Time Immemorial

Chapter 11: Left In The Dark

July 16th
2135 Hours

John stared blankly ahead of him, lost in thought. Occasionally, motion from the Lacedami would catch his attention. Every so often, one of them would enter the mess hall and report to Kyros, who had seemingly been left in charge of the detained expedition members. They conversed in hushed tones, glancing conspiratorially in his and Elizabeth's direction. Before the major would know what to make of it, the visiting soldier would depart the mess hall, presumably to join Antigonos and the missing bulk of his unit somewhere in the City. He always returned later, and the cycle continued.

Other than that, the cafeteria was uncannily still. Light rain pattered on the outside window. No one dared speak. A rare cough echoed through the cavernous space.

Suddenly, the room's lights blinked out. They were all plunged into an eerie twilight gloom.

"It's about time," McKay whispered from beyond Elizabeth. "I haven't been scared to death in nearly twenty minutes."

"Relax, Dr. McKay," came Teyla's voice from the dark. "This will all be over soon."

"That's what she said," came the mumbled, grumpy reply.

Elizabeth merely rolled her eyes, not at all amused at a time like this. "Rodney, just stop. Please."

There was a pregnant silence… and then a timid, "that's what she said?" was murmured.

Ignoring the weak quip, John continued to stare into the darkness. He reminded himself that this was how it had all started: Atlantis' power problems had rushed them into a desperate search for a solution. He had foolhardily taken the first option that presented itself. Enticed by the prospect of new technology, seduced by even the slightest possibility of a historical tie to Earth, and rusty from being out of commission for months, he had make a mistake. Hell, I invited the lions into the zebras' den.

John hated himself for it; he felt the remorse stirring inside him. Some of his marines were injured badly, while others were still unaccounted for. Rubbing his temples, he willed his headache to leave him in peace. He checked on the fresh tissues he'd stuffed into his newly broken nose. They came back bloody.

The action didn't go unnoticed by Elizabeth, who frowned, concerned. She was about to inquire as to his condition, but motion to their left caught their eye. Into the mess hall quickly strode an expedition member that had thus far been missing from the roundup: Dr. Beckett. A pair of Lacedami soldiers trailed him at a distance. In the dim light, the doctor finally found Elizabeth and John amongst the masses. He hustled over, medical bag in hand.

"Carson?" Elizabeth questioned, sitting up straight from her spot on the floor.

"Hello to you, too," the Scot replied, exasperated by recent events. "Thank the Lord you're all okay," he said with a relieved sigh, crouching on the floor in front of them.

"Most of us," Elizabeth replied dourly, looking at some of the wounded around her. "I don't understand. Where have you been? Why weren't you detained like the rest of us?"

Suddenly the lights overhead surged to life. The perimeter of Lacedami guards raised their heads in surprise. So used to the recurring episode was the Atlantis team, however, that no one bothered to look up this time.

"First of all, I was detained – an' I've quite the lump to prove it." Carson explained, tapping his head. "Secondly, I've been workin' all the while. They've allowed me to attend to some of the wounded now that all the commotion's gone an' settled down." He dropped his voice and motioned to the two armed guards who had entered on his heels. "I only have to tote Tweedledum an' Tweedledee here wherever I bloody go."

"Wait," John interrupted, "they allowed you to patch up our people? That doesn't seem very… them."

"I agree. I was just as shocked as you are, Major, but I wasn't about to complain. I suppose I pleaded with him long enough until Kyros grew tired of me." He nodded to the young Lacedami in the center of the room.

Elizabeth's head turned to look at the young man, shocked and appreciative at the same time. Clearly she had misjudged his character – again. Maybe they could use his sympathy to their advantage.

"I'll tell you," Carson continued, "I just dinna understand these people. How can anyone be so ruthless – an' for what? I've seen firsthand what they have done to some of our…." He stopped himself. He knew of Elizabeth's attachment to her people.

"What about Peter Grodin?" Elizabeth asked quickly. "Have you come across him?

"Aye, he's up in the infirmary with Dr. Cole right now," Beckett explained. He pointed to his ear. "Kyros allowed me the use of my radio so that I can keep in contact with the infirmary at all times. I just got done speakin' with Dr. Cole about Peter. He took a nasty shot to the shoulder, but nothin' Dr. Cole hasn't seen before. She'll have him right as rain in a jiffy."

"Our captors have allowed us access to the infirmary and radios as well?" Teyla queried.

Carson shrugged. "Again, it was Kyros' doin'. Only one doctor, though, is allowed in the infirmary at any one time an' it's reserved for only the most critical cases. Dr. Cole volunteered to stay. I wanted to make sure everyone else got the treatment they needed." He opened his medical kit. "Which brings me to you, Major… good Lord, what have you done to yourself this time?" the doctor exclaimed, looking over Sheppard.

