Time Immemorial
Chapter 35: Inner Strength
July 17th
1039 Hours
Elizabeth pushed steadfastly down the length of the Control Room, using the computer workstations for support as she went. Weakly, she shoved chairs from her path. Her legs shook. She told herself the reasons were purely physical.
"Elizabeth!" Teyla exclaimed, limping up the Control Room stairs. Her attempt at support was shrugged off.
Where's John?
Teyla and Rodney hadn't answered her question. They hadn't needed to. Long before they'd exchanged how-do-we-tell-her glances with one another, she'd known. She'd felt in her heart.
It had always been like that with him. She could always feel it in her chest when John had gotten into trouble offworld, when something had gone wrong. And - goddamn him - how he had given her so many chest pains. But none compared to the heartache she felt now. It hurt. It was an absence that literally hurt.
Elizabeth had felt her heart sink with every second they hadn't replied. She, the skilled diplomat, had studied their expressions in the silence. Guilt. Grief. Regret.
They'd said so much in those remorseful, pitying looks they'd unknowingly thrown her way, their mouths agape, searching for words delicate enough to soften the blow.
They had come up short.
"Be still, Elizabeth. You need to to rest," Teyla cautioned. Unsure of what else to do, she held her hands awkwardly around Elizabeth as the woman staggered toward the exit, like a mother ready to catch her toddler's fall. She didn't dare look away. Teyla then called over her shoulder, "Rodney, please, I need your assistance."
McKay stood rooted in place. His head started to spin; he began to feel faint. Elizabeth was dead. There was a dead woman in front of him-
"Rodney!" Teyla called again, all patience absent from her voice, as she tried her best to keep Elizabeth from stumbling too far ahead. "I need your help! Bring us a chair!"
"Right," he muttered, still bewildered. He quickly uprighted a toppled chair and wheeled it over with his good arm.
"Now give me your jacket."
Rodney did as he was told, diverting his eyes respectfully as Teyla donned the jacket over Elizabeth's torn blouse. The Athosian then tightly bundled her frigid body in the emergency blanket.
"Elizabeth," Teyla insisted. "You must rest. Sit."
Elizabeth simply shook her head, barely paying them any mind. She forged ahead.
Teyla and Rodney once again shared concerned looks, befuddled by the behavior. She was on a personal mission, that much was clear, to a destination known only to her.
"Are you all right? Are you hurt?" Teyla noticed those eyes, bloodshot and hollow, the kind of eyes that had witnessed unfathomable horrors. Their red rims indicated she had either been weeping or was on the verge of tears. Her breathing was thready. Her body still quaked.
"I'm fine," Elizabeth answered anyway, her voice hoarse. Even as she spoke the words she paused, leaning heavily against the exit's doorframe for a brief respite.
Rodney leaned in. "Elizabeth!" he shouted, as though she was deaf. "It's me, Dr. Rodney McKay! I don't know if you remember, but you died! How did you-"
Teyla cut the tactless scientist off with a withering glare, as if to say, Now is not the best time for that, Rodney. McKay shrank back with a sheepish nod.
"You are safe," Teyla assuaged with a reassuring smile. "Be still and save your energy. We will fetch Dr. Beckett shortly to examine you."
"That won't be necessary," Dr. Weir croaked. She pushed off the wall, wary of an attempt to keep her detained. Though she nearly lost her footing, somehow she stayed upright.
"Where are you going?" McKay beseeched.
"To see him."
Rodney moaned in dismay. "Elizabeth, don't do this. Don't put yourself through this; you don't deserve it."
Ignoring them, Elizabeth stumbled out into the hallway. She didn't care what they thought. She did need to do this. What she felt in her heart her mind rejected. She would not accept it, not without proof form her own two eyes.
Not John, she maintained. He's too stubborn to be dead.
Rodney cleared his throat. "I know you're probably confused right now. In fact, I'm, um, slightly confused myself at the moment. Suffice it to say: we got the ZPM. The City's shield is up, but we're not out of the woods she yet. So why don't we all head to somewhere safe instead?" He mimed silently to Teyla for help.
