We're nearing the end! Oh I'm going to miss this story! :D

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Chapter 50

The room was white, the lights bright, and Sik'tak squeezed his eyes shut from the glare. He'd been forced into a strange chair, strong metal restraints clamped tight to his wrists and ankles. His body felt heavy, his mind dull. Groggy and confused, he dared to crack open an eye and saw thin-skinned beings with white clothes mill around the white room. One checked his restraints, pulling on them to ensure they were secure. Sik'tak attempted to pull free and strike the being, but he felt unusually weak and guessed that the strange creatures had done something to subdue him. He tugged at the restraints with feeble movements, knowing he would never break free. He felt another restraint being placed on his forehead and his head snapped back into the chair until he could no longer move it. His eyes now fully opened, he strained to look around but was only able to see the glaring light and peculiar apparatus above him.

One of the alien beings took hold of the apparatus and pulled it towards him. It was made of many cables, all different colours, ending in small metallic discs with filaments that moved of their own volition. Sik'tak grunted as the thing got nearer, struggling in his restraints but unable to move even a millimeter. The closer it got, the more the filaments wriggled and when the apparatus finally came into contact with his head, Sik'tak felt those filaments wriggle and bury their way beneath his skin. He cried out, terrified as pain blossomed over his head, an unending wash of tiny explosions that bored down to his skull which resonated and hummed.

His body jerked and spasmed as he tried to break free, wishing to tear the thing from his head and flee this place. But the more he struggled, the tighter the restraints became until he gave up, panting and groaning, fearful of what might come next. The aliens spoke in their strange tongue, words he didn't understand but he listened regardless. One short word was barked and suddenly his head burned. It felt as if the filaments were filling his skull with fire, the pressure increasing until he unleashed a scream that deafened even his own ears. Then the pressure reversed, pulled from his skull in a trickle that sent a cold shudder through his body.

Sik'tak felt his mind disappearing.

One by one, thoughts and memories were brought to the front of his mind then ripped away, forgotten. Memories of loved ones and the emotions tied to them danced across his consciousness, only to disappear into a void he had no idea existed. Once they disappeared into that nothingness, Sik'tak forgot about them instantly, never knowing how much he lost. With every moment that passed, his mind felt lighter, emptier, and thoughts were fleeting stirrings that he barely noticed.

Losing his mind wasn't without discomfort. Every stolen thought was wrenched from his brain by electrical impulses that flowed through him, tortured his mind and scorched his body. He could smell his flesh smouldering with every pulse, the smell another sensation he could hardly perceive as his understanding of it vanished into the void as fast as the scent hit his olfactory receptors. Never truly understanding what was happening, every sensation felt brand new as his memory of them vanished instantly, so Sik'Tak endured in a state of fluxed instability where he experienced everything, but understood nothing. His mind quivered, his eyes vibrating in their sockets as his system misfired under the onslaught.

Sik'tak suffered unbearable agony, unable to formulate words to cry for help, powerless to help himself despite his great strength. A body without a mind is like a marionette without strings, and all the muscular power of the great Groten form meant nothing while strapped in the interrogation chair. He screamed until his throat could no longer make noise, airy tortured gasps prevailing when his speech ceased. The torture was unfaltering, endlessly unabating, with unrelenting pain and confusion as his mind was devastated. Every detail held within his organic brain was stripped and rewritten onto a machine's memory, right down to his dying, nebulous and tortured thoughts. His consciousness became little more than a lengthy series of code, screeds of compressed data with no feeling or experience attached.

It took less than thirty minutes to interrogate Sik'tak. By the time the chair powered down and the neural interface was removed, he was little more than a charred corpse. Only the occasional post-mortem contraction hinted that what remained had once been a living being. A loud clunk sounded as the wall behind the chair parted and the chair moved behind it to take Sik'tak's corpse for disposal, leaving Carson and Teyla to stare at the space it had been, utterly horrified by what they had witnessed. Their presence had been at the request of Eldus, who was fully installed in the first modified biosuit for its species. It had asked they attend so they could explain what was occurring and how it would provide it with the information it required to use the Groten technology.
The air stank of burned flesh, singed fur and the putridity of death, choking up the interrogation room with a stench neither Carson nor Teyla would ever forget. Surreal moments slipped by as half the room carried on working, seemingly unfazed, while the other half stood frozen—wide-eyed and stunned—unable to grasp how anyone could remain indifferent in the face of such horror.

"I did not expect such brutality," Eldus said through the suit com, its voice strange and accompanied by an electronic buzzing, but filled with recognisable disgust.

"Nor I," Carson replied putting his hand to his mouth to stifle a retch.

Teyla found she could not speak, numbed by the barbarity of Sik'tak's death. No matter what anyone thought of them, Groten were still sentient beings, living their lives as best they knew how. She felt that no one deserved to die in such a manner, perhaps not even a Wraith, though she knew many would disagree.

The chair technician approached and informed them that the transfer had been successful. "It will take some time to compile the data retrieved."

