Hi all! Sorry it's been so long since I updated last, but I couldn't figure out how to write this chapter. I finally got a break-through though, and the rest kind of just flowed.

I know it's been a while since you guys reviewed last so I hope you all remember what I'm talking about in this update's Mailbag. Also, I'm a bit behind the times, here in Oz, so is someone able to tell me what happened to Jason Momoa?

Mailbag:
To KendraC, I have an idea on what's going to happen, but I won't be sure until I finalize it. Don't worry – both of them will be going to Atlantis if I have anything to say about it.

To Asugar, I'm really glad you're liking it. To tell you the truth, I'm actually surprised how well Sierra and Mitchell go together. It was kinda always my intention, but I had no idea it would work out so well. You are correct to assume that it is set in season 7 of SG-1. This following chapter is (as you can tell from the title) set during the events of Lost City, the season finale. About Sierra staying on Earth; as good as it all seems, fairy tales don't always have happy endings.

To Emagen Laile, sorry to keep you waiting so long for this chapter; I hope you haven't given up on me. Thanks heaps for you review. I didn't feel comfortable writing a detailed love-scene in a story based on a show for all ages. I'm glad you like it so far.

To trecebo, I know what you meant – perfectly damaged. I just hope I can keep it consistent and believable. Thanks.

To The City of Atlantis, I agree; they do go surprisingly well together. It just can't last though…

To jasminesmommy, who's black mark? Mitchell's or John's? If you mean that bit at the end where he says he's shipping out again, I kinda intended that to be when he is assigned to McMurdo in Antarctica. So, technically, he already has his black mark. Wasn't that, like, five years before he joined the Atlantis mission?

To bookworm2011, please be patient, I'm gettin' there. Only another three chapters (I hope) until we get there. I'm glad you are liking this so much. Please, tell all your friends!

To baileylak, yes, unfortunately, regs are regs. What do you think SG-1 would have been like without them? Well, technically, due to regs, John should never find out. And I hope that Mitchell isn't stupid enough to tell him, unless he had a death wish.

To ionawolfrider, thanks very much! You have no idea how glad I am to read that. Please stay tuned.

To Aly, thanks heaps. I am hoping for some John/Liz ship too, but, if you haven't guessed by now, I'm hoping to keep this as close to the broadcasted show as possible. But I guess I can throw in some saucy extra scenes. LOL. The twin thing was just an idea that popped into my head a while back. I'm glad you don't object.

And that's the end of the mailbag. Gosh, any more reviews and they'll need a chapter of their own! Thanks all for reviewing. Now, please enjoy the show!


-----Chapter 5 – Lost City-----
The next few months were very different for Sierra. Awkwardness seemed to loom over her like a rain-cloud every time she was within ten feet of Mitchell. His ice-blue gaze seemed to follow her around the ship and she did her best to avoid it. Any conversation that has held between them consisted of three-word questions and one-word answers. There were moments when they stood beside each other in briefings and in the Mess Hall line-up, when Sierra would catch a wiff of his scent and send memories flashing through her mind, raising her heart-rate and making sweat break out on her palms.

But, just like any professional, she never let it get in the way of her job. When she was in the cockpit of their 302, or on red alert, ready for battle, she was able to push aside the memories of their… amazing night together and focus on her duties. If only she could do that all the time.

And so the awkwardness continued for a week or so more, until Yuko noticed that something was up. Upon returning from the locker room one evening, Yuko stood with crossed arms, baring Sierra's way into their shared quarters. Even though there was only the two of them now, neither had felt like moving into the space that Carrie had once occupied.

Sierra raised an eyebrow at her. Yuko wasn't exactly the most imposing figure to be standing in a doorway, as she was a whole head shorter than Sierra, but it didn't stop her trying.

"I'm not moving until you tell me what's going on between you and Mitchell," she stated, rooting herself to the floor.

Sierra blinked but regained her composure quickly. "There is nothing going on."

"Oh, please," Yuko replied. "It's written all over your face. Every time he's around you space out and go all quiet. I'm not an idiot, Sierra."

