As always, thanks to my reviewers. I am always grateful for those who comment: it encourages me to continue.
The way to the Archives room was littered with debris and Teyla more than once skittered on used gun cartridges. Thoughts of more than taking Mona to Rodney's lab threatened to derail her calmness. In the distance she could hear the continuing battle for the city, but here The Genii seemed to have decided to move on, happy to have caused as much destruction as possible. What she saw when she reached her destination turned her heart cold: precious books and irreplaceable artefacts were torn or shattered and some soldier had decided to take target practice at Janet's desk. And of Janet and her young charges there was no sign. Teyla didn't know whether to laugh with relief or let the awful fear for her son that had been pecking away at her gut for several hours finally take her over. She was about to turn away and search elsewhere when she heard heavy feet running down the corridor towards her, and by the sound of it there was more than one pair approaching. Stuck between the proverbial rock and the hard place, she had to quickly decide whether to hide or fight and at the last moment she ducked underneath one of the fallen bookshelves, scurrying into the shadows as much as she could.
From her hiding place, she could see at least three pairs of booted feet with the recognisable steel toe-caps worn by all The Genii army. Not given to great tactical awareness nor expecting any resistance, they did however seem to be searching for something and she could see and hear the sounds of bookcases and shelves being upturned in an attempt to find whatever that something was. Several times, they approached where she was, and then walked away again and she would probably have been alright had not one goon decided to upend a cupboard within feet of her. It crashed down so close to her face that she let out an involuntary squeak. Immediately, they were upon her, a large pock-marked face peering under the shelf.
At times like this, there is only one choice in Teyla's world, and she certainly was not about to go down without a fight. She thrust her fingers into the soldier's eyes, causing him to fall backwards with a distinctly coarse Genii curse and. as quickly, she manoeuvred herself out of her hiding place and launched herself at one of the others. Taken off guard, he staggered back, dazed by the powerful blows that emanated from her tiny frame. Again, she would have been alright, easily a match for such ill-trained men, had she not stumbled backwards across a broken urn. At once, they were on her, punching her from all directions, not giving any quarter. She tried to fight back, but blow by blow they were weakening her and she could feel her consciousness fading. In one last burst, she tried to fight them off and shouted as loudly as possible, hoping beyond hope that someone might hear and was just aware of rough hands trying to remove her clothes and bad breath from the pock-marked man as he attempted to take his revenge upon this woman who dared to attack him. With a last hard slap across her face she was subdued, all fight drained from her, aware only of the man and his body attempting to violate her.
From their hiding place, Janet heard Teyla's shout and knew someone was in trouble. Torn between looking after the children and helping whoever it was, she hesitated, unsure of what to do. It was against her better instincts not to help. And then it all went silent.
***
Cat fell back onto the ground in despair, all attempts to revive the unconscious Dane having failed. She needed him now; there was no way she could carry John by herself. Damn her hot-headedness: couldn't she simply have slapped him around a bit?
She turned towards John, still frighteningly motionless on the ground, and crawled over towards him. Blood had pooled in a sticky morass behind his head, despite the makeshift bandage, staining the dark green floor of the forest. He was deadly still; his chest almost imperceptibly moving as his body struggled to survive God knows how serious a head wound. All the fight that had sustained her through her attack on Dane disappeared as though in sympathy with that precious fluid draining from his body and she took him in her arms, laying it on her chest and wept into his damp hair. For several minutes she allowed herself to wallow in deepest despair, unable to see a way out of the desperate situation. She didn't care a whit for Dane, and in other circumstances would surely have left him for dead, but she also had to find a way of carrying John to the coast, taking enough supplies to keep them both alive. And even if Dane did wake up and she could persuade him to help, how they would carry John between them was beyond her.
Just when it seemed that they would all die here together, there being no way she would leave John to whatever ghastly creatures lived in the depths of this forest, he stirred in her arms, no more than the quietest whimper, but enough to tell her that he was slightly closer to consciousness. She lay him gently down on his back and crouched over him, one hand on his chest, desperate to feel the heart beating.
'John? Can you hear me, my love? John! I really, really need you to wake up right now. Please? I love you? Please wake up?'
The uncovered eye stickily opened, confusion and pain blurring its vision.
'You're okay, but you were shot and probably have a bit of a sore head.' She needed to sound positive despite how she was feeling. The eye cleared a little and he weakly raised a hand to touch the bandage on his head, fear flitting across it as he did.