"And you are in no condition to trek about Atlantis," Teyla added.
But Elizabeth was deaf to their warnings, her mind set. She would make it to the morgue. She labored forward, gritting her teeth against the pain but determined nonetheless.
"Did we mention that there are still plenty of people who want to kill us roaming about the City!" Rodney called after her fleeting form.
His concern went unacknowledged.
The pair watched her retreat in silence. Clearly this was a debate they would not be winning.
"Come," Teyla beckoned suddenly, falling in step behind Dr. Weir. Whether or not she agreed with Elizabeth's plan was irrelevant, but she certainly wasn't going to let the expedition leader in her weakened condition venture solo into the fray.
"Do we have to?" whimpered the physicist. "You do realize you don't have any weapons, right?"
"You are free to remain in the Control Room by yourself, Rodney, if that is what you wish."
McKay looked about the empty space, eerie in its silence. Groaning in concession, he quickly entered his passcode into a terminal, locking out anyone who might just have an interest in deactivating the shield.
"Coming," he called reluctantly as he joined up - and just in time, too. He grabbed Elizabeth's arm as her legs gave out, preventing a disastrous fall to the floor. As before, she barely seemed notice, her legs continuing to churn, refusing to slow her progress.
"Carson, if you're there we need you down here ASAP," McKay called over his radio, the only working one in their group.
A few seconds of silence followed before a thick Scottish accent replied. "Rodney, is that you? I've got my hands full at the moment an' I dinna have time for your paper cuts."
"We've got an injured patient down here."
"I'm sure you can understand that I've got quite a lot of injured patients up here as well."
Looking at the recently deceased woman walking before him, Rodney replied, "Not like this you don't. Meet us in the morgue in ten minutes."
"A'm aff the fang… If the patient's already in the morgue, Rodney, then there's little I can do—"
"Dammit, Carson, just come, will you?"
There was a thoughtful pause on the other end. "Very well, I'm on my way."
The duo trailed behind Elizabeth, supporting her weight during the occasional stumble. She never asked for help, though; it was almost as if the pair wasn't there at all. She seemed lucid - distraught, perhaps, but certainly in possession of her faculties - which meant this venture was deliberate and not some hallucinatory misstep. That unnerved McKay most of all.
With the shield now keeping the remaining Darts at bay, an eerie hush had fallen over the majority of Atlantis. The silence of their journey was only interrupted by the occasional sound of gunfire in the distance; the spurt of Wraith stunners and rifles, the crack of P-90s and Berettas, and the electric sizzle of Lacedami rounds all joined in concert together. McKay prayed they remained at a distance.
Rodney pondered so many questions as they walked. How was Elizabeth alive? Had she ever even died? Sure, he never actually saw her dead body himself, but he doubted that was something Major Sheppard would have lied about. Maybe Sheppard had been fooled. Maybe Antigonos had played a cruel trick on him.
No, Rodney dispelled. Sheppard had been there when it happened. He had seen it with his own eyes and it had nearly destroyed him. Looking at her deplorable appearance now, the phrase 'death warmed over' came to mind. No, he was certain that Dr. Elizabeth Weir had died less than 12 hours ago, yet here she was, walking among the living. His deductive brain searched for a rational solution, but he could find none.
"You're hurt," he suddenly realized, his eyes falling on the Athosian's bloody, slashed up back. She favored one ankle. He looked forward to Elizabeth, struggling onward. How inconsequential his injured arm now seemed.
"I am fine," Teyla whispered back.
"Right," he scoffed, "you and Elizabeth both. I'm... I'm sorry I didn't notice earlier," he admitted.
"As I recall, you had much more important matters needing your attention."
"More life-and-death-y, maybe, but not more important," the scientist whispered bashfully. Seeing Teyla's raised brow, he added, "Zelenka told me to work on my people skills."
Teyla smiled at that. She nodded to his radio. "Any news from the team in the cafeteria?"
