Episode Two- The Fires- Chapter Five

Chapter Five

Finally the light from the sun is shining down on the village.  The smoke from the bonfires have become so diluted in the sky, they look like color-tinged whisps of cloud.  Pale ghosts of their darker selves.  The scent of burning humanity still clinging to the air in the slight breezes that blow from the direction of the piles of dead, but there are also breezes gliding through from down the hills and funneled into the village from the valley.  It’s fresh and pure and with enough of it, it might eventually be able to blow the stink out and cleanse the air around them.  Sheppard walks back through the village.  The peaceful serenity from above fully reveals the sobriety of below.  Now the streets are lined with bodies.  Some being tended to.  Some not.  He’d never seen a mass triage like this before despite all his years in the Air Force and despite all of the refugees they’ve helped in the aftermaths from Wraith cullings…and the rampage of the Hoffan virus through the Pegasus Galaxy.  Kenmore is hovering over one with Lorne beside her.  Sheppard walks over to them.

“How’s he doing?”

Kenmore doesn’t answer Sheppard.  She just picks up her things and moves on as Lorne takes over.

“Just a little smoke inhalation, Sir,” Lorne tells his commanding officer, “His pants are a little scorched but otherwise he’s fine.”

Sheppard nods then looks after Kenmore and the words slip out of his mouth before he can stop them.

“What is her problem?”

Lorne looks up at her too then returns to getting his middle-aged patient comfortable.

“She gets it from her mom,” he says.

Sheppard looks down at him, “Her mom?”

“Yeah, before her mom became a professor, she was an Army nurse.  Chief Nurse at a MASH unit actually.  Urs picked up a lot from her.”

“Like not talking to people,” Sheppard asks returning his eyes to the Lieutenant’s fleeting back.

“Actually yeah,” Sheppard looks down at him again, “In triages, you never say more than you need to.  You don’t waste time.  She debriefed me so I could debrief you.”

“And what about all the other times?”

Another villager rushes over, much younger than the patient but her urgency, her distress is welling tears in her bright, already red eyes.  A family member perhaps or at least someone who cared like one, maybe wanted to be one.  Lorne gives her a quick tutorial in continuing the man’s care then stands up.  He dusts the dirt and ash off of his pants.

“Urs is Urs,” Lorne says.

Then the Major rushes on up the line of wounded, switching his dirty latex gloves out for a fresh pair, then falling to his knees beside Kenmore as she tends to another victim.  There’s a brief exchange and Lorne takes over taking care of that villager as Kenmore moves on once again.  Sheppard’s eyes follow her as he slowly walks up the lane, sort of following her himself.  She goes through person after person, switching out gloves with every new patient.  She falls to her knees either beside the villager or in front of them, talks to them which is a gentle gesture he’s never seen from her before (frankly didn’t know she was capable of), starts their treatment then as soon as someone else comes over, be they fellow villager, fellow soldier, or medic, she hands over control to them, and moves on down the line.

Sheppard glances to the opposite side of the lane, Keller’s doing the same thing going up the right side.  In fact, Kenmore is outpacing their good Doctor.  Perhaps that showed Kenmore’s messy medical attention, but…

Sheppard casually coasts over to Kenmore’s sideline of wounded and kneels down beside an elderly woman lying on the ground, her hands wrapped in bandages up to her elbows and a kerchief wrapped over her head.  She looked like a fire-ravaged babushka.  He starts to examine her hands; she wakes up at his touch, ginger as it was.  She starts to babble at him, low and mumbling and a mile a minute.

“Easy, easy.  It’s okay,” he shushes her, “I’m just checking…they’re fine.  You’re fine.  You’re going to be okay.”

That seems to comfort her.  John takes the next few moments to help the lady carefully lay back down what little she had lifted herself up in her panicked state at Sheppard’s presence.  In the matter of a few flutters of her aging eyelids and grayed eyelashes, she drifts back into a medicinally induced sleep, waiting on the ground for more help, perhaps family to arrive.  Slowly Sheppard stands up and leaves the old woman to the comfort of her slumber.

