So sorry for the delay on this...RL gets in the way, but back to it again. I'd almost forgotten what I'd written! LOL! Thanks to all my lovely reviewers, as ever.
Well, this was not what she expected to be doing today: she'd spent years avoiding this kind of trouble and now it looked as though she was stuck looking after the most precocious child she'd ever met. She'd distantly heard the first explosions and knew from the shivering vibrations running through the city that something was horribly wrong, especially when she couldn't raise anyone on her radio, and then it was confirmed when Teyla ran in, holding the little Sheppard girl who was struggling in her arms like a wild cat, with Torren running along obediently behind.
'Janet, please will you take Mona and Torren. Something bad has happened, but I do not know what. I must find out and I cannot take them with me. Please, keep them safe. ' And with that, Teyla had run from the Archives room, leaving Doctor Janet Donaldson, Chief Archivist and confirmed- and -delighted –to- be- spinster, with two very energetic children on her hands.
Within minutes of Teyla leaving, a much louder and closer explosion rocked the room, causing a bookshelf across the way to shed its load and the ceramic artefact on her desk to fall to the floor and shatter. Torren ran to her and buried his head in, what would have been if she had been wearing one, her skirt and Mona stopped her wriggling, squeezing Janet's neck so tightly that she struggled to breathe. It was at this moment that she realised the importance of the charge given to her and made a determined decision. There was a locked room where many of the more precious artefacts were kept and only the city's archivist had the combination for. Quickly grabbing her bottle of water and the sandwich waiting for lunch from her desk, she grasped Torren by the hand and ran towards their sanctuary as quickly as she could, firmly closing the door behind them, just in time: she heard shouting along the corridor as the door shut and the distant sounds of gunshots. No, she would not let Teyla or her young charges down.
***
Behind the door they could hear the sounds of battle, gunshots and shouts echoing against the locked entrance. He might not be John Sheppard, creeping around the corridors and attacking guerrilla style, but he could do what he did best. Just before the first explosions, he'd worked out a possible way to prevent them and now he was working on how to use the same technique to disrupt and overcome their current technical problems and to give Lorne and his men the best possible chance of victory. As ever, Zelenka and he worked together, neither willing to let on how much they respected the other's abilities. In a crisis the two had an uncanny ability to finish each other's sentences, working as one. For Radek Zelenka it was almost poetic, though Rodney couldn't see it as such and probably didn't even know he was doing it.
'I think I have it Rodney,' drawled the smaller man in an accent that became stronger the more stressed he became. 'A pattern: a definite pattern.' He pointed at the screen.
'Yes, I see it thank you,' snarked back Rodney, typically unwilling to let Radek have the kudos of achieving something first. 'This is very interesting. Someone knew exactly where to hit us and how and this someone has to have the Ancient gene too. Do you see? The early sabotage is just secondary systems, but he or she was braver later on and some of these can only be activated by the gene.' Here he paused and pressed a few more buttons, 'Wait a minute! I think if I do this and transfer this over to...yes!' As he shouted, several moribund computer terminals came to life in the room. 'Ha, now we have it. Let the games begin!'
***
As Richard Woolsey began to stir he was aware of excruciating pain in his head and sickening nausea that pecked away at his stomach, making him want to vomit even with the movement of opening his eyes. A small groan left his lips involuntarily, which was unfortunate because it drew the attention of the soldier nearest to him, who promptly kicked him again. He just about had time to mouth 'what the...' before he drifted back into pained darkness again.
Ronon watched the little scene with disgust and a growing anger. Tied up as he was, arms behind his back and flat on the floor, he had to strain to see what was going on and that was only serving to feed his rage more. Teyla was very still next to him, he could see Chuck still prone on the floor and there were a couple of marines in the far corner that looked as though they hadn't made it. Whether they'd been killed in the blast or shot by The Genii, he had no way of knowing from here. For now, all he could do was concentrate on loosening the bounds around his wrists and try not to draw attention to himself.
Big boots walked past his face, inches away. The Genii might be here in force, but they were no cleverer than usual, pondered Ronon. They'd clearly been told to 'watch' him but they had no idea what they were dealing with. His other hand was almost free when he nearly gave himself away: his radio chirruped in his ear, followed by the familiar tones of Rodney McKay.
