A/N:

To LMGoody: First, oh! Your kindness really made my whole day. I can't possibly tell you how happy that made me. Thank you so much for your review. Second, I'm sorry, but I am very pleased to be breaking your heart :) I love Rush too. Our hearts can break together. Please enjoy this chapter.

To Laurie-ky: Thank you. Thank you. You had me smiling like a lunatic after I read your reviews. It means the world to me that you're enjoying it. And thank you for specifying which parts you liked, because I'm always curious to know what details make an impression. I hope you enjoy this update.

To everyone who has read/followed/fave'd, my eternal thanks to you as well. You mean a lot to me.

*Chapter updated with a few minor edits and corrections to some mistakes I found.*

Chapter 13

The day went by unremarked, and soon it was closing in on evening time. Dinner was being served in the Mess again but Everett found that his appetite had fled long ago. He sat by himself in the command chair on the bridge, staring out into the nothingness of space, neither willing nor wanting to move from that spot. He would be perfectly happy to ride out the rest of the trip right where he was. There wasn't much commanding to do these days, now that the course had been set for home. Their power reserves were in good shape, their food situation could wait another week or two, and everyone seemed to be getting along. There wasn't a lot of need for him to be anywhere else.

The whole ship had gained a mood of finality. They all knew Rush had little time left, and he had heard whispers that the man had started sending his visitors away after only a few minutes. That he didn't want to see them was doubtful; Everett guessed he was simply unable to make the effort to interact with them, and it was said that he had had been spending more and more time during the day sleeping. Or trying to. It was interesting to watch how the most hated man among them became the one everyone wanted to see. Gossipmongers, the lot of them.

"Colonel?"

Her sweet voice always could make him smile, even in his darkest moments. He swiveled the chair to face her, but his smile vanished at once. She didn't look well. "T.J. How is he? How are you?"

T.J. had a faraway look in her eyes. "Not good. Eli is with him right now."

"How not good?" he asked gently.

She was silent before shaking her head. "Not good. It was a bad night, he barely slept at all." She looked like she hadn't slept either. "Today wasn't much better."

He suddenly felt guilty about not coming by again sooner. "What happened?"

She rested against the rail, looking worn. "Everything is getting worse. His pain is increasing, especially at night. He's not sleeping. He can't eat. I've given him an I.V. to keep him hydrated, and he says he's not even hungry anymore. His nerves are dying and anything that doesn't hurt is numb. He's uncomfortable, but moving is getting too difficult. And he…" She swallowed and blinked back tears. "He cries. He just…cries."

Everett massaged his forehead. He really didn't need to know that. "Pain medicine?"

"I'm throwing everything I have at it. It works for a while, but then it wears off and he wakes up. I don't want to use too much because we'll run out too soon, and I don't want him to...outlive our supply." She barely managed to get the words out before she finally fell apart. She still held the rail, but she wilted down to the floor, weeping. Everett hurried from the chair and went to her side, dropping down next to her and pulling her in. She gripped his shirt in her fists and sobbed into his chest.

"T.J.," he said, but that was all he said, because there were no words of comfort he could offer her. He knew that this was the hardest part of her job. Trying to help someone she knew she couldn't save. She was hurting so badly, and he hurt for her. He held her close, wishing to absorb her pain into himself. "Is there anything else you can give him? Anything at all?"

She kept trying to breathe. "I have a very strong sedative. But it would basically put him into a coma, and he wants me to wait on that until the very last day, when I'm sure that he wouldn't wake up from it. But he's not at that point yet." She sheltered her face in his chest again. "I can't do this, Colonel, I can't."

"I know," he murmured. He tightened his embrace and rubbed her arm, waiting for her to gather herself while she sniffed, wiped at her nose and eyes, and then broke down again. He made soft sounds that he hoped would be calming. Something was burning inside him. Anger, most probably, but at what? At whom? This was nobody's fault. T.J. was just such an affectionate soul, and it positively devastated her when she couldn't help someone. Her loving heart made her more sensitive to pain like this, but it also forged her into a darn good medic. He couldn't picture her being so happy — or so unhappy — doing anything else.

In time she went quiet, but still she trembled, looking out the windows, there but not present. She seemed so far away then. Disconnected. Her despair was visible in each feature, in the shine in her eyes, the hard line of her lips, the quivering of her chin. Her blond hair was loose around her face and she needed a shower. He wondered how long it had been since she'd properly slept. It grieved him to see her like this. He wanted to speak, but he didn't know what to say. So he just held her instead.

