Stargate Atlantis: Even in the Distance
By Reyclou

Chapter Nine: Haunted Whispers

A pulse of light at the door hailed the colonel's return, but Elizabeth now saw John's image for what it was—merely a hologram. In the dim light, she realized that the man gave off a subtle glow of his own. Impeccable, truly impeccable, Elizabeth thought as she stared at the man in the doorway, wondering how it was that he seemed so real. Even with the stark evidence to the contrary laying there before her, she could not completely believe that John was not standing there in the flesh. He blinked as any man would, shifted as any man would and twitched as any man would. His nervous breaths came short and concentrated, his firm chest rising on the inhale and falling with the exhale. How could this man not be real? She wanted to reach out and touch him—hug him—but knowing her hands would meet only empty air, she settled for wiping a stray tear from her own cheek.

Atlantis seemed to read Elizabeth's thoughts. "His mind has integrated itself with many of the city's systems via a neural link," she explained calmly. "The avatar you see before you is a visual manifestation created through the use of the city's holographic technology. Since it comes from his own mind, his own neural impulses, it reacts as his normal body would. While it is a non-corporeal projection, few sectors remain that can host his presence—or mine—in this form."

"Unbelievable," Elizabeth whispered, her eyes never leaving the digital Sheppard. All the technological discussion appeared to make the colonel very uncomfortable. He crossed his arms and frowned at the Ancient avatar, looking like he just wanted everyone to go home and let him be.

"Yes, fascinating," Rodney muttered. Unwilling to make eye contact with either Elizabeth or John's hologram, he stared at the floor before him.

"No, I meant you are unbelievable," she clarified, narrowing eyes on the colonel—or rather, his ghost. The tall man perked up in surprise. She pointed an accusing finger at the airman. "I can't believe you are going to give up and die without a fight," Elizabeth growled, wheeling around on Rodney. "And you are letting him!"

Rodney squealed in his own defense. "Me?" he blurted, lifting his hands to his chest, protesting his innocence. He pointed to the doorway. "It was his idea! He's the one that wants to go down with the proverbial ship! You think I didn't try to talk him out of it?"

"Over and over and over again," sighed the annoyed colonel. Elizabeth turned her glare on him, but John did not wince or recoil. Instead, he nodded in agreement with the scientist. "He's right, Elizabeth. Leave him out of this."

She shook her head, long curls whipping her cheeks with the force of it. "No! Not until you give me a better reason why you won't let your friends help you!"

John groaned in frustration, but differed to her steadfast resolve. He glanced a quick eye between the scientist and his fellow hologram. Something like embarrassment reddened his cheeks. "Can a dying man get a little privacy here?"

Clearing his throat nervously, Rodney turned his head away and moved for the door. "I should get back to… whatever it was I was doing out there," when John made no effort to get out of Rodney's way, the scientist hesitated only a moment at the door before he closed his eyes and stepped through the hologram. Elizabeth grimaced as the colonel's body parted, fizzled, and then reappeared around Rodney's form. Rodney kept his head down as he plodded on through, the door slid shut behind him. Atlantis gave Elizabeth a subtle, comforting smile before she suddenly winked out of sight, leaving the two in the dim of the second chamber. Both remained quiet for some time while John struggled for his words. It surprised Elizabeth when the man began to pace back and forth. He was a hologram, after all. Since when did a hologram need to work off nervous energy?

"McKay wasn't lying," he stated, trying to look at anything but the stasis pod wherein his body slept toward death. Elizabeth didn't blame him. She had seen herself laying in a similar state, old and weary, waiting for the end to come. It was not an image easily brushed aside, nor forgotten. John looked up with sincerity in his eyes. "That pod is the only thing keeping me alive."

"We don't know that for sure," Elizabeth insisted. "You're not a medical professional, John. Maybe there's something Carson can do…"

John silenced her with a finger. "Elizabeth!" he grunted harshly, too harshly. Surprised, she took a step back. John winced and closed his eyes, trying to regain the calm. "It's over," he finished in a low whisper.

Elizabeth took a deep breath, hoping the man couldn't sense the shakiness she felt within. Is he seriously making the conscious choice to die? She wondered. "Why," she demanded pleadingly. "Why are you doing this, John? What do you have to gain by leaving this way?"

She caught in his eye a sharp glint of sorrow. "Atlantis isn't living up to its destiny," he replied in stiff determination. John motioned around the room as if to encompass the whole of the city. "We don't know what half this stuff does. We're working with tech so high over our heads, we can't see the shelf. We haven't even scratched the surface of what this city can do—and I'm not just talking weapons. If I could show you one-tenth of what Atlantis has shown me in the last few days, you'd wonder what cavemen thought was so great about fire."

"You think I don't know that, John?" she retorted. Wild-eyed, she threw up her hands. "That's why we came here in the first place, to unlock the secrets of the Ancients!"

