(by Era Yachi)
AN: Okay, this will now become a multi-chapter story. My conscience won't allow it otherwise. Stupid humanity.
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Crossing Paths
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Everyone reaches a specific time in their life where they meet the end of their road. At this time, they ask themselves a question—should they turn around and retrace the path they had traveled already, or step off the well-beaten path and continue their journey?
Like with many other questions, the choice becomes the answer. Travel backwards to a familiar place? Answer yes, and 'yes' is your answer. 'No' could mean an infinite number of possible things. That was the problem with asking questions, which is most likely the reason so few actually stop to ask them. Questions had the tendency to confuse things. People spend their entire lives searching for answers without knowing how to step over the line and make their own.
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The mood in Atlantis was a bleak nuisance. Right up to the day of department, every soul in the confines of the city walls followed their routine without ever once looking up from their respective station. Death wasn't a new experience for anyone. It occurred on a frighteningly regular basis, whether it was the result of an accident, an ambush or natural causes. It certainly wasn't a happy thing. It affected many people, which ultimately produced poor eating habits, depression and anxiety.
When a member of the expedition dies, Atlantis reacts— in ways too various to keep track of. There was certain predictability about Rodney's demise, however. Dr. Rodney McKay was not only a member of senior personnel and, to his own palpable ego, the most brilliant of scientists, he was a close attachment to the other leaders of the expedition. The absence of someone that they—until now—had often dreamed of living without was even felt by those who knew him by reputation only. It was one of those rare things that made bad reputations seem glorified. And it was.
As it turned out, Sheppard didn't need to find a replacement member for the team.
No one was really surprised that Zelenka assigned himself to it. It had been an unspoken agreement between McKay and Radek that he would be the next off-world genius in the event of McKay's capture or death. Elizabeth was not at all comfortable with the idea. They had already lost one invaluable member of the expedition, and Zelenka was needed on Atlantis even more now that he had to assume McKay's position as chief scientific advisor. Sheppard disagreed with her. In this regard, Sheppard won. Zelenka was their new man.
Radek was a prepared man. He enjoyed picking up one task at a time and making great progress for Atlantis. He was not ready, however, for his sudden and ill-fated promotion. Not even a week's preparation could blunt the pressure of suddenly being one when before there had been two. In a way, joining Colonel Sheppard's team came with the greatest relief. Now he could sometimes leave, and the small lab where they'd settled every last debate about the relation between space-time and logistics known to mankind would no longer be his prison cell.
That relief, on the other hand, was short-lived when he realized that his first mission with Rodney's team was to take place on H4W-020. H4W-020 was the same planet where Rodney had died.
The Hive ship was gone, and the people in the villages had been culled. But something had been left behind, and whatever it was, it was generating a lot of energy. Energy readings trumped personal appeal. It was Sheppard's decision to take his team back to the planet with a Jumper himself. Not ever Weir thought to question him.
And Zelenka…though he wanted nothing more than to stay in Atlantis, he had made a promise to Rodney. Even if that promise had been made after Rodney had made it perfectly clear that his intelligence was only secondary in comparison to his own. Radek had to smile sadly at the memory. Despite the censure, it was pleasant to remember the few unguarded moments where Rodney had been forced to admit that he cared…even a little bit, about other people.
In fact, it was the day before they stepped through the Gate that Zelenka realized what he'd be getting into. He had been slumped over his desk and Rodney's old laptop with a cooling pot of coffee and an empty mug beside him.
"Dr. Zelenka?"
Kate's voice drifted into the lab. Zelenka nearly jumped out of his seat. He caught the stack of papers before they slid off the edge of the table and fumbled about for his glasses, quickly stammering something about rolling blackouts and power conservation in Czech.
"I'm sorry, I didn't mean to startle you," she started. "Is everything okay?"
"I, uh…" Zelenka cleared his throat and slipped his glasses over the bridge of his nose. "I am fine, doctor. Did you need something?"