–

"There has to be something we can do."

Rush sighed at him. The exasperation in that sigh was slightly infuriating. "Don't you think if there was, I'd have done it by now?"

"Maybe," Eli said. "Maybe not."

Rush glared at him.

Okay, yeah, now really wasn't the time to start a fight. "Come on. I've been thinking about the stasis pods."

Rush looked uncertain. "What about them?"

"They can keep you alive until we get back to Earth."

"And then what?"

Eli paused. He hadn't actually thought that far ahead. "Um...and then the new crew can go back to the planet with the jungle alien and get more venom..."

Rush's eyes softened and he shook his head. "No. It's a good thought, Eli, but it wouldn't work."

Despite himself, Eli felt a little miffed. He hated being dismissed so quickly. "How do you know?"

"Because we've already tried it. Lieutenant Johansen asked for my help with more than just the kinos. Stasis can't stop this disease."

Eli frowned in disbelief. "How is that possible?"

Rush shifted and rubbed at his shoulder. "These stasis chambers don't suspend the metabolic processes. They just slow them down. The blood clots would still form, however slowly, and I would be unable to take the blood thinners. In the years it would take to get back to that planet..." He shook his head. "I don't want to die in that pod."

Eli fought against a deep-seated rage building inside. This was not fair. "What about the chair?"

Rush stared at him blankly. "What?"

"The chair. What about that? You could become part of the ship forever, right? You could continue the mission with a whole new crew. You would have a lot more crews over the next thousand years. Isn't that what you wanted?"

"You're actually suggesting that I use the neural interface chair?"

Eli shrugged.

Rush smiled. "Wow. That's certainly different for you." The smile dimmed then.

"You've already thought of that too, haven't you?" Eli asked.

Rush nodded. "Yeah."

That figured. "And?"

Rush sighed. "Well, first of all, it's assuming that I would actually become part of the ship, and not just that my personality would be imitated by the AI. It's also assuming a new crew would cooperate with me without overriding the AI or throwing me into quarantine like Amanda and Ginn. Seeing as how Telford will be the new commander, the odds of that are pretty low. If by some miracle they do, that's just this crew. What about the next one? Or the one after that? Eventually someone will find their end with me and dispose of me anyway."

Eli snorted. "That's awfully pessimistic."

"It's reality."

"You won us over."

"Yeah, and look where it got me." He grimaced guiltily. "I didn't mean that. But secondly, Eli...I don't..." He swallowed. "I don't...want...a new crew."

Eli watched him toy with his ringless wedding finger. He wants this crew. Rush was so convinced that these were the right people, so fiercely loyal to that belief, that the idea of a replacement team was unsupportable. The anger was replaced by pain, strong enough to cut off his breath. "But..." Eli said, grasping. "But you'd still be alive. Isn't that something?"

Rush wouldn't meet his eyes. "There's more to life than being alive."

Eli saw right into that. What was the point of living forever if you couldn't spend it with the people you actually care about?

"Besides," Rush carried on, "I'm not sure how the damage to my brain would translate through the device at this point, and we would never convince Colonel Young to let me do it. He's turned a blind eye to my continued work up to now but he would never allow that."

Eli fiddled with a kino in his sweatshirt pocket. "So you really have given up, then."

Rush finally looked at him. "What?"

"You're not even trying. You're coming up with all these excuses not to go back. Not to survive."

Rush's eyes narrowed, but not in anger. "They're not excuses. I tried, Eli. It's not my fault there is no solution this time."

Eli stared at him. "I still think you're wrong."

Rush shrugged. "I'm not."

One of many things we'll never really know. "This is so unfair."

Rush didn't respond, except to drop his eyes. Then he reached over to where his pain medicine sat on the table and dipped his finger into it, sucking it off with a grimace before sliding further down into the bed. He was starting to look tired.

Eli handed him the kino. "Here. I made you this. I want you to watch it all the way through, at least once. Okay?"

Rush took it and nodded. "Of course."

Eli stood. "Look, I gotta go. Will you be okay by yourself until T.J. gets back?"

"I'll be fine."

Eli didn't want to leave, but he really didn't want to stay. He was starting to understand what Chloe said to him before. I can't even look at him. With a stiff wave he turned to the door, stopping when Rush's voice followed him.

"I don't blame you, Eli."

You should. He turned back to look at him, but he had draped an arm across his eyes against the light. Without answering, Eli ducked away.