He continues on down this side of the lane and stops at the side of another villager.  A teenage boy this time, maybe seventeen, sixteen, it was hard to tell underneath all the dirt and grime of near death.  Again, the villager’s hands were wrapped up to his elbows.  He was sitting up, though, against the front of another hut, holding up his bandaged arms like any burn victim is instructed to when their medical staff is overwhelmed and needed elsewhere.  It wasn’t so much ‘Physician, heal thy self’ as ‘burn victim, hold these up till help comes back for you’.  This time the kid was conscious enough to talk with John.  Although he didn’t really understand most of what the kid was saying through his trauma-induced broken English, but the Colonel did get that the boy was being taken care of…and well.  The young villager even let John examine his wounds.  John didn’t want to mess with the neatly, frankly expertly, wrapped strips of gauze too much, but he did just enough to cause himself to nod at them then wish the kid well with a gentle clap to the side of the kid’s shoulder then get to his feet and continue on.

…the more it was looking like Kenmore being messy was the wrong thought.  Dammit, she’s good.  And perhaps, that was Sheppard’s problem with her and her problem with him.  They’re both good.  And there’s a reason you don’t see two chiefs in one tribe.

On the other side of the lane, McKay covered in soot and sweat walks up to Doctor Jennifer Keller, Atlantis’s Chief of Medicine, and kneels beside her.

“How many is that now,” she asks him.

“Three hundred and counting.  She’s trying to wipe out the whole village.”

Rodney stands up and surveys around them.  The bodies weren’t stacked up like driftwood so much as spread around and lining the village’s avenues like freakishly morbid lampposts.  Keller looks down at her patient.  A forty-five year-old scruffy man, he reminded Jennifer of a photo of a man she’d seen in one of Atlantis’s old records from a village that Teyla had known because of a friend of her father’s named Orin.  And he was fully conscious and watching Keller’s face as she focuses on the burns on his fingertips.  But she’s still fully aware that he’s watching her…and listening to them.

“Rodney, we’re here to help these people.  Not to pass judgment,” she says politely.  Her bright blue eyes glittering as she smiles down at her patient.

“Yeah…but three hundred, I mean come on.  You know in the first few piles we recovered just a few handfuls of people, but the further and further we went on, it went from handfuls we were pulling out to dozens, literally dozens.  It looks like she initially threw people in with some amount of discretion, but the more bonfires were apparently required, the more she just started throwing in anyone and everyone she could get her hands on.”

“Rodney,” his girlfriend urgently scolded with a hiss.

“Well it’s true,” he scoffs, looking down at her.  And for once he notices the man, Jennifer’s patient, staring up at him as well as Jennifer, who was looking entirely unhappy with Rodney.

“Oh…well, I’m sure your friends and family will be fine, are fine.”

Neither the patient’s nor Jennifer’s demeanors change.

“I’m sure you’ll be fine…too.  You’re in good hands.  Really very good.”

McKay goes back to looking around, his usual escape for an ‘I’ve stepped in it’ moment like this one.  He notices Sheppard standing in the middle of the lane looking up it.  Just standing there…looking, like he was simply dumbstruck by what he was seeing up ahead of him.  Rodney decides to walk over to the Colonel, an even better escape than just looking away was walking away.  Once Rodney’s standing next to Sheppard, the theoretical astrophysicist follows the Colonel’s line of vision up the lane to Lieutenant Kenmore as she continues to triage the people Rodney managed to fish out of Hell with part of Lorne’s team’s help.

“What is it?”

“You know I’ve never really seen her be so nice…I mean for her.  Her Mom taught her this, did you know that?”

“No,” McKay admits, but then again he’s never bothered to ask the Lieutenant about her personal life, whether past or present—then again, he’s never bothered to ask anyone about their personal lives, past or present, before either, “but Jennifer says she’s not that bad at it either.  From what she’s been checking, Kenmore’s diagnoses have been fairly accurate.”  Oh wait, there was that one time with Ronon’s scars, but that was when Rodney had been ascending and found out that the Ascension would probably kill him, but he always considered that a sort of out-of-body experience or at least a deathbed confessional sort of thing, so, either way, it technically didn’t count.