Shaking his head, he replied, "Nothing. They went silent about half an hour ago."
Teyla nodded grimly. She knew what that probably meant. A big part of her longed to be in that fight, aiding her teammates, but she could not abandon Dr. Weir. After Elizabeth found the closure she sought in the morgue, though, she fully intended to jump into the mess hall brawl next door. If she could help turn the tide against the remaining Wraith, she would. Weaponless, the best she could hope to offer her teammates was a distraction. But if her valor only meant that a stunner blast landed on her instead of its would-be marine or civilian target, at least she would die amongst her friends, defending her home-
"Stop!" Teyla hissed quietly, reaching outward to halt Elizabeth's momentum.
Rodney and Elizabeth both stopped, looking to Teyla for guidance. She stood in the center of the corridor, spinning round slowly. She listened intently. Something... Closing her eyes, she breathed in deeply, letting the visions come...
Her eyes popped open. "They are close," she announced.
"The Wraith?" Rodney queried, feeling dumb for asking.
"Yes. Though I hear Ladedami fire as well, closer."
"Wonderful..."
"Allow me to lead," Teyla asked of Elizabeth. "It is not safe up ahead."
Elizabeth's determined eyes burned back at her. "I'm not asking you to come with me."
"You don't have to," Rodney answered. "Now let's keep moving before I turn into the Cowardly Lion and run away."
The trio closed the distance to the morgue. One hallway had collapsed into a pile of rubble, causing them to double back and find an alternate route. Another few moments were wasted waiting out a pair of passing Lacedami soldiers. Teyla knew they were close, though. The sounds of the battle inside the mess hall grew in amplitude as they neared. The P-90 chatter was like music to her ears. It meant someone was still alive in there, putting up a fight against the Wraith.
Then they arrived. They had reached the entrance to the morgue, in sight only fifteen yards ahead.
Still, Teyla held the group tucked behind a bulkhead. Something wasn't right. Though the path ahead was straight and clear, she sensed that if they made a break for it now they would regret it.
Teyla's instincts paid off. A pair of Wraith scouts rounded the corner from which they had just came, intent on joining their hivemates' impending feast in the adjacent cafeteria. They stormed in their direction. Her muscles tensing, she prepared for the inevitable fight. It was one she would lose, she knew, but perhaps she could buy the others time to escape.
"Rodney, Elizabeth, be ready to run-" she started, but was cut off by the sound of weapons fire behind her.
McKay and Dr. Weir both crouched low, covering their ears instinctively. Teyla pressed herself flat against the wall, turning her head to see their saviors: two marine corporals letting loose a fierce volley from their rifles.
It seemed the Wraith scouts weren't the only ones itching to join the fight.
The marines and Wraith traded fire in the hallway behind them, stray bullets striking the walls adjacent to their bulkhead. They would have to wait out the skirmish before continuing on-
"Elizabeth, wait!" Teyla called, seeing the expedition leader move suddenly for the morgue. She watched tensely as Elizabeth covered the distance, slowly on account of her physical state, but finally arriving at the entrance's small alcove.
"Rodney, you are next!" Teyla called to him above the clamor. There was no use delaying now.
"Oh, why me?" he protested. "Can't I just wait here until it's over?"
"Now, Rodney!"
The scientist leapt at the bite of her words. The only one of the three with stable legs, he closed the distance swiftly and safely. Teyla joined last, feeling several bullets rush close past her as she limped over. They were all there, huddled at the morgue's entrance.
"Are you certain you want to do this?" Teyla asked once last time.
"I'm certain," Elizabeth answered.
With a nod, the Athosian pulled on the heavy metal door. Immediately, a blast of cold air assaulted their exposed skin, bringing with it an acrid stench born from the reposed bodies within. Rodney covered his mouth, suppressing his gag reflex.
Elizabeth stood just inside the entrance. Two things struck her immediately. First, the sheer number of dead expedition members — some lying atop tables, others simply on the floor — was staggering. One would have been too many; nine was reprehensible.
