"Incoming wormhole!" The gate tech fairly shouted the words and Lorne was so surprised, he almost didn't believe what he was hearing. The Major had recalled all other offworld teams so Zelenka would have only the city to worry about once Lorne left on the Orion. There was only one team out… Sheppard!
The whole room fairly buzzed with anticipation as the glowing chevrons lit one by one, culminating in the familiar splash of activation and the hum of the shield going up. The moments following were filled with hushed whispers in which the word "IDC?" kept popping out above the murmur.
"IDC coming in… It's Dr. Weir!" The room exploded with cheers and applause and Lorne had to bellow over the commotion, "LOWER THE SHIELD, GET A MEDICAL TEAM DOWN HERE!" For a team as long overdue as theirs, it was a natural precaution, but the order was sobering. Long moments passed and the happy chatter faded back into worried whispering. "Sir, the MALP's out. We're not getting any telemetry of any kind from it…"
Lorne jogged down the stairs. No one came through the gate. So they waited.
"MCKAY!" Three voices bellowed as one and Rodney hit the screen on his computer an instant later.
The quick swoosh of the drone launching itself into the midday sky, leaving a thin trail of white smoke was almost anti-climatic, he thought. The battle around him continued to rage and still his eyes tracked the speck, growing smaller and smaller until it simply disappeared. Holding his breath he waited a bit longer until…
Wham!
A flying body, friend or foe he couldn't tell, landed in the middle of the pile of wires and boxes he'd been programming the drone on, tumbling the makeshift table onto its side and scattering equipment everywhere.
Shouting, "It's gone, get back to the jumper!" he grabbed for his tablet, some things were sacred after all, and seeing that his teammates were trying to comply, he made a dash for the ship. Only moments later all 4 were leaping through the rear hatch, and Corrigan was hastily slamming at the control to bring the ramp up and secure the door. Rodney continued directly to the cockpit where Jones was at the pilot's seat.
Looking skyward through the windshield and mentally counting out the seconds, he thought he might have seen a tiny insignificant flash just before Jones shouted with unreserved enthusiasm. "We're back online! Everything's working!"
"Go!" Rodney shouted and sat in the co-pilot seat. "Get to the gate."
"Did it disable the holograms!" Teyla's tired voice called from the back, still focused more on the help she could provide to their friends than her own safety.
Rodney looked out at the plain, but there had been no holograms there to start with so he couldn't tell if any had disappeared. "I don't know…"
With satisfying swiftness, the jumper leaped from the ground and pelted over the grasses, gaining altitude as Jones guided it directly to the gate, not bothering to follow the road's winding roundabout path. A supreme silence fell over the group as they willed their luck to last. Rodney powered up the life signs detector, in the hopes of spotting Sheppard and Weir as they raced to the gate.
Jones took the jumper a bit higher to clear the giant gentle hill bordering the plains when a bright white light filled the whole interior and the air seemed to shimmer for a second. Rodney blinked and instead of green forest terrain flashing beneath them, the cockpit window showed nothing but velvety black space.
"Sir?" Jones' voice was almost resigned, as if he should have expected such an odd development.
"We're in space!" Rodney resorted to stating the obvious, a painful indicator of just how badly he was confused. They were soon joined by Teyla, looking very disheveled, and several of the others. Everyone just stared. Eventually, the gently tumbling starscape brightened and a glowing blue marble of a planet swept across the window's panoramic view.
"That looks like…" It was so impossible that Rodney couldn't even finish the sentence.
"Home," said Teyla.
She was almost home! They were almost home! Elizabeth jogged to the gate, unaware of anything but the beautiful blue circle before her, consumed with thoughts of home, a warm bath and a two-day nap. It was a complete surprise when she felt herself being jerked back and crushed into John's sheltering embrace. She squeezed her eyes shut against the sharp report of weapon fire and heard John's final sigh. Then he slowly relaxed against her back, his full weight gently bearing her to the ground before she could react or even think about turning to catch him.
"Get to the gate…" he whispered.
