Kathy couldn't escape her nightmare until 7:00am, when the shrieking of her alarm pulled her to safety. She sat bolt-upright amongst her tangled sheets, shaking. Slowly regaining awareness of where she was (and making certain that it was real), Kathy wiped the sweat off her forehead and got out of bed, standing on trembling legs.
"That was bad," she groaned, voice cracked from overnight disuse. She ran her fingers through her tangled hair—she had forgotten to braid it last night—and stumbled into the bathroom, hoping a hot shower would wash away the memory of her nightmare.
Kathy wondered if the intensity of her dreams was due to her involvement with the higher-up workings of Atlantis. She'd been doing that for a few weeks now, and she had noticed that with each one that had passed, her nightmares grew worse. Her subconscious knew what she feared.
Kathy hoped she had made it clear that she was only there to help with advice. She hadn't actually done any hands-on work. Just the way she wanted it. Just the way…
Kathy stepped out of the shower and wrapped herself in a towel. She stared at her dripping reflection in the steamy mirror, shivering at the haunted eyes that stared right back.
She got dressed and after combing her hair decided to let it air-dry. It wasn't as if there were some dress-code regulation that forbade it. She did get some funny looks, though.
Chuck, actually in the mess hall rather than the control room, waved Kathy over. "Or are you meeting with someone else?" he asked.
"Actually, no," Kathy told him, and joined the technician. "All alone, my Canadian friend?"
"Apparently people don't appreciate the standard friendliness for which we Canadians are known," Chuck said remorsefully. "That, and McKay has pretty much crushed our reputation. One bad apple to ruin a basket, eh?"
"Oh, McKay's not that bad," Kathy said. Chuck gave her a look. "Okay, okay, so maybe he is, but don't you think his people skills have improved just a little over the years?"
"Minuscully." Chuck shrugged then, as though deciding to brush the matter of McKay aside. "I see you're going for a new look."
"Yep," Kathy said, stirring large portions of brown sugar and craisons into her steaming bowl of oatmeal. "I call it 'fresh out of the shower'."
"Also known as 'I don't give a darn about hair dryers', eh?" Chuck grinned.
"Oh, good one!" Kathy said, pointing at him with her spoon.
Chuck laughed softly. A brief pause in the conversation existed while both attacked their breakfasts of thick oatmeal. It was a little stickier than Kathy preferred, but it wasn't the worst stuff she had eaten. Chuck had added about half a bottle of maple syrup to his bowl, and never would a clam be happier.
"So, how are you doing this morning, Kathy?" Chuck asked as he picked up his coffee.
"Okay," Kathy answered evasively, gaze lingering a little too long on her bowl.
Chuck frowned, mug stopping halfway between the table and his mouth. "Nightmares again?"
Kathy sighed and nodded in the affirmative. Chuck had always been good at reading her; he credited it to the fact that she behaved so much like his sister. "They've been getting worse," she confessed.
Chuck's concern showed through his entire face. "You should see the psychiatrist," he said.
"I know…" Kathy looked away. "But… well, I can't stand their probing. Also, I think the guy who came in to replace Dr. Heightmeyer really hates me. He looks at me like I should burn in Hell or something."
Chuck looked alarmed. "He does?"
"Frequently. It's disturbing, so that plays a large factor in why I won't go in there."
"You haven't talked to Colonel Carter about this?"
"I don't have any proof. He just stares at me; not anyone else. I don't worry about it too much, though. I only see him once or twice a week, and I never stay to chat. He says I am 'being evasive of my problems'."
Chuck snickered. "Yeah, that does sound like something he would say."
"Hey, I aced my psychology class in high school, and you don't hear me talking creepy stuff like that," Kathy said.
Chuck nodded in agreement. "It's a stereotype."
"And unfortunately there are people who actually follow it. Oy." Kathy drained her coffee mug, thus finishing her breakfast. "Well, time for me to go. Research and all that."
"Yeah, how's that going?"