"You know: broken nose, concussion, gunshot wound," the Air Force pilot jested, letting Dr. Beckett poke and prod at him. "The usual – ow! Ah – Jesus Christ, Doc!" John shouted as a sudden, sharp pain accompanied by a loud crunch emanated from his nose. "A little warning next time!"

Beckett had no sympathy. "You're welcome." He gave some gauze to John to hold against his newly reset nose. Next, he shined a light into the pilot's eyes. "The concussion appears to be minor…" he muttered as he studied his pupils' reaction. "I think you know the drill on this one, Major, an' I have a feelin' anythin' I tell you will probably be ignored anyhow…."

"I wouldn't dream of it," John said dryly through the gauze. His voice was nasally.

"Somehow I doubt that. Now let me see that arm of yours."

"I'm fine, Carson, really—" But John could already feel his left arm being yanked away from him. There was a slight sting at his bicep as the bullet wound was disinfected. All the while, the Scot's two Lacedami shadows watched on intently, ready to pounce at the slightest hint of subversion.

Beckett studied the injury. "Hmm… interestin'…."

John groaned and chucked the gauze to the floor. "I really hate it when doctors make that noise."

"Moan all you like, but I've never seen anythin' like this before. The bleedin' has stopped all on its own, but even more fascinatin' is the seared flesh around the edges of the wound."

"That's disgusting," Rodney bemoaned, several people down. Then curiosity got the better of him. "Does it hurt?"

John paused to ensure he had actually heard the question correctly. "You're asking me if getting shot by a gun hurts?"

"You must understand, Major, Rodney hasn't ever experienced pain beyond a wee paper cut, given his proclivity toward faintin' and all," Carson explained. "Now what did this to you, lad?"

"An electrified bullet," John answered. "On the stun setting, thankfully."

"Aye, that'll do it," the doctor concluded. "That Lacedami fellow who shot you might have actually done you a favor. Once the bullet pierced the flesh an' delivered an electric charge to the skin, the wound was instantly cauterized. It explains the minimal blood loss. The wound was sterilized immediately with no risk of infection. An' lucky for you, the bullet passed right through a very small portion of your bicep. Now I'd like to put some stitches in that arm of yours—"

"Just tell it to me straight, Doc," John said gravely, looking Carson in the eye. He laid on the mock-gravitas. "Am I going to make it?"

Carson was not at all amused. "Yes, Major," he indulged, "I think you'll pull through this time."

"Good. You should take a look at Elizabeth—"

"I'm fine," Elizabeth cut in, holding a hand up to her scratched cheeks. She would live. "I appreciate the offer, Carson, but there are plenty of other people in this room in far worse shape than I. They need you more than I do."

Beckett sighed and looked at the pair. "I swear, if I didn't know any better, I'd say you two will put me out of a job." Despite his irritation at Atlantis' two leaders' complete disregard for his care, he couldn't help but appreciate their steadfast selflessness. Two peas in a pod, those two are, he thought to himself with a grin. "Well, if Major Sheppard won't accept my help, he's gettin' it from you, whether he likes it or not," he told Elizabeth, tossing her a small roll of fresh gauze. "Wrap that tightly over his wound. I have to see to my other patients."

"I could use a hand over here, Carson," came McKay's voice.

Beckett sighed and stood. "Yes, Rodney…."

"I've had this crick in my neck for the past week – do you think you could check it out?"

"Yes, Rodney…." He trailed off as he walked down to the astrophysicist's position.

Elizabeth dutifully began dressing John's upper arm. She tried her best to work tenderly around the wound. John watched her in silence; noted her perfectionism, the painstaking care she took with each wrap, the way her lips pursed ever so slightly as she concentrated, and how lightly her delicate fingers brushed over his arm.

Finished with the bandage, Elizabeth let her hand rest on his shoulder a little longer than necessary. Before she could remove it, she found his eyes locked on hers – those hazel eyes she loved so much. And before she could stop herself, a smile had involuntarily played onto her lips. He returned it and immediately looked away, embarrassed at having been caught. It never ceased to amuse Elizabeth how one man could be so damned cocksure and yet so bashful. She found it endearing.

Elizabeth removed her hand, suddenly becoming acutely conscious of the tension. John cleared his throat.

"Thanks for the, uh…" he struggled, motioning toward the newly dressed wound.

Elizabeth swallowed. "You're welcome."

