Time Immemorial

Chapter 28: Dawn

July 17th
0720 Hours

"Have you ever heard the expression 'beware Greeks bearing gifts'?" Sheppard finally voiced. He carefully placed the ZPM back into the ship's open hatch.

"Then you refuse my proposition," Antigonos surmised. He did not look disappointed.

"Your offer was a generous one, but I'm afraid my offer to part ways is no longer on the table, not after you held a gun to my head and tried to make your escape."

Antigonos nodded respectfully.

"And let's face it," John continued. "You weren't going to let me just walk away with that ZPM."

"No more than you were going to allow me to simply depart in my ship," the commander countered.

John smirked appreciatively, tapping a finger to his head. "I'm going to miss our little talks." He opened up the distance between them, ready to finish the fight.

"Moreover, I will not depart without my prize," the commander went on. "The ascension device should be secured by now. Only after it is delivered to me will I take my leave from this insufferable place."

Oh, no, McKay, Sheppard recalled.

Antigonos once more turned his back to the major and faced his ship. He made a show of unholstering his pistol and stowed it inside alongside the other items. No, he never had any intentions of leaving before this was finished.

"Now," the Lacedami went on, still confidently turned away, "shall we finish this as men, or do you still insist on proving to me that you fight no better than Dr. Weir did against Straton's company-"

John didn't care that he was still out of breath, still in pain. He lunged at the soldier, closing the distance in less than a second, reaching him before the he could even complete his sentence. He knew he was being baited, but he couldn't stop himself. All he wanted at the moment was his hands around the man's throat.

His back still turned, Antigonos calmly waited a single beat before thrusting his right elbow backwards with great force.

But John had anticipated the move. He suddenly could see and hear with crystal clarity.

Sheppard easily ducked under the strike. Though a look of dismay betrayed Antigonos, the Lacedami instantly prepped for his next attack, but John wasn't about to let him. For once, he was ahead of the game. He poured every ounce of hatred, every shred of loathing and disgust, every desire for revenge and requital pent up over the last nightmarish day into his charge. It made every blow hit home.

The major let rip with a terrific uppercut. It landed squarely under Antigonos's chin. The seasoned warrior stumbled, but John wasn't done with him yet. A quick jab followed by a right cross sent the commander teetering. Sheppard grabbed the man by his tunic, pulled him in close, and kneed him mercilessly in the stomach. A final hook caused him to stagger backwards.

Antigonos regained his footing quickly. He touched two fingers to his lips; they came back slicked with blood. He stared at the red substance, brow pinched with surprise, as if he had never bled before.

"I hate to admit this, but you're right," John poked. "That was really enjoyable."

The comment incensed Antigonos. His eyes snapped to his battered opponent. This was not how this was to happen. He would not be beaten. He, Commander Antigonos of the Lacedami, son of General Kleon, would not be beaten, not by this Lantean pond scum, himself barely able to stand on his own two feet. He had made him bleed, and Antigonos was going to make him pay for that.

He had clearly underestimated the determination - and lunacy - of the major. It was a tactic he did not fully understand; surely the major knew his defeat was assured, yet he continued to fight on. A decidedly foreign feeling, an unfamiliar flutter, began to rise inside his stomach. It was a threat; it was fear, fear of the unforeseen. He glowered at the man who had stoked it. He had to quell it before it bettered him.

Antigonos straightened, stretched a crick from his neck in irritation. All his amusement from the minutes prior had been chased away by Sheppard's unanticipated and auspicious assault, leaving a black look on the commander's countenance. He spoke in low tones, his words uncannily calm, a smoldering ire behind them.

"I do believe the lion has had enough of taunting the mouse. I tire of this past day's sport. It is time to end it, and you." He faced John, eager to finish their quarrel.

With a humorless satisfaction, John read between the lines. Though he sounded unruffled, Sheppard knew the commander was anything but. He was like the ocean, with denizens churning just below the placid surface.