'Ronon, Teyla, Lorne, can you hear me? If you can, I've isolated the com to your frequencies. Of course, if you've been captured then there's every chance that someone else is listening in right now. Oh crap, I hadn't thought of that. So, just to let you know we're, no I'm, working on our 'little problem'. Um...over and out or whatever.'
Ronon grimaced at the other man's stupidity. For an intelligent man Rodney had such a total lack of tactical acuteness that it never ceased to amaze, or more frankly, irritate him. Well, at least he knew that Atlantis' favourite miracle-worker was somewhere in the city trying to help and that was a comfort. Right now, he had to concentrate upon how to get out of this little situation. A surreptitious glance up showed him at least three guards in direct sight; with his knowledge of Genii thinking they were probably too arrogant to assume they needed more to guard a few prisoners. As carefully and quietly as he could, he continued to loosen the bounds around his hands and felt them begin to slacken further even as they began to cut into his skin. Oh well. A little blood would only serve to lubricate his wrists and speed up their release. Gritting his teeth he continued to work until his right hand slipped from its confinement and he felt the ropes fall away. Okay, now that was the easy part. Now, all he needed to do was bide his time.
***
She heard the crack of a gun and watched with horror as John crumpled to the ground. 'John!' she screamed and fell down next to him.
'Oh, my God!'
He lay prone, a ghastly whiteness creeping into his cheeks, eyes shut. She allowed herself a quick glance towards the direction of the shot but there was no sign of the unknown attacker, then leant forward and listened to his chest. Yes, heart still beating. And, no sign of any blood? But she knew that gunshot wounds often showed very little sign of entry. With dread, she gently pulled him onto his side, pulled the backpack from this left shoulder and felt cautiously under his vest. Thank God! No telltale wetness or sickening warmth. Was that a sound? In the bushes? She could swear that she saw a movement from the corner of her eye, but when she tried to focus on the point all was still.
From beneath her she heard a groan as John's consciousness began to re-awaken and then, as if shaken from a trance, his eyes flew open and he sat up so suddenly that he sent her flying backwards.
'Wha.....!' he exclaimed, before coughing painfully, flinging off his pack from his other shoulder and falling backwards, clutching his chest. 'Crap!'
Again, she was reduced to stupid and obvious statements, numbed from fear for him and his sudden return to alertness. 'You were shot. You collapsed to the ground. I thought...thought you were dead...' And, at this, all attempt to keep calm deserted her and she started to sob.
Cat's tears appeared to bring him to his senses and he muttered, slightly more coherently now, 'my vest...bullet proof...just winded, I think.' Then, with an attempt to lighten the tone: 'Yep! Everything's still there and in working order, I think. Could have damaged a couple of ribs though. You might have to be a bit gentle with me for a few weeks.' And, at this, he smirked and winked naughtily at her. She wasn't fooled. The stiffness that he couldn't disguise as he stood up told her everything she needed to know, and at least he hadn't tried to appease her with an 'I'm fine' this time. And, she also had to resist the temptation to hit him for causing her so much worry.
'Right!' he said, with an expellation of air, 'So, it would seem that our would-be saviour from big dangerous beasts also doesn't like me very much. It might be a good idea to get out of the open and head into the forest.' He stood still, grabbed his P90 and scanned the horizon as he spoke, alert to any further danger. 'Come on, let's go. Still a small walk in the park before we reach the coastline and it's not time for our picnic yet.' Keeping an eye on his surroundings, John painfully leant down and lifted the heavy pack onto his back, grimacing as he did. With one last glance towards the lighter fringes of the forest, he beckoned to her to take the path ahead, leaving the heat and glare of the suns behind them. With a sigh, she tried to give him a brave smile and, picking up her own pack which was now feeling as though she were carrying lead, she headed into the unknown darkness.
Behind the couple another figure followed, unable to believe what he'd just witnessed and beginning to think that these Atlantians had as many lives as his pet nanthu.
***
With relief, Ronon heard Teyla groan next to him: the first sign that she was coming round. In the last hour, the three Genii guards had routinely patrolled the gate room, always taking the same route, and he was almost ready to make his move. He could still hear in the distance the sounds of battle and he knew that Lorne and his men would be doing their best to fight of the incursion, as much as he knew that he had to be out there helping. The nearest guard glanced towards them, a smug smile on his face that Ronon needed to wipe off sooner rather than later. He waited for one more circuit and for the point where the three habitually had a conversation, arrogantly convinced that their prisoners were tightly secured, and then he deftly slipped his hands from the bindings, in one elegant move retrieving the long throwing knife that he kept in his sleeve, and threw it so accurately that it felled the smug bastard immediately. Taken by surprise, the other two soldiers were slow to react and before they knew it he was on them, breaking the neck of the one nearest and then punching the other so hard that he collapsed to the ground immediately. Not waiting to see who might come to their aid he ran back to Teyla and cut through the ropes, helping her to her feet. She was a little groggy but nodded to him in response to his unspoken query. Up on the balcony he could just see the unconscious form of Richard Woolsey and breathed out a 'sorry, back later,' before he and Teyla ran from the room and down the nearest corridor, towards the fighting.
