A.N. Important! This chapter contains some pretty disturbing stuff - not excessively graphic, but disturbing. It starts out fluffy, but it doesn't stay fluffy long. Read at your own risk.

Crossing the Line

Chapter Eight

It was, as Beckett had predicted, about two months before Anna was well enough to start training again. By that time, studies or not, she was ready to go back; sitting around the infirmary was good for a week or two, but two months was just overdoing it. There wasn't exactly a whole lot to do around the place, just sit around and wait. And wait. And wait.

There were a few things that kept her sane: the first were the textbooks the scientists had given her. Good stuff - and they had even gotten her some about linguistic anthropology. Also of importance, of course, were Cadman, Riley, and Danny, who smuggled popcorn and wheeled in a TV every week for team night. Another was the scientists - and, to an extent Team Sheppard. Even Ronon came to see her once or twice; they talked about submission wrestling and had a deep discussion about whether Zelenka's brew was better than or equal to a good old shot of vodka. It was actually pretty interesting.

But the light of her proverbial world, the sparkle in her eye, the thing that kept her on this side of insanity, was Major Lorne. Every day, without fail, he would bring her a cup of coffee and a bowl of fruit, and they would sit down and talk for hours -- or until someone called him away. It was Lorne, not one of the nurses, who, under the scrutiny of an eagle-eyed Beckett, helped her stand up and walk for the first time since she had been shot, and when her knees buckled he simply picked her up and carried her back to bed. It was Lorne, not Cadman or Katie, who Beckett called when she had the nightmare about P4X-511, and he stayed with her for hours, just sitting next to her bed in his t-shirt and boxers, chatting with her, reassuring her until she fell asleep again, and not demanding that she tell him what had happened on the planet, just listening when she wanted to speak; for that she was grateful.

It was incredibly sappy and cliché, and Anna knew it. Kind of like something on a bad T.V. movie; but she didn't care, not really. It had shown her a side of him she had never expected to see, and, honestly, what human being wouldn't find it endearing? But there was one thing he did that tipped the scales, something that, though it wasn't so, well, emotionally bonding, was such a nice gesture it showed just what type of man he was.

When Anna had first arrived on Atlantis her training had been scheduled in two daily clumps: from 5:00 A.M. to 9:00 A.M., jogging and drilling, and from 8:00 P.M. to 9:00 P.M., weight room. Simple, and she was generally a morning person so it worked out great for her; it was also a plus that the hallways were usually emptier at those hours, anyway. So it was interesting when, after he had a long and serious conversation with Beckett about what, exactly, Anna should and should not do, and when she should and should not do it, Major Lorne gave her her new and improved training schedule.

5:00 to 6:00, A.M., jogging.

12:30 to 1:30, training session with Ronon.

5:00 to 6:00, weight room.

8:00 to 9:00, team drilling.

Maybe Beckett had told him to make sure she rested in between? She knew she sometimes overdid it a bit, but he had never minded it before; in fact, he usually joined her.

She thought it was neat when he showed up to jog with her. He was notorious for linking a short, early workout, even beating Sheppard and Ronon on occasion. Usually he worked in the weight room, so she knew he was probably changing his routine to keep her company.

Not that she was complaining. It was nice of him. Really nice, actually, although she hated it that he had to slow down so much so she could keep pace, and they had to cut off the run early when she got nauseous.

She sincerely believed it was just luck that he had an hour free that day when it came time for the training sessions with Ronon and 'the boys' - also known as marines fresh off the Daedelus. The fact that Major Lorne decided to waste his hour off getting thrown around by a 6'5" alien while demonstrating Satedan Army moves to the newbies was more a testament to the fact that, as Katie put it, "Men do stupid, stupid things when there's an attractive woman nearby." Of course, Katie had been referring to Beckett and the unfortunate "It's just a gerbil" incident, and Anna knew she wasn't considered particularly attractive, but Lorne was a man, and, attractive or not, she wore heels but liked the Lethal Weapon movies -- and if that didn't count for something, what would?