"How long are we talking?" Carson asked.

"It was a huge amount of information, Fer Beckett, an entire life, you understand. I would guess at least a couple of hours."

"Hours?!" Carson repeated with surprise. "I thought you were going to say days or months!"

The tech smiled, standing a little taller while almost puffing out his chest. "Our computers are far superior to yours, Fer Beckett."

"Aye, alright, son, no need to be so arrogant, eh?" Carson bristled. "And maybe they are better than our wee laptops, but they'll never beat the system back on Atlantis."

"One day I would like to test them against each other," the tech smiled walking back to his computer.

"Aye, I bet you would," Carson mumbled, placing his hand on Teyla's shoulder. "Are you alright, lass?"

"I am fine. I did not expect it to be so… experienced," she replied shakily.

"I know what you mean, I thought the thing would have been unconscious, too."

"This is not a usual occurrence?" Eldus asked.

"No, and we were unprepared," Teyla answered. "Neither of us have witnessed the chair in use before."

"I hope you never do again," Eldus replied gravely.

A few more shocked minutes passed before Carson shook himself and turned away from the odorous void. "Shall we return to the laboratory while we wait for the data to be compiled?" he asked, moving deliberately toward the door. "Perhaps we could further test your suit, Eldus?"

Eldus moved the biosuit as if it had worn one all its days. "I would like that," it replied as the wall opened once more and the chair returned, empty.

Teyla stared at the chair for a long moment, her throat tightening as she swallowed hard. Then, with a quiet resolve, she tore her gaze away, silently vowing never to witness its use again.

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Kerria thrashed in the cold water, her limbs flailing as panic took hold—until John reached out, his hands steady and sure, and grasped hers. He pulled her toward the edge, then lifted her from the water. She stumbled as she emerged, soaked to the skin, her body trembling from the chill air in the crevice. John wrapped his arms around her without hesitation, pulling her close to give her warmth. For a moment, she simply stood there, breathless and shivering in his arms.

"John?" she asked with confusion through chattering teeth. "What are you doing here? Where is here?!"

"That's kinda hard to explain," he replied rubbing the cold from her back and arms. "Needless to say, I kept my promise."

"What promise is that?" she asked leaning into his warm embrace.

"To be with you when you opened your eyes," he replied softly.

Kerria pulled back, staring with suspiscion. "H-how long have they been closed?"

"Too long."

She looked around herself, for the first time seeing the other people around them both in the water and out. "Who are these people? Where are we?" she asked, her concerned voice pitching higher.

"Hey, it's okay. I'll explain, but calm down, you're perfectly safe."

"I… wait… what happened to you? You look so different."

John grimaced, self-consciously running his hand through his hair. "How about we go somewhere a little more private and I'll tell you everything?" he replied, taking her hand and leading her to the rocky wall. With the help of the biosuited warriors, the two climbed from the crevice out into warm sunshine and onto the plateau above.

"We're not on Caronaa!" she gasped, eyes wide with wonder and perplexity.

"No, this is planet Ignothia," John replied. "Bringing you here was the only way to save you and the others."

She fell silent, her blue eyes moving back and forth and John could see her marvelous mind working away behind them. "The plague," she said quietly. "We never recovered from it."

"The cure failed in you and over a hundred more."

She stared at him for long moments, and John knew what she was seeing. Time had a way of weathering the body, changes she would have instantly noticed as her eyes hadn't looked upon him in almost two years. Since they last met he had been in more battles and played more mind games with warlords and politicians than he cared to admit, aging him ever so slightly. Kerria raised her hand and smoothed his hair, her features softening, saddening. John knew she undoubtedly noted the stray grey hairs standing sporadically in contrast to the black. Her hand lowered and she gently touched his face, her fingers softly tracing the new laughter lines and scars he knew she hadn't seen before.

"How long have I slept?" she asked again, and he could see she was afraid of the answer.

"Over a year," he replied.

"Over a… year?" she repeated dumfounded as her knees gave way and John caught her and lowered her to the ground gently.

"Well, maybe a bit longer," he admitted. "But you're back now."

"How… how many came back?"

John was quiet for a while, trying to think of the best and most gentle way to tell her. "What you saw back there, is half of who remain."

"But, there was only a handful, ten at most!"

"Nine, the others are shipping in soon."

"But why me? Why us?"

"I don't know much about why the cure failed in some, you'd have to ask Rella about that. All I know is you are back, and that's all I cared about."

"What are you not telling me? What changed?" she asked and John cursed her discerning mind. "If I've been this way for so long, why did you come back now?"

He tugged on a piece of long grass by his leg and twisted it into knots. "Your dad kept me in the loop since day one, letting me know how you and the others were doing. In his last communication, he told me that if I wanted to say goodbye, I had to hurry back."

"I was dying?"

He nodded. "You all were. Time had run out, the plague had run its course and everyone from Caronaa to Atlantis had exhausted all treatments."