She sighed. "It's nothing, trust me."

Yuko still didn't seem to believe her. She narrowed her eyes at Sierra. "Did something happen while we were on that alien ship?"

"No."

"Chicago, then?"

Sierra's breath hitched as mention of that place brought back one or two memories she could do without right now. "No," she said firmly, shouldering her way into the room so Yuko couldn't see her face. The younger woman, however, did catch her moment's hesitation.

"Oh, my God," she said, closing the door behind Sierra. "Something did happen. What?" Sierra stayed silent. "Fine, don't tell me; I'll guess then. Um, you had a huge fight; no... That would explain the awkwardness, but not the tension. Hmmm... he kissed you... you kissed him." Sierra stiffened slightly. "I'm close! OK... not kissing, but… more than that... Oh, my God!" She jumped up and clapped her hands over her mouth. "You so did not!"

Sierra clenched her eyes shut as a wave of nauseating guilt washed over her. Regret and shame filled her, making her heart sink to her stomach. She sat down abruptly on her bed and dropped her head into her hands.

"Oh, Sierra," Yuko said gently. "I'm so sorry; I didn't realize…" the young pilot sat down beside her on the bed.

Sierra sighed, her heart filling with dread. "This was never supposed to happen," she said softly. She felt Yuko's hand on her shoulder.

"Well, what did you expect would happen?" she said as kindly as she could.

"I thought that we'd go to Chicago, make small-talk over a drink or two, and then just ignore each other until we got home. I never thought that we'd –" Sierra bit her tongue to stop her outburst.

Yuko patted her on the arm in a comforting way. Sierra sighed again and rubber her forehead. There was a brief silence before Yuko stoke again.

"So," she started. "How was he?"

"Yuko!" Sierra exclaimed, jumping up from the bed.

"What?" Yuko said, innocently. "It was just a question. You know, half the women on this ship think that man is super fine –"

"Well I'm not one of them," Sierra said defensively. "And may I remind you that you're talking about a superior officer?"

Yuko almost laughed as she stood up to face her. "C'mon, Sheppard, are you telling me that you don't think that the major is a major hunk?"

Sierra hesitated before answering. "Yes."

"You're lying, and you know it. Why else would you have done him if you didn't think he was worth it?"

Sierra felt her face flush. Not just at Yuko's choice of words but at the truth in them. Though she would never admit it aloud, Sierra did think that Mitchell was a very good-looking man; and she had seen him naked. The image of Mitchell's firm, toned torso rose in her mind; his strong arms, those perfect pecs and broad shoulders. He was all man. Sierra felt the heat rise in her face again and turned towards the door.

"Hey," Yuko called. "Where are you going?"

"Gym," Sierra replied as she grabbed her towel and stepped into the hall. Yuko's scoff of "Yeah right" was drowned off as she swung the door shut behind her. Truth was she had some steam she had to work off.

She had never intended Yuko to find out, but she had guessed it straight up. She hoped that others wouldn't be able to figure it out as quickly as her roommate did. She sighed again as she entered the gym and spotted Mitchell spotting Banks on the weights. It was all getting way too complicated.

-----XXX-----

A week later and three thousand light-years from Earth, whilst doing a scheduled check on the Prometheus' systems, somehow found Sierra and Mitchell trapped, alone, in a control room for two hours with no light (except for that of their torches), minimal heat and whatever air that had already been in the room. A lock-down had been triggered so the doors were sealed shut, and for some reason the life-support system. Afterwards, they found out that someone had overloaded a major circuit whilst running checks in Engineering.

After about an hour of silently sitting as close as they were comfortable with, Mitchell spoke up. "So…" he said. Sierra glanced sidelong at him after he said nothing after that.

Sierra took a deep breath, which she decided was a mistake after inhaling a lungful of Mitchell's aftershave. Her body ached with the memory of his hands on her skin, the taste of his kiss, and the smell of his hair. "Shit," she whispered under her breath as she kneaded her temples to try to get the memories to go away.

"You OK?" Mitchell asked, shuffling closer to her, concerned. Sierra looked up at him, but his face was mostly in shadow; just like the night in the hotel room. Sierra turned away from him and surged to her feet.

