Chapter 6: Come together

Walking into the house, being engulfed by the warmth and the sound seems to knock something inside John. He has been alone for too long, the sound and sight of people he knows overwhelms him momentarily, but Jeanie beckons him forward, into the living room where laughter flows.

It stops flowing abruptly when they enter. Jeanie takes her place beside her husband who sees her face, red with the cold and tears, and places a hand upon her arm. She nods, smiles and presses her hand to his. This is her perfect day. Her husband, John has forgotten his name, looks up and smiles at him.

John stands awkwardly in the doorway. Eyes are riveted to him. Some are still filled with merriment, but others are hiding beneath frowning brows.

One pair, clear blue, is warm. It rises with the owner and comes closer to John. Wrinkles mark the skin, white colours the hair, but the eyes are just the same. Friendly, filled with emotion, a little bit of home, a whole lot of past. Foreign. John offers a hand and his trademark smile in greeting.

The man pushes the hand away and John finds himself held, tight, tighter than he expected. "Don't be a fool, man. You don't shake hands on occasions like this."

John lets out a small laugh and returns the hug with slightly more willingness. "You know me and civilities."

"I'm afraid I don't anymore, but I can remember."

John is released, though hands stay on his upper arm, holding him, keeping him within arm's reach. He looks down into a kind and gentle face, and wonders why he ignored this man for so long. "Memory not the first to go, hey Doc?"

"Not for the important things." Carson has tears in his eyes, and his fingers are digging into John's skin almost painfully.

There is no way John is moving. Out of contact with them for so long, he only now realises how much he missed them. How much he has missed everyone over the years.

The world becomes a flurry of hugs and back-slaps, glad to see you's and how have you been's. Warmth, kinship, familiar. Home. Home. Home.

For a second, John felt as if he was crashing the party, but that second has melted away never to exist again. Stepping into the room might have been one of the hardest conscious choices he has ever made, but it offers such rewards that it now seems like the only path he could take. He has made some difficult choices in his life, but so rarely consciously that they blur into a mesh of instinct and duty.

Only one choice was ever this difficult, and even today, after all these years, he still hears Rodney's voice telling him that he had seen threat neutralisation and gone with it. That is what John did.

He remembers so well the day, the moment he decided what the best course of actions was.

O-O-O-O-O

The crystal was harder to take than John had thought. It had been three days since Rodney's admission, the Daedalus was due any day; John needed to act quickly. They could have walked through the gate, but John had needed time to think, to decide. He had offered, of course, but it seemed safer to them all to be transported by something that did not rely on the city's systems.

John walked through the quiet city, away from his slumbering people. The Athosians were relocated today, taking the urn that held Teyla's ashes, for she had not been buried on the land that would soon be abandoned. Bereavement had come, heavy and undesired, as John realised all he had left of her were a pair of sticks and memories.

Not enough, never enough. On his desk laid objects: sticks, a Satedan weapon, knives, a red t-shirt, a stack of Superman comics and a baseball cap. Teyla, Ronon, Elizabeth, Lorne, Ford. All he had were memories and stuff. A pile of stuff.

Crystal in hand, John made his way to the Chair room. He had yet to decide what it was he hoped to accomplish. Obsessed with the thought of threat neutralisation, he had followed Rodney everywhere, trying to get the crystal from him.

In the control room, in the communal room, in the infirmary, in the mess hall, in the corridors, Rodney walked, handling the crystal. Sometimes he took it out, stroking it with his thumb. Sometimes it stayed in his pocket, where he still stroked it, his hand moving against the fabric.

He didn't speak to anyone except to John, telling him all about the AI, about what they could do if only he would stop being so stubborn. There would be so much to accomplish, it seemed. Such conversations usually led to full-blown arguments that always ended with John reminding Rodney that he had murdered everyone. John was not proud of the fact he had gotten increasingly hurtful, but Rodney needed to realise what had happened! He just didn't seem to understand that science, knowledge and discovery did not matter anymore. They would be leaving the city as soon as the Daedalus arrived.

Of course, John still loved Atlantis, and wished to protect her, but the price they had paid was already too high. It would be a tremendous loss, but he was devoid of the capacity to feel it. Loss on top of loss on top of loss would only go so far. You couldn't feel what was beyond your capabilities, and John's emotions were as taxed as they were going to be. Still, destroying the city was a terrible thought and sometimes John caught himself thinking that perhaps there was another way.

Rodney insisted they could build ZPMs if only John sat in the Chair and looked for the way, the instructions. He was convinced he had to save the city. He mumbled about his plans, his job, his duty as Chief Science Officer and it enraged John to such a degree that he had had to consciously restrain himself from physically harming this man who had been one of his closest friend.

It would be too dangerous to sit in the Chair. Rodney didn't have a natural gene and if he wasn't in the Chair maybe the AI would think him a threat. John, in the deepest recesses of his mind, sometimes thought that to be confronted with the offer of threat neutralisation would be too much. He was afraid his anger would take over, afraid that the city, so intuitive, would know he thought Rodney a threat. Not that he was, not really, John knew it had been an accident, not a conscious decision on Rodney's part to activate the system that killed everyone. Nevertheless, perhaps the AI would pick up on his unease, his dirty, shameful thoughts, and would take matters into its own circuits.