Sheppard looks at him, “Checking?”

“Yeah, Kenmore’s already gone up that side,” McKay gestures at Keller’s side of the lane, “now she’s going down this side.  Jennifer’s just double-checking the treatments and providing some more detailed medical attention, but, for the most part, she’s just double-checking what Kenmore’s already done.”

Sheppard looks back at Kenmore, even more shocked than he had been before.

*                      *                      *

Night settles in on the village nestled at the bottom of a valley as the sun, ironically blood red at sunset, finally disappears completely beneath the far distant horizon of the hills stretched out beyond the village’s safety.  Leaving only a blood trail of ruby light to stain the remaining cloud cover and give way to the star-dotted black skyscape of the space beyond the planet’s atmosphere.

The streets of the village are dark, but there are lanterns guarding either side of the huts’ doors, casting bulbs of golden light onto the soil of the main avenue.  The warm echoes of the same golden light permeates the huts’ well lit interiors as each one is filled to capacity with casualties and medical teams, Atlantis personnel, or villagers tending to them all.  They’re careful to avoid the strings of lights that looked like old carriage lanterns dangling from the bound thatch ceiling, they keep low to gain precious seconds with their patient’s care that might have been wasted standing up and lowering down.

Sheppard walks out of a hut.  Teyla walks up to him from further down the street.

“Well that’s the last of them,” he tells her.

Teyla nods at him as Ronon walks up to them from across the way.

“Jennifer is just tending to her last patient and Rodney is checking the bonfires again with Major Lorne and his team just to be sure that we have everyone safe,” she tells them.

“Good.  Shiana’s a couple huts down,” Sheppard gestures up the lane, “holding court.  And Kenmore,” he looks to Ronon with the question.

Ronon twists and points with his gun back behind him across the avenue.  They see Kenmore wandering into the shadows of an alleyway in between huts, the lanterns don’t cast their light into the village’s alleyways.  They glance at each other then walk silently over to the alleyway’s entrance and peer in from the safe cover of the side of one of the huts.

 

Kenmore walks halfway down the alleyway then stops.  She checks in the window of the hut to her left, everyone’s distracted.  Then she looks up the alley, no one, and down it, Sheppard and the others shrink back out of sight, no one.  After a few seconds, when they think Kenmore believes she’s safe, Sheppard, Teyla, and Ronon cautiously peer back into the alley again.  Kenmore puts a hand on her hip as she reaches into her pant’s pocket, pulls out a standard-issue handheld radio, and waits.  The others exchange looks with each other.  Suddenly the radio crackles…

“Okay, you’re clear,” Lorne’s voice tells her.

Teyla looks over and raises her eyebrows at Sheppard.  Yeah, he wasn’t sure he liked this, the idea of a conspiracy being afoot underneath their noses anymore than she did.  How would he, they be able to trust Lor…

“Hi Mommy,” comes the bright happy voice of Michael Junior, Kenmore’s five-year old son.

Their eyes shoot back to the radio.

Kenmore immediately breaks into a smile.  She hits the trigger and holds the radio up to her mouth…

Hi Honey,” she greets warmly, “How’s your day been?”  She releases the trigger and sits down on the set of crates acting like a bench underneath the window she had looked in.

“It was cool,” Michael exclaims, “First Uncle Lorie took me to see those spaceships again, I begged him to take me to see the spaceships again.  And this time,” the boy gave a dramatic pause, “he let me go inside!”

Kenmore bowed her head, staring at the ground and her smile transforming into a grin.  That would be her son, just as eternally mesmerized by things that fly as she was.  Especially if there was any way possible to pretend you were Darth Vader’s wingman, but that was just her personal imaginary preference.

“It was amazing!  It lit up when I got in there.  All the buttons.  Even its window.”

Kenmore’s smile flits for a second, breaking away into an expression of hurt and worry, but it recovers for her child’s sake even though he isn’t here to see it.  She acts like he somehow could have heard it through the radio, although the device is only set to receive right now, not transmit.