"Yeah," she replied, her throat a little raspy. "I'm fine, just a headache." She heard the major stand as well and come to her side.

"Sierra…" he started but she cut him off.

"Sir," she said, barely a whisper. "Don't."

He sighed. "We gotta talk about this, Sheppard."

"We did already."

"No, we haven't." He came to stand in front of her so she couldn't ignore him. Sierra stepped away from him. Didn't he know what kind of an effect he had on her? "We work together, Sierra," he said, stepping closer to her again until her back met the wall. "Our lives depend on each other and I know that you are a professional… but I don't want there to be this awkwardness between us every other time."

"Can't we just acknowledge what happened," Sierra said looking at a point somewhere on his overalls, "and never speak of it again?"

"These things are never that simple, you gotta know that." Sierra nodded; she did know all too well. He sighed again and pinched the bridge of his nose. "Look, you're a very attractive woman, believe me, and I don't want you to think that I was takin' advantage of you at all…"

Sierra said nothing. Of course she knew that he hadn't taken advantage of her – it had been her that initiated it. Mitchell pressed his lips together. He gave her a look that spoke volumes to her and turned away to lean against the nearest console.

Sierra sighed gently and leant her head back against the wall and slid down to sit on the floor. "This is all my fault," she said. Mitchell glanced over his shoulder at her. "I was the one who kissed you; both times. You shouldn't blame yourself. It's my fault." She smiled lightly at the memory of the conversation she had with Yuko the other day. "I couldn't keep my feelings in check."

"Feelings?"

Sierra looked up at Mitchell, her gaze sliding off his face. "Yeah; I guess you could say I got it bad." She looked down at her feet. "You're a very… appealing man."

Mitchell nearly laughed. "Appealing?"

Sierra shrugged. "Appealing, handsome, sexy, hot – pick one." Sierra watched as he blushed slightly. "Is this what you meant by talking about it?"

Mitchell laughed lightly and sat next to Sierra on the floor. "Close," he said. They sat in silence for another hour before light and ventilation were finally restored and the doors opened.

-----XXX-----

Another week or so passed and Sierra and Yuko talked more about what had happened in Chicago; good girly talks. She had managed to convince Yuko to keep her newly discovered gossip to herself, but Sierra knew that it wouldn't last long, especially on a ship this size; they all practically lived in each others pockets as it was. And their squadron was becoming a tight-knit unit. Sierra knew that she had no worries about Mitchell telling anyone – his career was on the line here, too, so if he breathed a word of their night together to anyone, then it would quickly find its way to the ears that mattered. At least one good thing had come out of her "talk" with Mitchell: she didn't feel as awkward around him.

Then came the day when they received the call to stations by none other than General Hammond. Anubis was on his way to Earth and apparently the President had asked him to do this one last thing before he retired for good. Instead of meeting the enemy in space as they came out of hyperspace, they were instead heading to Antarctica to cover SG-1 who had found something interesting on the barren field of ice. Sierra stood with the other pilots as Mitchell took them through the pre-flight briefing.

"Doesn't matter where they are, or what it is they're doing," he said to Lieutenant Ash when he questioned their mission. "It's SG-1 and we're going to cover their asses."

Sierra could feel it in her gut that this could possibly be the biggest battle they would have been in to date. She glanced around at the people around her and could see the anticipation in their faces. She made sure to commit every face and name to her memory. For the last six months or more she had fought with and beside all of them (both verbally and physically), bled with them, ate with them, and was willing to die with them. She couldn't remember when she had worked with such a fine squad of pilots. She turned to Yuko and tossed a smile at her as she headed to her plane.

"For Carrie," she said.

"For Carrie," Sierra repeated and knocked her helmet against the other woman's. It was then that Mitchell turned to her.

"You're not flyin' with me on this one," he said.

"What?" she blurted, momentarily dumbfounded. "But, Sir, I'm your co-pilot – I have to –"

"You're flying lead with Tander – Jones is in the Infirmary still, and Green's put in for shore-leave."