It was more than a bit strange that he was also in the gym from 5:00 to 6:00 that day, but he did work out a lot so she supposed it made sense; that he always 'just happened' to be on a station not four feet away from her was not so much strange or coincidental as it was his converting into mother hen mode every time she tried to do something that might aggravate her injury. Mildly annoying as it was, she did appreciate the gesture. She may not have liked the idea of being babysat and continually watched over by her CO, but she liked the idea of being crushed under 150 lbs. of weights even less. It was all relative, really, and being able to watch the major in his gym clothes for an extra hour did do a lot to even things out. She was only human, after all.

Perhaps, she thought later, her time in the infirmary had made her stupid, because it wasn't until the third day that he 'happened' to show up at Ronon's training that she went to Beckett.

Of course, he told her that he had told Lorne that she didn't need more than fifteen minutes in between workouts as long as she did things lightly. Well, maybe the major was just making sure she actually 'did things lightly.' Yeah right.

Next on her list was Chuck, the gate technician. She actually knew him from her days at the SGC, and he had sent her a get-well card on the computer. One hour and three bowls of orange sherbet later, Anna had Chuck's IDC and password and complete access into the Atlantis personnel scheduling system.

Well, wasn't that interesting? Not four minutes after her CO had ordered her scheduled changed, he had done a few minor modifications to his own - specifically, shifting his free hours to match her training.

Nice little cosmic sort of coincidence, wasn't it?

This called for a long chat with Katie.

Earlier that month:

It had been a long, long day; Marcus had babysat Doc Parrish to his weekly botany adventure off world with several marines while Danny and Riley were on leave. The rest of the day had been spent exploring a few new sections of Atlantis, having to spend each second of it listening to Rodney and Zelenka pick at each other, arguing about whether the energy readings in this area of the city should be one decimal point higher or lower than what they were.

It had been a long, long day.

Marcus flopped down on the bed and sighed. He hadn't even gotten to visit Anna- that is, the lieutenant that day, and he missed it. Most people assumed he just did it because he was her CO, and even the few who suspected something of what was going on thought he was doing it just to be nice; after all, Atlantis wasn't a place that produced a lot of topics for conversation, and he had been chatting to her from one to three hours a day every day for the last three weeks. But he really enjoyed the time he spent with her. No matter how long they talked, or about how many different things, they never seemed to run out of things to say. Currently they were debating the merits of American football vs. what she called 'normal-person' football. Marcus: 0, Schweinsteigger: 3 -- 4 if what she had said about that Swedish player was true.

Yeah, he would definitely have to get her breakfast tomorrow morning; there was still some of that pear-type stuff left over from that planet with the - what were they called? Muchits, micklets. . . meh, he was too tired to think. All he wanted to do right now was sleep, and tomorrow he could go get- tomorrow he could go get-

Stupid woodpecker. It had been drumming away on his roof for the last two minutes. It was the one thing he hated about living outside of Seattle. Well, that and-

Oh, thank God. It had stopped. Now if he could just-

-footsteps.

Marcus flung out his arm as someone started shaking his shoulder.

"What the-" he stopped as the lights came on to reveal a pair of sheep-print pajamas under a lab coat. Oh, yeah. Not in Seattle anymore, Dorothy. All right, but what was Beckett doing in his room at two in the morning?

"Anna's had a nightmare of some sort, and she's hysterical."

Good thing he'd forgotten to take his tennishoes off that night; he didn't much fancy running down four hallways of the best-polished floor in the galaxy in his socks. Then again, he though as he sprinted down the stairs, he was only wearing his normal pajamas - t-shirt and boxer shorts. Oh, what Cadman would give to-

Ah, the infirmary. Marcus reached to open the door but stopped as he was yanked back. Oh right. Beckett. He'd forgotten about him.

It was a credit to the colonel's training that Beckett had been able to keep up with him, Marcus supposed, but it was a minute before he caught his breath. One long, slow minute.

"I've been weaning her off the sedatives, and I didn't give her a dose at all tonight. She seemed fine, but the nurses told me she got agitated and woke up screaming bloody murder, talking about dying on some planet, very distressed."

Marcus tapped his foot impatiently and Beckett held up his hand.

"Major, you know her better than anyone else on this base; there are several files in her case classified so I don't know what happened - just the injuries she received. They are-" Beckett broke off. "There are injuries there that could only have come as a result of extended periods of torture." He paused. "Anna is my patient and it is my duty to protect her; right now she is vulnerable, and to put it bluntly I want whoever goes into that room to be the person who understands her the best and, above all, cares for her the most. I don't care about those particular military regulations, and whatever you say stays with me - but I need to know if I should call Laura or Katie instead."