She lay there for a long moment then suddenly frantic, she began to squirm madly, finally shifting his weight enough that his shoulder and head hit the ground and she could pull herself out onto her hands and knees next to him.
He was deathly still, and she had an irresistible urge to shake him, to shout at him. "Come on, John," she pleaded instead, hesitantly caressing his shoulder.
Taking a deep breath to work up her courage, she finally reached to John's neck, searching for a pulse. She almost sobbed in relief when she felt the slight flutter against her fingertips…but it was very fast and weak and seemed to be fading even as her fingers lingered.
Thinking only of her first aid training, she scrabbled at his vest zipper preparing to administer CPR if needed. Yanking the vest apart, she gasped in horror and froze. A large soggy wet spot seeped around a ragged hole in the fabric of his jacket. The sniper's bullet had gone through John's shielding body, stopped by the front of the vest itself, protecting Elizabeth, but not the man whose shoulders it hung on. "Oh my God…" she breathed and fell off her knees, recoiling from the sight of so much damage.
A flash of movement caught her eye and with a spike of fear she saw a large group of soldiers gathering where the road spilled out of the forest. As she was watching, they began to march towards her across the grass. She had perhaps a minute before they would reach firing range, another before they would be standing next to her.
But she couldn't move, couldn't tear her gaze away from John. A rage the likes of which she had never felt was burning in her chest, and constricting her throat. "Beckett!" She thought finally, "I've got to get him to Beckett." She shifted to push herself up and try to haul John towards the gate when her hand settled on something hard nestled in the soft grass.
The 9 mil had dropped from John's limp hand as he fell and sat next to her hip as if it had been carefully set there.
A painful recording of the last two days played through her mind, every thought, emotion and memory saturated with John's presence and the rage boiling within. The recording froze and replayed his angry words, "You'll let me and men like me do the dirty work for you, is that it?" He had sacrificed everything to get her home. He wanted her to go home. She looked longingly at the gate, still flickering peacefully, not far away. Then she looked at the gun.
She couldn't leave him.
Suddenly decisive, she grabbed the weapon to stuff it in her vest and none too gently shoved John onto his back. Moving to his head she hooked her fingers into the armholes of his vest and began to tug him towards the gate. But John was heavy and the ground was rough. And the gate was too far away.
The approaching soldiers shouted to one another, closing the distance. Almost choking with frustration and fear and fury, she held back sobs and channeled her anger into another desperate tug. Her fingers slipped off the vest and the force threw her down into the grass only to scramble up again and pull some more. The second time she slipped and fell, it was a long moment before she moved again. Her eyes were locked on the enemy.
With rage pounding in her ears, she drew out the 9 mil and hefted it with an ease she found surprising. Standing once more, she squared her footing protectively in front of Sheppard's prone figure and sighted along her arm the way she had seen John do at the figures approaching closer and closer.
"Stay away!" she yelled, her voice sounding shrill and broken even to her own ears. "Stay away from us. I won't let you hurt him any more. We just want to go home."
The group of soldiers, raised their own weapons and approached more cautiously, but they continued towards her. She shifted nervously and aimed the gun at first one then another. "Stay away," she repeated. Reaching so near that she found herself almost weaving as she tried to keep them all within her sights, the group paused as one. When the lead soldier, seeming to size up her resolve finally signaled to two of his men who moved suddenly forward from the edges of the group, Elizabeth startled and pulled the trigger, blinking at the sound of the discharge. She heard return fire and as anger and grief consumed her, she fired again and again, blindly into the group. She felt a whisper of air as a bullet passed so closely it flipped up a curl of her hair…
She realized she had squeezed her eyes tightly shut at the same time she realized the 9 mil was clicking futilely with each pull of her finger. She also realized it was silent except for some lingering echoes still bouncing around off the trees above the meadow. Opening her eyes slowly, the weapon still raised, she saw an empty meadow full of nothing but grass and flowers. Confused she let her arm drop heavily, the gun thudding to the ground as she let go.