Sierra raised her eyebrow. "His wife had the baby?"

"Yeah," he said as he adjusted the straps on his helmet. "Banks is flying with me and Tander's your co-pilot."

Sierra frowned. "Why not just team Banks and Tander together? They've sorted out their –"

"Because this way, you get to fly stick," he said cutting her off. "I've already approved it with the general. I'm promoting you, Sheppard. Shut up and take it."

Sierra blinked at him. "Even after I screwed up during that test run?"

Mitchell nodded. "You've proved that you have overcome that, and it's made you stronger. You deserve this, Sheppard. Now get in that plane; we gotta be airborne in five."

Sierra nodded and snapped a salute in place, which he returned followed by a small nod. Sierra dropped her hand before pulling on her helmet. When she looked up again, he was already heading back to his 302. "Sir!" she called after him. He turned back to her and she jogged to his side.

"This doesn't have anything to do with… Chicago… does it?"

"No," he replied, with a faint smile. "You deserve this, Sheppard. Now get your bird in the air." With that he pulled his helmet on and strode away from her.

"Yessir," Sierra said, barely audible above the roar of engines and the clatter of engineers and ground crew scurrying about her.

She stood, momentarily dazed as the calamity of around her reached symphonic levels. This was something she had been waiting for for years. She hadn't been promoted since… well, since after Afghanistan. One who worked at a desk did not get promoted quickly at her level.

"I have the best job in the world," she said to herself as she headed towards her own 302 as the first of her squad began to scramble. She climbed into the cockpit and nodded to Tander, who was beginning his pre-flight checks.

"Congratulations, ma'am," he shouted to her as she lowered the cockpit canopy. "And welcome aboard."

"Thanks, Tander. How's it coming?"

"All systems are in the green; we're ready to go."

"Right." Sierra cleared herself with launch control and soon they were set. She punched the throttle forward and shot out of the hanger and joined the rest of her squad in the air. For the first time ever, Sierra got the front seat view out of one of these things, and she loved it. "I hope you're not too much of a back-seat driver, Tander."

Her new co-pilot laughed. "No, ma'am," came his reply over the comms. "My girlfriend is, but. That's why I always let her drive."

Soon the whole squad was in the air and Sierra's heart was racing. It was a mixture of excitement and dread. She knew better than most of these young pilots exactly what it was like to go into a dog-fight like this was sure to be, and had hoped that she would never have to experience that again. But she had known that this could be a possibility when she left her classroom, and only had herself to blame.

Still, she was in the seat of the most advanced (and most expensive) fighter jet on the planet, about to come against an alien enemy and do speeds at close to 7 Gs and not feel a thing. She had heard from someone that Colonel O'Neill once said that the F-302 handled like a Cadillac on the ground. She now had the privilege to say that it handled the same in the air.

Smatterings of comm chatter broke into her thoughts as she and the other pilots began to prepare themselves for the fight ahead of them. She did her checks, the routines she had seen Mitchell do a hundred times before, and announced her readiness with the other pilots.

Then ahead of them, a tiny blip appeared on the radar – a cargo ship. SG-1. And beyond them, a swarm of death-gliders approaching much too quickly. Judging by their trajectory, they were headed straight for them – and the cargo ship.

Anticipation made her pulse race. Soon Mitchell gave the order to engage. She pressed the trigger on the stick in front of her and loosed a target-guided missile into the death gliders that were hurtling towards them. The sky was peppered with explosions and shrapnel. Then suddenly the remaining gliders were on them. Sierra swerved to her right to avoid a glider dead in front of her, but the 302 beside her wasn't so lucky. She struggled to keep the ship stable as the explosion shook them. Swearing under her breath, she squeezed off a couple rounds of bullets.

She made it through the swarm unharmed and circled round to take out a glider that had taken aim at Yuko and her pilot. She saw the energy blast from a glider whiz past her own ship, just missing the wing.

"We got company!" Tander yelled.