Janet was having trouble. Mona was not happy. And when Mona wasn't happy, everyone around her certainly knew it. It was just as well that only she had the code for the door lock otherwise she was convinced that the little monster would have been out of here like some reincarnation of Boadicea, off to fight the invading Romans. Janet's arms were already a patchwork of bruises where she had tried to keep the child still and quiet. Finally, she'd managed to clasp her hand around Mona's mouth for long enough to communicate the need to be quiet. For a while, she'd heard the sounds of destruction outside the door and she winced at the thought of what irreplaceable artefacts were being destroyed by The Genii soldiers, but now it was quiet. Whether that meant the men had moved on she couldn't be sure and she wasn't about to test it out any time soon, not with Torren and Mona under her care. He was sitting silently, calmly looking inwards, meditating as his mother had taught him. It was amazing how two children could be so very different: Torren so serene and gentle; Mona fiery and intelligent. Janet allowed herself to muse on an interesting future, one where the two were married. Yes, they would balance each other perfectly and, my, wouldn't they produce beautiful children of their own. As she daydreamed, she felt a small weight on her arm and looked down to see the little girl fast asleep. She met Torren's eyes and they smiled a knowing smile of relief to each other and she let herself drift into a fretful doze of her own.
Rodney's radio crackled in his ear. 'McKay? Ronon here. We're okay and we are going to help Lorne. What's happening with you?'
'Oh, thank God!' Rodney exclaimed, before collecting himself. 'We have limited control over some of the systems now but really I need someone with a stronger strain of the gene to fully implement the plan. If I can drill down deeper into some of the systems, I should be able to create some interesting problems for our interlopers. I have control of one of the generators and several of the systems that carry power to parts of the city and I'm pretty sure I can set up some power surges that would fry anyone in their path. We'd have to make sure that our people know it's coming and are out of the way. The result is rather like being in the worst indoor lightening storm you can imagine. I've patched in some Ancient technology to help us and that's where I need the gene. It kinda works with me, but as always I could do with Sheppard, or, well someone else who has the gene equally as strongly. Really, I need, well I hate to say it and Sheppard wouldn't be happy, but I need Mona here.' Internally, the mention of John Sheppard reminded him of the man's absence. He hoped, beyond hope, that John was on his way back to the city; ready once again to avenge himself on the swarm of Genii that had invaded them yet again. He suspected that the power outage they'd suffered briefly after the explosion could well have had a significant impact upon any ancient technology in the near vicinity, including the jumper, and just prayed that it had been far enough away not to be affected, otherwise the colonel and his wife would have a hell of a walk home and, worse, they might not make it at all. The team just didn't work right without their commander and he needed to abrogate some of that responsibility if he were to do his job properly here. And, yes, he wasn't ashamed to admit, at least to himself, that he needed his friend's tactical acuteness and straight thinking. So many times, together, they'd saved the city or each other by bouncing ideas off each other; it had become part of the way Rodney McKay worked and he was struggling without it, just as he knew that Ronon would also have difficulty, needing John's measured logic to balance his impetuosity.
There was a pause while the friends took on board the magnitude of what they were about to do, before Teyla said steadily, 'then, we had better find a way to bring Mona to you, had we not? John and Cat will understand. We will keep her safe, I promise.'
'Okay, but be quick. Someone also needs to warn our people about our plans too.'
'On it.' Rodney could almost see Ronon's determination and smiled at the familiarity of the curt response, one which gave him so much comfort even after all these years.
And at that, Ronon and Teyla separated, their tasks taking them to opposite ends of the city.