'No, no, it's okay, your other eye is fine, it's just that the wound is not far from it. Don't worry my love; your two eyes are still as beautiful as ever.' This time it was a touch of humour that she saw. 'You need to listen to me, sweetheart. We are in the middle of a dark forest, surrounded by God knows what horrible creatures and we need to get you to safety. The only way we can do this is if you can walk a little; then I can carry some water and food as well. It can't be too far now and we might just be able to get a little help, if we're lucky.' At this, she helped him up a little, resting him on the large bole of a huge tree whose head stretched far above the canopy of creepers, and pointed to the prostrate Traveller.
John's eye widened as he recognised their attacker and he tried to raise himself up further, hand reaching for the gun that was still nestled in its thigh holster. Cat knew her husband all too well. Even in such an enfeebled condition he was quite capable of sudden and violent acts for the sake of self-preservation or for the safety of others. Once she'd asked him how he'd managed to survive so long, through battles and attacks, severe injuries and infections, and he'd simply replied that his desire to live was greater than his desire to die. And it was as simple, or as complex, as that. Gently, she put a hand on his and shook her head. 'That's the help I'm talking about. I can't manage by myself. I need someone else to help me carry you, should we have to, or at least to help you to walk.'
Reluctantly, he shook his head which was a mistake and he fell back into unconsciousness. Once again she checked his pulse and once again breathed a sigh of tense relief. Across from her, Dane began to stir and with renewed energy she grabbed John's gun, ran over to him, and sat down hard on his chest, the gun pointed at his forehead. A very surprised pair of watery blue eyes met hers as he attempted to wriggle free from her grasp and failed. Clearly, he had never had to face a woman's wrath before and anyway, she reflected ironically, she was probably heavier than his slight frame.
'You listen to me. You will help me or I will leave you to die here. Believe me, there are some pretty gruesome creatures in this forest and they would love a bit of human flesh as a change to their usual menu I'm sure. Your only way out of this alive is to work with me and reach the boat that we have stashed on the coast. Any other choice will result in your death and I don't mean quickly. You need to ask yourself whether you are ready to die slowly, being eaten alive and suffering from dehydration.' He stilled for a moment and then nodded his head in silent agreement. 'Now, I'm going to take the gun away and you will not struggle.' Again he nodded.
Cat stood up, gun trained on him, and removed the scarf she was wearing around her neck, sighing at the memory of the gift bought from an Athosian market stall by a besotted fiancé. Oh well, it would be put to good use. 'Put your arms behind your back,' she demanded. The undercurrent of menace must have been enough because he complied and she tied him firmly with the pretty blue and red scarf. 'Now, sit back against that tree.' Dane backed towards a large tree and sat, facing her, a look that was a combination of fear and anger deepening as he did.
As quickly as she could, she unpacked everything they didn't need, although she had a suspicion that they needed everything, keeping basic medical supplies, water and the little food they had left, combining both their supplies in the hopes that it would be enough. Next time they stopped, she'd make sure she collected some water from the dripping rainforest and cursed herself for not thinking about it earlier. Now all she had to do was try to wake up John again. His pallor was impossibly pale, his dark hair framing his still handsome face and accentuating the almost death-mask quality that it had taken on. She didn't want to think about how much blood he'd lost or what infections were now seeping into the wound as quickly as the blood had drained out, let alone what brain damage had been caused.
Holding a bottle of water next to his dried and chapped lips, she moistened them with a few drops and stroked his cheek tenderly. 'John, you need to wake up again. We have to get you out of here and I can't manage unless you can take a little of the weight. For a moment she thought he wouldn't wake, but with enormous effort the eye opened again and he, very carefully this time, nodded his agreement. 'Stay there, my love. I'll be back in a minute. And please, please stay awake?' With one last stroke of his cheek she stood up, taking the pack over to Dane.
'Now, you stand up and stop in front of me. You are my mule. You will carry the supplies while I support John. You are not to go near him unless I ask you to. You will walk ahead of me and know that I will have a gun at your back all the time. Do you understand?'
This time he spoke. 'I understand,' he said simply, as she hung the back pack uncomfortably around his neck, his arms still tied around his back.
Then, as quickly as she could and with one eye on Dane, she went to John. 'We are leaving now, my love. Not long before we have you back safe and sound in Atlantis,' and she placed a shoulder under his right arm. 'Now, if you could just put a little bit of effort into this so that we can stand up, that would be quite helpful right now.' With a grimace, he pushed as hard as he could against her and somehow, with a good deal of staggering and swearing, she managed to get him to his feet, though the weight against her shoulder was almost unbearable.