“And what else did he show you today,” Kenmore asks carefully, still sounding happy although even Sheppard could hear the tinge of caution in her voice.

“Then he took me to see the place where they keep the underwater spaceships.”

“Really, they have underwater spaceships here?”

“It was cool.  They have just as many ships underwater.”

“Well that’s good to know, Sweety.”

“I wanted to swim to one, but Uncle Lorie told me no.  He said the water’s too cold.”

Kenmore grins again, “And what did you do after that?”

“Then we had lunch in the mess hall.  I had chicken steak.  It was sooo yummy, Mommy.”

Kenmore shakes her head, almost laughing to herself.  Her son always did have a taste for food that was only one skip away from an MRE.  He got that from her and his father, Kenmore likes MREs and her husband always liked cafeteria food, especially the hospital stuff.  She could shiver sometimes at those plates.

“And then Uncle Lorie got called away,” Michael finished, “So he left me with his friend named Doctor Zebra and guess what Mommy?”

“What,” Kenmore plays along, knowing exactly who her little boy was talking about.  That would be Zelenka, not Zebra.

“His first name is Radish,” little Michael’s voice relishes.

John jolts with a silent laugh, his eyes dipping down to the ground for a moment.  That would be Radek…Not that Doctor Radish Zebra, brilliant scientist and engineer, didn’t have a nice ring to it either.

“Really,” Kenmore asks playfully, “I don’t remember anyone named Radish, I’ll have to recheck the personnel files.”

There was a slight pause then…

“Mum,” the little voice asked sounding sad.

“Yes Love?”

“Are you coming home tonight?”

John and the others peer further into the alley.  Let alone was it startling that Michael had referred to Atlantis as ‘home,’ but it was just the fact of the son’s question being put to his mother.

Kenmore looks down at the ground again.  Sheppard watches her every feature intently.  Her eyes dart subtly from side to side, searching the soil, analyzing its pattern of ridges and the small pebbles scattered throughout it.  The muscles in her neck and shoulders slightly tightened.  Her mouth slack and her lips quivering just enough to let Sheppard know that she was fighting the urge to bite her lower lip.  Then she holds down the radio’s transmitting button…

“No, no, Honey, Mommy’s not.  It’s,” she sighs, “it’s pretty bad over here.  A lot of people are hurt and need our help.  Look, you stick close to this Doctor Radish.  If Uncle Lorie trusts him,” she hesitates then, “so do I.”

John glances at Ronon and Teyla.  Well that’s one in her favor at least, they all liked Doctor Radek Zelenka.

“And Michael,” Kenmore continues, “if you see or hear Mister Woolsey anywhere around you, you run and hide.  Do you hear me?  You run and hide.”

John stared back at the ground.  Oh that wasn’t good.  He looks back down the alley.

“Yes, Mommy, I will,” came Michael’s reply.  He actually sounded kind of happy the way only a child can with that sort of information.

“See you later alligator,” Kenmore smiles at the contraption in her hand.

“After while crocodile,” her son giggled.

“Mommy loves you.”

“I love you too Mommy.”

“Nigh-night Honey.”

“Nigh-night Mommy.”

Then Michael made a kissing sound over the radio and Kenmore kissed the air in between her lips and the radio as well.  John glances over at Teyla, she was keeping her eyes intently on the ground.  Using a radio and the Stargate to wish her son good night in case she got held over on a mission just like she was now, she’d have to remember that one.  Suddenly Radek’s voice came over Kenmore’s radio, his Czech accent thick…

“I will keep an eye on your son, Lieutenant.”

“Thank you, Doctor.  Oh, and Doctor, you do understand I’m trusting you with my son, don’t you?”

“I understand, Lieutenant.”

Kenmore nods at her radio as if Zelenka could see it.

“Very well then, I love you Michael, Kenmore out.”