"I can see that!" Sierra called back as she banked to the left and dived towards the icy surface of what Sierra had to remind herself was her home planet. She skimmed across the ground, twisting in her seat to try and see the glider pursuing them. She banked right again around an iceberg and met a dead end. Her sharp reflexes allowed her to initiate a climb that slammed them both back into their seats. The cleared the wall of ice, but the glider following them wasn't so lucky. Sierra circled around to see the fiery wreckage of the glider before guiding her plane back towards the battle.

"Nice job, ma'am," Tander said as Sierra selected a glider that was pursuing Redmond.

"Thanks Tander. What's our status?" Sierra could have checked herself but she wanted to keep her focus on the battle.

"All engines are in the green, fuel is at 70% and we still have nine missiles left."

"Great, let's kick some butt."

"Yes, ma'am,"

Sierra fired off another missile at her target but swore loudly when it was intercepted by another glider. Sierra powered towards the fighter, intent on taking out the ship tailing her fellow pilot. It was then that she noticed an Al'kesh heading towards the cargo ship that SG-1 was in. Sierra heard Major Carter request assistance and then heard Mitchell respond. She took out the glider tailing Redmond and turned to watch the burning fragments of the Al'kesh rain down into the snow. It was then that she noticed that Mitchell's ship was smoking.

For some unknown reason panic had begun to rise in Sierra's chest. She opened her mouth to ask Mitchell if he was alright but froze as his ship was hit by a weapon's blast. Through the ringing in her ears she heard Mitchell report a mayday and she watched as his ship began a steady dive towards the ground.

Tander's voice filled her ears, telling her that there were two gliders locking their weapons systems onto them. Sierra immediately pushed the feelings aside and concentrated on the two ships coming at her. She executed a quick reverse-dive, flipping the ship back over upright again. She fired off two missiles in quick succession, both slamming into the ship on her left. This shook the other enough to break their weapons-lock. Sierra then managed to squeeze off another few rounds before it breezed past. Sierra looked back to see that the pilot had lost control of his ship and it was going down.

"Nice shootin', ma'am," Tander said from behind her. Sierra barely heard it; her attention immediately turned to Mitchell. She flew low and scanned the horizon for his ship, sure that it would have hit the ground by now. And then she saw it: a column of smoke and snow above a small debris field. Sierra angled her ship towards it.

"What are you doing, captain?" Tander asked. "We don't even know if he's alive."

"Why do you think I'm going, Tander?" she said with dread in her heart. "I gotta know." The last words were uttered so low that no one could hear.

Sierra did a quick check to make sure that none of the enemy ships were following her, before making a quick pass over Mitchell's ship.

"Ma'am," Tander said to her. Looking down she noticed that he had turned the comms off. Only she could hear him. "I know this seems like a good idea now, but you gotta think about the consequences."

"I thought you weren't a backseat driver, Tander?"

"I'm only saying what I think, ma'am." Sierra landed the plane on the rough terrain as best she could. It didn't stop Tander wincing as the metal creaked and began to shrink in the rapidly cooling temperatures. She then taxied the 302 as near to Mitchell's plane as she could before it got bogged in the thick snow.

"Look, Ma'am, I want to help the major as much as you do, but I don't think –"

"Tander, you're not going to be liable for this, OK. I'm acting on my own and you're following orders. When I get out, you're to rejoin the battle."

"You're gonna stay here?"

Sierra nodded as she pulled out her emergency pack. "Someone's gotta make sure he's alive. And I'm not going to jeopardize your job too." She leant over to pop the canopy.

"Mitchell's gonna be furious at you," Tander said.

"I know." She hit the manual release and let the freezing Antarctic air into the cock-pit. Gasping at the sudden change of temperature, Sierra unfastened her mask and harness, and threw her leg over the side of the plane.

As her feet hit the ground, she bit down against the blistering cold. She waved her arm above her head indicating to Tander to take off. As the jet powered away from her she shivered started to climb up the torn wing of the 302. she reached over and hit the emergency release for the cockpit lid. It jerkily lifted, its gears starting to freeze in the icy wind, the same wind that went straight through her uniform and into her bones. Sierra wore no protective clothing, just her thermal jumpsuit, standard issue boots, and her helmet. She knew that the temperature was somewhere around -30 and she also knew that she wouldn't last long in this cold.

