Chapter 2, part 2.

That evening Alice took Aaron and Dee out to dinner in town. Mom opted to stay home with Ike—a toddler could hardly accompany them to an elegant restaurant, and Eileen was happy to stay home with the boy; she was still suffering from a mild headache, and wasn't that fond of crowded places anyway.

They were seated outside on a terrace, with a beautiful view of the mountains. Dee couldn't stop wowing at everything—she told them she had never been in such a fancy place—but she was disappointed with the size of the portions.

"Yeah, that's something you just have to get used to if you want to partake in the fine dining culture," Aaron said with a twinkle in his eye.

"I bet you're very used to it!" Dee commented, waving a forkful of steak at him.

He smirked. "Sure, sure. I frequent such fine establishments often—and then I come home and gobble up half the fridge at night!"

Deanna laughed. "Well, I think it must be nice to be able to go out to a place like this every once in a while. This food is delish!"

"Well, it better be for these prices," Alice quipped: it was her treat (against Aaron's objections). "Though I have to say, yours is almost just as good, Dee. You're a great cook."

The girl beamed. "Thank you, sweetie!"

"More wine?" Aaron asked before pouring.

"You're such a gentleman!" Deanna giggled and then shot a quick glance around. "Everyone's staring at us, you know?" She became agitated for a moment. "Am I dressed inappropriately?"

"Of course not, you look stunning," Aaron replied, sending Dee into another fit of giggles. He wasn't wrong, though—Deanna's ensemble of white shirt with asymmetrical pink stripes and red slacks looked like she could rock a red carpet at an award show. Alice's simple blue dress paled in comparison.

"If anyone's staring it's because you look so beautiful," Alice agreed. "Or maybe they recognized you?" She wondered, nodding at Aaron.

"Oh, they definitely did, the servers have been talking in hushed whispers all this time, pointing at our table." He shrugged. "It happens. People in L.A. are mostly used to it already, but go out for an evening anywhere else and you're gonna get stares at the very least…"

"Wonder if they'll build up the nerve to ask you for a photo?" Alice smirked. "Ahh, hard your life must be, mister, all this fame…"

"Laugh as much as you can, missy, but I will have you know that it can be a burden," Aaron said jokingly, but there was something in his eye that made Alice think he was being serious. She thought back to a conversation they'd had on the subject a long time ago.

"I know," she admitted and smiled. "But you know what?"

"Hm?"

"You'll never have to wonder about me. My motives are always pure." She said it lightly, with a wink, but his returning smile was proof enough that he understood the meaning.

"Aww, you guys are so sweet!" Deanna exclaimed, and they both chuckled in response. "I still can't believe that I'm just hanging out here with you! The Aaron Starr, my god!"

"I thought he was not your cup of tea?" Alice teased her. "You told me you were all Rihanna and Beyoncé!"

"Oh, sure, sisters gotta stick together!" Deanna replied with a grin. "But I'll take what I can get!" She laughed. "Besides, it wasn't him that I was talking about, but the band. Aaron the man is quite charming." She sent him a coquettish look.

He smirked. "So we're not your type of music, are we? That's cool. Would be more awkward if you turned out to be our number one fan."

"Oooh, yes, I could've been a groupie! And what then? Would you sleep with me then?" She made a duck face at him and batted her eyelashes in such a comically exaggerated way that both Aaron and Alice had to laugh out loud again.

"I'm afraid I have a strict no-groupie policy," he confessed merrily.

"Not to mention you're taken, aren't you?" Deanna added with levity. Aaron nodded, smiling, but Alice noted that it was a mask—the innocuous comment struck a sore spot.

"Well, I don't know how about you, but I'm ready for dessert," Alice said lightly.

"Me too!" Deanna answered enthusiastically. Alice breathed a sigh of relief—Dee had not noticed.

"So it's still not going very well with Sarah, is it?" Alice asked Aaron later, after Deanna left to go to the restroom.

