John found Kathy in the mess hall, sprawled over a table in a patch of sunshine. Poor girl. An Arizonan, stranded in a city encompassed by a frozen ocean. Any sunshiner's worst nightmare.
The fact that she had conked out in here rather than in her quarters testified to the exhaustion she had fallen victim to. This really wasn't something she was used to, John supposed.
Her shoulders rose and fell slowly, so John knew she was asleep, or meditating. He rather doubted the latter, cause she wasn't quite the type, and besides, who meditated with their face on top of a table?
He watched her a moment. Her nose could just be seen poking out from underneath her dark mane, pointed to the sun. John found himself missing her carroty locks. Seeing this woman here, so different from the girl he had known—and with a black-topped head, what's more—just didn't feel right. It didn't look like her.
And besides, she'd look prettier with orange hair.
Surely this couldn't be Kathy. Not the Kathy he had known. She was so strange, so mysterious… and so alluring. John found himself drawn closer to her unique persona with each passing moment.
He sat down in a chair on the other side of the table, careful not to make any noise. The funny time of day it was, there wasn't anyone else in the mess hall. Just him and Kathy.
John folded his arms on the table and leaned down, using the appendages as a prop for his chin. He gazed at the thinly veiled face before him, peaceful in its state of slumber. Kathy's long lashes rested gently against her cheeks, and John's sharp eyes could pick up the hints of red that colored them.
She was beautiful, John realized, and he was struck by the thought. Somehow, somewhere long ago, the girl across the street had grown up. Crazy Kathy Sanders had become a woman, and it wasn't until now that John had fully realized it.
And a striking one, at that.
John swallowed, stunned and somewhat alarmed by the trail his thoughts were following, and purposefully directed his eyes away from Kathy. They landed on the window and he studied the colored panels thoughtfully. From there he traced seams in the walls and up the ceiling, naming the different colors and hues that were about them as his mind wandered.
It wasn't until the sun had moved away and Kathy spoke that he realized how long it had been.
"How long you been here?" Kathy asked, not lifting nor turning her head from where it lay.
"Hm?" John rotated his head lazily to look over at where she was. "Oh, dunno. You were asleep when I came in."
"Were you asleep?" It was funny, watching her hair move as she talked.
"Nah," John said. "Just thinking."
"Drifting, more like," Kathy chuckled, her shoulders lifted by the action. She finally lifted her head, brushing the hair out of her face as she cracked a yawn. "So what were you thinking about?" she asked. Her eyes were a startlingly pale blue. John had forgotten.
John shrugged. "This and that." Actually, he couldn't really remember. Perhaps he really had just been 'drifting', as Kathy said. It was kind of nice to be able to do that now and then.
"John?"
"Yeah?" John's eyes moved quickly, affixing themselves on Kathy's curious face.
"Do you trust me?" She was watching him carefully, gauging his reaction.
He looked at her for a moment. "I don't know," he said honestly. "I think so. Maybe."
Kathy nodded slowly. "Okay."
Off into silence they went. Then Kathy's brow furrowed and she asked, "What day is it?"
"Um…" John's eyes rolled upward. "Friday."
Kathy stared at him. "No way. It so isn't Friday."
John nodded. "It is. Been just over a week since Lorne's team came in with that paranoia poison. That was Thursday, last week."
Kathy shook her head. "It feels like I've been holding my breath, and once I start breathing again I find out I've been in a coma for three years."
John chuckled. "Not quite how I'd word it, but yeah, it's something like that."
Kathy looked over at him curiously. "How do you get used to it?"
"Well, you start working on your inner clock's accuracy a little more, for one…"
Kathy laughed softly. "Yeah, I guess that would be a first on the list of things to do." She lifted her arm and peered at the time her wristwatch dictated. "Wow, I've been here for a while," she said. "Four p.m., I've been out for a couple of hours." So saying, she cracked a yawn. "Though I wouldn't mind extending my nap. Still, it's about time this show got back on the air." She stood up.
John rose up to his feet as well. "That goes for both of us."
"You don't get much of a break, do you?" Kathy asked, looking over at him.
John shrugged. "Not really."
They started walking, but then John paused at the end of the table he had just been sitting at. "Kathy?"
She stopped and turned to look at him, healthily tanned face smiling and open. "Yeah?"
John's lips parted slightly, but then he closed them again. Should he ask her about what she had said earlier, back in the infirmary? Was it his place?