Marcus ran his fingers through his hair. "Listen doc, I. . ." He smiled slightly and put his hand on the door. "Let the others sleep."

The lieutenant was sitting on her bed when he reached her. Her knees were drawn up to her chin and she just sat, staring at the wall in front of her. She was covered in sweat, but the infirmary was a cool seventy degrees. Marcus didn't think the shivering was a result of that, though. No, he had seen something like this before. It was a soldier at the SGC; his team had been captured by a goa'uld, and they had been tortured for weeks before, one by one, being dragged before the goa'uld and executed. He had been the only survivor. It had taken him weeks to recover, and he had never been the same again.

Marcus pulled up his chair and sat down by the bed. If she had noticed him she was doing a damn good impression of oblivion.

Rule number one when dealing with these types of things was, if at all possible, to avoid startling the patient. She still hadn't noticed him.

He shuffled his foot, and she jumped slightly but didn't look at him. He cleared his throat.

"Lieutenant. . ." Oh, screw that. The regs could burn for all he cared. "Anna?"

She didn't look up, just put her hands on the back of her neck and stared at the sheets.

"She wouldn't stop looking at me - she wouldn't stop looking at me. Even when I sleep, she just won't stop looking at me." She rested her forehead on her knee for so long Marcus thought she had fallen asleep. Then he saw her shoulders, shivering - no, shaking. She was crying.

He put his hand, tentatively, on her shoulder. When she didn't shy away he leant up off his chair, put his arm around her.

"Anna?" Slowly, deliberately, he climbed onto the bed and kneeled in front of her. "Anna, it was just a dream. Just a dream."

She looked up, but the lighting was so dark he couldn't see her face. Her voice was shaky when she spoke, and he could tell she wasn't thinking about controlling it. This was not like her.

"But it wasn't just a dream - it wasn't a dream, it was real." She shuddered, and he put his arm around her again, drew her close to him. "It was real, and I didn't stop it. . . I told her I would save her and she died, and she wouldn't stop staring at me. . ."

She broke down then, and Marcus just sat there, holding her to him, rubbing her back, telling her it would be all right. It was some time before she calmed down again, but he didn't care; it didn't matter if she had stayed like that for days. There was no way on earth he would have left her.

"So. . . you wanna talk about it?" he asked once she was quiet again, slumped against him limply; at least she wasn't shaking anymore, he thought as he traced circles on her back with his hand.

She let out a long breath. "I'll have to sooner or later, I guess."

He moved her away from him, gently, and lifted her chin with his fingers. "Hey, I would never, never make you tell me if you didn't want to. You know that, right?

She gave a laugh - weak, but hey; progress, right? - and backed away from him a bit. Absentmindedly she put her hands on one of his and traced words on his palm with her thumb staring fixedly at her pajama pants all the while.

"I know - that's why you're the only one I would tell." She paused. "I know."

Marcus nodded his head and pressed her hand. It was a minute before she spoke again, but she knew what she had to say now.

She and Rebecca had been friends since they had joined the SGC, despite their many differences. Rebecca was several years older, an ambitious lieutenant who was planning a nice career in the military, hopefully culminating with a nice house in Washington. She was sixth in a close-knit family of eight children, and she wasn't shy about jumping in to grab attention. For all that, though, she was a generous, caring girl; when she found out Anna was staying in Colorado for her first Christmas alone she made her go to her parents' house - which they had done for every holiday, and most weekends off, afterwards. But this wasn't about Rebecca, it was about P4X-511.

Anna was second in the gate room that day; Capt. Linda Hansen, SG-14's brave and surly leader, was standing by the ramp, waiting. She was always early. Anna said hello and shuffled her P90 from hand to hand; Hansen ignored the hello and raised her eyebrow at the weapon. Oh well. Karma would tell. Someday.

Lt. Mark Cooper was in an equally happy mood when he walked in, slumped against the ramp rails, and glared moodily at the gate. He didn't say hello to Anna either, but she didn't mind in his case. His girlfriend had just dumped him, poor guy, and he and Anna had had a heart-to-heart about life and relationships. He was probably just embarrassed.