Second, the room was in shambles. For some inexplicable reason, the sheets that had been placed over each of the departed had been ripped off and thrown to the floor.
She remembered awakening in this very room not more than an hour ago. Whether it had been the pitch black or her frenzied state of mind, she had barely noticed her surroundings at the time.
And she certainly didn't remember seeing him.
With Rodney at her side, she made her way forward to where Teyla stood beside one particular table. Her legs, already shaky, felt as though they were about to give out, if only to prevent her from suffering the sight ahead. But before she knew it, she was there, standing next to the corpse she somehow hoped would not be there.
Elizabeth looked down and saw John's dead body.
This is what you wanted, wasn't it? John asked himself as he watched the hopeless scene unfold in the cafeteria. You didn't care if you died, remember?
He could have been helping them fight. He wasn't sure what an extra gun could do against twenty armed Wraith, but, dammit, he should have been there for them. With more Wraith arriving by the minute, it was only a matter of time before the expedition's hastily fortified defenses were overwhelmed.
"Marines, eyes up," John heard over one of their walkie-talkies. Instinctively he looked through the magnificent stained glass window they were crowded against.
Ford brought his walkie to his lips, while the others listened over their earpieces. "What's up, Stackhouse?"
"Well, nothing, that's the problem," Sergeant Stackhouse said over the radio from somewhere outside the cafeteria. "The Darts overhead have pulled back."
Sure enough, John saw nothing but blue sky above the City's shield. There was no distant droning of Dart engines, and no sound of plasma fire.
"Probably got tired of getting their asses kicked," LaDage offered to her teammates, inspiring a spirited burst from Gunnery Sergeant Cassidy's P-90 that landed squarely on an advancing Wraith's forehead.
"That's a good thing, right?" Ford radioed back.
Even before Stackhouse answered, John understood. After seeing the home base of their sworn enemy pop up on the map after millennia of dormancy, a sworn enemy they'd spent hundreds of years fighting, there was no way the Wraith would just give up mere minutes after Atlantis' shield was raised. They weren't exactly the give-up-and-go-home type. If there was anything they were known for, it was their tenacity.
"We think they're regrouping with the cruisers in orbit to make another run at the City."
Gunny shrugged. "So what? We've got the shield up now."
Before he got a response, all eyes locked onto the tiny specs in the sky that once again approached Atlantis. This time, there were more of them, and they approached faster - steeper - than last time.
"Oh, no..." John realized, crouching next to him. "They're going ballistic."
Deaf to his words, the marines came to the same conclusion on their own. They watched through the window, powerless, as scores of Darts pushed over to a near ninety degree trajectory, reaching terminal velocity and fanning out to inflict the most damage across the widest berth.
"They must have gotten reinforcements from the cruisers," Ford remarked, jaw agape. "That looks like the whole damn fleet."
"And now they're taking kamikaze runs at the shield, crazy mothers..." Gunny breathed in disbelief.
"Is it going to be able to take that kind of hit?" wondered LaDage nervously.
Her answer came five seconds later when all at once the entire fleet of Darts impacted spectacularly with the City's shield, pulverizing the barrier with an unfathomable amount of kinetic energy.
The band of marines and civilians ducked instinctually. They squeezed their eyes shut as brilliant flashes of light erupted with each impact. The world glowed orange outside. The sound was deafening.
After a full minute, the barrage had subsided. The entire cafeteria, Wraith and human alike, had ceased fire, plunging the large space into an eerie silence. Slowly, John opened his eyes, afraid at what he might see.
Almost 200 bright pink blisters were still visible on the shield's surface, one where each Dart had collided. A rich color gradient of purples and blues radiated outward from each, like the root of a candle's flame. But the shield was still there. It had held.
"Yeah!" Gunny yelled triumphantly, thrusting his middle finger at the window and the sky beyond it. "Take that, you Wraith sons of bitches!"
In response, the Wraith held at the mess hall's entrances opened fire with vehemence.