Raising his fists to the ready, John dared, "Don't hold back this time."

"I would never even entertain the notion," was the smug reply before Antigonos charged forward, bellowing with furor.

John was pleased with himself that he was once again easily able to dodge the first attack. To his horror, though, he quickly realized the jab had been a diversion, slow and obvious by design.

But the revelation came too late. From the opposite direction came a blow that sent him seeing stars.

Panicking, the major willed his sight to return. If he was blinded or knocked unconscious, Antigonos would finish him in a heartbeat.

The brawl became a one-way street. Antigonos delivered a barrage of punches and kicks, only a handful of which John was able to parry. Feebly, John attempted to keep his arms up in defense, but his limbs tired. He was too sluggish, and Antigonos moved too swiftly. His impaired brain was having a hard time processing where his opponent was.

By sheer serendipity, John fell away from a powerful kick aimed at the side of his knee. The assault was a dirty one, intended to break his kneecap and immobilize him for the remainder of the bout. Which would last for about five seconds, Sheppard realized.

The missed blow incensed the Lacedami, who attacked with renewed vigor.

John tried throwing a punch, but the blow was hasty, uncoordinated. It hit nothing but air and spun him off balance.

Antigonos struck his exposed back. It was another cheap shot. A terrible pain shot up from John's left kidney and radiated in every direction. He fell to his knees in front of the Raven, biting his lip to stem a scream of pain welling up inside.

Christ, what am I doing, John panicked. He was a pilot, not some damned commando. He didn't know advanced hand-to-hand combat. But he did grow up with an older brother, and that meant he knew that when all else failed, cheat.

In a mad scramble, he clambered awkwardly toward the open hatch. His fingertips found the barrel of the stashed Lacedami pistol, but Antigonos's hands found John's combat vest first. The gun went flying to the deck as John was forcibly yanked away from the ship. He then felt himself being swung bodily toward the vehicle, and before he could get his feet underneath him to resist the motion, his head made contact with the metal behemoth.

This time, the major could not stop a yelp of pain from escaping his cracked lips. He slumped to the wet decking in a heap.

If Antigonos took any pleasure from the outburst, he made no indication. Gone was the taunting, finished was the gloating, leaving only a cold, single-minded lethality.

"Stay down, Sheppard," he warned.

"You know I won't," John challenged, pushing himself upright with an unsteady arm.

Antigonos nodded. "Indeed. Then allow me to assist."

Sheppard felt himself leaving the ground, being hauled up by his collar. "You should have yielded long ago, but you simply do not know when to quit," he heard Antigonos snarl in his ear. He was knocked back to the ground with a ferocious punch.

"This is my City, and I want it back," Major Sheppard said through clenched teeth.

"This was never your City," the commander contended as he mercilessly laid his boot into Sheppard's side. "You never controlled it." Another kick. "Atlantis once belonged to the Ancients; now it belongs to me." Another kick. "And I will soon destroy it and everyone and everything in it."

John rested his forehead on the ground. He swallowed back the metallic taste of blood, focusing on the bitterness through the fog. Gotta stay awake, John. Pass out and it's over.

"Major!" he heard a tinny voice say. It wasn't Antigonos, of that he was sure, and it sounded like it was coming from inside his head. "Major, do you copy? Things have really gone tango uniform here, sir! The Lacedami have started firing on us! What should we do?"

Out of the corner of his eye he spotted his P-90, resting ten yards away where Antigonos had kicked it earlier. He tried to crawl to it, blatantly, desperately, uncaring if Antigonos saw that he was trying to retrieve it. He didn't have any other ideas.

"Major, Major, Major," the Lacedami tsked at the obvious scheme. His voice was almost robotic, unamused. He strolled slowly toward the rifle, matching Sheppard's pace, paralleling his quarry. "That plan is ill-advised."

"If it keeps you talking," he managed, "and not beating me to a pulp -" a ragged breath "- then it can't be all that bad."