Sierra levered herself up to the level of the cockpit, tossing the emergency survival pack in and looked in at Mitchell and Banks. Mitchell's head had slumped forward to rest against the opposite side of the cockpit, not moving, and Banks' open eyes were dead and lifeless. Sierra stared at him.

That could have been me, she thought her breath hitching. She managed to tear her gaze away from Banks and reached in to press her fingers to the side of Mitchell's neck. There was a pulse, but it was weak and thready.

One glance at him told her he was in trouble. Sierra had no doubt that he had sustained injury in the crash and could see blood splattered all around the cockpit. The smashed cockpit window had left cuts across his face, and his lips were already cracking and blistering in the cold. If he was going to survive this cold she had to get him warm and protected from the cold. At that second a transmission can bursting through the speakers on their headsets.

"Thousands of bright… I don't know! They're coming from the surface. I don't know what they are. They're cutting the enemy fleet to shreds! My God, it's beautiful!"

Sierra looked up through the blizzard of snow and ice that was beginning to roll in as the sun set, and saw a trail of golden light shooting up from the approximate location of SG-1's cargo ship.

"Yes!" she cried as she saw it. "They did it!"

A groan of pain pulled her gaze back down to Cameron. His eyes were open, but unseeing. She could see a faint smile on his lips as he listened to the voices over the radio, cheering and celebrating as the balls of light destroyed Anubis' fleet. And then his eyes slowly closed again.

"Cameron!" she cried out, shaking him by his collar. He winced and scrunched his eyes shut. Sierra immediately let go, afraid that she might cause him more injury.

"Hold on, Sir!" she called to him as she dug into the survival pack and brought out some heat packs and a space blanket. She swung her legs inside the cockpit, and placed the heat packs around him; under his armpits, between his thighs and behind his neck. She then unrolled the blanket and folded herself inside the cockpit, right next to him so as to lend her body heat to him. It was surprisingly roomy in the cockpit, with Cameron smooshed up against one side. She could see blood staining his side, most likely from a piece of shattered glass or the corner of the control console on that side of the cockpit.

Sierra prayed that he wouldn't bleed to death before they were rescued, and tucked the space blanket around them as best she could. She slid down the visors on both their helmets to protect their faces, and tucked her head in against his chest.

"Please, God, let this work," she whispered to herself as she suppressed a shiver. Reaching over Mitchell, she pressed a button and the shattered cockpit canopy dropped down over them, even though it offered very little protection from the icy winds.

She knew that if they survived this, then she would be reprimanded. She didn't care right now. She knew that Mitchell would be mad at her when he found out that she had risked her career trying to save his ass, but it was already done.

Biting cold nipped at her exposed skin; the back of her neck and where her gloves didn't quite meet her jump-suit. She felt the major shudder beside her, accompanied by a painful moan. Sierra briefly felt panic brimming in her chest, sure that he was deteriorating faster than a rescue was arriving. The wind had rolled in quicker than she thought possible and their chances of survival were falling fast. She could tell that the temperature had fallen at least ten degrees in only a matter of minutes. That, and the fact that Mitchell was bleeding out.

Sierra mentally slapped herself for doing this; abandoning the fight to attempt a fool-hardy chance of a rescue, without the proper equipment; now that was something her brother would do. It wasn't normally like her to do things like this, especially when there were people up in the sky that needed her help and could still be saved.

She felt Mitchell shiver again and realized that heat was escaping too quickly from the blanket and that a change of position was needed. Sierra swung her legs over his, sitting squarely in his lap. She was then able to nudge one shoulder in under his armpit and wrap her other hand around his neck, effectively trapping the heat between them. Her spare hand tucked the space blanket in closer to them

Sierra closed her eyes, praying with all her might. Her mother had always taken them to church when they were young, but she, Sierra, had never really believed in God. Now, with her CO's life, and hers, in anybody's hands, she prayed that someone would find them; and find them soon.