Teyla studied Elizabeth carefully, ready to support her if needed. The woman had already gone through a hell they could not begin to imagine; how would she cope with her own worst nightmare literally staring her in the face? So far she had handled it all seemingly well - in fact, barely reacting at all, ever the well-trained diplomat.
Cautiously, Teyla continued, feeling that she owed Elizabeth an explanation. "He died saving..." She looked to Rodney for help. But he had turned away, unable to face either of them after his part in it.
"He died retrieving the ZPM. He saved Atlantis," the Athosian finished quietly, the grief still too near for her as well.
Elizabeth simply shut her eyes and nodded, somehow managing to hold the tears at bay. While her subconscious may have already accepted the reality, it hadn't prepared her for seeing him with her own eyes. She fought to steady her breathing as shivers continued to wrack her body.
No. This can't be right.
Rodney turned back toward Dr. Weir, the prolonged silence surprising, even for her. He could not fathom the inner torment this woman was enduring. The very picture of composure, she had always been an expert at controlling her emotions - her job demanded it - but this was different. This was no diplomatic negotiation. This was John.
"Elizabeth," McKay prompted warily. "Do you understand what we're telling you?"
Slowly, she shook her head. "No," she said softly.
"No?" Rodney echoed, caught off guard.
"No. It's not possible. Not him."
"Elizabeth..." Teyla started, unsure of where to go. "We all share in your grief, but I am sorry. Major Sheppard is gone."
"It's not possible."
The Athosian looked to McKay, but he was as perplexed as she. "I know it is difficult to hear," she resolved, gesturing to the table, "but he is dead. You must understand this."
"No! I refuse to accept that he is gone!" Elizabeth yelled. Her ashen face grew red with fury. She shook with the emotional exertion. "He has never not returned from a mission! That man has been tortured, has taken bullets, and has sacrificed more for this expedition than anyone else, and he has always made it back! This time will be no different!"
"He's dead!" Rodney yelled back, his eyes welling as he recalled his last moments with Sheppard. "I saw him die! He's not coming back!"
Elizabeth just shook her head and buried the frustration. "It's not true," she said simply.
"Damn it, Elizabeth, stop it! Stop torturing yourself!"
"All right, then," an accented voice interrupted from just outside the doorway. Carson rounded the corner, an emergency medical backpack slung over his shoulder and two armed marine escorts in tow. "What on earth is so bloody important that I had to leave Dr. Cole in the infirmary all by her lonesome..." He trailed off as he laid eyes on Dr. Weir. "Oh my Lord..." he muttered, eyes wide as saucers.
"Carson, please," Teyla hailed. "Dr. Weir is-"
"Alive..." a still stupefied Beckett sputtered.
"Alive, yes. And she requires your assistance."
"But how...?"
"I do not know, but you must ensure she is well before we move her to safety-"
"I'm not going anywhere," Elizabeth stated.
"The whole City is coming apart at the seams, not to mention all the baddies still roaming about the halls," McKay asserted. "Teyla's right: we've got to get you somewhere safe."
"Is that a portable defibrillator in your backpack?" Elizabeth asked Carson, ignoring the others.
Beckett had momentarily forgotten about the standard medical triage kit he had brought. He patted the pack, grounding him in the present. "Aye...?" he affirmed, his silent question lingering in the air.
Nodding toward John's lifeless body, Elizabeth said, "Use it."
She was met with stunned silence as Rodney, Teyla, and Carson all stared at her with a mixture of horror and sadness. So audacious, so perverse was the request that Carson hadn't been sure he'd heard it correctly.
"Lass," Carson began gently, "I dinna think that you're feelin' 100% well-"
"For once I won't argue with you, Carson," Elizabeth explained patiently. "Still, I want you to use the defibrillator on Major Sheppard."
"Jesus..." Rodney breathed, sickened.
"Why are you doin' this to yourself, love?" Beckett reasoned.
"Because he would have done the same for me," she said simply. "Or for you. Or you, Rodney, or you, Teyla."
"I have no doubt, Elizabeth, but the major's been dead some two hours now. As much as I wish it weren't so, I'm afraid there's naught in my pack that can bring a man back from that."
