Nobody had dared say a word when we woke the next morning. It had been deadly silent in the taxi between me and Rodney, who was still holding a grudge against me for not telling him about my possible murder, even though John had tried to get us to say communicate. If Rodney was going to be childish however, I wasn't going to waste my time on him. I had bigger fish to fry. The flight was even more tense since two of my team had never been on a plane before. Ronon was already rigid with tension, his senses on high alert. Planes weren't like jumpers and he and Teyla were both clearly very uncomfortable. Staring out the window I tried to mentally prepare myself for what I was about to walk into. The clouds rolled past us lazily in tufts of white, the occasional bird flying below us would be scared off by the roar of the engines. The constant hum of machinery in my ears served as a good distraction from, well everything really, but still I couldn't shake the images from my mind, I was stuck reliving the memory over and over again. Alex had deserved so much better than she got, she was a hero. I should know, I was on the plane that day.

Another crow of delight escaped her lips, that had stretched into a wicked grin. Coupled with her smug expression, the grin managed to anger Ryder and Holt enough to get them to walk away from the poker table, pfft, men. Smirking at her, I held my hand in the air and she high fived me with pinpoint accuracy and a slap that was loud enough to be a sonic boom. But that was just Alex, she liked playing rough.
"Another round?" she asked with a tilt of her head, dirty blonde hair falling in it's ponytail to the side.
"How about no? You think I'm a fool? You've already took this months wages off of me!" I laughed. She grinned and shot me a wink. In all my time here I had never seen Alex frown, not once. That was probably why her call sign was smiler. She leaned forward, elbows resting on her knees and shook her head at me, chewing the minty gum in her mouth while we basked in the sweltering heat.
"Life's good huh? Money in my pocket, fresh fruit and veg supply in the mess, heck we might even see some combat." she shook her head a little and I nodded in agreement. Things had been quiet the last few days, boringly so.
"You can kiss my arse." I told her ruefully. "Further away those terrorists stay the better, I don't wanna tangle with them unless I have to, too damn hot to be fighting out here." I added. She snorted, wiping beads of sweat from her brow with the sleeve of her khaki coloured uniform.
"You can say that again." she agreed, her thick country accent coming through. Fanning ourselves with the poker cards we sat in comfortable silence for a while before the radio crackled to life,
"James, Withers, get up in the air. We have a ground team in need of evac with valuable cargo, they seem to have acquired a WMD." Our eyes widened slightly,
"Sir are you serious?" Alex asked, disbelief clouding her voice,
"Does it sound like I am joking? Get your asses in the sky and get our boys home." snapped General Stone.

That was when we got the call. Turns out it wasn't a WMD at all, it was just a fake look alike, the real one was still out there somewhere at the time, god knows where and it's never been detonated since so we presume it's merely in storage somewhere, waiting to be used. Shaking my head clear of the thoughts I took a long sip from my water bottle, trying to ignore the ache that was beginning in my chest. The familiar ache of grief. Leaning my head back against the headrest I was unable to push away the rest of the memory like I had so badly wanted too.