He shook his head slightly. "Not really. She came back from Europe a week ago and we're already both fed up with each other. Coming here was a welcome break." He exhaled deeply. "How did I ever think I loved her, Allie? It all seems so impossible, so pointless…"

She reached out and squeezed his hand on the table. "Love is weird," she said matter-of-factly. "It lies all the time."

He looked at her, cocking his head to the side. "That sounded like you were speaking from experience…?" The end of his sentence run upward, making it a question.

Alice shrugged and looked away. She bit her lip and then said, quietly: "For me it was the opposite. I didn't even notice I loved him until, well, I realized I did."

Silence fell upon them for a long moment. "You never said anything," Aaron remarked and there was something in his voice that made her look up. "Six weeks you were at home, we'd seen each other practically every day, and you never mentioned him. Any reason in particular?"

"Yeah," she breathed. Her heart was beating very hard. She looked away again. "He's gone now."

"Left you?" Aaron asked, but then added immediately: "No, of course not. He died, didn't he?"

Alice nodded slowly, too caught up in her own feelings to say anything at the moment. Aaron didn't continue either, but he squeezed back her hand. She lifted her head and they exchanged wistful smiles.

At this moment Deanna came back to the table and they both withdrew their hands.

"Well, I'm stuffed," Dee announced, falling into her seat. "It looked like so little, with the small portions and all, but when you eat, like, fifteen courses, it adds up!"

"Guess that means we're ready for the bill!" Alice replied in a fake cheery voice. She flagged down a waiter and asked for the check. He came back a few minutes later and stood there, throwing glances at Aaron while Alice paid. She gave him back the card reader, but he lingered, now looking at Aaron openly.

"I'm sorry if this is incredibly forward… you're Aaron Starr, aren't you?" He sputtered.

Aaron smiled politely. "As a matter of fact, I am."

"Oh, gosh, I've never met a celebrity before!" The waiter gushed. "I'm so sorry, I'm just so excited… my name's Patrick. Do you mind if I take a picture with you?"

"Sure, why not," Aaron allowed generously.

"Oh, I'll take it!" Dee offered and took the waiter's phone to take the photo. "Scoot over, Alice, so I can fit you in the frame!"

Alice laughed nervously. "Oh, no, that's fine, I'm sure Patrick doesn't want me in his photo—I'm a nobody."

"Suit yourself!" Deanna replied. She took a couple photos and handed the phone back to the waiter.

"Oh, thank you, that's so amazing! Thank you, thank you! It was amazing to meet you! I'm so lucky!" He prattled for a while.

"Thanks, nice to meet you too, Patrick. Have a great evening," Aaron said with another polite smile. The waiter thanked him once again and scuttled away.

"And that's your everyday?" Deanna asked as they headed for the exit.

"Yeah, almost every time I go into public now. You get used to it."

"Don't you ever get frustrated?"

"Sometimes. For the most part, people are considerate enough to be discreet—like this guy, he waited until our meal was over. For every crazy person that tries to feel up your ass while you take a photo with them, you get ten or twenty that are normal people that simply get star-struck."

"Ugh, gross!" Deanna made a disgusted face.

"Do you ever get star-struck anymore?" Alice asked wonderingly.

"Oh, goodness, all the time!" Aaron laughed. "Just the other day, I went on a talk show and before it was my turn, I met Patti Smith in the couloirs—I thought I had died and gone to punk heaven."

"Well, who can blame you?" Alice chuckled. "Were you able to say anything to her? I believe I'd lose all my faculties if I were to stand next to Patti Smith."

"I almost did," Aaron admitted. "I blabbered like an idiot, can't remember anything that I said to her. She was a class-act, of course, told me she loved our newest album—can you imagine! Patti Smith listened to our album!" He shook his head emphatically. "Once-in-a-lifetime event, I tell ya."

"Oh, I'm sure that's not true—surely, you'll meet her again sooner or later," Alice disagreed.

