his eyes, she said nothing as he pushed roughly past her to continue again down the road, her own fear nagging at her. If he was that worried about their weapons situation…

An hour later, they lay in a leafy bush watching no fewer than 5 soldiers march past, only their feet visible from Elizabeth's point of view wedged between John's shoulder and the main trunk of the vegetation they were borrowing. Listening for a long while after the clatter of their footsteps had faded into the distance, she finally looked at John, expecting a signal soon to scramble out and continue on. He was laying on his stomach as she was, his forehead slumped nearly to the ground, eyes tightly closed as he struggled with a wave of renewed pain exacerbated by the position and the break from the steady numbness of walking. In surprised fear she grabbed his shoulder and choked out a questioning, "John?"

He growled an agonized "Arrrgh," of frustration and pushed back to sit on his heels, wrapping both arms around his middle and taking deep breaths, looking thoroughly pissed off.

"Do you… do you want some more Tylenol?" She felt ridiculous for suggesting it, but he smiled, then chuckled, then actually laughed out loud at the absurdity. Elizabeth was unable to restrain a small smile herself at his reaction. Shaking his head, he held out a hand and allowed her to help him up.

Not long after, more than three hours into the grueling journey, the road seemed less guarded as they encountered fewer and fewer patrols of any size. While Elizabeth welcomed the relief from the constant delays, Sheppard seemed to grow more worried by the lack of resistance. Elizabeth found herself watching him closely while trying not to let him notice she was.

His face was flushed and clammy with sweat that had nothing to do with the warm climate. His rapid breathing sounded strained and he leaned more and more into a hunched shuffle, so contrary to his usual graceful prowl. When he stumbled on a tree root as they shadowed the road, Elizabeth steadied him with an unobtrusive hand on his elbow.

She became worried to the point of panic by the way he seemed to be turning inward, looking through her and the world they were walking in, beginning to slip fully into the haze of his own pain-filled inner journey. In desperation, she began to ask him stupid questions, just to try to keep him grounded somewhat in the here and now.

"What's your favorite airplane?" He managed a patronizing snort at her obvious ignorance of the superiority of helicopters. "What's your favorite helicopter?" Once she had him she wasn't going to let go. "Why's it hard to fly a helicopter in the Antarctic?"

He would answer, sometimes in monosyllables, sometimes after a long pause, as if having to travel a long way to find the words. Exhausting all she could think of to ask about flying, she cast around in her mind for something else to talk about. "Have you finished your book?"

"What?" he seemed confused by the change in topic, but she was relieved to hear him responding more quickly.

"War and Peace, have you finished it yet?"

"Um, yeah I finished."

"You read the whole thing!" She was impressed, he didn't really seem the literary type.

He wagged his head a bit before clarifying, "I said I was finished. I didn't say I read it all." He managed a grin in her direction at the admission.

"I see," and she was also grinning. They walked along for a moment, Elizabeth remembering her own studies of the book and Tolstoy's interesting theories on historical observation and free will.

"I think he's right," John added softly and it was Elizabeth's turn to be mildly confused.

"Mmm?" she questioned

"Tolstoy. I think we are all caught up in some kind of cosmic law of inevitability. That everything we do is a result of what we and everyone else has done before. That we couldn't do something different if we wanted to…"

Elizabeth looked at him in amazement. "You read the Epilogues, then?"

"Yes."

She watched him for a long time, following in each of his agonizing steps towards an uncertain end. She had hated Tolstoy's proposal of the limitations of free will as a young ideologue. It went against everything her change-the-world-for-the-better attitude stood for. To her, free will was the pinnacle of justice in the universe and to suggest that instead she was dependent on a set of historical laws defining all social movement was tantamount to Heresy.

But now she had to wonder. What had been her choices over the last two days? If she could sit back and evaluate every decision, would she have done anything differently, could she have? In a fog of exhaustion, she couldn't think of any decisions at all, she and John just seemed to have been driven relentlessly from moment to moment, ever since the stone obelisk took it upon itself to invade their personal histories. Or did it only seem like they had no choices because they were conditioned by their past experiences to respond automatically, not even recognizing the options that were before them. She stubbornly refused to believe that.

And then there was John. Born and raised to do what he did, trained to react in a certain way to threats, determined to protect her and complete the mission. What were his choices? Could he be anything but who he was? Had his choices in Afghanistan resulted in his exile-like posting in the Antarctic, or had a lifetime of external expectation and ultimate disappointment driven him there despite himself? She could see how he would think so.