Tac vest on, AK47 clipped to me and a glock in my thigh holster later and I was sitting in the back with a team of five. Leading us today would be Colonel H Foster. Alex was upfront with co-pilot Ashley Suede, he was a good guy really, a trained field medic to. My leg was bouncing up and down with nerves, adrenaline was already beginning to seep through my body and I clutched my gun a little tighter. I didn't know any of the people around me that well, I only knew four of their names but that didn't mean I wanted to see any of them dead. We were all dressed the same, khaki coloured camouflage uniform and heavy duty armour on. We were heading into a war zone. The ground team had supposedly found a WMD in some abandoned warehouse on the outskirts of a small town called, Khewa. It was a rural place with little in the way of farmland there to grow crops. Just sand and sun and little concrete huts mostly. That's if they were lucky. We'd recently helped them build the concrete huts up instead of the mud ones they used to have as some sort of agreement of friendship between us and the citizens. The thrum of the blades above us was loud, roaring in my ears and thudding like a bass line while we waited. My sunglasses were on and the room looked dark as a hole from hell but I didn't mind. We felt the small bump that told us we had landed, and the ping of bullets ricocheting off of metal let us know our arrival hadn't gone unspotted. The back door lowered and my heart began to pound as we stood ready. Alex had put us down near a crumbling brick wall that had probably once cordoned off the warehouse and we ran for cover behind it. One man, Miller, dropped into the sand before he could make it and the unnamed guy had to drag him back into the back of the Chinook chopper. The bullets were pinging and smashing into the brickwork, the chopper, everywhere but my body thankfully. Grabbing my mirror I held it in the air, using the reflection to spot the enemy and our ground team.
"Sir! Ground team is to the right hand side by the old security box!" I called out over the gunfire. The Colonel nodded at me.
"Ground team this is evac squad one do you copy?" he shouted into the radio. We popped our heads up and fired off a round. "What kind of situation are you in?" he shouted. The reply was full of static and a breathless voice replied with the dreaded word, wounded. The Colonel looked at us, "On my command we lay down coverfire and give the ground team time to reach us, then we pick a person and escort them to the chopper, clear?" we nodded obediently, "Now! Laying down cover fire, ground team move your ass!" he barked.

The firefight was one of the worst of my life. The bullets were so close I could feel them whipping above my head and hear the whistle as they passed above us and around us. The heat haze was making the enemy look like they were shifting and we only managed to take two out of nine down. The ground team took at least ten minutes to make it over, carrying their two wounded men. Things just went from bad to worse once they did finally reach us. There was the usual deafening roar of gunfire,nI'd learned to block that one out, however explosions were another thing entirely.

There was a shimmer, like light reflecting on metal. Narrowing my eyes I pulled out my binoculars, aiming them at at the shimmer I could see through the heat haze. My eyes widened and panic flooded my system,
"Holy shit they've got a bazooka! We've gotta move!" I hollered at the top of my lungs. My scream had pulled us all into action. Two of the younger captains had popped up to lay down cover fire, the rest of us were holding up the two wounded men and were about to spring towards the heliopter when we heard it. That goddamn whoosh of air that sent a shiver down my spine. It was a free for all after that, every man and woman for themselves. The bazooka had hit close to us. The heat rolled from the explosion, boiling my blood and bringing out sweat on my skin. The blastwave knocked us all off of our feet, buried us in rubble, underground pipes that had once carried water and sewage burst up above ground, the shards of rusted metal impaling three people in lethal places.
"Tegan! Tegan you have to move!" my ears were muffled from the explosion, I could barely hear a thing but I was aware of the sharp feminine voice, cutting through the fog in my brain. A sharp pain was splicing through my ribs and something warm was spilling down my leg. "Tegan! Move! Now!" suddenly, Colonel Foster was above me, gripping my shoulder tightly and hauling me to my feet, the pain in my ribs grew worse and I cried out before I could bite my tongue. "Move soldier!" he barked, shoving me towards the helicopter.

Everything after that is a little blurred, somehow I managed to get myself into a seat. Out of the five of us that had gone to pick up the four man team needing evac only three of us were currently alive. The young private across from us looked shell shocked, I'll never forget his face. Ashen, pale and shaking like a leaf he just kept muttering under his breath, three names, the names of the friends he had lost. We ourselves had lost three of the evac team. But I wasn't doing so good myself. Vaguley I remember the co-pilot coming back to check on us, he had to lie me down, use some of the metal boards from the floor to splint my side. Three of my ribs were broken and he estimated at least another two were cracked. I'd really done a number on myself. As if that wasn't bad enough he then had to shred his jacket (and my trouser leg) to pull out what shrapnel he could from my leg and dump a bunch of iodine on it to clean off some of the brick dust. I was loosing blood fast and he had tied a strip of cloth just below my knee to act as a tourniquet. Absent mindedly, I reached down and ran my fingers over the fabric of my jeans, the scars burned slightly. The flight was shaky, shakier than normal and it ended with a crash.