"I am through talking. Perhaps we should resume the beating."

Gotta stay awake, gotta stay awake, gotta stay awake... He could feel his body giving in. His physical condition had finally caught up to him.

So close, Sheppard thought as he stared at his weapon, now only an arm's length away. "Okay," he coughed. "But I'm warning you-" he crawled closer "- I won't go so easy on you this round."

The commander was silent. He continued to pace John.

Somehow in the back of his mind Sheppard knew Antigonos would never let him reach the rifle, but goddammit, it was right there! Maybe he could catch the Lacedami by surprise, during a moment's distraction. All he needed was one. He scooted on his side, dragging himself, unable to crawl anymore. He outstretched his left arm. His shaking fingers touched the cool metal of the handle. If he could just get ahold of...

Antigonos kicked the P-90 away, sending it on its way to a watery grave to join its smaller brother.

John watched the weapon skirt over the deck and disappear over the edge. He didn't react because he didn't know how to inevitability. It was only a matter of time - seconds now, really - before Antigonos killed him. With his head resting against his outstretched arm, he just remained prone on the deck, only his chest heaving with the exertion. His other arm laid where it had fallen, in a puddle of rainwater. It was numb with the cold. He didn't bother to move it. There was no point.

"Major, are you there?" came that voice inside his head again.

John's vision listed like a boat on the waves below. He so desperately wanted to close his eyes. Gotta stay awake, he reminded himself, or... He couldn't recall the reason why.

He suddenly heard words, mid-sentence, seemingly from out of the blue. He was being addressed again. Had he briefly passed out? For how long? He bit his lip, hoping the sting would jolt him further awake, but it only faded into the aching mess of the rest of his body.

"- have waited all day for this contest, and this is what you bring?" he heard Antigonos barking. He wasn't mocking. He was irate. "You insult me! You insult my people!"

The commander stepped onto John's injured shoulder, dug his heel into the bullet wound, and pressed down with all his weight.

John bellowed in agony. He fought so hard against his own body, trying desperately to react as quickly as possible to the multitude of pain in the only way it knew how: by shutting down.

"I told you, I never lose!" Antigonos was shouting now, furious. "I cannot be bested; I will not be bested, not by you!"

Stomping away several paces, Antigonos picked up the only weapon left on the pier, his own pistol. He strode back with purpose. He crouched at John's side, grabbing a fistful of blood- and sweat-caked hair, and wrenched his head up from the deck.

"Look at you, lying in a puddle like a piece of discarded refuse. Pathetic!" Antigonos spoke sinisterly into his ear. He cranked the major's neck sharply toward the City. "I want the last moments of your pitiful existence to be witness to this very scene. I want the image of your beloved home being annihilated, your people being exterminated, to be the last to enter your eyes, so that it may forever be burned onto your soul."

Though his vision had dimmed around the edges, John could still see the horrific spectacle in the distance that he had brought upon them all. The fiery morning dawn paled in comparison to the blaze of the battle. Darts still scurried over Atlantis, strafing with white-hot plasma as they weaved between structures. Their culling beams pulsed on and off. The distinctive rat-tat-tat report of automatic fire signaled his marines' return volleys, but the frequency was too few and far between in comparison. John could tell from sound and sight alone they were not winning this battle. As if to punctuate that conclusion, he watched a nearby chunk of tile, directly hit by a plasma round, detach itself from one of Atlantis' towers and fall into the ocean.

Antigonos slid the barrel of the Lacedami pistol next to Sheppard's head. "Before I send you from this world, know this, Major Sheppard: for all of our similarities, I have once again been judged the stronger, faster, smarter soldier. I am the better man. I have won - and you have lost, everything."

I have lost everything, Major Sheppard agreed. Now everyone is dead because of me.

He didn't see a way out, not this time. He could only watch as his fate approached like a freight train, unable to get out of the way. Antigonos holds all the cards, holds the only weapon...