"No," she said hesitantly, hovering in the doorway that split the room and the corridor. "Although, from back there, it looked like you were trying to mind-meld with that coffee pot."
"Mind-meld?" he repeated slowly, unfamiliar with the word.
"Sorry, that was Star Trek lingo. Um…never mind. I was just passing by, and I realized that I hadn't seen you around for a few days. Is there something you'd like to talk about?"
"Ah, no," he said quickly. Maybe a little too quickly. "I'm fine, really. There is just so much…much work to be done, and Rodney…" He stopped, staring blankly at the wall. It was second nature to talk about McKay, it was hard to not forget that he was no longer alive. "I feel there should be something I can do, maybe find in his notes something…"
Despite his unsuccessful attempt at conveying his goals, she appeared to understand him completely. Slowly, she took a seat across from him and watched him emphatically. "Radek, you're not the only one having trouble overcoming Dr. McKay's passing," she said quietly. "This is coming from a friend, and not a psychiatrist. The death of someone close to you is devastating, yes, but what's more important is that you take care of yourself. Out of everyone who knew Dr. McKay personally, you're the only one who fully understands the tensions and pressures of your jobs in Atlantis. If Rodney were here, I know he wouldn't want you try to take on all of these problems yourself."
"Yes," he agreed with a dry chuckle. "He would probably think I would cause Atlantis to explode, rather than fix the problem."
Dr. Heightmeyer smiled a little. "Well, it wouldn't be like him to openly admit that he's worried about you."
It took a moment for Zelenka to recognize the silence for what it was. His eyebrows rose a little. "Doctor Heightmeyer, that was terrible violation of doctor-patient confidentiality."
"I disagree," she said innocently. "I'm being sensitive to the set of circumstances, that's all. I was speculating."
He was pensive. "He was not a good liar."
She nodded. "You probably knew him better than even me."
Now his smile was grim as he returned his eyes to the screen of the laptop. "We all did. He didn't know it," he said, waving his finger for emphasis.
Her expression changed to that of someone who knew much more than she was letting on. It was that look of honest understanding, the one she used when she discussed the recently deceased with their closest friends and family. She was Kate, after all, and she knew the innermost thoughts of some people, people like McKay that she could never release to anyone. Everyone respected this.
All in all, Radek Zelenka needed time to adjust to his new calling. His first experience off-world had been a mission to rescue Rodney from certain death inside a Wraith dart. His first mission with Sheppard's team was to investigate the planet of Rodney's death.
Only those with too much time on their hands believe in coincidence. Radek didn't have much time on his hands.
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When tomorrow arrived, he was ready.
They all stood before the bright blue glow of the Gate, flickering over them like the sun reflecting off a pool. From above the Gate room, in Weir's office, the sight was a little—very—depressing. In spite of Zelenka's best efforts, Sheppard's team looked unhinged, derailed and strange. A little more than two years of watching the same team step through that Gate a hundred times or more made it difficult to observe now. A team without McKay was a team without Sheppard, or Teyla, or Ronon. Not Sheppard's team, anyway.
But that was all speculation.
"Colonel," Weir said, standing on the balcony overlooking the Gate. He looked up at her. "I'm sending another team through in one hour, with a Jumper. If the DHD is beyond repair, you might need it to dial back to Atlantis. We don't know if the Wraith have cleared out entirely and we can't risk revealing that this city's still intact. I hate to say this, but the possibility you might be walking into an ambush is too high to send you with your own Jumper."
"Sounds fair to me," John said, looking at his team. "We're about ready to go, I think. Unless, of course, anyone's having…second thoughts."
"Let's just get this over with," Ronon muttered.
Teyla bowed her head. Zelenka said nothing at all.
Without another word of ceremony, Sheppard nodded shortly to their expedition leader, turned and walked into the event horizon. Teyla and Ronon followed.
"Dr. Zelenka?" said Weir.
Radek waited just before the rippling surface of the gate. He glanced over his shoulder in surprise.