"I'm sorry, but who's Patti Smith?" Deanna asked.

"Who's Patti Smith?!" Alice and Aaron repeated in unison, the same sense of indignation sounding in their voices.

"How can you not know Patti Smith?" Alice asked in disbelief. They stood on the sidewalk now, outside the building.

Deanna shrugged. "I mean, I've heard the name, but you say it like it was Michael Jackson or something."

"Well, she is the Michael Jackson of punk," Aaron explained.

"Sans the child abuse," Alice added, hailing a taxi passing by.

"Well, that's good for her," Deanna laughed. They didn't continue the conversation in the cab, though Alice promised herself to educate Deanna on the history of punk at some point.

They spent Saturday together: Alice, her mom, Aaron and Ike. In the morning they went for a hike in the Cheyenne Mountain State Park (which Alice found privately very funny but didn't share with the group; they weren't even two miles away from the SGC entrance, but of course neither mom not Aaron knew that—they thought she worked at Peterson), and in the afternoon they went to an indoor playground where Ike spent almost all of his time rolling around in a pit full of soft colorful balls, and Alice, Aaron and Eileen sat at a table talking for hours. They were interrupted a few times by delighted fans, and each time Aaron was exceedingly polite, even to the girl that squealed like a crazy person when he offered to take a photo with her. Afterwards, Alice drove Aaron and Ike back to their hotel, and came home with her mom to spend a nice girls-only evening with pizza and a movie. The next day, after a lazy morning and a brunch in town, Alice drove her visitors back to the airport, where they said goodbye. Now alone, and not knowing what to do with all the free time on her hands, Alice decided to swing by the SGC. Working was much better than sitting idly at home, with all the thoughts and feelings creeping around inside her brain.

She was in her lab, staring at strings of Ancient code on her laptop, a half-drunk and now forgotten cup of coffee on the table next to her, when the phone on the wall rang. She jumped, startled, and rushed to pick it up.

"Cap… uh, Major Boyd," she stammered into the receiver.

"Hello, Major, this is Sergeant Harriman, General Landry is requesting your presence at Stargate Operations."

"On my way," she replied and hung up.

Wondering what it was about—after all, she wasn't even supposed to be on the base that day—Alice hurried through the corridors, noticing that their usual rush of activity was somewhat subdued on the Sunday afternoon. She finally reached Level 28 and made her way to the Control Room. Landry was already there, waiting, along with Reynolds and another man Alice didn't know, a Marine major.

"Ah, Major, good, you're here," Landry greeted her gruffly.

"Yes, sir," Alice replied cautiously, throwing a look at Harriman, who was typing away on a computer. There were a couple more technicians and three SFs, but no-one else.

"We have a situation here," the general announced, nodding towards the Stargate, visible through the window and, for now at least, still and quiet. "It concerns your team."

"Yes, sir?" Alice felt her eyebrows coming up and worked at getting them back down.

"They were supposed to get back today, but they missed their scheduled check-in. Colonel Andrews never missed a check-in before, and now they're two hours overdue."

Alice frowned. What was it that Reynolds had said? It was a mining operation of two years and nothing bad ever happened there? "Did you try to contact them, sir?"

"We were about to when Walter informed me you were on the base. Go ahead and dial P3X-221, Walter."

"Yes, sir, commencing dialing sequence," the sergeant responded and the Stargate began shaking and spinning. "Chevron one, encoded."

This is quite annoying, Alice thought as she listened to Harriman call out each of the chevrons. On Atlantis, dialing took only a few seconds, and no-one in their right mind would wait and call it out like this. She supposed it might have been conditioned by the necessity of using a dialing computer, which must have been much slower than the original Ancient DHD design.

"Chevron seven, locked," Walter finally announced and the kawoosh lurched forward from the Gate.