The turbulence was getting worse. Foster had gone up front to see what was going on, leaving me with the young private who was still muttering under his breath. Waves of agony were consistently rolling over me and I whimpered pathetically. Every breath sent a sharp stabbing pain through my ribs and my leg was starting to go numb. At least it was relief from the torturous feeling of my blood seeping from my body. The turbulence just kept growing worse and suddenly there was shouting from the cockpit. The young private jumped violently and he began to rock back and forth, the poor kid had really been messed up by the whole day. Well, it had been one fuck up after another. The shouting was growing louder,
"You cannot land this helicopter!"
"It's my job! Let me do it!"
"You'll kill us all!"
"Let go of the-"
"We're losing altitude!" the cry of panic had come from the co-pilot who poked his head around the door and looked at me with a troubled frown, "Help me strap her in." he demanded, gripping me under the arms and heaving. The young private wasn't in any condition to do so. It was up to me to push myself up with one leg, gritting my teeth I tried to push back the tears that were burning in my eyes. The co-pilot strapped me in tightly, muttering apologies for every wince I made. He hurried back to the cockpit and Foster was forcefully shoved out. He strapped himself in and grumbled about getting us all killed.
"S-Sir? What's going on?" I asked breathlessly, black spots were beginning to cloud my vision. Foster gave me a glance, the most genuinely sympathetic glance he had ever given me.
"The less you know the better." he'd replied.

The impact had been bad. It vibrated through our bones, made my insides shake and my teeth chatter. My screams had mingled with the young private's and I had no idea who was louder. Foster had suddenly stopped screaming and the only sound we could hear was the groan of metal, boots hurrying on hard packed dirt outside and shouting voices that were fading in and out of my muffled hearing. Before I blacked out I could remember the last conversation I'd had with her, the young private screaming in the background.

Alex came out of the cockpit, coughing on the dust that had sprung up all around. She limped forward, her hand crimson red and slippery as she collapsed to her knees infront of me, gripping my hand tightly. A weak smile crossed her lips,
"Wow ,we really messed th-this one up huh?" she laughed once. My bleary eyes tracked her hand back and I saw it, the huge ass piece of glass (no doubt shattered from the windscreen during the bazooka explosion) was lodged between her ribs. Her raspy breathing was a tell tale sign of her injury.
"N-no, Al-"
"It's okay Tea." she cut me off with a weak chuckle, slumping forward a little, "Ju-just hold my h-hand." she struggled to speak around her ragged breaths and tears stung my eyes. There were sparks from the back of the chopper where the doors were. They were using a a blowtorch to get in to us but I knew they wouldn't make it in time. Swallowing thickly, I winced when my ribs ached.
"No it's n-not, stay with me Alex, s-stay with me." I whispered pleadingly. She let her head rest against my thigh,
"Okay j-just, just a c-couple of minut-tes." she breathed, eyes fluttering. My hand gripped hers harder.
"No!" my voice cut through the dust clogged air like a knife, and my screaming was the only thing filling the silence, even the young private had stopped by now.

They'd finally broken through the door five minutes later, unstrapped me from my chair. I'd slumped to the floor before any could catch me, crying out in agony and screaming as I drowned in grief. Foster had a pretty bad head injury that had knocked him out cold and the young private had been escorted by medical staff out of the helicopter. They were trying to pry my fingers from Alex's hand I remembered, but I didn't want to let her go, they'd had to sedate me in the end. Inhaling sharply when the sun broke through the cold and burned my eyes I shot to my feet. My team looked at me, John's gaze lingering the longest. I realised it was because I was hyperventilating and there were tears tracking down my cheeks.
"I'll be right back." I muttered, furiously swiping at my eyes and stalking down the isle to the bathroom. I locked myself in, pressed my back against the door and slid to the floor. Body trembling, I clawed my way to the sink, struggling to breathe. It felt like something was constricting my chest. There was a soft knock on the door as I splashed some water on my face. Gripping the edges of the sink tightly I struggled to find my voice to say something, anything.
"Tegan, let me in." I recognised the voice. Deep and soothing I let it wash over me and ease some of the tightness in my chest. My fingers shakily fumbled with the lock and slowly I managed to slide it backwards, letting John slip in and swiftly lock the door behind him. It was cramped in the small bathroom and it suddenly grew very warm. John sighed, leaning back against the door as he watched me calm my breathing. His brown eyes absorbed everything and he seemed to weigh each word carefully before he spoke. "You know...you don't have to go through this. Let the SGC handle it." he suggested. He flinched back from my fiery gaze, seeing the anger blazing in my eyes he knew he'd said the wrong thing.
"And what? Let him continue to destroy other peoples lives? Watch as he tears apart everything I worked so hard to rebuild! I can't let this go John he ruined everything for me!" I snapped. John held his hands up placatingly.
"I know, I know." he answered, a frown marring his features. His touseled black hair grew even messier when he ran a hand through it. "But...sometimes revenge doesn't always give us the results we want." his voice was soft and I felt more wetness trickle down my cheeks. Why was I crying so much today?!