–

They'd been sitting in silence for an era. Everett looked at T.J., summoning the courage to breach the peaceful quiet. "Hey." He nudged her gently. "Talk to me. You look like you're dwelling on something."

She still had that distant look about her even as she sighed and sniffed. "I don't know. Just thinking."

"About Rush?"

She paused, then shook her head. "No, not really. I mean, kind of, but mostly…" She rubbed her eyes with the heel of her hand. "Chloe said something to me the other day and I can't get it out of my head. She said it's like watching someone drown. And that's exactly what it is."

He felt a roll in his gut and nodded. "Yeah."

"But what I keep thinking about is that…in just a couple of years, this is exactly what I'm going to be putting my family through."

He looked at her with a start. She turned to him, eyes red around the edges. "T.J…"

"I don't want that for them," she said with a hiccup. "It will kill them, the way this is killing me."

He stared at her. He couldn't not stare. Finally, he asked, "Is this why you agreed that Rush would take the vaccine?"

She nodded. "We made a deal," she confessed. "He promised that he would personally talk to my family and tell them all about the mission. Everything, even the classified parts. I didn't want anything hidden from them. I wanted them to know exactly where I've been and why I wasn't coming home." She bit her lip, wincing a little in expectation of his reaction.

That was not her authority, and Everett felt his pity swell with disappointment. "Lieutenant," he said, but she cut him off.

"I know, sir. I had no right to ask him that. But…I didn't expect to be here for the fallout."

Something else twisted within him. He couldn't name it, and he was too tired to try.

"I was trying to spare them this," she continued, gesturing widely behind her to the general direction of her invalid. "If I died out here it would have hurt them, but it would have hurt all at once. Now they'll watch me die slowly, little by little."

Everett had to take a moment to take that in. He cleared an emotion out of his throat. "Why didn't you tell him?"

She snorted. "I did tell him."

"And he disregarded your wishes and your feelings." As per usual.

"For the greater good, he told me."

"Do you think he was right?"

She stared out into space. "I don't know. It doesn't really matter now, and I know once I get home I'll probably be glad he did it. But right now…" She turned again to look out the bridge, past the walls and circuits, right into the infirmary where Rush was withering away. Her eyes filled again with tears, and she brought the back of her hand to her mouth to smother a sob. "I should get back there," she said weakly, and she stood, steeling herself for another trial. Whatever happened last night must have been bad.

He pulled himself up by the railing. "I'll stay with him tonight," he said before he even considered it. The sound of his own words surprised him, but he had yet to take a shift of looking after Rush, and if he could spare T.J. that ordeal again, so be it. She looked at him in mild surprise, but he just nodded. "I'll do it. It's okay."

She made half an effort to protest, but he could tell how grateful she was that he had offered so she wouldn't have to ask. She hugged him then, subordinate officer or no. "Thank you," she whispered.

He nodded and gave her a squeeze. "Let's go. You need to get some sleep."

"You need to get some dinner," she said.

He waved his hand. "I'm not hungry."

She gave him a doubtful frown, but she really must have been tired, because she didn't fight him on it. They went to the infirmary together. T.J. was immediately angry that Eli had left Rush alone, and after checking to make sure he was all right, she made Everett promise to remind her to yell at the kid tomorrow. Rush didn't seem to care who his keeper was anymore, and he simply closed his eyes again when T.J. told him that the colonel would be watching over him this time. She began to give Everett a brief rundown of what he could expect for the night.

She held up a small plastic bottle. "This is his pain medicine. It's like a narcotic. It's strong, but it makes him sick, so just a pinch at a time. Sublingually."

He raised an eyebrow at her.

"Under his tongue," she clarified. "He, uh…likes to do it himself."

For that he was grateful. "Okay."

She put her hands behind her hips and looked around. "He isn't due for blood thinners again until morning, and I'll be back here for that."

"Okay."

"Keep an eye on the I.V. Try not to let him jostle it too much. If there's any problem with it, if it comes out or the alarms go off or something, you can call Varro. He's gotten really good at that stuff."

He nodded. "Got it. What else?"

She hesitated, looking to the sleeping man on the bed. "Good luck," she said.

That sounded promising. She left them with a deeply sorrowful, deeply grateful look, and disappeared like a ghost out the door. The colonel flicked off all the lights, sat in the chair at Rush's bedside, and settled in for a long night.