'Right then,' she said, trying to sound positive and confident, as though they were off on some jaunt with The Guides. 'Off we go. Best feet forward. Atlantis here we come.' And the odd little train staggered further into the forest in the direction that Cat hoped to God was the ocean.
***
Janet made her decision. Turning to Torren she said, 'I must to go out there. Someone needs my help. You have to look after Mona, Torren and keep her in here safely.'
'I understand, Aunty Janet,' he replied, with a look so mature that it brought a lump to her throat. She watched as he went over to Mona and quietly talked to her, reassuring her all the time that the 'game' would be over soon and beginning a real game of eye-spy. Proud of him, she nodded, before turning to open the door, not knowing what she would find outside it.
The soldiers were so intent on their attack upon Teyla, so driven by revengeful lust that they failed to hear the quiet footsteps of the Archivist as she crept up behind them, on hand holding a heavy metal artefact that had survived their onslaught. With a deft blow she hit the man on top of the woman hard on the back of his head, felling him immediately, though the sickening crunch as metal hit bone almost made her sick. She just had time to register that it was Teyla on the ground before she was attacked from behind by a heavy weight, the third man having unfortunately woken from Teyla's knockout punches. In the next few seconds, as she desperately tried to fight him off, she was aware of Teyla launching herself at the other man and once again was amazed by the woman's strength and fight. She managed to dislodge herself from the soldier's grasp and turned towards him, but he hit her hard around the mouth, knocking her backwards.
At that moment, a little voice shouted from the open door of their safe room. 'Mama!' screamed Torren as he ran towards Teyla, straight into the arms of Janet's attacker. She heard Teyla shout 'no', as the man grabbed Torren tightly and began to throttle the struggling child in front of them, a wicked gleam in his eyes. Suddenly, a bundle of fire seemed to erupt from behind as Mona rushed out to defend her friend and mentor, jumping on the man's back and kicking and biting as hard as she good. For a moment, he loosed his grasp on Torren, before his greater strength took over and he took hold again, throwing the little girl backwards to the ground as he did.
All this seemed to happen in slow motion for Janet and she didn't think what she was doing next. As Teyla ran forward to rescue Torren, in a pincer movement Janet attacked from the side, punching him in the kidneys as hard as she could. She was aware that Teyla had Torren and that Mona was lying still on the floor behind and then she felt a searing pain in her side. As she looked down, she felt rather than saw the knife penetrating her flesh and the blood running down her leg. And then Teyla attacked again, this time breaking the man's neck in one movement. With relief, Janet sank to her knees. She felt no pain, which was odd and her legs felt like jelly. In the last moments, and only then did she realise that she was dying, she saw Teyla's tear-stained face above hers and heard her words. 'Thank you, Janet. You saved my son, Mona and me. Your bravery will not be forgotten and will be sung about for years to come by my people.'
Little Mona stirred on the floor and began to cry. Collecting herself and remembering her mission, Teyla made a silent vow to Janet that she would return to her and fulfil that promise before she picked up the semi-conscious girl and gently grabbed Torren's hand, only then noticing that his eyes were fixed on the dead face of the Archivist. 'Come on, Torren. We must leave here. It is not safe. We will come back for Aunty Janet, I promise you. She will have a proper Athosian farewell. For now, we have much to do and little time to achieve it.' With a last glance at Janet, the little group ran from the room, intent on the task in hand and determined to push aside for now the memories of the last hour.
The run back to Rodney's lab was surprisingly uneventful and Teyla breathed a sigh of relief as the door closed and locked behind her. McKay was in mid snark when he noticed Teyla's face. 'What...?' Tears threatened to well, so she simply shook her head and sat down on the nearest chair, little Mona still slightly dazed on her lap but not appearing to have any obvious injuries. With a sad look, the once totally unempathic Rodney Mckay registered her grief and that something awful had happened but also knew that now was not the time to pry further.
'We're almost ready,' he said. 'We've isolated the systems we need and I, well we,' he glanced at Zelenka,' have managed to tie in the Ancient systems. All I need now is Mona's gene to activate them and our people out of the way. I think it's time to contact Ronon and find out what's going on.' Again he glanced at Teyla's obvious distress, then clicked his earpiece.
At the other end of Atlantis, Ronon was fighting battles of his own. He'd managed to team up with Lorne and to his relief, Amelia was there too. At the moment when his radio clicked, they were in the middle of a battle for one of the corridors, a group of about ten Genii holed up at one end and standing firm. It didn't look like the stalemate would be broken any time soon and it irked him that so few could cause him so many problems. Stepping into the shadows, he responded, 'McKay? Tell me you've managed to resolve our little power issue?'