Finally, convinced that the soldiers had really gone for good, she remembered John and whirled back to him. She almost yelped when she saw an old man, dressed in flowing ornate robes standing quietly beside the still figure of the fallen warrior. Suddenly furious, she dropped to her knees to lean against John protectively and shouted, "What do you want? Leave us alone!"
The old man stood staring at her with a penetrating look for so long, she squirmed and finally asked in a more normal voice, "Who are you? What do you want?"
He answered, not unkindly, "I come from Sanctuary to judge the trial. Your petition has been denied."
She was deeply confused and tired. Oh so tired. "I don't understand."
"You are an interesting people," the old man seemed genuinely intrigued and he still spoke gently, "with much passion and concern for one another. But you are not ready for the Sanctuary. You still have much to discover about true peace, and trust. Yet, you may return when you are ready. This much I offer."
Elizabeth stared dumbly at the stranger, trying to process his words. But all she could sort out was, "You did this. You put us through this!" She began to shake again with anger.
The old man's voice was even quieter still. "Some who seek are not ready to find. And some who find…are not ready to seek. Yet." He knelt down and spread his hand over John's bloody, broken form. "The gift of a life is most noble, and yet most complex. It is a gift fraught with the burden of unsettled obligation. Therefore, usually, it is a gift unwise to accept." The hand seemed to glow for a mere instant and to Elizabeth's complete disbelief and utmost joy, John took a sudden great rasping breath, moaned and rolled a bit into her knees. Her hands found his shoulder to offer comfort, then probed to feel a strong steady pulse in his neck.
Quietly stroking John's hair, unable to tear her gaze away from his peaceful quiet breaths, she at last looked into the face of the Alien from Sanctuary, so torn between fury and relief, hatred and gratitude that she could find no words to say.
"You may return. Someday." The old man repeated.
"The MALP just came online!" Lorne registered the information and even managed to reply with "See if you can drive it back through the gate…" but his whole concentration was focused on the flickering puddle.
Finally, finally a shadow emerged, black at first against the blue-white light. The figure was hunched low, walking backwards across the threshold struggling to drag a heavy load in with her. Lorne and the two guards stationed directly next to the gate leaped to help the instant they recognized the situation. With 4 pairs of hands pulling, Sheppard's feet cleared the gate and Dr. Weir gently lowered his shoulders to the gateroom floor, remaining on her knees by his head.
She looks terrible, Lorne thought, as the guards stepped away to allow the medical team in next. Lorne crouched by his COs shoulder, studying Elizabeth with a concerned eye. Her clothes, face and hands were filthy, her hair disheveled and limp with sweat. She didn't seem to recognize where she was, and kept her gaze focused on Sheppard's face.
A cry of alarm from one of the paramedics drew his attention back to Sheppard. "Holy…cow," he breathed, flinching at the sight of the massive bloodstain on the man's jacket, revealed when the medics had pulled apart his vest. The activity around him grew frantic and he was shoved aside unceremoniously as Sheppard was suddenly launched onto a gurney and wheeled away. He could hear the shouts of medical jargon echoing down the hallway long after the group disappeared from view.
"Dr. Weir?" Lorne could think of nothing else to say. He was desperate for an account and shaken to the core at the sight of his COs grievous injury.
Looking as if she had to travel a long way to reply, she finally looked at him so say softly, "Thank you Major Lorne, you still have command of Atlantis for a little while longer." She remained exactly where she was, still kneeling, staring again at the floor.
Lorne caught the eye of the medic assigned to escort her to the infirmary just as another excited shout echoed through the large chamber, "SIR! Jumper 1 is approaching Atlantis and requesting permission to land. They're asking about Dr. Weir and Colonel Sheppard, but they say everyone else is accounted for!" Cheers broke out.
Closing his eyes briefly and nodding in a display of reserved relief, Lorne turned back to touch Elizabeth lightly on the shoulder. "Ma'am, are you OK?"
Her reply was soft with exhaustion and an amusement he didn't understand, "I will be."
Lorne caught her in gentle arms as she closed her eyes and with a sigh, slumped into a deep sleep.