John stopped walking. He stood still, in the middle of the corridor, looking down at the crystal in his hand. "What are you doing?" he asked himself. "What are you going to do?"

John resumed his walk to the Chair room. His pace had slowed, his hand held the crystal tighter. The door was in sight. Then he was stepping over the threshold, walking to the Chair.

Sitting in the Chair, the crystal still in his hand, he looked at its smooth sides. John knew where to put it, what to do.

ZPMs, fleet of ships, shields, defences were in this little piece of material.

Risk evaluation. Rodney, Atlantis, AI. All had the gene. Maybe if he sent Rodney with a marine to the mainland. A day, at the most, just to try.

What if he could preserve Atlantis? What if he could keep them all safe?

I saw threat neutralisation and went with it.

John twitched as Rodney's voice echoed in his head. He was not that guy, an at-all-costs kind of man. Rodney hadn't meant to kill them, it had been an accident, but if John knowingly sat in the Chair, tonight, it would not be.

Doranda had been an accident too. Just an accident, too many accidents. He trusted Rodney, didn't he? Rodney deserved that trust.

Rodney had deserved that trust. Accident. When they went back to Earth, what would be there for Rodney? Nothing, because John would not lie for him, would not hide the truth of the events, would have to say who had done what and when.

Rodney was a goner, no matter what. He was already gone, mumbling, shuffling, eyes shifty and dull. He only seemed like the old Rodney when he spoke to John, about the city and his plans.

John ran a hand through his hair. He breathed in deeply and stood from the Chair, staring at the crystal.

Threat neutralisation. Rodney, Atlantis, AI.

What would Rodney have, on Earth? Hadn't he said this was his home now, where he was meant to be, and he fully expected to die here? He would, too, were he left here. Left behind in a galaxy overrun by life-sucking monsters. Left to be caught? To talk? Give Earth away? Left to be a continued threat? No, John would not leave without Rodney. He never had and he never would.

Hadn't Rodney confided in John, told him he would be lost were he to go back to Earth, to go back to ho-hum life in what had become a foreign galaxy?

John looked at the Chair, then the crystal. Time for a decision had come along with the Daedalus. He had to talk with Rodney.

Slipping the crystal in his pocket, he hurried back to the communal room. Waking Rodney, John signalled for him to be quiet and follow him out of the room.

They walked to the mess hall in silence. John procured them each a cup of coffee before sitting across the way from Rodney.

He looked at the man, detailing the dirty, messy hair, the unkempt clothes, the red-rimmed eyes. "The Daedalus will be here soon."

"Yeah."

"You know I'll have to tell the SGC what happened."

"You don't have to. Carson won't say anything."

John stared down into the black depth of his cup and did not point out that Carson would tell the SGC the truth. They had discussed their options following Rodney's revelation in the Chair room, and had agreed that it was best to keep this to themselves. The other member of the expedition did not need to know what Rodney had done. Despite it all, John and Carson still felt Rodney deserved a measure of the courtesy long-term friendship allowed. "This isn't something I can disregard, Rodney. I'm sorry. I can't let you keep working, knowing what happened."

"Why? It was an accident. You know it was an accident!"

"It's the second accident. I wouldn't be…it wouldn't be right for me to let a third one happen."

The silence was heavy between the two men, until Rodney stood, the chair scrapping against the floor. "You're going to ruin my life."

John did Rodney the favour of looking up at him. He would not be a coward, not when he was destroying a friend. "I know."

They looked at each other in silence. Finally, Rodney spoke. "I could go through the gate. Let me go. I can…the outpost, or, we have allies–"

"You could get captured. You could talk and put the entire planet in danger." Shame ran through John's body. He had believed in Rodney, trusted him. He had thought him strong, brave, honourable, and sorely wished he still did.

"I wouldn't," Rodney said, softly, knowing it for the lie it was. "You can't make me do this. You can't! I didn't do anything! It was an accident!"

"I know."

"You're not the man I thought you were."

"Don't make this about me, Rodney."

"How can I not! Mister Pilot! Mister Natural Gene! Even Lyhal wanted you. I felt the pulse, you know! It came for me too! She spared me, but I'm just a substitute. She's waiting for you! She wants you, she wants to show you everything, and what do you do? You take the crystal and hide it away! You haven't been in the Chair. I know."

"No one is going in the Chair."

"You're taking everything from me."

"You're alive, aren't you? You have your life!"

Rodney's sharp intake of breath told John his point had been made, but Rodney's following words crushed that belief. "You don't have the right. This is a civilian mission; I'm high-ranking civilian officer. I'm leader here, not you! You can't do this! You don't have the power to do this, I do!"

John finished his coffee in one gulp and turned away from the table, from Rodney. He had tried, hoped Rodney would understand, but he hadn't. John suspected Rodney could not see the right way anymore. He saw only the AI and what it could offer. "There's no mission anymore. It's over. Go back to bed."

"Don't you walk away –"

"I said go back to bed." John had reached a decision and shared it with the principal concerned. He would not renege on his resolve, no matter how it might pain him to stay strong when faced with the enormity of the situation. For Rodney, consequences would be disastrous, but he was still alive. The only one to have survived. He was the cause of these woes, and as John remembered that, his breath caught and he wished he had never set foot on the ice of Antarctica.