For a while he just watched him. Rush lay very still, facing the other way, maybe sleeping, maybe not. The I.V. clicked and the oxygen sensors displayed his vitals in neon numbers on the screen. This would be the ideal time to have an important little chat, but Everett wasn't sure if Rush was lucid enough, or if he was himself up for the effort. Eh, might as well give it a shot.

"Rush," he said softly. Rush moved, shifting slightly, but didn't turn over.

"What?" The word was a mumble, groggy and hoarse.

He winced, hoping he hadn't woken him. "We need to talk."

A snort. "Do we?"

"Yeah, we do. You wanna look at me? Or should I go to you?"

Rush didn't answer and didn't move. Everett got up from the chair and walked around to the other side. Rush's eyes were closed, his forehead gently creased. Everett wondered if he was in pain or just dreading this conversation.

"You all right?" he asked.

Rush scoffed. "Just get on with it."

"All right." He took an opening breath. "I want to apologize to you."

Rush groaned and did move that time, rolling over to his other side. Everett went back around. Rush swore at him. "Look, Colonel, we have talked about this already. I've had this discussion with Chloe, and Eli, and Tamara, and I really don't want to have it with you again. Can't we just let this go?"

"No," Everett said. "Because I haven't said what I needed to say. I want you to listen to me."

"What more could you possibly have to say?"

Honestly, he didn't know. He just wanted Rush to know that he understood why he was so angry. "I'm sorry that you feel like I lied to you." In answer, Rush turned away again. "I'm sorry that I lied to you," he amended. "I'm sorry that my decision put you in a position to have to give up your entire life."

Rush grunted. "Why do people keep saying that?"

"Because it's true. Isn't it? This ship is everything to you."

Rush didn't answer.

"I'm sorry that things aren't turning out the way you planned and I'm sorry for the part I played in that," Everett continued. "I'm sorry you chose not to come home. I'm sorry for everything you've lost. I'm sorry that the most important thing in your life is being taken away from you."

Rush rolled over to face him and glared. "Are you done? You think you understand me? You think you know anything? You don't."

"I'm sorry that I sacrificed your friendship to get myself home," Everett finally admitted.

Rush looked jolted. He shrunk back and frowned, but not angrily, as if he were trying to determine if Everett was serious. "Well, good for you," he finally said, but the tone was less severe than Everett was used to, and he could not meet the colonel's eyes. He settled himself again, facing the opposite wall. "I am done talking about this, Colonel. Let me sleep."

Everett didn't know what he was expecting, but he felt his words had gotten through. He sat in the chair again and silenced himself, trying to be as comfortable as he could.

It was just before 0300 when he was dragged out of a hollow slumber. Something in the room had changed. At first he cursed himself, angry for dozing off while he was supposed to be on watch. He hadn't properly prepared for this, but that was no excuse. Now that he was awake he wondered how much he'd missed. Was there a sound? A presence? He looked around but saw nothing out of place, and then he looked to Rush, who was lying on his side in the bed, blankets pulled up to his chin. His training was kicking into full gear and he was wide awake now, on high alert, waiting. He stood to get a better view and squinted in the dimness. Can't see anything. But something had woken him up.

Then he heard it again. A quick, quiet whimper in the darkness, and he realized it was coming from the bed. Coming from Rush. Everett realized then that the scientist was not sleeping as he thought, and now, as his eyes had adjusted to the low light, he could see Rush's hands clutching his head and his eyes squeezed shut. His breathing was quiet but ragged, broken by another soft groan.

Everett sat in the chair again. "Rush…" he whispered.

Rush's eyes opened then closed again immediately. "Thought you were sleeping," he grunted.

"I was," Everett said with a shrug.

"Yeah, sorry about that."

Everett watched Rush curl in, remembering how T.J. and Chloe caressed his pain away, and he looked down at his own hands. He had quintessential man hands, broad with strong fingers, not slender, delicate digits like Chloe's or T.J.'s. He felt like there was something perverse about the thought of trying to massage Rush's head; he doubted his touch would be anywhere near as soothing as the girls', and probably all it would do would make them both uncomfortable. That was the opposite of what he wanted.

Rush writhed from his side onto his back, no longer attempting to curb his pain, moaning and whimpering into his palms. The sounds had a frightening quality, here in this lonely darkness. Everett felt a creeping across his neck. Then suddenly Rush was sitting up, pulling himself over the other edge of the bed and vomiting onto the floor. Everett sighed. Again with this. How much longer? When does it stop? He felt awful for thinking it because there was no comfort in the answer. It stops when he dies.

"Colonel," Rush said, breathing hard. His voice sounded weak, anxious.

