STARGATE ATLANTIS

TO SEE THE SUN IN WINTERTIME

Chapter Seven

Authors Note: Time has moved on quicker than I would have liked with this story so you may have forgotten bits, but I feel I must mention that I left some breadcrumbs in previous chapters pertaining to an event coming up soon. Perhaps you have already noticed something?

SGA SGA SGA

In the Hall of Light, the bald man walked slowly along the marble floor as the morning's sun poured through the numerous windows casting their warm glow. He smiled as he admired his new gifted ring as he slowly moved along. The jewels colours bounced off the well-lit hall in spectacular fashion to a rainbow of colours. He waggled fat fingers, and like a child he watched gleefully as the colours bounced where he threw them. If this was only the start of his promised wealth, he could hardly contain himself. The fact that he was handing over his entire supply of captured slaves in one go did not faze him. He could easily capture more to supply his customers' database later. The fact that he didn't care what he was doing was wrong never even entered his mind. He was long lost in his own world. Family members had long deserted him. He didn't care. He was where he wanted to be.

He spun on his feet and looked backwards and forwards down the long corridor. Had he heard something? It must have just been a change of light. He had not lied to the Envoy he always brought to negotiate in the Hall of Light. This private area could only be accessed by himself. Something that seemed to be a natural occurrence to only him. He even played with the fact that he might have got ancient blood in him, but tests ruled that out. Never mind. Perhaps he had just happened to be in the right place at the right time when he took over the ancient ruined village decades ago and it had welcomed him with opened arms. The only thing the Envoy did not know about, though, was the secret panel that could slide open to reveal a rugged, but well build staircase that dropped at a steep angle to an underground cavern that was a very generous inside, and fabulously with its own water supply. It was where he stored his wealth and where he went to drool over it on a daily basis. That area was not known to anyone but himself. He would never reveal it to a soul. Why should he share – it was all his.

….

Teyla woke with a start. Instantly she realised John was no longer lying behind her. His warm presence had comforted her through-out the night, and now without it, she mourned the loss.

Ducking under the light fabric opening, Teyla's hair whipped across her face as she faced the morning breeze. John was sitting just outside it, his back to her. Teyla tucked her hair behind her ears and stroked her hand across his back as she came nearer. He turned to look up at her and smiled before he jerked at the pain of pulled skin. Teyla knelt quickly and touched his face, peering at the exposed wound.

"You need a clean bandage."

"I know. Just giving it some air. How does it look? Not having a mirror is frustrating!"

Teyla took his chin and moved his head from side to side. "I'll not lie, it's a frightful red colour, but it is not weeping, and I believe your eye is not as swollen. Perhaps do not attempt to open it just yet though. I will put more salve on it and re-bandage it for the day." She cocked her head to the side. "What are you thinking?"

"Nothing really. Everything!" He laughed. "Aiden mostly. He could have killed me outright, Teyla. It would have been easy for him in that crowd. So, I guess I'm thinking he has something else planned for me." John nodded towards Shebo coming towards them, flanked by two of his younger sons. "He looks serious."

Together John and Teyla rose to meet their friend. "Good morning, friends." Shebo spoke, although his voice was hurried.

"Is everything okay?" Teyla asked quickly, eyes darting behind them to see if anyone from the village was watching.

"I heard word that a storm is on its way. We met up with Aliass last night to warn her as it was making a path towards our home. We are not long arrived back here. We left her with friends in a near-by cave system for safety. You must take your tent down and follow us there once I collect the others."

John planted his feet in the deep sand, and put his hands on his hips. The wind had been stronger this morning, he thought.

"We can't leave here, Shebo. Our friends…"

"Will be safer here within these walls than out of it. Look!" Reeva pointed at the Games many flags now hanging at half-mast. "That means the games might be over for today; even for good. They are warning of the imminent danger and to stay away."

"What?" John cried. "That can't be. We are so close to freeing them. Yesterday, I saw them all alive, save our friend, Carson. I presume he is to. I NEED in there, Shebo!"

Teyla slipped her arm around his waist and squeezed him tight. "Perhaps once the storm dies down?" She suggested, but equally worried.

Shebo studied his new friends, and understood their loyalty. He would be the same. "I understand, honestly I do. Please, for safety pack up your things nonetheless. I will see what is happening. Teyla, perhaps John's eye needs covering up." It was an obvious 'stay where you are' suggestion, but Teyla nodded seeing it for what it was. John also nodded. He wasn't stupid. Last thing they all needed was him to get an infection.