Rebecca bounced into the gate-room with Ian Smith, the team civvie - an anthropologist, to be exact. They were so happy together. They had gone on their first date seven months ago, and Anna had helped Ian choose an engagement ring the day before. But this wasn't about Rebecca and Ian, was it? It was about the planet. . .

P4X-511 was a fairly boring planet, from what she could tell so far. Trees, trees, field, trees. . . Oh yeah. If that didn't get you excited, there probably wasn't much that could. Anna spent most of it doing riddles with Rebecca while Mark and Hansen stomped around and Ian dove into wheat fields and nattered on and on about advanced farming techniques. It had been over three hours before the first soldiers appeared.

The civilizations on P4X-511 were, at first sight, what the SGC had been looking for all these years. They were an advanced race, capable of banding together their armies to fend off the goa'uld. They had better weapons than earth - similar, but silent and more deadly. The only thing that surprised the SGC about the whole thing was that it hadn't been SG-1 that discovered them.

With O'Neill's blessing, SG-14 stayed on the planet for two weeks and acted as diplomats for earth to a gathering of the leaders of the four nations. Luckily at least one nation spoke English, and Anna picked up enough of the other languages to translate. The people's demands were surprisingly simple - shared knowledge of some science projects Major Carter was working on, several thousand subcutaneous transmitters, some naquadah, and a few other minor quibbles. It was amazing, really, and Anna never knew whether not the had ever planned on dealing, or whether it was all just a sham.

It was night of the sixth day of the second week. SG-14 had just reported in to the SGC and were invited to a banquet to celebrate the upcoming treaty between both worlds. The havel juice tasted different than it had the other days, but Anna was told it was the result of a different fermentation process. She didn't think about it until later.

She woke up in the dark. There was a gag over her mouth, rope around her wrists and ankles, and all around her was pitch black. She was in a cell, but she couldn't tell how big it was; there was a rope that led from that tied around her wrists to a hook on the wall located too high for her to reach. She tried screaming through the gag, kicking the wall, straining to break the rope. Nothing worked.

The first thing they did that morning was take out her transmitter. She couldn't believe they had ever been stupid enough to tell them how those worked - or where they could be injected into a person's body.

She knew that her team wasn't due to report for three more days, and the SGC would probably wait up to a day after that to send anyone looking for them. Four days; she just had to last four days, then she could go home.

They came back that afternoon and took her to the interrogation room. They were an advanced race, even in that area. Earth had its pain injections and its techniques, and Anna had been trained in those, but. . .they had nothing on this. They seemed to have found a way to make everything worse, more painful, from electric shock 'treatment' to the damned injections; earth's only caused pain for a short time, but theirs stayed longer and caused seizures.

They kept asking her questions about random gate addresses - had this world been taken by the goa'uld yet? Had that one been devastated by the virus that had hit it, or had the scientists found an antidote? Had this world - and on and on. She didn't consciously remember telling them anything; she doubted she was coherent enough to most of the time, anyway. But afterwards she always wondered, always doubted.

This went on for a week. She had no idea what had happened to her teammates; the could have died in the torture for all she knew. But at the end of the first week they dragged her out of the building into the forest. Ian was already there, kneeling in front of his guard. He didn't blink when he saw her, but there was no hiding the relief when they dragged out Rebecca, followed by Mark and Hansen. They were forced to kneel in a circle and watch as one of the soldiers walked behind Mark and shot him in the head.

The next week was even worse than the first. She didn't even mind them seeing her cry now, and she sobbed like a child the third day when they came for her. She had no idea why there had been no rescue yet, why they were still there. Surely the SGC hadn't believed whatever lies the soldiers had told them, had they? So why didn't anybody come?

The first week they had given her female guards outside her cell at night, but they changed that this week. She fought them off the first two days, but that just made them up the torture and skimp her meals, leaving her too weak to do anything.

The last day of that week they were dragged outside again; the others were a mess, and Ian didn't look like he could last much longer. So it made sense, in a way, that they killed Hansen that week; she looked the least likely to break.