"I'm here," Everett murmured.

Rush fell backward with a choked sound, pressing a palm hard against his forehead. "Do you have your sidearm?"

The creeping feeling was back, cold this time. Gooseflesh prickled on his arms and scalp. Of course he had his sidearm. His mind refused to wonder why Rush would ask such a question, and he did not respond.

"Colonel."

"What…"

Rush groaned. "Please."

His blood turned to ice. He had heard that please before, drawn from the lips of another dying man, begging for pity, for release. He could not banish the image of young Riley, his legs crushed, his life slipping away as he lay in the dirt, beyond help. Almost out of reach. Only moments before Everett smothered him to death with his own two hands.

"Colonel."

"No, Rush," he growled out, raspy-voiced. Not again. "No. I can't do that."

Rush covered his face with both hands. In the deep shadows, Everett could see him shaking. "I can't do this anymore," he pleaded.

"Okay. T.J. left some pain medicine. We'll do that instead."

Rush didn't answer that time. His jagged breaths were muffled, echoing behind his palms. If Everett didn't know better — and he probably didn't know better — he would say Rush was crying. Weeping. Oh, man. He went to the table at the bedside and twisted off the cap of the pain reliever, holding it down to where he could reach it, softly saying his name.

"I don't understand," Rush said, very quietly, ignoring the offering. "You have tried twice to kill me, but when I want you to, you refuse."

He bristled. You seriously want to do this now?

"Is this it, then? Is this your last revenge? Are you trying to find new ways to hurt me? To get back at me for the mutiny, or the setup, or whatever it is you think I've done to you?"

In spite of everything, Everett was furious. He slammed the bottle onto the table and leaned down into Rush's face. "None of that is true, and you know it. That's not what this is about. This is you trying to piss me off so I'll put you out of your misery. But you know something? That's not fair. Don't put that on me."

Rush was trembling so badly the bed shook. He took one hand from his face and held it out. "Then give it to me and I'll do it."

Everett stepped back to a safe distance. "Not happening."

"Don't act like this isn't what you've wanted the entire time."

"You're wrong," Everett said. "You think I want to sit here and watch you die? What kind of person do you think I am? All things being equal, I'd rather you weren't dying. We don't need the drop in morale."

"How very touching."

"But you are. And in spite of that you need to keep holding on. Do you have any clue how hard T.J. is working for you?"

"I never asked her to," Rush countered. He closed his eyes, panting.

"You didn't have to. You knew she would try to save you."

"And we all know she can't," Rush said.

"You can't just give up," Everett said. "You can't do that to her after all she's done for you."

"All she's done is waste time. She's not changing anything. Today, tomorrow, the next day, what difference does it make? We all know how this is going to end."

"But it doesn't have to yet. She's giving you a chance, Rush. To keep holding on for one more day, for the people who care about you."

"Why does it matter what they want?" Rush challenged, though he fell just short of intimidating and landed somewhere in pitiful. Everett knew it was the pain talking. Rush was nearly at the end of himself, distraught, suffering, desperate for a way out. And for one terrible, irrational second, Everett had no answer. He stood there dumb, abandoned by all logic and reason, considering the minute possibility that they really had no right to ask Rush to stay if he wanted to go. He had no right to make him continue in this torment, to hold on for their own wishes when letting go would be so much better. His hand closed around the butt of his pistol. One shot, center mass. Or a quick and painless one to the brain.

But suddenly clarity returned, and with it his resolve. He shook his head and softened his tone. "Because you care about them too."

Rush wilted, dropping his arms with a sound like he was starting to protest, but he ended up just covering his mouth with his hand.

Everett picked up the medicine and held it out to him again. "One more day. You'll thank me in the morning."

Rush took the bottle and did not argue. And he did not speak again the rest of the night.

But neither did he sleep. He spent the hours sick, and Everett spent them cleaning up the ruins.

In the morning, when T.J. came to relieve him, he was glad to see that she was looking a little bit better. He was sure he looked terrible, and the expression on her face confirmed it. "How'd it go?" she asked anxiously.

There was so much he could have said. He could have talked for hours. Instead he settled for something simple, something he knew she'd still understand. "A bad night."

She just nodded sadly, the depth of her understanding laid bare in her eyes, and slipped past him into the room. He watched her go to Rush's side and help him sit up, then settle behind him on the bed. She gently, tenderly stroked her fingers through his hair, and the exhausted, miserable man she was trying to help just bowed his head forward and closed his eyes.