"Open the channel," Landry ordered and then continued after a nod from Harriman: "Colonel Andrews, this is Stargate Command, come in." He paused for a moment, but since no answer came, he repeated the call. "Andrews, this is General Landry, come in."

Another long pause followed, and then finally the speaker crackled with the static of a radio.

"This is Andrews," came the reply.

"Colonel, you're overdue, what's your situation?"

"We are all still here, but we're in retreat. Approximately three hours ago we have sustained an unexpected air attack that cut us off from the Gate. We are on foot and low on ammo, requesting immediate backup."

"Who's after you, Andrews? How many?" Reynolds cut in.

"Looks like mercenaries, a mix of Jaffa and human, they haven't exactly introduced themselves to us. At least two dozen, maybe more. I only have six trained guys here, the rest of them are civilians who can't tell a barrel from a grip, sir. We can't take the Gate back."

"BC-304?" Alice asked, looking at Landry.

He nodded. "What's the closest cruiser, Walter?"

"That'll be Apollo, seven hours away," the sergeant replied after a few seconds' search.

"We can't hold off for that long!" Andrews protested, the line of communication still open. As he spoke, they heard faint chatter of gunfire in the background.

"Let's send backup," Alice said to Landry, gesturing at the shimmering blue surface of the Gate. "We can surprise the bandits from the other side, take the pressure off our people."

"I can't send anyone in, you might be walking into an ambush at the Gate," Landry disagreed.

"We can send the UAV," Reynolds suggested. "It'll give us a visual of the area around the Gate at the very least, and if the enemy is there, it can paint them for a missile strike."

Landry nodded, but didn't say anything for a moment, looking through the window at the Stargate. The he sighed and nodded again.

"Alright, prepare the UAV and the missiles. Colonel, I'm sending you backup, we'll reestablish contact in thirty minutes. Walter, shut down the Gate. Reynolds, take your team and SG-10 and be ready to go."

"Yes, sir," Reynolds replied and nodded at the Marine major, but before they walked off, Alice cut in.

"Sir, I want to join them."

Landry looked down at her and frowned. Alice read his wordless question.

"My team's out there," she explained.

"You haven't even met them."

"Doesn't matter, sir, they're my team. I want to help."

"Alright, go," Landry allowed.

Alice nodded gratefully and rushed off after Reynolds and the other major.

Half an hour later they stood outside the Gate Room, all geared up and ready to go: Reynolds and the rest of his team, and the other major, who turned out to be SG-10's team leader named Scott Walsh, with his team, and Alice.

"So, Major, your first mission in the Milky Way. How you feeling about it?" Reynolds asked as they waited for the go.

"Wish I could've met my team before, but I'm good," Alice replied truthfully. It was nice to finally be doing something, instead of sitting around on her ass. "Though I have to protest—I've done missions in the Milky Way before, I just wasn't with the SGC then."

"I remember, you were a 302 driver." Reynolds nodded. "But I meant ground missions, you know, on foot, on a planet."

"Then I'll have you know, sir, that my first ground mission was in 2005, planet designated P2K-254. I rescued a Tok'ra from a Goa'uld stronghold under attack by the united Jaffa." She smiled slyly.

"I give up," Reynolds said, rolling his eyes mockingly.

"Hey, I remember meeting you before!" One of Reynolds' men exclaimed. She recognized Jake Bosworth. "On the Prometheus, just before Vala hijacked it the first time!"

Alice smirked. "That's right, Sergeant. It's been quite a while." He was a Senior Airman back then, she remembered, just a young kid with a big mouth. He looked older now, of course—not just physically, but there was a noticeable air of experience around him, though he retained his positive disposition. What is it with the Jakes in my life that they're so optimistic? Alice thought warmly; her brother was the same.

"Well, you look just like back then, ma'am," he replied with a grin, and Alice realized that his searching look was more than just trying to assess the changes time has brought to her appearance—the kid was actually checking her out!