However he got there, there wasn't a day she wasn't grateful that free will, fate or even some cosmic law of inevitability had set him in her path. Overwhelmed by her gratitude for his presence, she blinked backed sudden tears, a second later having to grab for John's arm as he stumbled again. This time she drew closer and held on. He didn't shrug off the touch.

They walked like that, arm in arm, for an eternity. When John finally stopped and Elizabeth pulled herself out of her own reverie to look around, she saw him staring at two massive stone pillars, placed opposite each other on the widening ancient roadway. They had reached the final corridor to the Stargate meadow.

"We have an hour before our window closes." John spoke in a low quiet voice. "Let's go."

"Sergeant?"

Lorne snapped at the communications tech who jumped and replied hastily, "No radio contact sir, nothing on the MALP video…"

"Shut it down then. And get me the Orion."

"Yes sir."

Once the onboard crew of the Orion responded with satisfying alacrity, Major Lorne checked his watch again and gave a citywide "All Aboard" command for everyone who would be joining him on the Ancient ship.

Calling over his shoulder to Zelenka and settling himself at the rail overseeing the Stargate he said, "We leave in an hour." He didn't plan to move from that spot until he boarded the Orion. "Come on, sir!" he muttered to himself. "You've got an hour before the damn gate closes for good. You can make it…"
"RODNEY!" Teyla's voice was uncharacteristically shrill as the stress of the morning turned into a frantic free-for-all of activity, trying desperately to get the jumper reassembled and the drone ready for launch before yet another window of opportunity closed, trapping them on the planet even longer. And it would take at least 20 minutes, pushing it, to fly back to the gate itself.

"I'm coming!" McKay sighed wearily, connecting one last conduit before shuffling out the rear hatch of the jumper and calling over his shoulder to Jones and Corrigan behind him, "Bolt that last piece of bulkhead back in place and she'll be able to fly. Not that we'll have anywhere to sit while we do…" he grumbled the last to himself, mostly just frustrated by their progress or lack thereof.

Rubbing his face tiredly he stretched and was startled upon finally opening his eyes to the scene outside. Teyla, Walker, and Ronan were standing warily in battle-ready positions, weapons armed, deployed in a protective semi-circle around the drone. Confused, he eventually noticed the object of their concern. Or objects as the case may be. Squads of drone soldiers were appearing around them, restlessly silent but watching every move the Atlantians made.

"You have to launch it now," Teyla commanded. "They intend to stop us!"

Startled into stark fear, he just nodded and rushed to the drone, checking one last time and finishing the last bit of programming he had to do.

The restless holograms began to edge closer and an unnerved Walker snapped his weapon to a pre-firing position just as Rodney yelled "DON'T SHOOT!" Shifting nervously in his spot, Walker complied but threw a disgusted, fear-filled look at McKay who went on just as loudly, "Remember what the old man said. We choose our own infinity…or something. If we draw their fire, we're sitting ducks and this pathetic excuse of a rocket launcher won't take any hits. Hold them back, hand-to-hand if you must, but DO NOT SHOOT! Is everyone else in the jumper?"

Teyla and Ronan exchanged nervous looks and lowered their own firearms to move into smooth hand-to-hand combat stances, Walker following suit after a stern command from Teyla. The tense standoff continued as Rodney frantically worked, sweat pouring into his eyes to be blinked away, so intense was his concentration he wouldn't take the time to mop his brow.

He wasn't sure how the battle began, but suddenly the sounds of scuffling and grunting and fists hitting flesh was all around him as Teyla, Ronan and Walker held back the holograms with brute force. The three warriors seemed almost gleeful at the chance to vent their long restrained frustration, throwing back the advancing soldiers with violent abandon. Rodney held his breath but the enemy did not open fire, yet more and more appeared around them. They would soon be overwhelmed by sheer numbers.

Teyla missed a block and was spun back by the force of a fist hitting her jaw, the lucky soldier smashed to the ground a second later by a vicious blow from Ronan's elbow. "Rodney!" she gasped, blinking away the stars and turning again into the next enemy who was trying to push past. Walker hit the ground, stunned for only a moment, then with a fierce kick managed to trip his soldier and incapacitate him at the same time. He also staggered up to continue the fight.

"One more second, one more second," McKay chanted under his breath as the circle closed in around him…

Sheppard took one more second to gather himself for the final push. Forcing the deadly ache in his belly to a far corner of his mind, he willed his shaking body into submission and blinked to clear the fog that was creeping into the corners of his vision. He knew he was in deep trouble, could feel his heart racing and unacknowledged pain spreading into his chest and shoulders. But he also knew he could make it to the gate… even if no further than it's shimmering boundary. He had to.