Kathy pulled a face. "Like miserable. We haven't made any headway in over two months. But at least we know what doesn't work."
"Going at it like Edison, eh?"
"Yup. Fail, fail, and fail again. Let's hope we can reinvent the light bulb before we're dead." She turned and left, waving goodbye. "See ya, Chuck."
"Bye, Kathy," Chuck called after her. He smiled lightly and went back to the remnants of his breakfast. Once Kathy was out of sight his brow furrowed deeply in worry.
…
John had awoken about three hours before Kathy. He rolled out of his bed and performed his usual exercises, then half an hour later found Ronon and ran through Atlantis' catwalks with him. Ronon, as always, ran fastest and furthest. Still John was determined to someday outrun the dreadlocked giant—without the aid of some freakish super-drug.
After the run he was off to shower and get into uniform for the day. Then he pulled on a coat and went out for a walk on top of one of the piers, the only light coming from Atlantis. The water looked strange and hostile in the darkness, and John looked at it with an apprehensiveness he didn't feel during the day.
At some point he became aware of Teyla standing next to him, and silently the two respective leaders kept their stance, frail human bodies battling the relentless force called the wind.
By some unspoken agreement they both turned around and went back inside. John unzipped his jacket a little at the rapid increase of temperature, and he and Teyla went for the mess hall. Neither made an attempt to start conversation, as both could tell neither was really in the mood.
They and Ronon had already sat down at their table when Rodney trudged in, scenting the coffee rather than looking for it.
"Ah, the great scientist doth grace us with his presence," John said sarcastically.
"Wonder what we did to deserve it?" Ronon remarked, and he and John snickered.
Rodney glared at them as he approached, already revived by the aromas of his coffee. John knew he would go back for a second and third cup before breakfast was over.
Rodney's arrival, as it usually did most mornings, started off the conversation. Or bickering, to put it more accurately.
"So, how is Major Lorne's team?" Rodney asked as he returned with his second cup of coffee.
"Better," John replied. "Going stir-crazy, though." His teammates grimaced with sympathy. They knew cabin fever far too well.
"Has there been any sight of the attackers?" Teyla asked.
John shook his head. "None," he replied.
"Do you think what's-her-name's plan is going to work?" Rodney asked.
"It wasn't a plan so much as an idea, Rodney," John answered. "And her name is Kathy."
"Kathy, that's right. I can never remember."
John looked at him. "You know, this is alarming, coming from an astrophysicist," he said dryly. Rodney glared at him.
John glanced down at his watch, confirming his internal clock. "Seven hundred hours, we leave in fifty minutes." He stood up. "See you in the gear room."
A chorus of farewells, jumbled together in a conglomerate mess of familiarity, followed him out of the mess hall.
…
Sam Carter had awoken at much the same time as John, but only with the difference of falling asleep at a much later hour.
She had been composing a letter to Daniel. He was pretty much the only one from Earth that she could really write to, and besides she knew that he would read the letters to her other former teammates. How, she could not answer, but she knew.
Almost half of the letter would be cut out before she sent it, she had known that even as she was hastily tapping it down on her personal tablet. But she had to get her thoughts out somewhere, and how better to do it than to write a letter to Daniel. A letter that he would never get, of course.
Sometimes, very rarely, Sam needed to write down the thoughts in her head and just ponder them for a while. As swiftly and easily as she understood science and all things technologically complicated, she had never found emotions as easy to decipher.
So she would sometimes do this. It put the thoughts in a place outside of herself, and she could focus on one of them at a time without fear of forgetting the rest.
That's what she had been doing all night. Sorting things out. There was a lot of that to do—Atlantis was a big responsibility, and without time to just think the enormity of it would surely crush her. After all, she had only been promoted to a full-bird Colonel a few months ago.
So, waking up only a handful of hours after she had fallen asleep, she should have felt exhausted. Strangely enough, she didn't. Perhaps it had something to do with taking so many things off her mind. There was something soothing about writing letters to Daniel, Teal'c, and the rest. And Jack. Sam was certain that Daniel read her letters to Jack. How, again she couldn't tell, but she did.