"What's the harm in trying?"
"There's no harm, not to him. But do you really want to see that? You're already beatin' yourself up about it; what's seein' me fail to resuscitate him goin' to do to you?"
Elizabeth scowled. "This isn't about me!"
"Be that as it may, the major died from exsanguination - massive blood loss - not cardiac failure. There is absolutely no medical reason why defibrillation, or any other form of treatment at this late stage will resuscitate such a patient."
"Just as there is absolutely no medical reason why I should be standing in front of you now, alive?" Elizabeth challenged.
Carson stared back at her as he tried to wrap his head around it all. She had a point. He himself had pronounced her dead just the night prior, yet there she was, heart beating, drawing breath right before his eyes. It challenged every theory of modern medicine. It took every medical doctrine he'd learned in med school and had since clung to and turned it right on its head.
The doctor sighed. "Elizabeth-"
"Look, Carson," Dr. Weir interjected. "If you're looking for a rational justification for my request, I don't have one. If you want me to explain myself logically, I can't. There's about a dozen things that have happened in the last day I can't explain logically. All I have left is what I took from John, and that's to go with my gut. And my gut is telling me that he should not be dead." She looked him directly in the eye. "I admit I may look desperate, yes, and exhausted, and upset, and on the verge of collapse, but do I look crazy to you, Carson?"
Frowning, Beckett met her gaze. "No, Elizabeth," he acquiesced.
"No," she agreed. "So please, do this for me. Call it a favor, call it pity, I don't care, just please at least do me the respect of trying."
Rubbing his hands over his tired eyes, Carson thought hard in the silence. It was borderline insanity. It would be a waste of time, yes, but more importantly he feared his inevitable nonsuccess would send Elizabeth over the edge she was already teetering on.
"I canna begin to understand what you're goin' through, and I winna do you the discourtesy of pretending to know how you feel. I know Major Sheppard meant a lot to you," the Scot placated. "But speaking not only as your doctor but as your friend, I canna condone this. I winna do it. Believe me when I say: it's for your own sake."
Elizabeth nodded, acknowledging his position. She looked at her teammates, their expressions indicating they shared the doctor's sentiment. Fine. She would do this alone if she had to.
Elizabeth reached for Beckett's backpack and yanked it off. "I will not take no for an answer," she said, rummaging through the pack until the portable defibrillator was found. She held out the paddles before her, wires dangling, as she read over the placarded directions. "Now how do I use these damn things," she muttered with conviction.
Again Carson told himself it wouldn't work. But as he watched Elizabeth fumble with the paddles, he realized something had worked. As she had stated herself, Elizabeth was here, standing right in front of them, she herself dead only hours ago — who was he to say what was possible anymore? After today, who was he to call her request unfounded? Call it luck, call it a miracle, call it divine intervention, it was clear something was watching out for her. Maybe that luck would hold. Maybe that something was watching out for John now.
"Bloody hell," Beckett muttered under his breath. I canna believe I'm doin' this. "Give me those things before you go an' hurt yourself," he groused, confiscating the paddles from Elizabeth.
Beckett removed a pair of scissors from his pack. Within seconds the major's shirt was cut from neck to navel. He splayed the fabric wide open, exposing the bare skin of Sheppard's chest.
Catching sight of the grotesque knife wound for the first time, Elizabeth involuntarily squeezed her eyes shut. The reaction didn't go unnoticed.
"Maybe you should stand over with Rodney," Carson suggested. He placed the two paddles on opposite sides of John's heart, awaiting the cessation of the beep-beep-beep of the charging machine.
"I'm staying," Elizabeth answered. She grasped John's icy hand in her own.
Carson raised an eyebrow at her, about to protest.
"I'm staying," she maintained.
Carson abandoned the argument as the defibrillator's tone turned steady. The charge was complete. He took a deep breath. Here we go...
"Clear!"
TBC
Author's note: Less than 10 chapters to go! If you celebrate Thanksgiving, I hope you have a safe and restful holiday.