He could sense her watching him, saw in his peripheral vision that her eyes looked him up and down and he pulled another piece of grass to knot. She placed her hand on his arm and felt up to his shoulder, smoothed her hand down his chest, raised it back up to lightly grasp his chin then turned his head to look at her. "What happened to you?"

He laughed mirthlessly. "I got myself into a bit of trouble when we arrived. Lost some weight, gained some scars. But you wouldn't be here now if it hadn't happened."

"But, you're okay?"

"I'm fine. Better every day. It was worth it, to see your blue eyes once more."

She smiled the smile that always made his stomach flip and though he knew it could never be, for a few moments he allowed himself to believe it could. She wriggled closer beside him and they sat quietly watching strange herbivores chew on the long yellow grass as clouds cast lazy shadows that rolled across the land. In another time, he might have pulled her closer and kissed her, but such times had passed and John unhappily accepted it was for the best. So he sat there, playing with the grass, strengthening his resolve to leave Kerria behind once all was said and done.

"Why did you want to be here for me?" Kerria asked and shivered despite the suns warm rays. "Our relationship ended so long ago, I would have thought you'd moved on by now."

John sighed heavily. "The relationship may have ended, but that doesn't mean I stopped caring. I dunno. I just didn't want it to end with you gone forever."

She quietly mused over this and, after a while, said, "there was no way we could work it back then, we won't be able to make it work now."

"That's not why I made the promise. Look, maybe it was guilt. I flew you to some of the worst plague outbreaks, so in a way it was my fault you got ill."

She shook her head. "No, I got ill because I was careless. You might have flown me in, but I should have ensured I was safe and protected."

"None of that matters now. It happened, it's in the past. You can catch up on everything later, for now let's just enjoy, being. You're here, alive and awake, and I'm happy with that."

"Only that?"

He chuckled, "Yeah, only that."

She turned her face and lightly kissed him on the cheek, then rested her head on his shoulder. "I really wish we could have worked out," she said quietly.

"Yeah," John replied, throwing away the knotted grass. "Me too."

In the distance John saw two dark dots in the sky. He watched the Vipens approach, listened to their engines pulsing louder as they closed in. They were bringing the last of the plague survivors for submersion and roared overhead, disturbing their peace and the quietness. Dust billowed from the ground as they landed on the plateau, their loud engines powering down to a quiet drone. As Kerria continued to watch the native animals, John watched the plague victims being carried from the Vipens and down into the crevice. When the last one was taken off the nearest Vipen, the familiar figure of a man with a walking cane shuffled down the ramp onto the grass, causing John's stomach to tighten with anticipation. A deep melancholy fell over him, for he understood this was the moment he'd dreaded most all along.

"I guess our time is up," he said quietly, nudging Kerria gently.

"What do you mean?" she asked, raising her head from his shoulder.

"I'm not the only one who has been waiting for you to waken," he said and nodded toward the approaching man.

Kerria followed his gaze and she jumped to her feet when she saw who it was walking toward them. "Father!" she cried and rushed to him, her feet barely touching the ground.

John watched her throw her arms around Sama and hugged him as he smoothed her hair and praised the Great Being for all to hear. John watched the reunion with a smile that didn't quite reach his eyes, knowing that it signified the end for them, and as Sama hugged his daughter tightly, John turned and walked away. He pushed through the tall yellow grass down to the rough terrain at the bottom of the hill. He continued walking, following an old path beaten by animals. The path took him to an expanse of water so crystal clear that he suddenly ached to return to Atlantis. He picked up stone after stone, skimming them across the water until their momentum slowed and they fell beneath the water. He smiled hearing Kerria's joyous laughter carried on the ever-present breeze and inhaled deeply. He held the breath and closed his eyes, letting go of her, acceptance lodging solidly in his mind. He opened his eyes, exhaled and looked over the water. In that quiet moment, he understood that even though it hurt him now and the pain felt raw in his chest, it wouldn't last forever. It was a temporary feeling, a scar to join all the others he bore that would one day become a silver sliver that simply coloured his heart.

But he was happy it was the only such scar he would bear. His team had survived, his family was intact. He'd been terrified that Rodney would die, almost started grieving for him before the Ignothian water turned the tide. Teyla and Ronon had both healed well, though unless Ronon took a dip in the birthing valley, he would be out of commission while his arm fully healed. Knowing the man as he did, John would wager the big guy would let it heal naturally, and bear the injury with some misguided notion that it made him stronger to suffer.

John hurled his final stone across the surface of the water, watching as it skipped fifteen times before falling to the depths below. He gave a small, satisfied nod, a quiet acknowledgment of the moment, and then something shifted inside him. For the first time in what felt like ages, he felt unburdened. The quiet, constant worry he'd carried for Kerria—so long and so deeply that he hadn't even noticed its weight—had finally lifted. In its place was a lightness and he smiled, not the forced kind that he'd worn for months, but a true, effortless smile and John knew he would be alright. He ran his hands through his hair then walked back the way he came, finally at peace.

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