No. Religion had never been his thing, and it never would be.
"Nothing," John said. Kathy's eyes stayed on his face a moment longer, doubt flickering across her eyes, but then she nodded slowly and continued on her way.
John followed a few steps behind, trying to ignore the nagging feeling that he shouldn't have kept his silence.
…
Saying a last and somewhat awkward goodbye to John, Kathy headed to her quarters, feeling a need for some quiet. Besides, it was her day off. Unzipping her jacket a little as she entered the more comfortably warm set of rooms—environmentals were such useful things—she flicked on her light and plopped down on her cot. Sliding off her shoes, she fell backwards, head bouncing on her pillow.
She stared up at the ceiling for a while, mind turning over the many things that had happened.
"Well, Kathy, I guess it's official," she said aloud to the empty room, "Your life has now been turned upside-down." She shook her head slightly. "Or right side up. Sometimes I can't even tell."
Her cheeks expanded, filling with air, and then she blew it out again. "Well, now what do I do?" she wondered, eyes searching for some kind of task.
Her eyes paused on the familiar face of Master Frederick, her beloved old bear. She stood up and went over to the dresser upon which he sat, careful not to move too fast on the slick surface of the floor in her socks.
Smiling at the dear old teddy bear fondly, Kathy gently stroked the top of its luxuriously soft head. "I'm scooting you out of the way for the moment, okay, Master Frederick?" she said, talking to the old toy purely out of habit. Gently she lifted the near-antique bear and took the white box that he had been propped up against. Carefully she set the bear back in his place, smiled at his kind black button eyes, and went back over to her bed.
Slowly she sat down on the cot, crossing her legs and setting the box before her. Taking off the lid, she looked in and beheld the various bits and pieces of memorabilia sorted neatly. Setting the lid aside, she reached in and took out the large stack of letters that the box contained, tucked into one of its corners.
The letters were sorted by colored ribbons: cobalt blue for Alex, neon green for Jay and his wife Maggie, red and white for her parents, orange for her Irish relatives, white-and-blue for her Russian-Jew relatives, and deep green for Seth.
It was Seth's slim collection that she went for first. Carefully sliding the ribbon off the stack of envelopes, she picked up the oldest of the letters, dated February 4th 1999. She removed the paper from its envelope, unfolding it as she read.
Dr. Sanders,
You have not met me personally, ma'am. In fact, you haven't heard of me at all. I heard of you by name and actions from my friend and superior officer, Sgt. Adrian Marks. You saved his life, ma'am, from what he and others tell me. For that I am most grateful. Sgt. Marks is one heck of a soldier, and someone the Corps. is proud to have. I'm sure you've already received an official letter thanking you and whatnot, but I felt compelled to write you and thank you personally.
I am told you won't be coming back overseas, and I think it's a shame. We could use more doctors like you over here, dozens more. It's not every civilian doctor who will put themselves at risk to save a Marine, sad to tell. But I suppose I can understand your choice to stay home a little.
I hear that you live in the Phoenix, Arizona area. I'll be passing through there around the time you get this letter. If you like, Doctor, you can stop in at the Marine Corps. Station we have there and we can talk. I'd like to meet the doctor who saved my former CO's life.
Regards,
Lt. Seth Jacobi, United States Marine Corps.
Kathy smiled as she remembered the surprised expression that had been on Seth's face when they had first met. Obviously his CO had neglected to tell him that the doctor who had saved his life was hot. Really hot, if Seth's recounts of the meeting were to be believed.
Goodness, it had been nearly a full ten years since that day, February 29th. Seth had said that it was only natural that they had met on a leap year, she wouldn't have settled for a date anything less than extraordinary.
Kathy held the letter in her hands a moment longer, but she wasn't looking at the words anymore, she was thinking of the time she had first received the letter. Reminders of her time overseas were the last thing she had even wanted to hear whispers of at the time, and then some man she'd never heard of wrote to her because of them!
Her face had drained entirely of blood, and her hands shook so uncontrollably Alex was forced to read it out loud for her. He seemed pleased with it, saying something along the lines of "there is good to be found in losses", but Kathy still couldn't find it in herself to believe that statement.
She had forced herself to focus on other things, working extra shifts at once of the local hospitals, but the request for a meeting continued to gnaw away at her consciousness night and day until finally on February 29th 1999 she marched into the Marine Corps. Station and asked to speak with Lt. Seth Jacobi.