At eight o'clock she was standing in the raised platform over the control room, watching as the first team to embark entered below. It was Colonel Sheppard's team this morning. McKay certainly couldn't be happy about that.
Her suspicions were confirmed as the sound of his loud complaining reached her ears.
Colonel Sheppard spotted her and nodded in greeting. "Morning, Colonel."
Sam nodded back. "Morning, Colonel."
"Are you two ever going to stop doing that?" McKay grumbled. Sheppard shook his head with an amused snort.
He and Sam exchanged a few last words, then the 'Gate was dialed up and the team departed. As the hours passed by two more teams left, everything running smooth and regular as clockwork.
Then Sheppard dialed Atlantis back twelve minutes early and staggered through the 'Gate, covered with mud and blood almost beyond the point of recognition. He looked like he had just come out of a warzone.
And he was alone.
…
Sergeant O'Meara had apparently decided that the best thing he could do with his time was to follow Kathy around a medical research lab.
"You sure you don't have anything better to do?" Kathy asked him after about five minutes of him following her everywhere.
"No," O'Meara replied cheekily. "Nothing better at all." He grinned. "I seem to recall something about an undetermined leave thanks to a certain someone's suggestion."
"So this is your way of thanking me?" Kathy asked.
"Aye!"
Kathy rolled her eyes. "Lotnaidí."
"Agus is breá liom gach duine chun é!" O'Meara replied smugly.
Kathy shook her head and resigned herself to the fact that O'Meara could not be persuaded to leave.
Lt. Houser came skidding into the laboratory. "Doc! Sarge!" he exclaimed. "You need to come to the infirmary!"
O'Meara was already moving. Kathy, with a moment of hesitation, followed.
"What's happened, lad?" O'Meara barked as they all started to run.
"Colonel Sheppard, sir," Houser replied. "Came back through the 'Gate—alone." They entered a transporter, and O'Meara hit the appropriate location with his fist. "He looks like he crawled out of no-man's-land, sir."
O'Meara swore under his breath, then caught Kathy's eye and apologized. "Is that an exaggeration, Lieutenant?"
"No, Sergeant. Those words come from right out of Colonel Carter's mouth."
O'Meara's jaw clenched. "Hell."
He was at the lead when they burst into the infirmary. There seemed to be a whole flock of doctors around John, each with their separate job to do. Again Kathy was taken up by that feeling of uselessness.
The three of them—Kathy, O'Meara and Houser—circled around John and his cloud to join Colonel Carter and Major Lorne.
"Is it bad?" Kathy asked.
Both officers nodded grimly. "I've already sent a request to Earth for a Goa'uld healing device," Carter said.
"Do ye think it'll help, ma'am?" O'Meara asked.
"It's worth a shot."
Kathy looked over and between some of the shifting doctors caught a glimpse of John's mangled flesh. She swallowed.
"That is very bad," she said. "What could have done this?"
Carter shook her head. "I don't know."
Jennifer extracted herself from the crowd of doctors and made her way over to them. "There's a large amount of internal bleeding, and we've managed to stop some of it," she said. "Only one or two of his ribs aren't broken, and about 90 percent of his body is deeply bruised.
"Most of the blood on him isn't his, though," she continued. "While he is seriously injured, very few of the wounds actually broke skin. We're running the blood samples through every test we can think of."
Kathy was listening to every word Jennifer said, but her eyes were firmly fixed on John, trying to piece together his image from the glimpses of him she could only occasionally see.
"And he's still alive?" Houser said wonderingly.
"Somehow. His job is to be tough, thank goodness," Jennifer said. "If we can get that healing device here soon enough, we can pull him through this. We might even be able to get him fit for duty again."
"Let's hope so," Colonel Carter replied.
John permanently out of action? The thought was more than Kathy could comprehend. John without the purpose he had sacrificed everything else to strive for. How could he survive if that was taken away?