For the moment in complete control, he shrugged off Elizabeth's arm and signaling quietly, he turned away from the road into deeper forest. As he walked, he spoke quietly to Elizabeth, instructing her in their next steps…"We'll approach the Stargate from the tree line rather than the road. We'll circle until we can get as close as possible. I'll take out as many as I can, hopefully pick up some working ordinance on the way. YOU," and he paused for a brief moment to fix her with a penetrating stare, "get to the DHD on my signal, send your IDC and get your ass through."

"I won't leave you John," she spoke with matter-of-fact stubbornness.

"You'll do as I tell you, when I tell you." He advanced on her and she quailed at the fury in his voice. She looked away from his fierce glare and he accepted that as acquiescence.

It was only a short time before the trees to their immediate right seemed to thin out and bright noon sunshine filled the forest floor. The meadow was near and John's steps grew stealthily quiet. Elizabeth followed suit as he knew she would. When he thought he had reached the spot he wanted, they crouched and creeped the rest of the way to the very edge of the clearing.

It was deathly silent and profoundly empty.

With almost comic timing, they turned to each other with raised eyebrows and confused expressions. The Stargate sat peacefully majestic amid the tall grass and bright meadow flowers, the road they had followed for two days ending pitifully in crumbling nonexistence well before reaching the destination it sought.

Elizabeth began to grin but Sheppard shook his head, every sense on alert, every intuition telling him that this was wrong. "I don't like it," he whispered hoarsely. "Something's not right here." He was sorry to wipe the hope from her expression but he was edgy, nervous.

They waited for several more minutes until it was clearly Elizabeth who was becoming edgy, "John, the window is closing. We should go, we should try for the gate." Chewing his lip in indecision, he still hesitated, shifting to relieve the pressure off his middle in the uncomfortable position. It was, ultimately, the pain that moved him on…he didn't know how much longer he could stay in control of it.

Standing close together, they rose quietly and took a first few hesitant steps towards the gate. When nothing happened, they exchanged perplexed shrugs and John took a slow lead, his weapon at shoulder height, ready to fire. Elizabeth followed, touching the hem of his vest for the mere comfort of it. When they reached the DHD, the way home so tantalizingly close, he hesitated again making a long 360 degree sweep before telling her, "Go ahead, dial it up…" She eagerly dashed around him to punch in the address. Sheppard continued to circle, then…

"There you are," his voice was unsurprised and weary.

A quartet of soldiers appeared, rising out of the meadow like phantoms. John pulled the trigger with rhythmic accuracy and a few rounds of return fire kicked up dust at his toes. He neither flinched nor paused in his firing, "Keep dialing!" he shouted noticing that Elizabeth had frozen at the sudden barrage of sound and she jumped to continue. "10, 11, 12…13, 14, 15…" he whispered his lips barely moving with the count.

As the last hapless soldier fell to the ground, he ejected the spent cartridge to the ground and with a smooth practiced motion loaded the spare. He allowed a brief moment for pride, it was difficult to take out so many in 15 shots at that distance with a…pea shooter.

Elizabeth shouted with triumph at the heartbreakingly familiar splash of the Stargate making a connection. "It worked! Let's go! Let's go home!"

She was already moving towards the mesmerizing blue flicker as Sheppard bellowed, "IDC first Elizabeth."

She paused only a second to pull out the small device she had carefully arranged within easy reach, punched the short code and set her thumb against the authentication device. Then she was moving again, Sheppard close on her heels but still sweeping the meadow with restless unease. A flicker of motion, or glint of unnatural light drew his eye to the West and he spun to confront the aberration.

With the clarity of battle-trained awareness, John saw the sniper rise above a clump of yellow dandelions and sight carefully through his weapon's scope…at Elizabeth who was jogging happily toward the gate, unaware of the danger at hand.

He lived a lifetime in the next moment. He carefully planned the only shot he would get even as he was lunging at Elizabeth to grab her from behind and spin her away, pulling her shoulders into his chest and wrapping himself around her in an awkward embrace. He flung his weapon out for the difficult slightly-behind-his-back shot and fired.

The sniper's rifle and his own round sounded almost simultaneously.

He breathed a long deep sigh of relief, certain he had hit his target, then gently crumpled to the ground, bearing Elizabeth down with him. He was surprised by the regret, he thought. There was a time, in his wild youth when he thought he couldn't die. Then not so very long ago, after disgrace in Afghanistan and alienation from the only family he had left, he'd not really cared if he did or not. But he had found himself on Atlantis. Elizabeth had found him.

"Get to the gate…" he whispered, and knew no more.