She rolled her eyes, as much at him as herself. The kid couldn't be more than two years younger than her, and he was a Staff Sergeant. Even just the fact that he was still there, alive and well, was proof enough that he was good at what he did. So why did he seem like a kid in her eyes?

She didn't know the other two members of the SG-3. She remembered Baker and Mooney from way back when, but they either weren't as lucky as Bosworth, or they moved to other positions—maybe even went civilian. Not everybody wanted to stay in the military beyond their initial contract, even at the SGC.

Their radios crackled and Sergeant Harriman's voice told them the UAV was away. The announcement caused a visible change in everybody's appearances: previously relaxed expressions turned more tense, and casual stances were replaced with more straight-up, ready-to-go ones.

"There's an Al'kesh landed half a klick south from the Gate," Walter informed them through the radio. "Only six people guarding the Gate. Laser is set and target acquired, launching missile. Prepare to follow."

The two teams, plus Alice, made a last gear check. They were all armed with M16A4s, a more deadly alternative to their usual P90s and well-suited for a rescue mission. Additionally, one guy from each team had a grenade launcher, and of course they all had their sidearms strapped to their thighs, knives in a sheath by the belt, and a tactical vest full of other equipment. Alice felt a bit odd wearing the camouflage BDU—she got too used to the Atlantis grays, and even to the plain green she wore on the base now, and it felt weird—but the planet was covered in dense forests for miles around the Gate, so it made sense.

"Missile away, contact in ten… nine… eight…" Harriman started counting on their radios.

"Fan out as soon as we go through, make sure there's no more hostiles in your quadrant, then run to the tree line," Reynolds reminded them.

"Two… one… contact. Verifying… target destroyed, path is clear. SG teams three and ten, you have a go."

The heavy door to the Gate Room opened before them and they walked in at a brisk pace. The missile launcher was just turning away, one more rocket still strapped to it. They passed it quickly and went through the Gate.

The adrenaline rush was like a fix to an addict; it felt almost exhilarating to be back in action. Alice usually only felt that way about flying, but, she realized, she had gotten used to this, too. And there was something good in knowing that her life was on the line—almost like a relief. I could die, she thought as she was stepping through. It could all be over today. The thought of the mere possibility was comforting—no more pain. No more grief, or guilt, or regret. No more memories.

It was dark on the other side—not like at night, but the sky was overcast, and the black clouds threatened rain at any moment. They moved quickly, scanning the area for movement, but all they saw was the devastation made by the explosion: a sizable crater, dirt that got thrown all over the place, and bodies.

"Clear!" She heard Reynolds call from her right.

"Clear!" Echoed Walsh.

"Clear!" She repeated herself.

Without a command, they all began running towards the tree line. Once safely under the cover—it was even darker there—Walsh and Alice grouped around Reynolds, who had a map of the area in his hands, while the remaining members of their party stood a bit apart in a protective circle, facing out.

Reynolds turned on his radio. "Colonel Andrews, this is Reynolds, we have gone through and the Gate is clear now. Any chance of your making it back here if we run interference?"

When Andrews responded, he sounded out of breath, and there were still sounds of gunfire in the background, closer now. "No chance, we're pinned in against the mountainside. We're almost out of ammo, too."

"What's your location?"

"We're four klicks east of the Gate, in the dried up river canyon where we found the first deposits of Naquadah. We're hemmed in, there's a cave in and we can't move ahead, and the enemy is pounding at us from outside."

"Alright, hold tight, we'll be there as soon as we can."

"There's the river over here," Walsh pointed at the map. "It meets the mountain range here, so that must be the canyon."

"The trees come up almost to here." Reynolds drew a line with his finger. "We can split up and flank them."

They studied the map for a moment longer to make sure it was the best way in.

"I could try to go around here," Alice suggested. "And climb to the top of the ridge here, pick off anyone who closes in on our guys."

"It'll be pretty far, and you only have a rifle," Reynolds said doubtfully.