She releases the radio’s transmitting button then takes a moment to sigh and rub the bridge of her nose.  For the first time, Sheppard notices how stressed the Lieutenant looks.  This had gotten to all of them, but perhaps this was getting to her the most.  After all, she was the one who sensed all those people in the bonfires and she had personally pulled those first two kids out.  Then she’d gone all around the village tending to every casualty, so John had found out from talking to those that were either tending to the casualties now or had been.  Then the Lieutenant slips the radio back into her pants pocket, stands up, and starts to head back out of the alleyway…towards Sheppard, Ronon, and Teyla.  The trio dash back over to their original positions in front of the one hut and act casual.  Seconds later Kenmore walks out of the alleyway and starts down the left side of the road.  Sheppard, Ronon, and Teyla exchange glances.

“Come on Lurch,” Kenmore calls out, without looking at them, “we’ve still got a couple of huts to go.”

Teyla and Sheppard breathe a sigh of relief, but Ronon glares at Sheppard like Am I supposed to put up with that?  Sheppard shrugs at his friend.  For now, they needed to play nicey nice with Shiana and right now that meant keeping Kenmore as far away from the village leader as possible.  Besides, it also meant that she hadn’t seen them.  So, for now, that meant Yes, you really are supposed to put up with that.  With a lopsided smile meant to smooth things over, Sheppard gestures after Kenmore.  Ronon’s glare deepens and he rolls his eyes at his friend, but he does as asked and follows Kenmore.  Teyla aims a very careful look at Sheppard, perhaps it was not so good to keep making Ronon be the one to guard Lieutenant Kenmore.

 *                      *                      *

Chuck shuts down the gate then looks up beside him at Radek leaning over the console and keeping his eyes focused on the now dark gate in the darkened gateroom below.  They both were trying very hard not to look over at the boy sitting at a nearby console with one of the other late-night technicians.  Dialing out to the planet without Woolsey’s permission or knowledge had been an entirely illegal stunt in Atlantis…but it had been at Major Lorne’s urging and they all trusted Lorne.  But then with Lieutenant Kenmore warning her son to hide from Woolsey, this had all become much more complicated than the very heinous crime of unauthorized gate activity.  Zelenka finally sighs and looks over at the little boy sitting on the lap of the blonde-haired technician, pointing to various controls and the woman telling him beside his grinning face what each one did.

“I will erase the control logs personally.  It will be as a though this never happened.”

Chuck keeps looking at the scientist.  Leaving the question unsaid, but Radek knew him well enough to know what Chuck was thinking…

“I will say there was a rather costly energy fluctuation.  No one will be the wiser.”

Chuck nods beside him and turns his eyes also to the distant boy.

 *                      *                      *

Teyla is explaining things to a panicked female patient, maybe in her mid-twenties, lying on a military-issue sleeping bag on top of a standard-issue cot as another SGC soldier examines her burns for any early signs of healing or infection.  The woman seems to be calming down at Teyla’s tender touch and tender voice, while Sheppard gets debriefed by one of Keller’s nurses on the status of the dozen or so other people crammed into the hut.  When she’s done, Sheppard nods at her and she moves on to another soldier behind him on the far side of the hut flagging her down about his patient, a middle-aged woman lying on another sleeping bag and cot combo, not conscious.  With the woman successfully eased, Teyla stands up and, ducking a lantern, walks over to him.

“Everything seems to be going well here.  Everyone’s either sedated or calm,” Sheppard tells her pretty much what she had already known.

Teyla looks around.

“Indeed,” she nods.

“Well then, shall we move on,” he asks.  They had at least five more huts to go before they themselves could take a rest.  Teyla nods with a demure smile and sigh that made it plain she was ready to be done with the huts as quickly as possible and they exit the hut.

 

 

Sheppard and Teyla step out onto the village’s main avenue and continue down it.  Major Evan Lorne is heading up it with Rodney by his side.  At the sight of them, Sheppard and Teyla stop and wait for the two men to walk up to them.

“Were there anymore survivors?”

Lorne shakes his head at his commanding officer, “No, Sir.  McKay and I went through every stack three times.”

“If there were survivors, we didn’t get to them in time.”