"Elizabeth, this link does more than let me communicate with you. Right now, I understand this city better than McKay could even dream—and I can manipulate its systems faster than he can think. If this city was working at full capacity, this body wouldn't be an issue," he said, pointing toward the Ancient capsule. "We could build all the Jumpers we'd ever need, we could perfect Carson's retrovirus, and we could make our own ZPMs. This city has all the answers we've been searching for—everything we need is right here!"

She didn't respond to him right away. What was the point? He was right, Atlantis could be the saving grace of the Pegasus Galaxy, but there was something more—something he had said without admitting. After a time, she looked him in the eye.

"The shield," she began slowly, catching on. "The fuzzy readings all over the city, the short in the engine pod… That wasn't McKay. That was you, wasn't it?"

The colonel shrunk back a little, sheepish of his own actions. "I couldn't just stand by and do nothing."

"No," she replied. "I doubt you could," she stepped forward to emphasize her point. "You saved a lot of lives, John."

John straightened, also drawing near to enforce his point. "That's what I'm talking about—this city can correct our mistakes even before we make them. Remember the nanocite incident? How the city went into lockdown?"

A perfect brown eyebrow lifted playfully. "And the door?" Elizabeth questioned.

To Elizabeth's surprise, the pilot turned a curious shade of pink, which he then tried to shrug off with a crooked smirk. "Didn't want Goldilocks running off with my stereo."

"And Kavanaugh?" she asked, seriousness returning to her tone.

The colonel shook his head sharply. "Now that was all McKay. I had nothing to do with it—except for the fact Kavanaugh stumbled on McKay springing a certain undead lieutenant colonel from the morgue."

"Rodney slugged him to keep him quiet?"

"Well, no," John scratched the tip of his ear. "Not exactly."

"So how did he end up unconscious?"

John folded his arms casually, as if trying to recall a half-heard story. "I'm not entirely too sure myself, but McKay might have accidentally discharged a stunner and Kavanaugh might have accidentally bounced his head off something blunt on the way down."

The woman shook her head slowly, trying to fight off a smile of her own. "You two are unbelievable."

"So is this city," John replied in a soft, reassuring tone. "And Atlantis—Anne—can help us," John caught himself as if he had misspoken, pulling away suddenly. "You," he corrected. "Atlantis can help you. She doesn't just know a lot about the city, she is the city. Can you imagine what kind of an asset that would be?"

Elizabeth held up a hand to silence him. "I'm not denying the significance of Rodney's work down here, John; I just don't see how this involves you wasting away down here."

"The city requires someone with the Ancient Gene to fix the Ancient program—or, more specifically…"

"Your genes," she finished.

"This Gene thing is more complicated than Carson thinks. I have a special constellation of genes. I think it might have something to do with how I interact with the Ancient systems. Regardless, without me it'll take him months, if not years, to enable the whole system."

"Which is why you should be doing everything you can to stay alive, John!"

"This is everything I can do to stay alive, Elizabeth!" he retorted. "By all rights, I should be pushing up space daisies right now, but the Ancients bought me some extra time. There's a chance that Atlantis can bring the right systems back online herself if Rodney can restore the proper elements, but it means the both of us have to be down here working the controls. I can't do that lying in the infirmary, watching Carson pull his hair out."

"All right," Elizabeth conceded, defeat drifting into her voice. "I can respect that, but why keep it a secret? Couldn't Zelenka's team help out with this?"

John's shoulders slumped slightly, eyes trailing to the pod beside him. Clearly, he was having a hard time voicing his thoughts. "There's just too much to do, I couldn't begin to explain to them what has to be done to salvage this program. Either the city comes through, or she doesn't. It's that simple. Rodney can handle everything else. Besides," he sighed heavily. "You said it yourself. I'm already dead to them. Given the choice of a slow, wasting demise or a hero's death, I'd rather be remembered like a hero," he looked up to her. "That was a nice ceremony, by the way. I'm touched."

Elizabeth barely acknowledged his compliment. "You will always be a hero to us, John. Nothing will ever change that."

Again, John shifted uncomfortably. "I won't put everyone through that again. They don't deserve that kind of guilt."

"But Rodney does?" she spat, folding her arms tightly over her chest. "You want Rodney to bear this kind of burden alone?"

"I didn't exactly have a choice in the matter," defended the pilot, the accusation in Elizabeth's voice stirred a subtle anger within him. "By the time I came around, the damage was already done."

Elizabeth balked. "I can't believe you just said that!"

"Elizabeth, please," he insisted, clenching his eyes shut to hold back his frustration. "I'm as good as gone anyway," he finally eased. "At the very least I have this one last chance to do something useful, something that might help you strike a blow to the Wraith. The sooner we can get Atlantis—Anne—up and running, the better for everyone. She can coach McKay on how to run the city. He may not like it, but I think he'll grow to…"

John's voice cut out as he swayed and stumbled a step backward. Elizabeth shot forward to steady him, but her hands found only empty air as his image fizzled. All light left his form, he blinked out of existence and suddenly Elizabeth was alone in the dim chamber.