"Major, take your team and search the planet Colonel Sheppard returned from," Colonel Carter ordered Lorne. "Go in a cloaked Jumper."
"I can't," Lorne said quietly.
"What?" Colonel Carter turned and stared at him.
"I can't," Major Lorne said again. "My team is dead, remember?"
Colonel Carter's eyes closed, and she swore softly. "Alright then, send Sergeant—"
"Major Crawford, ma'am."
"What?"
"If I can make a suggestion, ma'am, I would recommend Major Crawford's team," Lorne told her.
Colonel Carter's brow furrowed. "They study ruins, Major."
"No, ma'am, their scientist studies ruins. Crawford and his Marines are the among the best shots I've ever seen. They're trained for Black Ops, ma'am—they'd be doing that right now if they hadn't been sent to Atlantis instead."
Colonel Carter nodded. "I'll send them, then."
She left the infirmary. Lorne and the two men from his team stayed, watching with Kathy as the doctors did their work.
Major Crawford's team departed in a cloaked Jumper within fifteen minutes. The Goa'uld healing device was sent from Earth within thirty. It was a good thing John was heavily sedated, or his screams would have waken the dead.
The work went on for hours. At one point O'Meara asked Houser, who looked like he was struggling with keeping his face neutral, if he wanted to leave.
"No, sir," he replied shakily. "It wouldn't be right, sir. To leave the Colonel."
O'Meara nodded. "Just so, Lieutenant."
No one said anything more. Just watched. Eventually the other doctors drove them away, and apprehensively they waited outside until either news came about John or Crawford's team returned.
The 'Gate was dialed in thirty minutes later, and an exhausted Colonel Carter came in to speak with the team of Marines.
"Major, what news do you have?" Colonel Carter asked.
Major Crawford's face projected onto the screen, sent by the internal camera of the Jumper. He looked grim.
"Nothing good, Colonel," he said. "There's a village a few klicks away from the local Stargate, and it's been blown sky-high. A couple of us went in for a closer look, and we're more than certain that it was caused by C4."
An alarmed murmur ran through the control room. C4?
Colonel Carter could barely mask her alarm—and confusion.
"Did you detect any strange gasses or chemicals in the area? Something that could make someone do that?"
"You mean, something that could make Colonel Sheppard's team blow up a whole village? Not sure, ma'am. We're sending all the environmental data to you."
A technician nodded in confirmation as he received the data. He sent it immediately to a waiting lab.
"Is there any sign of Colonel Sheppard's team?" Colonel Carter asked.
"None, Colonel," Crawford replied. "None of any life, for that matter. But there are signs everywhere of battle."
"Keep looking, Major."
Major Crawford nodded and cut the connection.
Sam stood there for a moment, feeling so old and so tired. Was this how General O'Neill had felt whenever one of his teams had fallen into peril? General Hammond when they had been his?
A call came from the infirmary. Colonel Sheppard was awake. Turning and almost stumbling, Sam left the control room and headed back to the infirmary.
Sheppard was looked spitting mad and very bleary-eyed when Sam came in. He glared at her.
"Please explain to me what the heck is going on here?" he snapped.
"We were hoping you could tell us that," Sam replied.
"Colonel Sheppard, do you know where you are?" Dr. Crane, Atlantis' new psychiatrist, was watching the colonel intently.
John looked around slowly. "The infirmary," he answered. "But why?"
Everyone sighed. "Oh no," Sam said.
"I was afraid this might happen," Dr. Crane told her.
John looked from one person to the next in bewilderment. Then an alarmed expression came to his face.
"Where's my team?"
Sam's perspective was hardest to work with here. I wrote her some in another story, "The Serpent's Warning", but this is more than five years later for her, and she's in a totally different position.
Also enjoyed writing some more Chuck (someone please tell me they caught the ehs), and hinting a little at the character I provided as his sister. Because of course Chuck has a sister! :)
Oh, and the translation of the brief conversation Kathy and O'Meara have in Irish is this:
"Pest."
"And everyone loves me for it!"