"It can't be more than four hundred meters, which is within the effective range. I have a good scope, and—" Alice shrugged nonchalantly "—I'm the best sharpshooter you have here."

Alice caught a side-eye from one of Walsh's men, but he didn't protest.

"Alright, let's do it," the colonel agreed. "Walsh, I'll take the left flank, you take the right. Let's go help our boys!"

Without further discussion, they marched off into the dark shadowy forest. They kept together for a while and only split up about a mile away from their target; SG-3 went straight towards the canyon, SG-10 veered to the right, and Alice turned left to go around the whole battlefield. Up till now, she kept to the same marching pace of the others, but now, alone, she started off at a run. She had more ground to cover than the two SG teams, so she prioritized swiftness over cautiousness.

Running through the dark forest, she was struck by the memory of the first time she had set foot on New Lacrona—then only known to them as M2A-373—and how frustrated she had been with herself for being noisy and too easily tired; even at this speed, her footfalls were barely audible now, and choosing a path to step on was quite natural, she didn't even have to think about it. As the ground started sloping upwards, her breathing became a bit more labored—no doubt an aftereffect of the damage to her lungs following the decompression as she got sucked out from Jareth's ship into vacuum, and the ensuing six weeks of convalescent leave with little in the way of exercise—but she didn't lose speed, and it took her under fifteen minutes to cover the remaining two klicks to the top of the hill that ended with an abrupt ridge—a steep canyon wall almost fifty feet tall cutting it in half. There was only low vegetation near the edge, which suited Alice just fine; she could crawl up to it quite comfortably to see down, herself invisible.

To the left, the canyon meandered this way and that, so Alice couldn't see the cave-in that cut the mining crew off, but she was close enough to its mouth to see it open on a patch of green field, with the tree line only a few yards away. There were stumps dotting the empty field that betrayed human intervention—Andrews did say this was where they had found and mined the first deposits of Naquadah.

From her spot near the mouth of the canyon, Alice couldn't see most of the mining crew; they must have been hiding further in. Maybe six people were manning the opening, laying almost flat on the ground, hidden behind a natural barrier of boulders. Two bodies lay next to them, and Alice wondered for a second if they weren't from her own team—but then she abandoned that train of thought in favor of surveying the situation further. The enemy was mostly firing from behind the trees but, as she watched, a sizable Jaffa in a misshapen armor ran out a few steps, planted himself firmly on the ground, and started shooting at the boulders. There was no returning salvo—from his position only ten feet away from the mouth of the canyon, he could almost reach the defenders' legs as they lay on the ground, and she saw them pulling them in to avoid being hit. Then another person joined him—a human this time, though almost just as large—and only then the Earthlings opened fire, making the two attackers retreat quickly—bullets were still more effective than the Goa'uld weapons these mercenaries were using. As soon as they were back behind the tree line, the shooting stopped, and Alice realized that they were saving ammo.

Having seen enough, Alice repositioned herself even closer to the mouth of the canyon, behind a prickly bush. She carefully measured the direction and strength of the wind—leaves falling off the trees were very helpful—and then exhaled, eye to the scope of her M16A4, trailing the muzzle back and forth just slightly, looking for a target. Something moved behind the tree, she pressed the trigger, and a single shot rang out and echoed in the canyon below. A body fell on the ground, but there was more movement around, so there was no time for self-congratulations.

She just got off her third successful shot, when there was new sound of gunfire, this time coming from a distance—one of the SG teams must have finally found the enemy. Realizing that they had been flanked, the mercenaries abandoned all caution and simultaneously jumped out of the trees and ran towards the canyon, screaming at the top of their lungs and firing wildly. Alice moved the selector from Semi to Burst and targeted those closest, mowing them down like grass. As she began her third salvo, she saw SG-10 coming up from behind the mercs, and a moment later Reynolds with his men appeared from among the trees closer to her. Now fired at from three directions, the enemy had no chance: they dropped like flies before any of them was able to reach the canyon.