Sheppard acknowledges Rodney with a silent nod.  God, that was a crappy thought.  Hearing people rummaging through the piles, getting to others but not getting to you, and passing away waiting and hoping for help to get to you next.  Ronon and Kenmore walk out of the hut just ahead of them.  Ronon takes the opportunity and walks over to their group as Kenmore moves on to the next hut.

“How’s it going with you guys,” John asks him.

“Fine.  The villagers are either sleeping or getting more treatment.”

“And Kenmore,” John asks.

Ronon fixes his friend with a very steely look, the one that asked ‘Can I shoot her yet?’ without saying any words.  Yeah, yeah, yeah, Sheppard knew.  As Lorne had put it, Kenmore is Kenmore.  And Sheppard was more and more finding out what ‘Kenmore’ meant exactly.  Ronon turns and looks back behind him at the Lieutenant walking towards the next hut.  She staggers for a moment then goes down.  Holy crap!  Sheppard and the others bolt for her.  Lorne outpaces them all and falls to his knees beside his friend.

“Urs,” he asks, suddenly flashing back to screaming for her life as he dug her unconscious body out from beneath the rubble of the half a warehouse wall that had fallen on her, “Ursula?”

She wasn’t responding.  He rolls her over and puts his hand against her throat.  Sheppard turns to Ronon as Rodney whips out his lifesigns detector, kneels down beside Kenmore, and starts scanning her with it.

“I thought you said nothing had happened,” Sheppard hisses at Ronon, pissed.

“It didn’t.  I checked people, she checked people.  That was it.”

Sheppard turns to Teyla, “Has anybody reported an infection?”

“No.”

“Did anybody report any of the villagers having a disease?  Something that could be communicable in any way?”

“No,” Teyla repeats, “None at all.  They have said nothing save for the injuries they sustained in the fires.”

“Wait, wait, stop,” McKay spoke up suddenly, putting his hand out in the air signaling for them to ease up, “Don’t treat her.”

Lorne looked horrified, “Why not?”

“What is it Rodney,” Sheppard asks.

“She’s asleep,” Rodney tells them.

“What,” Sheppard asks, caught off guard by the answer.

Rodney comes to his feet and hands the detector to Sheppard, “Look.  There’s no sign of infection or contagions of any sort.  She simply passed out…from exhaustion.  It does show that.”

Sheppard looks the detector’s findings over for a moment then glances beneath his view of the detector down at Kenmore.  He frowns.

“Okay, let’s get her inside and get her on a bed,” he orders.

Lorne and McKay start to get the Lieutenant up.

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Episode Two- The Fires- Chapter Four

Chapter Four

Smoke still clouds the sky over the village like a contained storm cloud, but no more fires have been lit and the ones that had already been extinguished by Kenmore’s telekinetic outburst have had their enflamed victims already put out and pulled into the village to be sought to and treated by their fellow villagers.

Teyla cradles the freshly clean baby in her arms, bouncing the infant, and cooing for calm the way a mother does as Ronon washes the arm of the little girl, now fully conscious, sitting up on the edge of the table and watching Ronon gently wipe the wet cloth over her skin.  Without looking up, Ronon asks…

“So are you going to tell me what happened or do I have to wait for Sheppard to get back?”

Teyla glances at him then returns her attention to the baby.

“There was a…misunderstanding,” she answers simply.

“There was no misunderstanding,” Shiana interjects.

Teyla and Ronon look back at the doorway where Shiana had been pacing and waiting.  Now she was stopped and staring at them.  Ronon thought the low grumble of his voice and Teyla’s own naturally soft voice had been enough to keep his question a private conversation.

“You have overstepped your bounds once again,” Shiana rebukes them.

“We were saving lives,” Teyla tells her.

Shiana gestures at the children.

“You call this saving?”

Ronon and Teyla glance at each other then look down at the baby still wrapped in his distressed blanket, now sleeping peacefully, then at the girl, still in her blue nightdress the color of a robin’s egg, who looks just as bewildered as they do.  They glance at each other once more then look back at Shiana.  Yes, they do.  Shiana sees the confusion in their eyes.