The last thing was beyond anything she could have imagined possible. More torture sessions, longer torture sessions, and then back to her cell where she could sleep until the guards came on duty. They had taken all the rope out of the cell sometime the week before: Anna suspected someone had tried to finish things before they could. At least they were giving her bigger meals again. They probably did it so she could live through the torture, but she didn't care. It made her just that little bit stronger, and maybe that would be all she needed.

The last night that week, the night before they would be taken out to the forest again, one of Anna's guards forgot to unclip his handgun when he came in. She was merciful; the two on duty died within seconds of being shot. Rebecca's guards weren't quite so lucky: Anna managed to sneak up behind them and had them knocked out before she shot them. She wondered if they woke up before they finished dying; probably not.

Ian was asleep when they found him, just returned from an interrogation session. It was a while before he could manage running, and she and Rebecca had to half-carry him part of the way into the forest. They hadn't gotten far when the alarms rang out.

Anna was the first to get hit; a lucky shot got her in the shoulder when they were about ten miles from the gate. She was down for a few seconds, but Rebecca and Ian dragged her along until she could run again. She put pressure on it as best she could and hoped for the best.

Five miles to the gate. Ian was hit in the arm. He said it was just a flesh wound, but she and Rebecca both knew better; his arm hung, limp, at his side. Flesh wound wouldn't have done that. But there was nothing for it but to run.

One mile to the gate, and the soldiers were catching up. They were in open field now; no more dodging behind trees. But they were still alive, weren't they? Maybe they could make it. . . maybe they could make it. . .

She could see the gate now, and there were only two soldiers guarding it. Anna raised the rifle she had taken with her injured arm. Hurt like hell, but she guessed she could still shoot. Yep, she could. The two never knew what hit them.

Just twenty feet - twenty feet and they would be home. Ian sprinted ahead and started dialing home. Fortunately one of the guards had a long-range transmitter with him. Not as good as an IDC, but it would have to do. Anna turned it on and shouted her name and ID into it. With any luck Walter would get the gate open in time. If he didn't, well. . . At least it would be quick and painless, something that wasn't happening if they stayed here.

Rebecca shot a round at the nearest soldiers. Not in range yet, but close. Anna turned around to tell Ian to hurry and-

-she stumbled back as they shot her again, same shoulder. God, that hurt. She looked over. Where had Rebecca-

Oh no. No no no no no. Anna dropped to her knees and ripped open Rebecca's shirt. Blood everywhere. She had been shot three - four? Times. Not good, not good, not-

"Anna?" Rebecca choked, coughed. She opened her eyes and stared at Anna. No no no no no. "Take me home, please will you-"

"Stay with me 'becca, we'll get you home safe soon." Anna looked up as she spoke; Ian was standing in front of the active gate - he'd just seen Rebecca. He opened his mouth to say something and-

-fell back into the gate, blood on his chest, when the bullets hit him. She looked down; Rebecca was still staring at her.

"Take me- take me home to-"

She died with her eyes open, staring.

Anna didn't remember getting shot again or dragging her back through the gate, but that's what she must have done because the next thing she remembered she was in the infirmary and a nurse was fiddling with her IV.

Ian died twenty minutes into his surgery; two of the bullets had pierced his lung.

Three months later she walked out of the infirmary and into O'Neill's office. He gave her a commission in the air force, a month's leave, and the open offer of staying with his sister while she was off. She took the commission and the time off, but bought herself a plane ticket and went to see Rebecca's parents. They deserved more than a visit from some impersonal Colonel who told them their daughter was brave, didn't they?

When she returned to the SGC she was assigned to SG-12, who pulled off a rescue of SG-1 during General Landry's first month in office. She took out the goa'uld who was keeping them hostage with a tranq. rifle and made his capture possible, and for that she got Landry's thanks and a ticket to Atlantis.

She took it gladly. Nothing could ever make the nightmares go away, nothing could ever stop Rebecca from staring at her whenever she closed her eyes - but at least she wouldn't have to walk into that gate room every day and remember. At least she wouldn't have to think of it every time she walked into the locker room and got ready for a mission.

But then, Anna thought as she looked up at the Major again, nothing ever turned out quite the way you wanted it to, did it?

Marcus couldn't think of anything to say. What could he, after that? So he moved up to her, enfolded her in his arms, and held her, and it was a long time before he let go.