Of course, he was the man who had opened the door for her coming in.
Chuckling, Kathy folded the letter back up and placed it back inside its envelope, setting it down on the bed. Then she picked up the next one, dated about two months later.
Kathy remembered the setting for this one. Seth had taken her to a local bistro, out in open surrounded by lots of people (she had noted that his eyes were constantly tracking movement), and there they had talked. Since he already knew that she had been overseas, there wasn't any point in her lying, but at one point she had firmly stated that she would rather not talk about it.
Seth had looked disappointed, but he quickly schooled his face into a neutral expression and smoothly directed the conversation elsewhere. Afterwards talk came easy and comfortable, and Kathy found herself liking this man. He would become a nice acquaintance, she had thought.
At the end of the afternoon, Kathy had expressed a mild interest in staying in contact. Seth had made a noncommittal sound in response to that, and Kathy had taken it as a no. So her surprise was imaginable when two months later she got a letter from him.
Dr. Sanders, (it opened)
To be honest, ma'am, it feels a little strange to be writing you again, especially since I no longer have any logical reason to. I must confess, Doctor, that something about you has caught my eye, and it wasn't just your looks. Actually, I don't know what it was.
With your permission, Doctor, I would like a chance to find out. Would it be possible or agreeable to start up a correspondence? I'm stationed overseas at this time, so talking face-to-face is sort of impossible. I'm sure you understand how that is.
Regards,
Lt. Seth Jacobi, United States Marine Corps.
"Oh Seth, you dear," Kathy whispered, smiling fondly at the script before her. "Neither of us knew what we were starting, did we?"
She set this letter back down, underneath the first one, and picked up the next one. It was the beginning of their correspondence, which went on for several letters more, randomly dated.
…well, ma'am, since we're doing this, I suppose you'll want to know a little more about me. I'm from Washington State, east of the mountains, and live with my parents on 12 acres of land, 8 of it dominated by apple trees. We have three horses and a fair army of dogs, all big. Lapdogs wouldn't survive in our home. The cats all live out in the barn, with the cows and horses. We have chickens as well. Yep, regular ole farmboy here. Really, I couldn't love any lifestyle more…
…got flipped off by some American teenager with a group of tourists today. Guess he has something against people who bleed and die for the sake of his own safety…
…there are so many feral cats out here, I'm afraid that one day I'll have to walk on them to get from one place to another. The poor things are barely more than bones with skin and fur stretched over. I sometimes find myself worrying that one day I'll wake up and find out they've eaten me…
…my day was totally made today. This little boy, I don't how old exactly, four or five? Maybe six. Anyway, he came up to me, slapping his heels together, and saluted. His face was so earnest and dead serious, I could only give him an equally respectful salute in return. I've never seen a kid smile wider…
And so it went on. Then there was a letter that made her stop, expression sad.
Kathy,
My mood isn't a good one today. And no surprise either. Sgt. Marks was killed today. I watched the bullet go through his head.
I guess your saving him at the beginning of the year proved to be in vain, then. No matter what you do, they're just going to die later. If that's the truth of it, then why do people like you bother?
Hell. The man had four kids, three girls and a boy. He never talked about anyone more than his wife.
He died on New Year's Day. How wrong is that? The first thing I write this year is to be about my killed CO.
I'm delivering the news personally to his family. They know me, so I asked if I could be the one to do it. I just don't know if I'll be able to bear the looks one those kids' faces.
Seth J.
Kathy sighed. "Oh, Seth," she whispered. The letters had been few then, all of them with a hollow feel. Sgt. Marks had meant a lot to Seth; he was a second father to him. Then next year war broke out, and Seth didn't have Sgt. Marks with him. It was unbelievably depressing.
The letters had stopped altogether in July of 2000. She had almost forgotten Seth Jacobi altogether when he had written her again, in September of 2001.
Kathy,
So here we are at war. My division leaves for Afghanistan tomorrow morning. It's a little hard to believe this is even happening. My mind keeps replaying the recordings of the World Trade Center. Has it really been a week since that?
There's never been a time in history when a nation's military isn't active, but to be outright at war is a different thing. Will you be over there, doing whatever it is that doctors like you do? It's gonna be a lot harder to keep people alive this time around, and it would be reassuring to know that someone like you is over there.
To be honest, I can't wait to throw some lead into those Arabs. What they've just done to us, after all the help we've freely given them, is unacceptable and I for one don't intend to let them get away with it!