“Give her to me,” she demands.

She charges forward, her outfit suddenly making her look like a ruffled peacock, and yanks the little girl off the table.  Ronon steps forward, but Teyla hisses at him; he looks up at her, she shakes her head, and Ronon, against his better judgment, lets Shiana drag the girl away from him.  But as soon as Shiana reaches the door, McKay rushes in and runs right into her and the girl.

“Watch out, we’re coming in with more,” he warns them, completely oblivious to the tension permeating the environment of the hut and how, behind him, Shiana looked like her eyes could spit daggers at all of them.

“How many more,” Teyla asks.

“Ten and that’s just how many we figured we could fit in here.”

Teyla and Ronon don’t like the sound of that.

“How many more,” Teyla repeats.  The firmness in her voice implying that Rodney has to give her an exact answer this time.

McKay steps aside and starts letting in people carrying others in.  Some on stretchers made from whatever materials could be scrounged together in such a short time, mostly what Teyla could identify as a broken down wheelbarrow.  Some just by hand, in fireman carriers and forming flesh and bone and muscle stretchers with their own arms.  He looks back at her.  His expression is not good.

“In that first pile, thirty-five and we’ve pulled fifteen out of the second pile so far.  So overall fifty.”

Teyla and Ronon exchange glances as Shiana watches the survivors be carried in.  Slack jawed and wide eyed, she looks absolutely horrified at the sight infront of her.  Villager after burned villager being brought in right under her nose.  The ozone smell of burnt air still clinging to their clothes and the ripe stench of burned flesh still fresh on their bodies.

“What have you done,” she gasps.

Rodney looks back at her, “What?  Isn’t it obvious?  We are saving people here.”  He doesn’t understand how the question could even be asked.

He looks to Ronon and Teyla for an answer when Shiana goes berserk.  She starts frantically grabbing with her free hand at random people being carried in.  First an old man, not even conscious, on a human stretcher then a young woman in a peasant’s field clothes that reminded Teyla and Rodney of the Geniis’ agrarian clothing brought in on a stretcher made from a stretch of hide and the straighter parts of what must once have been a broken wooden wagon.  Ronon and Teyla stand back trying not to physically intervene in what was a tribal leader’s right to protect her people no matter how bizarre and crazed a scene it looked to be, but feeling that they might have to soon.  If the fires had either minorly injured the people or not injured them at all, their frenzied leader may well do so.

“You’re not saving them,” Shiana starts screaming, “Let them go.  Put them down.  You have no right.”

Suddenly the click of a zat gun springing to life sounds as its cobra reminiscent tip nestles into the dark hair at the back of Shiana’s head and right up against the pale skin of her scalp.  She freezes.  They all do.

“Neither do you,” comes the growl of Kenmore’s voice, low and lethal.

There’s a moment of silence as Teyla looks on with wide eyes.  Rodney’s just as frozen in his spot as Shiana is, afraid his breathing will trigger a catastrophic chain of events between the two hot-headed women.  And Ronon looks back and forth between this village’s leader and the SGC member he’s forced to work with, ready to jump in.  The villagers that were carrying in the injured are scared and cowering before the standoff like frightened prey afraid that any sudden movement on their parts might draw the predators’ attention to them.

“Now let go of the girl and everyone else,” Kenmore orders slowly, clearly.

The villagers look to their leader.  Her dark eyes narrow with an all too indulgent smile.

“Or what,” she taunts, “You will play leader of this galaxy again?  Exact the punishment you think is best?”

“No.  I’ll just make sure you can’t hurt your people again.”

That riles Shiana.  She turns her head, the bridge of her nose ramming right up against the tip of the zat’nikatel gun.  She still hasn’t let go of the little girl’s arm and it’s clear Kenmore would have to follow through on her threat in order for the tribeswoman to do so.  Ronon’s eyes go to Kenmore.  She’ll do it.  She’ll actually do it.  His muscles tense.

“I am not hurting them.”

“The bonfires say otherwise.”

“You have no authority here,” Shiana snarls, “You are not their leader.  You serve no one.”