John sighed. His inability to satisfy his requirement of being their team leader; and that meant looking after everyone, was eating at his soul. He allowed Teyla's pushing and prodding until he sat cross-legged on the sand and she began treating his face. Truth be known the gnawing pain in his eye was pretty bad, and he could quite easily curl up somewhere and try and sleep off the pain that still accompanied his previous healing injuries also.

Time changes everything.

Inside of him he was ready for a fight to save his friends, outside he was damaged in a way that he knew physically restricted him from being in top form. He grinned slightly at how close they were becoming as she worked on him and then he felt her forehead come down to his in greeting. The pair of them stayed that way for quite a few minutes. John raised a hand and touched her lips with one finger and traced the curves with a gentleness Teyla had never felt before. She felt tears leak from the corner of her eyes and let them fall down her cheeks: an accumulation of memories stored in the last weeks.

"Teyla." John whispered, but pulled back and wiped the wetness away. "We will all be home soon. I have no doubt."

Teyla quickly wiped her face herself. "I know. I know. Sorry. I just want you healed."

"Nothing to apologise for. I have that effect on people." He joked and got the resulting shout of laughter from Teyla.

The storm was starting to make itself known. The noise of canvas flapping fiercely became quite dominant. Cries from all around them as people hurriedly packed their belongings and folded down their tents could not be taken any other way but seriously. John nodded towards their own small possessions, and together they packed it all into their leather satchels that were still attached to their drokfo. The animals; so similar to the camels of home, had hardly moved the entire night; nor required any extra food or water. Above him several namko flew in confused circles. John raised the side of his lip when he saw the huge black birds; memories of their sharp beak made him rage with anger against them. He shook himself free of his dawdling mind and tightened the straps on the huge beasts.

"It looks like chaos!" Teyla announced as she stood beside him.

John looked over his shoulder, and sure enough everyone was packing up and mounting their own drokfo.

Through the throngs of men and beasts, Shebo came at speed, his robes flapping in the wind and the namco feathers looked like they were trying to take flight from around his head. He was wafting his hands up and down and looking very worried.

"No time, my friends. It is here. Hunker down behind your beasts. It will be upon us in no time."

John understood. Afghanistan had shown him just how aggressive and destructive sand storms could be. He nodded his thanks and ushered him back to wherever they were camped. Shebo nodded as he backed up and was soon lost in the crowd.

Murmurs of the incoming storm's arrival stopped the departures, and people frantically dug channels beside their beasts; the exact same as John and Teyla started doing. The pleasant warmth of the morning was replaced with a cold biting breeze that went under thin clothing and sent cold fingers to tickle exposed skin into shivers and discomfort. The sky darkened in minutes and the song of the wind hitting exposed corners, walls and higher obstacles started shrieking and deafened the spoken voice and the cry of a drokfo in fear. John held their reins down into the sand to keep them from standing up and held onto Teyla as they slid down into their quickly dug out channel of sand in the hope to keep from getting battered too much from the sand; the drokfo acting as their living shields.

Teyla was saying something to him, but the wind took her words and whipped them away. She risked raising her head from John's covered arm to tell him she loved him. That was all. Suddenly she realised how import that was – to tell him that. John's hand left the reins and covered his sore face with one hand and with the other brought Teyla closer to his chest. He could not hear what she wanted to say, but her eyes told him. His fingers curved around her head and traced her lips again. He hoped she understood the sentiment repaid. His shoulder was slightly exposed to the elements, so he shifted position to allow the biting, whirling, sand to pass by him. In doing this he raised his head to look outwards and his breath stopped.

The surging wind was the by-product of one of the highest and widest tornado made of sand he had ever seen – and he had seen a few on Afghanistan. It brought with it darkness, cold and power.

He shouted out to Teyla – to all in the vicinity to keep down; don't look. It was a natural response but utterly wasted – the noise was deafening and swallowed his voice. It was also terrifyingly mesmerising. He literally had seen nothing like it in his life. Without underground shelters they were helpless and exposed. Nothing could stop this attack from nature. He just had to hope that between the sheltering wall of the village and together with their own animals and small dug out trench that it was enough to escape the ravages of the storm intact.

The wind was really picking up. There was no set rule for the path it was taking. John felt his body being buffeted forward over Teyla's one minute, and then as it curled around them he felt himself hauled back with the force of its power. Back and forward. No let up. Teyla squirmed under him; obviously uncomfortable but he had no way of moving his body to get a better grip on beasts or wall; it just didn't exist.