-----XXX-----

The next thing Sierra knew, she heard the sound of a ship hovering over their heads. Sierra cracked her eyes open, squeezing them shut again when they were hit with bright search lights. The din of the engines was enormous, but very distinct: the main engines of the Prometheus.

Relief flooded through her as she realized that they were about to be rescued. They would be using the heat sensors to try and locate their life signatures. But would they be able to discern them from the surrounding ice. She tried to move her arm, but her limbs were numb. No! she screamed in her head. She struggled, trying to move, but her joints refused.

"Wait!" she silently cried, her lips chapped and her throat parched. "We're here!" Sierra concentrated on moving her arm, getting the blood heated and moving again.

Suddenly, as though a switch was thrown, feeling began to return to her muscles and heat spread throughout her body, emanating from her diaphragm. It spread quickly, heating her skin and making her shiver at the cold wind that blew over them. She raised her arm over her head and waved it back and forth. She waved and waved until she suddenly became weak again, her arm falling uselessly to her side. A sweat broke out on her forehead and suddenly the jump-suit was way too warm. She felt like she was on fire, her heart beat quickening and the blood pounding in her ears. Her breathing quickened, the hotness of her breath condensing immediately as it left her body, leaving droplets of moisture on the inside of her helmet.

The heat inside her body was so intense that she could feel little else. She didn't even feel the change in environment as the Prometheus beamed her and Mitchell into the Infirmary; if anything it got hotter. Soon, pain began to pierce her body in random places, and then she felt the searing pain all over. Awareness began to return to her and she felt cool hands on her skin accompanied by rough material. Someone seemed to be toweling her dry. Sierra opened her eyes and saw several nurses standing over her with drying towels, and a very baffled HMO that was prepping a needle to draw blood from her arm.

She also saw a large tub of water not far away. She also noticed that the fever that had made her blank out earlier was gone. She felt warm and comfortable, if not a little chilled by the cool, filtered air in the Infirmary. She did feel very weak and drained, as well as dehydrated, and simply lay still as the nurses dressed her in tacky, powder blue scrubs.

Soon all the nurses left and the doctor approached. He took more blood from her arm and smiled at her as he passed her a glass of water with a straw. Sierra took a few sips, but couldn't manage any more. She swallowed the water as best she could but still choked on it. The nurses returned, followed by General Hammond.

"General!" Sierra rasped, attempting to salute, an action hindered by the amount of blankets the nurses were now wrapping around her.

"At ease, Captain," Hammond replied. The warm and fuzzy vibe that Sierra usually got from the general was absent at the moment and his face wasn't one of pride. It was full of disappointment. Sierra felt the familiar feeling of shame that usually came when her father gave her that look. She had let him down.

"Sir, I can explain –" she started.

"No need, Captain," said the general, cutting her off. "While your actions were honorable, you willingly abandoned your post and disobeyed your standing orders. That is grounds for court-marshal."

"Yessir." Sierra lowered her eyes. She knew that arguing would not make her situation any better. The only thing she could do now was accept her punishment as gracefully as possible.

General Hammond sighed. "You are, until further notice, under house arrest and will not leave this Infirmary until we arrived back in the States." The general turned to leave.

"Sir," Sierra called. "How is Major Mitchell?"

Hammond had stopped in the door of the Infirmary. "It's too soon to tell. The doctors are saying that if he had've been out in the weather much longer, he wouldn't have made it. You saved his life." With that he turned and headed back to the Bridge.

A warm, satisfied feeling began to override her feeling of failure at his words. She had saved the life of her commanding officer and there was no greater satisfaction.

-----XXX-----

The Prometheus waited in its position for another few hours or so as they waited for SG-1 to finish whatever they were doing in the outpost they found under the ice. During that time, Hammond placed two guards at the doorway to the Infirmary to watch Sierra, while the doctor decided to hold her for observation. No matter how many tests they ran and how much blood they took, they still couldn't explain what had caused Sierra to get such a severe – and brief – fever. According to all the blood cultures she had no infections or diseases. They had to send her blood and DNA to a separate lab to find out if it was something genetic, but for the mean time she had been given a clean bill of health.