Elizabeth folded her arms tightly against her body; in that manner she did when plagued with worry. "Please be careful."
In return he flashed her what he hoped was a reassuring smile. Through this gate, perhaps, there was something that would make a little good out of Rodney's death. If there were such a thing, he would bring it back for her. This would be, however, the only time he would visit H4W-020.
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The grassy, pale knoll that spread out before the gate had not changed at all. The various stone pieces that lay strewn in several directions: some half-buried, some protruding from the nest-like terrain were bleached by the sun though partially covered by the shade of the nearby trees. There was no sign of Wraith or the culling that had taken place just a week prior.
"Everybody keep their eyes peeled," Sheppard warned, taking the lead. His gaze swept the area, pausing only briefly on the spot by the sun-dried moss that marked the place where McKay had died. Apparently it had rained recently, and washed away whatever blood that had been left behind.
"What is it we're looking for, exactly?" Ronon wanted to know. Aside from his abandonment of his now-ruined coat, there was something oddly familiar in the way he approached Sheppard, with his eyes on the tree line rather than the Colonel's face. Sheppard brushed it off. The less he thought about the planet he was standing on now, the better he would sleep tonight.
He checked his weapon before lowering the barrel. "Anything that gives off a lot of energy, Ronon. Dr. Zelenka, would you care to elaborate for us?"
Zelenka was too busy gawking at the Ancient scanner in his hand, however, to be able to form a response—an English response—as of yet. When he found the first few syllables, he stammered, "It…it's…"
John shot him a slanted look. "It's…what? A Wraith, an Ancient database? A circus?"
"It's…" Zelenka looked up from the scanner. "…gone."
A short silence elapsed.
"Gone," Sheppard reiterated.
"Y-Yes, the energy reading," Radek explained, pushing his glasses up with a prod of one finger. "It's simply…disappeared."
"As in…nothing at all?" John said, wanting to know for sure that what he was hearing was in fact, true. Because it was, his mood wasn't going improve any.
To this, the poor scientist could only struggle for the right words to describe the singularity. "Well, not…gone, perhaps, because there is something, but not as significant as the one we received on Atlantis long-range scanners."
"But it's the same signature, right?"
"I am unable to tell exactly. It could be…anything. A natural hot spring, an unusually large thermal vent or…anything really, but not enough to be power source."
Sheppard's face went slack in a strange, foreboding way that Zelenka couldn't interpret. Slowly, the Lt. Colonel's gaze traveled from Teyla, to Ronon, and finally back to Zelenka. "I don't…know about you guys, but I'm having a really strange sense of déjà vu."
"Déjà what?" Ronon said.
"Déjà vu is used to describe the feeling that one has experienced something before," Teyla provided for him, being the next to fall victim to the small phenomenon. "And I believe that I am experiencing it as well."
"Now I remember…" Sheppard started to say, looking straight at Ronon. "When we frst got throught he gate, you asked what we're looking for. Butyou asked that exact same thing the first time we came here." He paused. "And that's when I asked Rodney…"
The mention of his name put a pound or two on the silence that followed thereafter. It was awkward, guilty and miserable all at the same time. No one met each other's eyes for a long minute. Teyla chose then to pick up where the pin dropped.
"And then you asked Rodney if there was anything of interest in the surrounding area," she said softly, but firmly. "If I remember correctly, he gave a response very similar to that of Dr. Zelenka."
"Yeah," Sheppard said dryly. "Hot springs, thermal ducts or whatnot. We went to the village and started to come back, when I thought of that twenty questions game."
"Colonel," said Teyla.
In reaction to the tone in her voice, John turned around to face the now dormant Gate. She was staring blankly at something, and when he followed her gaze to the spot where the DHD stood, his blood ran cold. Sitting there, as if scorning them, was a completely restored DHD, as flawless and untouched as it had been before its destruction.
"Guys," said Sheppard slowly. "I have a feeling something weird is going on."
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