***
The forest darkened overhead as they headed deeper into it. Every now and then, Cat heard John suppress a gasp as however many cracked ribs complained, but apart from that they hadn't said a word to each other since. In the distance, and sometimes much closer, the wildlife announced itself eerily, and she really didn't want to imagine what form was making the growling sound that was quite close right now. Occasionally, she thought she'd heard a sound behind her and she'd turned each time, once thinking she'd seen a shadow in the bushes and she knew for sure that John was worried too. There was something about the set of his neck and shoulders, which she was now staring at because he was determined to take the lead, which told her of his alertness and tension. Mind you, it was debateable which was the safest, heading up or taking the rear. He would have done both if he could, she knew that, and she was absolutely determined to play her part and take some of the pressure from him.
He stopped and raised his hand and then turned and walked back to her. 'We'll rest here for a bit,' he whispered, before painfully taking off his back pack, an involuntary wince coming from his lips as he did. The pain in his hazel eyes made her want to hold him tightly in her arms and hug him better but she knew better than to try. Giving in to that would be too much of an admission of hurt and he might not be able to continue if he started down that road. Instead, she allowed herself a worried look and attempted a bright smile which she knew to look as false as it felt, sitting down next to him and gently placing her head in his shoulder. If she could give him some comfort under the guise of needing some herself, then she'd play that game.
They sat, motionless in that strange wonder-world, curtains of creepers above them being gently swayed by some breath of a breeze that had managed to penetrate through the dark canopy. Down here, it was unbearably humid and she was very grateful for the few sips of water she was allowed to drink from their ever diminishing supply. As they sat, a small furry creature, large eyes like headlights designed to see into the darkest night, crept into the clearing and peered myopically in their direction, so unused to man that it didn't think to be frightened. It was almost charming in a comical kind of way, its lopsided face and huge ears a making it a candidate for the ugliest forest creature competition and if such existed it would almost certainly win. For a nanosecond man and creature observed each other, it sniffing the air for a clue to what these strange new beings in its domain were, both sides frozen as if in awe.
Then, as suddenly as it had arrived, something made it start and it glanced behind into the undergrowth before running off in the opposite direction. John turned to her and smiled, for the first time in several hours it reached his eyes, and he leant forward to kiss her. She could see nothing but his mouth, desperate to drink the love and passion that she knew she would find there. Just as their lips touched, Cat spotted a movement in the bushes but before she could shout a warning there was a familiar whistling sound that at first she thought had passed over head, until John slumped onto her shoulder, and she felt the trickle of warm blood, his blood, down the side of her face, then she was forced backwards by his dead weight onto her back.
As in slow motion, she saw their attacker emerge from his hiding place, ready now to reveal himself. The thinning blonde hair and sickly countenance were shockingly familiar and she could hardly believe what she was seeing.
'Dane!' Something inside her exploded, all reason submerged in the desperate rage that welled from within. Somehow she extricated herself from John's prone form and she was on him before he was able to defend himself. 'You bastard,' was her battle-cry as she launched herself at him. She caught the look of fear in his eyes as she hit him, then in a flurry of punches she knocked him to the ground before she put both hands around his throat, intent on squeezing the last drop of life from his body. It was as though she was watching herself from one of the branches high above and she would have killed him, no doubt about it, had she not heard the quietest moan from her husband. The watcher above witnessed the almost comical sight of the woman, poised between murderous intent and the need to run to her husband, before she raised him up and banged his head down onto the ground as hard as she could, knocking him unconscious, or at least semi-conscious.
Cat ran over to John, putting her hand in front of her mouth at the shock of what she saw and the need to hold back the nausea that she was feeling. Blood covered the right side of his face and had seeped wetly into his dark hair, but beneath it he had such a sickly pallor that she couldn't believe he was alive. With a shaking hand, she felt for the pulse that was only just there and breathed a temporary sigh of relief, then she reached inside his BDU's to find the battle bandage that she knew was there. With no time to delay and not enough water to clean the wound or see how bad the damage was, all she could do was use her rather limited medical knowledge and bandage his poor wounded head, praying that it wasn't as bad as it looked and hoping beyond hope that it really was true that head injuries bled more than they deserved.
It was only then that she realised that she had no idea how she was going to get him to safety. She had no idea which direction to go. She had no idea how she could carry him. She had no idea how far it was to the little boat that John hoped would be there.
With a deep sigh, determined to hold back the tide of tears that was threatening to flow, she looked in the direction of the other man, still prone on the ground. 'Well, I hope you're not dead,' she said, 'because you are going to help me.'
As ever, please R & R! I mean, you do want to find out what happens next, don't you??