A cheer of victory rose up from all the defenders and they all jumped to their feet from behind their boulders. Alice saw Reynolds and Walsh walking up to talk to them while the remaining members of their teams went around, checking for survivors among the downed mercenaries. Alice didn't move from her spot, though she wasn't sure why. She felt a tingling sensation on the nape of her neck, and some instinct deep inside her still screamed danger!

Then a movement caught her eye—but it wasn't down by the river, but rather somewhere up, almost at her own level… She frowned, moved slightly to the left and trailed the muzzle back and forth, the crosshairs in the scope combing through the much denser vegetation on the ridge on the other side of the canyon… and then she saw it: a couple men, humans by the look of them, prostrate near the edge—with rifles in hand. The guns didn't look quite like those Alice knew, but were clearly based on Earth technology. Either way, they looked just as deadly. They were just acquiring targets when Alice spotted them; she quickly got one of them in her sights and pulled the trigger—a short burst of bullets blasted a hole in his head in a spectacular explosion of blood, bone and tissue—but the other one managed to take his shot, even though he winced as he did so. Before he could look up and even notice Alice's presence, she was already pressing the trigger again. His death was less spectacular, but equally gross.

She looked around carefully to make sure there were no more surprises of such kind, and only then, satisfied that it was safe, she looked down into the canyon. A couple people were gathered around a third who sat on the ground—but he was moving and holding his arm. The wince the shooter experienced as his partner died next to him must have been enough to make him miss—or nearly so.

Alice switched on her radio.

"Colonel Reynolds, this is Boyd, what's the situation down there?"

A few seconds passed before Reynolds responded. Alice saw him stand up from where he leaned over the injured man and look up to the ridge where she was hiding. She sat up, peering from behind the thorny bush, and waved at him. He waved back.

"Bosworth got hit in the shoulder, but he'll make it. I take it you dealt with the shooter?"

"Yes, sir, both of them. I can't see any more, but we should probably move to a more defensible position anyway. We still have over five hours before the Apollo gets here and they might have called for backup."

"Andrews has two more injured, they can't be moved," Reynolds contradicted. "We'll have to risk it here."

"Alright, then I suggest you send two or three more men up here and post guards in the tree line to avoid any further surprises."

"Good idea, will do. Reynolds out."

Alice lied down again with her rifle propped up on a small rock to make it easier to keep it still, and waited. Some fifteen minutes later, one of Walsh's Marines came up behind her and positioned himself a few feet away, while two more reached the edge of the cliff on the other side of the canyon, near the dead mercenaries. Time went by slowly. With nothing to do, and with the adrenaline levels now brought back to normal, Alice found herself trapped, in a manner of speaking: unwelcome thoughts and emotions invaded her previously pleasantly empty mind. A long procession of men whose faces she could never forget, now joined by new troops: the people she had killed. And one among them, standing out in the crowd because it was familiar, too familiar—every curve, every wrinkle, every spot and blemish known to her better than her own. He was gone, too—and it was her fault. The enormity of that fact weighed heavily on her heart—and she didn't know what was worse: how much she missed him, or how much guilt she felt over the way he died and her portion of the blame. She should've found a way to save him. There must've been a way.

But the blame wasn't only on her, she realized. No, not entirely. Yes, she gave the order that killed him; but he wouldn't have been there in the first place if not for Jareth. None of it would've happened if not for Jareth. None of it—not just Karim, but countless human beings would've been alive if not for Jareth. Jareth was at the source. He was pure evil and he needed to die. And she, Alice realized, was in a unique position to ensure that he did. Had she stayed in Atlantis, she would've forfeited that opportunity. But she was here, and she was going to have her own team, and with that came a deal of freedom—not to pick her own missions, perhaps, but how to fulfill them. Not to mention that she was supposed to be the SGC's new leading expert on the Wraith—and on Jareth in particular. She could make sure he paid for what he did. And if she could—then she had to.