Inhaling deeply, I caught John's natural apple scent and it made me even more confused. What was happening between us really? The stupid butterflies, the casual glances I kept seeing him sneak at me, the comforting effect his presence alone had on me. Was I reading into this too much? I had no clue anymore, I didn't understand half of it. All I knew was that his presence was soothing, comforting, and I felt vulnerable. We both froze when I launched myself at him, my arms wrapping tightly around his waist and I buried my face in his chest so I wouldn't have to see his digusted expression. Perhaps I expected him to shove me off, push me away and yell at me, but he didn't. Instead he pulled me closer, and his strong arms securely held me against him. Shoulders shaking, I realised I was doing something I hadn't done for years. I was having a breakdown, a full on emotional kind of breakdown with tears and sobbing, the works. John's shirt was soaked with my tears but he didn't let me go, instead he just squeezed me tighter. "Tegan this won't be easy. When the times comes, can you really pull that trigger?" he whispered into my hair. He pushed me back, just enough so he could grip my chin and tilt my face towards him. My eyes met his, his strong jaw had clenched slightly and there was conflict in his eyes. He didn't seem to know what to say to me anymore, but the concern was clear.
"I don't know John." I confessed shakily. His brown eyes studied me, and I was once again drowning in those chocolate orbs. "If...if I can't...will-will you..." I trailed off and he nodded.
"I'll do it." he promised me. Releasing a sigh of relief, I felt my fingers loosen their grip on his shirt. His hand slipped across my cheek and cupped it gently, a determined frown settling on his features.

John's head dipped towards mine and before I could jerk away he had pressed his lips to mine in a swift but sweet kiss. We both pulled back pretty fast but neither of us let each other go. John was studying my reaction, waiting to see my response and so far it was just wide eyes and a very blank mind. He'd erased every thought that had been running through my head, every wall I had placed between us and every barrricade I'd put up dissolved, and I let my fingers curl tighter into his shirt again, pulling him closer to kiss him once more. John was quick to relax into it, the tension leaving his muscles and his hand skating up my back in a way that made me shiver to tangle in my hair. His lips moulded to mine perfectly, moving across them in an expert way, as though we had done this dance a thousand times before. He didn't stop this time either. There was no work, no rankings, no restrictions. My back hit something hard and I realised it was the door. His body was flush against mine and I could feel the contours of all his muscles beneath his shirt. Sighing slightly, I sank furthur into his arms, there was a pleasant numbness overwhelming my brain and all I could focus on was John's lips, soft and warm and moving along my jaw hungrily. A short gasp left me, my hands sliding up his shoulders and into his hair. It was passionate, it was hot, it was...in an airplane bathroom but I didn't care. John had got to the crook of my neck before he came back up to my lips, and for a minute or so we just traded slow, soft kisses. His forehead was pressed against mine, hands very expertly roaming my waist and easing away all the tension from my body. Blinking up at him I saw him smirking slightly,
"Would you look at that, I've rendered your speechless." he stated smugly. He sounded proud of himself too the arrogant bastard. Huffing slightly I suprised him with another quick peck on the lips.
"Shut up Sheppard." I scolded. He grinned,
"I think we're definitely on first name basis now." he quipped. My eyes rolled and a small smile tugged on my lips,
"You think?"