John's eyes suddenly widened with an idea. He knew it was a terrible one that probably would only succeed in getting him killed a few seconds earlier than planned, but... Aw, to hell with it.

He didn't waste another beat.

Reaching back around to his left side, John grabbed Antigonos' gun hand with both of his own. He pulled forward with all his remaining strength. The weak, though entirely unexpected move only toppled the kneeling Antigonos forward a half step, but it was all that John needed.

With his hands still clamped firmly to Antigonos' own, John rolled to the right, angled the commander's pistol down toward the ground, and fired. His aim wasn't perfect, but it didn't need to be.

The sizzle of the electrified bullet was amplified as it struck the puddle. Streaks of blue lightning erupted across the surface.

Antigonos, his sandaled foot now submerged, fell to his back with a splash. His body conducted the electricity, the voltage causing his limbs to spasm uncontrollably. His eyes were fixed up into the sky, fully open. His mouth was stuck open in a silent scream.

Sheppard, having safely rolled clear of the water, watched on as convulsions wracked the man's torso.

The episode lasted several seconds before the charge fully dissipated. Antigonos lied still on the cold deck. His head had lolled to the side, eyes closed. His skin in places was blistered or singed. Steam or smoke - John couldn't tell which - wafted upward from the soldier's clothing. The air smelled of burnt cloth and hair.

John hadn't checked what setting the gun had been on before he'd indiscriminately fired. He propped himself up onto his elbow with great effort. Cautiously, he plucked the handgun from Antigonos' still clenched fist. It was only set to stun-

Without warning, Antigonos's upper half bolted upright. He gulped in a lungful of air, ice-blue eyes wide open.

"Holy shit!" John heard himself saying as he shot to his feet, wobbly as they were. Instinctively he trained his newly acquired weapon downward on the Lacedami.

Taking a moment to catch both his breath and his bearings, the commander glanced down at the puddle he now sat in in bewilderment. He looked up and finally seemed to realize he was on the wrong end of his own gun.

John had caught his own breath. He looked skyward, the sun almost now fully above the horizon. It was the dawn of a new day.

More Darts entered the atmosphere, raining down on Atlantis from their motherships in orbit above. Though the majority of them charged toward the City, two broke formation and turned their way. They must have finally been noticed on the Wraith sensors. It was John's cue to leave.

"Yeah, you may think you're better than me," Sheppard told Antigonos as he hobbled over to the Raven's hatch. He spoke with an air of finality. "Hell, maybe you are, I don't know."

John kept the pistol trained on the commander's forehead. His arm visibly quaked with the effort but still he resolutely met his opponent's gaze. How long he had waited for this moment. One squeeze of his index finger and he would end his life. All the hellish atrocities would be avenged.

"But she was the best of us all." John powered up the gun. "This is for her, you son of a bitch."

Antigonos squeezed his eyes shut as John depressed the trigger.

John let off. There - that small, pitiful reaction in the face of certain death, the emotion from being beaten, was all he'd wanted to see from the pompous prick. You're the weak one. You lose. I win, asshole.

The two inbound Darts ducked in low over the far end of the pier and engaged their culling beams. But their intent was not to take prisoners. It was to feed. Four hulking foot soldiers and two lankier males were deposited 100 yards down the deck. Their cargo delivered, the Darts shot overhead, unconcerned, and droned toward the City.

"McKay was right. I don't have to kill you, you piece of shit," John told Antigonos, eyeing the oncoming Wraith. "But I sure as hell don't have to save you."

Keeping his gun trained on the downed commander, Sheppard used his free hand to rummage through the man's tunic. It only took him seconds to find what he was after. "This is mine," he growled, reclaiming the crumpled piece of paper Antigonos had confiscated earlier. He shoved it definitively into his BDU pocket.

With that, Sheppard swiped the ZPM from inside the Raven and limped toward the City.

Antigonos looked from the Wraith to John's retreating form. "You would not leave me here!" he yelled after him in disbelief. "Wait! Wait!"