The slightly annoyed tones of the other man whined into his ear. 'Well, yes, because why would I be calling you otherwise? For a friendly chat? A dinner invitation?' Ronon rolled his eyes at Amelia who smiled knowingly back. 'We are ready to go, but all Atlantis personnel have to be out of the corridors before it's a go.'
'Well, we can move away from here. Not as though we're getting anywhere in any case. Can you patch in a link to the others? Let them know?' Despite his exasperation, Ronon trusted Rodney McKay more than anyone to make it work.
'Already on it! How long do you need?'
'How about we say ten minutes?' Ronon checked the watch that Sheppard had given to him for a birthday present last year. Most of the time, he had no purpose for it, but in military situations it was very useful for precise timings.
'Fine. But Ronon? You have to be out of the corridors by then. Any other room in Atlantis will do, even a cupboard, if of course you could fit into a cupboard, that is. Anyway, on it and let's call it ten minutes from now. I'll shout a warning over the radio when we're about to push the button.'
***
The air was stuffy and almost smoky in the darkest parts of the forest. There was a path to follow, but at times it disappeared almost entirely into the straggled roots that frequently threatened to grasp their ankles as if in a deliberate attempt to hold them there. The place was strangely silent; the rasping song of a bird far up in the canopy had died down some hours ago and all she could hear was the distant dripping of water through the web of creepers which hung above them. Dane trundled on ahead; planning goodness knows what revenge on her. What she knew for sure was that she was safe until they found the boat and then she would have to make some serious decisions about him.
John hovered in and out of consciousness but somehow some instinct to survive kept him going. He stumbled frequently and had once mumbled a slurred 'sorry', but apart from that had said nothing, and that was the most worrying thing of all. A fit and healthy John, while sometimes taciturn, would have been talking to her, encouraging her, joking with her and telling her that this was just a walk in the park. More worryingly, she could feel the heat emanating from him, knowing enough to understand the dangers of an infection to be seriously concerned. But there was no turning back; she had to get them to the boat whatever even though she only had the vaguest idea of where it was. John had been unclear himself and she'd only half listened to him, trusting in his abilities absolutely. Her shoulder was beyond hurting and every time John stumbled she had to stop herself from shouting out. Eventually, she had to rest and she shouted ahead to Dane to stop and stand still; from the look of his drooping back he too was ready to drop.
As gently as she could, she lowered John to the ground. His ghastly colour was speckled with a blotchy rose and he was sweating profusely, his normally spiky hair flat to his head with a combination of sweat and matted blood. Somehow she managed to persuade him to take a few drops of precious water, but not enough, she knew, to keep him alive. Time was running out for them all if they didn't find the coast soon. To her left, Dane had collapsed in a tired heap on the ground, the heavy pack still on his back and she needed to take a decision right here about whether she could afford to take any rest herself. If she didn't, she seriously doubted if she could walk any further. There was nothing for it and her eyes closed into a fitful sleep and desperate sleep, her head resting against John's chest as if to check, even in sleep, that he was still breathing.
She woke with a start, the sounds of the forest somehow penetrating her deep and exhausted sleep. For a moment, she wasn't sure where she was, but as always, reality came tumbling in on her. Fearfully, she felt for a pulse and breathed a sigh of relief, but only for a moment. His fever was high and he showed no signs at all of stirring when she whispered in his ear. Across from her, Dane was fast asleep, more or less in the position that he'd been when he collapsed.
And now, she had a whole new problem to solve. How was she to get John to safety if he couldn't even stumble as he had before? There was no way she could carry him. There was nothing else for it. Palming John's gun she walked over to Dane and kicked him to wake him up.
'Okay, sleep head,' she said, 'The rules have changed. If you want to live, and I'm sure you do, you need to help me with John. He can't walk anymore and we'll have to carry him. I will untie you and you and I will take him together. Your options are unchanged, but let me tell you that if you refuse, you will die here, slowly and painfully. I will take the quicker option and take John's life then mine.'
Dane looked at her through half-closed eyes, expression impossible to read then over to the inert form of Colonel John Sheppard; the man who he wanted to destroy more than anything now making him chose between living and dying, and the choice was whether the other man would live or die with him. The look in Cat's eyes told him that she was deadly serious, as was the gun now trained towards her husband.
With a shrug he made his decision. 'I will help.'
TBC
Please R & R if you want to find out what happens next. All writers need encouragement! There's a lot to still unravel here.