I wonder if I'll die in this war. Who knows? I hope I don't. My parents don't have many people in their lives other than me.
Regards,
Lt. Seth Jacobi
Kathy remembered that when she had first read this letter it had sent shivers up and down her spine, the hatred in it was so tangible. It had kindled her anger with the peoples of the Middle East, even though she knew that not all of them were like the monsters who had killed those thousands of people on September 11th.
At that time, however, she had made no effort to control her rage. She had wanted to be angry. She hated them, the Afghanis, the Iraqis, all the other Arab peoples, and hated them wholly. Now that hatred was something she was a little ashamed of, but still, every time she thought of that day her it flashed once more.
But her hatred was not directed at the Arabs. It was directed at Satan, at the evils of Hell that drove so many to commit all the horrible deeds spread throughout history. It had taken a while, years in fact, but eventually Kathy had learned that she was to hate the evil in people, not the people themselves.
That was a lesson Seth still refused to learn. The lands of the Middle East had taken much from him: friends, comrades, civilians… and he would not let go of his hatred of the people. He was justified for the cause of his hatred, Kathy was sure, but that didn't make it right. Wasn't it hate that caused 9\11 in the first place?
Sighing, Kathy set the letter down and skipped over the next few, not wishing to dwell on such dark thoughts of war any longer. She was already entangled in one right now.
The letter she stopped at was written more than a full year later, in November. Seth had been home for a couple of months so he could be with his family for Thanksgiving and Christmas.
Also, so he could follow her around Phoenix and Flagstaff and ask her out God knew how many times in God knew how many ways. The letter in Kathy's hand showed the poor man's exasperation.
Kathy,
Dangit, woman, is there something wrong with my face? Why are you so determined not to date me? Every time I ask you, you give a different reason. Actually, you don't give a reason at all! You say it's not because I'm a Marine, you say it's not because I'm from Washington and you're from Arizona, you say it's not because I'm almost always overseas, you say it's not because I know how to kill people in more ways than you know how to fix them…
So what in tarnation is it? You say you like me, so WHY WON'T YOU LET ME ASK YOU OUT!
You're driving me crazy, Kathy Sanders!
Irritable regards (can you guess why?),
Seth J.
Kathy giggled. Poor Seth. He had been very frustrated. He was always so easily ruffled. Well, by her, anyway. Nobody else seemed capable of fazing him, except for his parents.
Kathy fell back against her pillow for a second time, looking up at the ceiling with a smile curving her lips upward. The letter clasped between both of her hands made her wish again that Seth could be here with her right now. It was lonely, being here without him, even though hundreds of people accompanied her.
She really, really missed him. Kathy looked over and gazed at the calendar on her wall. Though she could easily have it on her computer, Kathy preferred the traditional paper-on-the-wall method. She knew that, a few pages of the calendar later, was written in bold and excited handwriting: HOME!
She really couldn't wait for the day to come. So much did she miss her first home, her family and her friends and most of all Seth. There was no question, the two of them were in love. Perhaps, if she hadn't come to Atlantis, they would be married by now. She'd never know, but sometimes she couldn't help but wonder.
Fingers stroking the paper surface of Seth's letter, Kathy sighed and closed her eyes, succumbing to a bout of homesickness.
Yay, I'm back! Script Frenzy kinda flopped (I think my strength is more straight writing than screenplays), but that was also largely due to the fact that my writing bug basically died through most of April. It was not a lot of fun. :(
But I am here! And, as you can see, writing again! Got a short line of chapters waiting for me to go through and edit, and a slurry of ideas bouncing around! Very good for the creative mind. Only problem is that most of them are for events that are at least a dozen chapters away. Hm, time travel? ;)
I should say something about this actual chapter. Cos I like doing that. Writing Seth's letters… that was so different for me. I've never done anything like that, and I also wanted to stay as far away from the land of love letters as possible. Because the letters in this chapter are not love letters. Well, maybe the last one, but I don't really think so. The letters were also a way to introduce y'all to Seth. Thoughts?
The whole segment about 9/11 was really hard to write. Really hard. For the most part, they are my own personal thoughts, and it was difficult to write them down and put them together in a way that makes sense to the people who don't live in my own head. Editing, this is what I struggled with the most.
There ought to be another update by next Wednesday. If no, poke me with a stick or something.
Also, does anyone read these? I'm just wondering if I should even bother with them. Not much point in writing something nobody's going to read, I guess.