"John… John?" she called, panic rising in her chest. Her eyes darted around the room for a sign of the pilot, but the only John Sheppard she found slept his last moments away in the long stasis pod, unmoved by her calls.

"It is all right, Dr. Weir," Anne's voice soothed. Her bright figure appeared at Elizabeth's side, blonde locks and all, as if nothing had happened. She looked to the worried leader with compassion in those blue eyes—the same compassion Carson showed to his patients when they landed themselves in the Infirmary. "John is fine, I assure you," she turned caring eyes on the form within the pod. "Today's events have overtaxed him. He must rest now, as must Dr. McKay, if he is to be of any further use."

"What about the repairs?" Elizabeth questioned concern in her voice.

Anne shook her head dismissively. "He is a faithful worker, Dr. Weir. Even now, his task is almost complete. I am confident he will finish in the given time," she held a hand toward the door, which slid open of its own accord. "Please, return him to his quarters. This city cannot lose the both of them—not now. You will find the transport that brought you here will guide you back to your expedition without fail," Anne's voice said she had finished, though she moved closer to Elizabeth as if to speak important, private words. "However," she added. "There is one other concern of a personal nature I think I must discuss with you, Doctor."

Elizabeth smiled humorlessly. "How you invaded my dreams?"

"Correct," Anne nodded, returning her bright eyes to Elizabeth. "Believe me, I meant no harm, nor did I intend to spy on private thoughts. It is merely what you might call a side-effect of the two-way process. When I first connected with the colonel, I sensed his thoughts as well—explored them—trying to learn all I could of you and your people so as to better interact with your kind. Although I suppose one cannot be held accountable for what he dreams when he lies on his last bed, his were most intriguing" Elizabeth stared at the still features of John's face as the woman continued. He seemed little different than he had appeared in the morgue, physically speaking, at least. This time, however, he did not lay so much in silence as much as in secrecy—like he had something to say, but honor would not allow him to confess. "Often, when one is so faced with impending demise, their thoughts turn to loved ones, those who have passed before, or to those far away, but not John Sheppard."

Feeling almost like an intruder in a man's private thoughts, Elizabeth questioned the Lantean avatar. "Why are you telling me this?"

"Because when I first sensed his thoughts, he dreamed not of personal glory or regret, as men often do, but for the safety of his people, and for one woman to find her way through this galactic darkness, to find happiness without him. That woman was you, Elizabeth." Anne stated it with such shocking clarity that Elizabeth could not help but startle at her voice, but the city's artificial intellect did not betray a single emotion, if she had any in the first place. "When I saw that I could not revive him to his former state, I thought at least I could help to make that last wish come true. I examined what data I had of you, looking for what brought you joy—but, upon closer observation, I realized the only thing that made you truly happy," Anne turned back to the battered, sleeping form. "Was him."

Elizabeth bristled, straightening sharply. "Now wait a minute…"

Anne held up a silencing hand. "It is all right, Doctor, you have rules. I will tell no one. I merely wished to apologize. Through that desire, I caused your subconscious mind to dream—to ease your burden—but I see now it has only caused you more pain. I am sorry. If you would let me, perhaps there is something I can do to," she paused, looking for the right words. "To make it up to you," she used the term as if it were foreign or unfamiliar to her.

"My only concern right now is getting Colonel Sheppard out of that stasis pod and back on his feet," she replied firmly. "Is there nothing else you can do for him?"

"Sadly, no," Anne replied. "Not until Dr. McKay completes his task. Even then, his chances remain minimal, at best," the hologram stated it so simply. To her, John's life or death was no more than mere fact. "However, it is possible that I could allow him to leave something behind."

Elizabeth's brow furrowed in confusion. "I don't understand what you mean. What could he possibly leave behind that would compensate for such a loss?"

"Even with the current state of this sector's repair, it is possible to copy his thought patterns—his consciousness, so to speak—into the city's memory. In doing so, I could replicate an artificial intellect of him that could, in time, replace or assist my own. While his body would still die, a part of him would remain alive within the city itself, serving as a caretaker and able to manipulate its systems even as he does now."

"Are you saying what I think you're saying?"

"In more simplistic terms," Anne continued. "John Sheppard would become the heart and mind and will of Atlantis."

Elizabeth could not help but laugh softly as she traced the lines of the stasis pod, her hand trailing the smooth glass that separated her from her faithful, if not bullheaded, second-in-command. She paused a finger over his lips. "A guardian angel," she whispered.

Anne knew the statement begged no reply, but added one last word of advice to the wistful woman. "One other matter before you leave, Dr. Weir," the hologram's eyes turned eerily serious. "So long as he remains in that chamber, Colonel Sheppard commands this city. If anyone else besides yourself or Dr. McKay ventures into this sector against his wishes, you will lose control of Atlantis."