Mitchell on the other hand was a different matter.

Sierra stood next to his cot, her arm wrapped around her I.V. drip (the doctor determined that she still needed more fluids) and watched as the spiked line showed the beat of his heart. His neck had been braced, his wounds cleaned and dressed, his injuries scanned and X-rayed, and the prognosis delivered: broken bones, damaged spinal column, internal bleeding, severe concussion and hypothermia. There was a definite chance that he may never walk agian. He was hooked up to more machines than her mom had been during the last stages of the cancer that took her life.

Sierra tried her hardest to look him in the face, but her eyes slid off his bruised and battered features. Instead she tried to hold his hand, but she couldn't even manage that. Guilt filled her and tore at her heart. This was her fault. She should have been flying with him; she would have been able to keep him safe! She sighed, leaning heavily against the cold metal I.V. pole.

It was now that she realized that she was more like her twin brother than she wanted to admit. John had always held himself responsible for all those around him. Whenever something went wrong, John had always managed to find a way to blame himself. It was part of his nature. And apparently genetic.

Sierra sat down on a stool next to Mitchell's bed and dropped her head into her hands. An hour ago, when the nurses had wheeled Mitchell's gurney into the space next to hers, the doctor had informed her that Captain Adam Pierce and Captain Yuko Gander's 302 had been shot down in the last moments of the battle. He also told her that four other 302s had been destroyed during the battle, not including Mitchell and Banks. Thankfully, Tander had made it out alright and had come by to visit her earlier. He met her eyes once, glanced at Mitchell and then stared at his knees until she told him to go. Though he never said it, Sierra could feel his blame directed at her.

Sierra looked up at Mitchell and finally found the strength to look him in the face. She watched as his chest rose and fell with each breath and reached out and gently clasped his hand.

Realization dawned on her. She had made this decision; everything she had done since taking this job had led her to this point – the point where it was all about to be taken away from her. She tried to imagine her future and failed to see past arriving in Washington DC for her court marshal.

At that moment, Major Carter, Dr. Jackson and Teal'c of SG-1 walked ('wandered' was a better term for it) into the Infirmary. Dr. Jackson and Teal'c bobbed their heads in her direction as acknowledgment of her presence, but seemed dazed and exhausted. Major Carter looked like she was on the brink of bawling her eyes out.

There was no small talk as the nurses checked over the remaining SG-1 members, the elephant in the room not spoken of due to the obvious sensitivity of the absence of their leader. Sierra wondered if they felt as bad as she did.

As soon as SG-1 were aboard, the Prometheus left the area. It was a relatively quick flight to US Air Space and within an hour and a half Mitchell was being transferred to the Military Hospital in Colorado Springs. Sierra herself was taken back to the SGC and placed in her quarters with a guard on her door. After a debriefing with Dr. Elizabeth Weir, the civilian who had replaced General Hammond as Head of the SGC, Sierra was allowed to move about the base. Restrictedly, of course. She was allowed in the Mess Hall, the gym, the locker rooms and the Infirmary. Almost all other places were blocked off to her and the permissions on her access card had been changed. She had also seemed to pick up a groupie in the form of a staff sergeant.

She wasn't allowed in any of the labs, or anywhere near the Gate Room, the Control Room and the Briefing Room. There were also whole levels that were cut off to her.

She sighed as she tried to push the darkened button for Carter's lab. The lift refused to move. She sighed again and pushed the lit button for the gym instead. She had wanted to go see Major Carter to see if she was alright after what had happened in Antarctica, what with her CO being trapped under the ice with an alien library of knowledge in his head. Sierra guessed she might know how the major felt. Instead she headed to the gym to work out.

As Sierra showered afterwards, she wondered how long this would last. How long would she have to be followed by a SF everywhere she went? What would be the result of her trial in front of the JAG? Would Mitchell recover? Only time would tell. And Sierra defiantly didn't believe in fate.


A/N: Please watch this space for more information – coming soon. Just kidding. Hope you liked it; there's heaps more to come! Please review.