John ignored him and labored on, grimacing with the effort.

It became obvious to the commander that the major would not be returning to help. He struggled to get his feet under him, but each muscle was still on fire. Judging his distance to the Wraith, he realized he would not be able to jump into the Raven and start it in time. Even if he had the time, he refused to leave this City without the ascension device.

With a new welling of resolve, Antigonos forced his left leg forward, then his right. Painful twitching coursed through his whole body. No amount of pain will stop me.

"Major!" he yelled ahead.

John pressed onward.

"Major!" the Lacedami called again. He risked a glance behind at the oncoming Wraith. They were closing the distance quickly, now only 50 yards away. Antigonos knew he didn't have to beat the Wraith to the City. He just had to beat Sheppard.

"I will not be killed, Sheppard! Not by you, not by the Wraith!"

Blissfully, John passed through the doorway and back into the protection of Atlantis' walls. He looked back. The Wraith still stalked Antigonos, now only a few steps behind, but they had slowed their pace. They hadn't even drawn their weapons, so confident that they had their quarry dead to rights.

The major hoped Antigonos felt in the pit of his stomach a sense of overwhelming defeat as he only just now began to realize he would not be making his escape. He would not be leaving Atlantis alive. John would make certain of it.

Heaving against the large industrial door, Sheppard shoved with all his might to close the exit. It seemed ten times heavier than it had been only minutes ago; it wouldn't budge. He pressed his back to the door's inside face and pushed backward against it. Finally, the hinges creaked against the motion.

Antigonos saw his only exit disappearing. He tried to quicken his pace but his body would not let him. "Major!" he yelled again. For the first time that day, a twinge of panic laced his voice. Seeing the doorway continue to close, he was sure he wasn't being heard. "Major!" he screamed louder.

John ignored the calls. He saw the last sliver of morning light disappear from behind the door as he hefted it into place. He was freezing but the exertion left him sweating bullets. He pulled down the door lever, locking it, shut his eyes and leaned blissfully with his back against the door's cool surface.

His moment of respite was broken only seconds later. Antigonos pounded on the door from the outside. Though he couldn't make out the muffled words, Sheppard could tell the commander was pleading with him to let him inside the safety of the City, the same city he was so eager to destroy only moments ago. John wasn't compelled to assist.

The pounding continued, though John knew Antigonos only had a matter of seconds before it would stop. John squeezed his eyes shut before the inevitability. Sure enough, the commander's fists suddenly stayed their pummeling of the door. His pleas for refuge ceased.

A few pregnant seconds of silence followed. Then the screaming started.

The terrible, inhuman sounds of the feeding reached John's ears even through the inches of metal. Like sharks clamping down on their prey, the Wraith's craze was heightened in the frenzy, intoxicated by the kill. The clamor crescendoed in both frequency and amplitude, peaking with the Wraiths' roar as they reached their fill. Finally, the furor faded with a chorus of guttural gasps - human or Wraith, John was unsure.

It was over. Antigonos was dead.

With his eyes still closed, Sheppard felt the weight of the ZPM in his hands. Though the commander was dead, there was still a host of Lacedami and Wraith to deal with-

Sheppard nearly jumped out of his skin as he felt a hand grasp his shoulder. His eyes jerked open, fearing Antigonos has somehow escaped his fate-

"Sheppard!" McKay exclaimed, out of breath. His tone instantly transformed from one of relief to a chastising diatribe. "Thank goodness I found you! Do you have any idea what lengths I went through to get here? I mean, I could have gotten killed almost ten times over, just in my trek here! I can't believe you thought it was a good idea to..."

The physicist finally seemed to notice his friend's beleaguered state. He noticed the ZPM in John's quaking hands. The man looked bloody, filthy, and wary beyond the limits of human endurance.

"Jesus Christ, Major... you look god awful."

Despite himself, Sheppard smiled wryly. "Thanks-" he croaked.

And promptly fainted into Rodney's arms.

TBC