Waiting on the calm to come was as frightening as being buffeted by the storms power. When that happened John knew they were directly in the middle of its rage. The centre of the trouble where everything stilled for that moment.

Moving his aching back, John pulled Teyla up and shook off the cascade of sand that covered them.

"This won't…last..long…" John managed to cough out. "We must remain as we are before it passes over us again."

A taste of iron seeped into the corner of his mouth and he presumed that the something wet that was running down his cheek was blood. His eyes were coated with rough sand as his bandage had been ripped off his face.

Teyla looked at his pained face and patted down her pockets looking for fresh bandages. Her mouth was dry and dusty so she also reached for one of their water flasks. Swiftly she uncapped it and took a long slug before shaking John's sleeve to get his attention. John nodded and also took a good long drink before closing his eyes as she instructed and she delicately poured the cool water over his face and eyes. John shook his head and opened his good eye. He kept his pained one shut as Teyla deftly wrapped a new bandage around it.

"I'll put salve on it when I know there is no more sand damage. Your face is all red and puffy."

"It's the sharpness of the sand when it hits my skin. Are you okay? Sorry of I held you down too tight."

"I am fine, John."

John smiled at that. She was far from fine being bend double like that but he let it go.

Teyla's face took on one of surprise so John turned to see what she was looking at. The people all around them were standing up and cheering that had remained unscathed.

John reluctantly left his burrow and waved his arms in the air. "No. No! You must remain down and secure. The storm is not over yet."

With his head covering slipping, and his eye bandaged, perhaps John did not evoke any sense of authority on the matter for they all chose to ignore him. He turned towards Teyla and she shrugged. "There is nothing you could say to people who are not from here or understand how these sand storms behave, John."

"We do not have long. Let's dig a bigger hole."

"I have not been in anything like this before either. It is scary, John, I must admit."

John brushed off some sand from her face and smiled. "We'll get through it." He said, although his voice was not strong. He set about digging a larger hole, praying that the other side of the storm was not destructive.

…

"Gawd, Andy, move it!" Rodney's voice screamed in tempo with the other prisoners who were mashed up against one wall of the largest cell where they usually congregated to eat, but now was being used as a secure spot against the storm – hopefully!

"Doctor McKay. No amount of PH. D's or persistent pushing will get me to believe you that we should leave the relative safety of this side of the cell. Beside I CANNOT MOVE!" Andy shouted the last bit.

Ronon, although feeling like a mother chicken waiting on her brood to come under her wing for safety, decided that, in truth, Rodney was usually correct in these matters.

"Perhaps, Andy. You should just squeeze…"

Ronon never finished his sentence because the next minute, the wall that separated them from the inner courtyard suddenly collapsed with the force of the hurricane force. Several bodies joined the bricks, scattering backwards like dominos. Ronon, wild eyed, and just that bit further away from his friends, lunged forward to grab onto Rodney's shirt as his arms flailed about madly trying to keep his balance. They shared a look of surprise before they both instantly went to help their fallen friends. Andy was easy to spot, as he was already up and assisting others. He sported quite a bump on his head, but nodded to Ronon that he was okay. He pointed to the last spot Carson had stood, so all three of them made a bee-line for that area; helping others as they went. Unfortunately, several guards appeared and held them all back at gun point. There would be no escaping the cells at this time. Together they were marched to another secure area. Ronon continually tried to make his way to help the fallen ones, but they would not let him leave the group. "But..the doc?" He countered. A blunt stab with the end of a weapon to his side was the returning message. He narrowed his eyes and glowered, but these were seasoned guards and had weapons and experience on their side – they would be intimidated. Ronon actually growled but had no choice in the matter. He kept up with the others and shook his head when Rodney looked at him expectantly. They could only hope that Carson survived the collapsed wall and that he would join them soon.

…..

It was, John thought, perhaps the day he would die when the returning winds came with frightening speed. It happened just as fast and with great anger. Instinct took over and he hunkered down with Teyla in the deeper trench whilst terror reined all around them. Throughout the several noises of destruction and horror, came the horrendous noise of what sounded like a downed building. Resisting the urge to snatch a quick look, John ducked his head; well aware that the velocity of the storm would probably be around 150 mile per hour. Enough to whip some-one head off and send it far to the other side of the desert.