"Are you really alright?" he asked, reaching up toward her scratched face before he could stop himself. He brushed her cheek lightly with his thumb as he examined the smattering of tiny cuts. Silently, he cursed them for blemishing her otherwise perfect skin, for interrupting the soft constellations of faint freckles.

Elizabeth caught his hand with her own as he touched her skin, stopping him. She wanted nothing more than to close her eyes and bury her cheek against his palm. But although his actions may have stemmed from genuine concern, she knew she could not allow it in front of their watchful captors. At best, it would be perceived as a sign of weakness. At worst, the enemy would feed on it, would use their known affection against them in ways she didn't even want to fathom. They had lived through that pain once before already.

"I'm fine," Dr. Weir answered unemotionally, nodding her head discretely to the side.

Looking where she had indicated, Sheppard noticed a group of four Lacedami looking on, ever attentive. They were watching their every move. John understood immediately, annoyed that he had momentarily allowed his situational awareness to slip. She did often have that effect on him. He pulled his hand back and sighed, frustrated.

"You know what I could really go for right about now?" he asked rhetorically. "An ice cold beer or three."

"If you're taking orders, put me down for a glass of Pinot," Elizabeth commiserated.

"What I don't get," John said, changing the subject, "are these people. Who the hell are they, really? What do they want?"

"I wish I knew," the diplomat answered, keeping her voice low. "They don't make any sense to me. They live on the mainland, yet we've never seen them before. They appear to be largely a primitive culture, yet they sport several shining examples of advanced technology. They're ruthless, but at least one of them has conscience."

She exhaled, not sure what she was getting at. "I can't help but feel that this is all our doing. We practically begged them to come here out of sheer desperation and against any semblance of reason." She looked at him with troubled eyes. "John, this is completely my fault."

"You invited three Lacedami here – three, not a whole platoon – under an understanding of peace. I don't think you could have seen this one coming. They were going to force their way onto this base whether we invited them or not."

John went on, noticing how she didn't look at all reassured. "Plus, I had a hand in this mess, too. Don't go thinking you'll get to hog all of the fun paperwork for yourself after this disaster is over," he said, trying to lighten the mood.

"It's not the paperwork I'm worried about."

"I know," responded John earnestly. "Just… keep your chin up, boss."

"I—"

"Elizabeth?" came a voice from next to them. It had a heavy French accent.

Elizabeth leaned forward to see her good personal friend, Dr. Nicolas Perrot, sitting against the wall several people down from her. It looked as if he had just awoken, perhaps from being knocked unconscious. "Nicolas," she greeted, relieved. "Tu vas bien?"

"Oui, my dear," the doctor replied. "It is going to take more than some cuts and bruises to keep this old Frenchman down."

Elizabeth grinned despite herself. At seventy-five years of age, Nicolas had all the wit and zest of a man half as young as he, though she condemned the Lacedami for striking an elder. His enthusiasm for exploration was infectious and his appetite for knowledge equally so. A historian and linguist by trade, Dr. Perrot quickly became one of Dr. Weir's closest comrades after arriving on Atlantis. She enjoyed the thought-provoking talks they would have, when she could spare the time, and loved his no-nonsense attitude. He was one of the warmest people she had ever met but had no tolerance for hubris or ego. Needless to say, Dr. Perrot and Dr. McKay hadn't warmed to one another in their first year together.

"Pardon my interruption," Nicolas said, "but what on Earth is happening? One minute, I am in my room, and the next I am being drug through the hallways."

"It's a long story," John answered.

The canny old historian nodded in the direction of the guards. "Do you expect to be going somewhere anytime soon, Major?"

John looked to Elizabeth for help, unaccustomed to the bluntness of someone Perrot's age. Elizabeth assented to Nicolas' request, and between the two of them they were able to recount the day's events thus far.

"Interesting," was all that the academic said afterward. He pondered their story as he studied the ring of armed guards before them. Before long, one of them broke off and headed their way. It was Kyros. He approached swiftly and wore a concerned expression on his face.

"Kyros," Elizabeth addressed, sitting straighter as he drew near. Upon seeing his fretful countenance, hers changed to match. "What is it?"

"I am afraid I must ask you to be more quiet," the boy said nervously. "If the commander enters the room and sees that I have allowed you to speak freely amongst yourselves…."

Elizabeth understood. "Don't worry," she reassured, having sympathy for the young man. "We'll be more quiet."

"What do you want from us?" blurted an indignant Rodney, possessing far less patience than his expedition leader.

Kyros opened his mouth to answer but shut it quickly. "I… I cannot say."

McKay folded his arms. "You can't or you won't?"

