Thanks so much for your reviews. Because most of my computer access comes at work, while I'm on break, I don't always get to respond to each and every person. But please know that I do read what you post, and I appreciate (read: LOVE) the comments.
x-x
John shifted in his chair, putting down the laptop he'd rigged with its newly enlarged typeface. He'd been trying to read War and Peace, but if he thought reading it in book-form was slow going, trying to read it character-by-character on a computer screen was almost deadly.
He spun his chair away from his desk. Rising, he stepped to the windows, allowing the soft light to bathe him. He supposed it could be worse. He could be entirely blind, unable even to see this... He held his hand up, pressing his palm, flat, against the window, its shadow blocking out part of the radiance. At least he could see light. Small mercies.
Speaking of small mercies, Rodney hadn't brought their conversation up again. Still, he could tell Rodney was keeping a careful eye on him. Rodney would do things like drop in at odd hours, talking about random stuff: the latest device he was working on, people who'd pissed him off lately, new foodstuffs they'd traded for; each time spending only a few minutes before leaving as quickly as he'd come.
And John would sit patiently and listen. He figured it was the least he could do, especially in exchange for Rodney not blabbing about the pistol. He also knew that Rodney now felt somewhat responsible for his well being. So he could handle Rodney's checking in, making sure he was not sitting there in the dark with a gun in his mouth. And in reality, he supposed he didn't mind the visits. He had fuck all else to do, and Rodney always ended up doing most of the talking, seeming to expect little if any response from him.
But his mind kept going back to their conversation. As soon as transit was re-established, he'd be shipped back to Earth.
Earth. John clenched his hands into fists, his nails digging into his palms. What would he do there? He had no idea. Not one. He'd never really thought beyond the military, but when he had, he'd still imagined himself a pilot. Now...
He froze where he was standing, holding himself still. He thought he'd heard... He cocked his head, frowning as he tried to make it out. He wished the old wives tale of "blind people with super hearing" was true, but so far anyway, no luck.
There it was. The alarm. Flaring for a moment, then gone.
Heart pounding, he went to his bedside table. He grabbed his gun and his radio and moved to the door, slipping his earpiece into place. Tapping it twice, he waited, listening carefully.
"Major?"
That was Ford's voice.
Raising his arm, John triggered his mouthpiece. "Yeah?"
"We've got company in the gateroom."
"Fabulous," John muttered, closing the channel.
x-x
Carefully trailing a hand along the wall, John counted his steps. Thirteen. Fourteen. Fifteen. The doorway should be...there, he thought, his fingers rounding a sharp edge. This should be McKay's lab.
Footsteps from around the corner drove him through the door. The cacophony of voices he walked into confirmed that this was, indeed, McKay's lab. Rodney was there, and Miko, and... maybe that German woman whose name he constantly forgot. But three people and him.
"Hey," he said, his soft voice ringing out in the sudden silence. The door closed behind him and he thought a quick "Lock, lock, lock," at it, hoping it would keep whoever it was, out.
McKay's voice came from nearby. "Major, what...?"
There was a sound at the door, a soft rustling followed by a loud thump. They must have seen him enter.
With a sharp hand, he waved Rodney and his gang back, hoping they'd know to get behind him. He turned toward the door, palming his pistol. They'd be exposed if the intruders got into the room. There was no place to hide. Maybe that was something to consider for the future - bolt holes, in case of attack or invasion.
The door began to open in a slow screech of metal.
John took a step back, toward McKay, hoping to keep himself between the scientists and the intruders. The door finally pushed fully open and John could hear movement, the sounds of several bodies, and footsteps. The dimness of the corridor made it so John couldn't quite make out the forms. He could tell there was more than one person just from the sound of them, and the largeness of their indistinct blur.
The shape in the doorway shifted and split into four intruders. One stepped toward him, crossing in front of a desk lamp. John confirmed the person was carrying something; the silhouette indicated that it was likely some sort of weapon, and big. Two other people hung by the door, while the third stepped to the left.
The form in front of him spoke. "Drop your weapon." His voice was hard. Raspy, like the man had a two-pack-a-day habit.
"I'd really rather not," John cracked.
He heard the sound of weapons being cocked - projectile weapons, from the sound of them - and lowered his gun to the floor. Standing again, his eyes trained on the person who'd spoken, he asked, "What do you want?"
"Your medical facilities; where are they?" the man asked, his voice seemingly calm.
"Our infirmary?" McKay shot out from behind him. "You're here for our drugs?" He sounded incredulous.
"We are here for several things," the man replied, his tone taking on an edge. He hefted his weapon and stepped to the side, obviously trying to get around John. John took a quick step into his path. The man moved from the halo of the desk lamp and John's eyes lost track of him. He felt the man push past him, forcing the butt of his weapon into John's ribs and pushing him aside. John stumbled and spun. He stood back up and, tracing the man's footsteps, again stepped into his path. "Leave them," he spat, anger tight in his throat.
"Major," McKay said, his voice taught with stress. "Don't."
The man in front of him said nothing for a moment. Then he laughed sharply. "You are blind?" He asked, sounding surprised.
John stood silent. He tensed, ready for anything.
The man stepped closer. John could actually feel the heat from his body, his breath on his face as he spoke.
"A blind protector," the man said. "That is different."
"At least he's -
John heard a noise and McKay was cut off in mid-phrase. Miko gasped, and there was a thump as someone - McKay - hit the floor.
John stepped forward. Hands grabbed him.
"Enough," the man said. "Let's move on."
x-x
John was being pushed through the corridor, a gun at his back. Miko was beside him and the German woman, Helga he thought it was, was somewhere behind. When they stepped into the brightness and space of the gateroom, his eyes automatically turned towards where he could hear the gate cycling.
They were pushed up onto the platform in front of the gate. There was a confusion of voices around him - the Canadian gate tech, plus several voices he didn't recognise. One, two, three other men here, but no one else from Atlantis.
The man who'd spoken before, their leader, said, "We got what we need?" Someone must have responded affirmatively, because he barked, "Let that one go."
John was shoved away. Staggering, he fell to the floor.
"Bring these two with us."
The gate activated in a whoosh, then there was a flurry of activity around him. Ford's roar, Teyla's sharp exhalations, maybe - no, definitely Lorne, and he's up in a flash, heading toward Miko's shouts. He could hear the thrum of the gate just above him as he pulled the man holding her. He felt Miko spin away.
A body slammed into him. Before he realised what was happening, he fell through the iris and landed, hard, his head flying back and impacting with the stone floor. He lay there, dazed.
Someone moved near, coming to stand beside him. His head exploded when their boot impacted with his skull.
x-x
Please comment and let me know what you think of this so far. Thanks!