John saw Teyla's hand, and he snatched it as the wind was suddenly upon them but it was too sudden, too fast, and he was torn from her grasp only to be blown away, tumbling away from her with a battering strength. His back hit the wall of the village and he grabbed whatever jutting brick he could find until he stopped his course with a shuddering halt and was thankful it was a slight crevice that had stopped his path. His back ached where he had hit but he ignored it for now as he sought out what had happened to Teyla. He tried to stand up with the wall aiding him, but the wind kept knocking him down again. Teyla, he hoped, was curled up in a ball, so that at least pacified any further movements from him for now. He hunkered down and warded off the sharp biting sand from his face as much as he could. John still tried to shout Teyla's name but the wind snatched it away.

A constant barrage of tents, bowls, clothes and other items whirled around his head. With an occasional piece thumping against him, causing no end of bruises to his already battered body. He hoped against hope that Teyla was secure enough in the trench and protected by the drokfo.

Then he saw something he didn't expect to see.

When one of the winds fingers pushed him almost out of his hiding area; he put his hand down in the sand to steady himself as he was nudged backwards. The invisible force slapped him squarely in the face and jerked his head back. Opening his eyes tentatively, John had to blink a couple of times as what looked like a small stream of water pooling in the ground not far from him. After being inside the village, they had quickly understood that all drinking water came in flagons in a steady supply and that there was one rudimentary shower wall where they all congregated to have a brief spell under to wash away the grime. Seeing a body of water appear was certainly an unexplained surprise, and one he would wonder about more if he survived the storm.

In a shimmering haze of course sand, John had a front seat view of nature's killing destruction. The upsetting view of many people who had refused to heed the warnings of the danger of the storm or who were wrenched from their loved ones, were whipped up and into the funnel to never be seen again. He languidly blinked and occasionally shut his eyes. It was not pleasant to watch; to know their fate.

John was getting so very tired. His body was taking a battering; in fact, he had given up even having thoughts of trying to crawl his way back to Teyla. There was no way his strength against the storm would get him there without committing suicide. So, he watched her hiding place as best he could through the yellowing sky of a storm calming down.

In a change of pace and angle, the storm whipped at his other side to fill in the covering of water, but John remembered where it was and would investigate later. Several men now dared to run around in the biting wisps that trailed behind the departing funnel; their mouths open in silent screams. John had been deafened by the horrendous noise and pressure so he just squinted against his aches and pains and, using the rugged wall behind him, raised himself up onto weakened legs and pushed forward. Teyla appeared in front of him, her eyes betraying her fear and saddened state. Both of their delight at seeing each other alive was made aware by the supplement of adrenaline. They mashed into each other clumsily, but sought out clashing lips and kissed long and deep. They had survived the death and destruction from every angle and their relief was palpable. John ran his hands through her hair as they broke for air, he really looked at her. Teyla, he thought, looked tired and sore; although he knew she would not admit it. Teyla's relief at finding him alive after he had been torn from her hand, was unlike any feeling she had ever felt before. This man mattered to her. She loved him. The fact that she had almost lost him so soon after their now obvious attraction for each other was almost choking. She coughed and then laughed as she brushed sand away from any visible hair that had turned orange from its usual black. She adjusted his head covering and nodded her approval at it hiding his face and that his bandage had remained intact.

John shook his head to rain sand on her hands. He laughed, giddy with delight to see her alive and his lips still tingled from their kiss of relief.

"Are you okay?" he asked of her – also wiping loose sand from her shoulders and hair.

Teyla grimaced. The roaring wind had died down, but even through the shouts of others, John yelled too loud. She pointed to her own ears and then his. "I'm deaf!" He once again shouted. "…can't hear too well!"

Teyla laughed and placed a hand over his lips. John understood immediately and bit his lip. "Sorry!" He mouthed.

"It won't last long." Teyla replied.

John nodded. His face turned serious and he brought her into his body; settling her head under his chin. His hand stroked up and down her back to comfort her – him; and he physically relaxed when he felt her arms go around his waist and back. He relished the moment of being reunited with her.

They allowed themselves a couple of minutes until John drew himself back and pointed to the village. Teyla understood. They had to see if it had survived the storm and hoped against hope everyone, they knew was ok. That included Shebo and his sons.

They made their way back to the drokfo; who had survived the storm intact. Choosing to ignore their belongings for now, John pulled one of the beasts up and mounted it with an aching body making itself known. He put down a hand and helped Teyla settle behind them. Together they would search out for Shebo and look for any damage to the village walls outside and within.

SGA SGA SGA

To be continued …..