"Rodney, relax," Elizabeth advised calmly. "We just want to know why we're being held against our will, Kyros. Antigonos isn't around. You can talk to us."

The soldier looked to his feet, pondering whether or not to answer truthfully. "The commander wants something, something in your possession." He looked around anxiously, as if he was afraid Antigonos would walk through the door at any moment.

"Can you tell us what it is?"

Kyros spoked quickly in hushed tones to Elizabeth. "Please. I do not know if-"

"What do you know, anyway?" the physicist confronted. "Some second-in-command you are—"

"Rodney, open your mouth one more time and I swear I will demote you to janitor and give all of your research to Kavanagh," Dr. Weir threatened. "Do you understand?"

His jaw snapped shut and he nodded tightly.

"I'm sorry," Elizabeth said to Kyros, containing her irritation remarkably well.

"I do not want to see you hurt, any of you," Kyros explained. "I advise that you comply with the commander's requests, and please, remain quiet."

"Can you tell us why your people have maps of Atlantis?" Teyla asked hurriedly, sensing his building desire to bolt. "How is it possible that you all possess the Ancient gene? How can you share so much in common with—"

The marching thud of a pair of feet caused Kyros to spin around nervously. He spotted Straton enter the room. "I must go," he declared.

"Um, excuse me!" Rodney hissed after Kyros' retreating form. "Being that we're being held captive in the cafeteria, do you think it'd be possible to hand out some snacks to us starving prisoners?"

Kyros either did not hear the scientist or chose not to reply. The captive Atlantis team watched as he met up with Straton. The two exchanged words, indiscernible to Elizabeth's group at that distance. The bigger man just frowned in disgust and moved on to speak with another guard.

"Well that whole scene was weird," John murmured, eyes on Kyros.

"It certainly was," Elizabeth agreed. "He's clearly sympathetic to our cause but is afraid of what the repercussions of helping us might be."

"Yeah, poor him," Rodney hissed, attempting to keep his voice down. "Didn't anyone notice that through all this that Radek has been missing? I mean, I know it's extremely uncharacteristic of me to care about someone other than myself, but they could be torturing him right now for all we know!"

"Sshh!" John hissed tersely to Rodney. "Would you keep your voice down and relax? Just because Zelenka isn't here with the rest of us doesn't mean he… doesn't mean something bad happened, all right? I'm sure he's fine."

"And I'm sure he took a tactical evasion course at Prague Community College we all don't know about," muttered Rodney. "He won't stand a chance, not against these guys."

Elizabeth opened her mouth to refute his dour prediction, but Dr. Perrot interrupted.

"Don't you find something strangely familiar about them, Elizabeth?"

She shrugged, stumped and exasperated, barely able to keep up with the changes in topic. "I can't find any similarities to any other society we've encountered in the Pegasus Galaxy."

"In the Pegasus Galaxy," Nicolas repeated thoughtfully.

Elizabeth frowned. "I don't follow."

"In trying to figure out the origins of these people, you understandably have compared them to others of this galaxy. I can't help… I can't help considering the one from which we came."

"The Milky Way – our Milky Way?" Elizabeth questioned. Nicolas nodded, but Dr. Weir wasn't so sure. While she sometimes found Nicolas' cryptic responses infuriating, she knew it was his way of laying out a logical path of reasoning. "I'll admit their culture has an Ancient Greek flavor to it, and they somehow have copies of ancient Earth-based texts… wait, you aren't implying that these people came from Earth, are you?"

"I am not implying anything," Nicolas clarified, "merely presenting a collection of observations."

Elizabeth mentally gathered her own observations. It's almost like they have more in common with Earth than the Pegasus Galaxy. And it wasn't the first time in the last several hours she had had that thought. She found herself muttering the same words that had escaped her lips all too often today: "I don't understand."

"Neither do I," Nicolas said thoughtfully. Then something caught the old man's eye, something on one of the guard's uniforms. "Allons bon," he remarked under his breath.

Seeing his attention averted, Elizabeth asked, "What is it?"

"Ça ne tient pas debout," he spoke hurriedly, uneasy, still staring at the soldier. "Elizabeth, quickly – what did you say these people called themselves?"

"The Lacedami. Why?"

"Lacedami... Mon dieu, il est sensé.! Nous avons des ennuis—"

"You know," John snapped, exasperated, "I left my French dictionary in my other pair of BDUs, so it's a little hard for me to understand—"

"Major," Dr. Perrot retorted, "believe me when I tell you that the only thing you need to understand is that we're all in trouble. Very deep trouble."

TBC

Author's note: Thanks to the couple of reviews that have come in. It helps to keep me motivated to update on time instead of working on my other projects!