“I serve the people.  Not the corrupt politicians.”

Oh, that one got under Shiana’s skin…

“You would know a lot about corruption,” her lips curl back in a mocking smile that reveals her teeth.

“Enough to know I’m looking at it,” Kenmore growls evenly.

“You are looking in a mirror,” Shiana tells her sounding like a viper about to strike.

“Bite me Alice.”

Kenmore’s finger slips down to the zat’s trigger and Ronon braces to jump into the fray when the shout comes, loud, clear and commanding…

“Kenmore!”

Like a good soldier, her finger slips back out of range of the zat’s trigger and she shuts the gun back down into its coiled sleeping snake position.  She lowers her weapon, she doesn’t holster it, but she does lower it.  Ronon’s tension doesn’t ease.  Sheppard steps into the room and takes up position directly in between the two combative women.  He addresses Kenmore, face to face, first.

“What is going on here,” he asks her, his voice losing none of its edge.

Kenmore looks her commanding officer in the eye.

“The Queen of Hearts decided off with everyone’s head.”

Sheppard gave her a look accompanied with a sigh he squelched for the sake of the company they found themselves in then he turns and looks over at Shiana.

“What is going on here is once again you are destroying peoples’ lives with your actions,” the woman starts in again before Sheppard can even get his jaw moving to open his mouth up.

Looks like John takes that one to heart.  Kenmore looks past him, at Shiana.

“And what are you, the Destroying Angel,” she retorts.

“Lieutenant,” Sheppard warns.

Kenmore rolls her eyes at the back of his head and walks out.  Sheppard feels the rush of air from the hut’s door flap being left to drop after her on the back of his legs.  He addresses Shiana, turning finally to face her full on.

“I have informed my superior of the situation.”

“Good, then you will leave shortly,” Shiana cuts him off sharply.

Sheppard takes a moment before answering again.

“He instructs me to provide your people with whatever help you need,” he informs her.

“Then you will be leaving shortly,” she repeats.

Sheppard stifles another frustrated sigh and tries to smile, “He instructs me to stay and provide your people with whatever help you need.”

“If you will not leave, then you provide no help at all,” she tells him.

Shiana finally lets go of the little girl and storms out of the hut.  Sheppard watches her go and stays there looking at the hut’s entrance for a moment—Aw hell, this is gonna suck, isn’t it?—then he turns and escorts the little girl back to the table as he gestures for the other villagers to put the people their carrying down where they could and continue bringing in all the other injured still waiting outside to be brought in.  Ronon hefts the little girl gently back up onto the table and Teyla resumes tending to the baby, cradling it in her arms and bouncing as she swayed from side to side like she did to calm her own infant son when he had been this age.

“How many more are coming,” she calmly asks.

“Lorne’s getting his team ready as we speak.  They should be coming through the gate any moment now.  I told them the directions to get here.  Jennifer’s getting her team together and they should be coming through with Lorne.  Woolsey’s considering whether or not to call in Carson and Stackhouse’s team, but I told him to hold off on it considering how everything is going so far.  I didn’t want too many of us here swarming the place and pushing the locals out of the way.”

Teyla nods.

“How’s he doing,” Sheppard continues.

“Well.”

Sheppard looks down at the little girl.

“And…how are you?”

The little girl looks up at him, but remains silent.  He thought he had a charming expression on.  Sheppard looks to Ronon, Don’t I have a charming expression on?

“As far as I can tell she’s fine too,” his Satedan friend tells him, without giving John the slightest hint about whether or not he had a friendly face.

Suddenly the little girl jumps off the table and bolts past Sheppard and underneath the body of another wounded man as he was being carried in and she was gone.  John watches the entrance clear of the casualty and his help for a moment.

“Perhaps it is simply the trauma of what has happened to her,” Teyla tries to soothe.

“I hope,” he says.  But he knew her comfort hadn’t worked on him, if Shiana acting like that could inspire even one child that they had saved and treated with nothing but kindness to run from them in terror, what was her antagonism going to do to the rest of her people, the ones that weren’t harmed by the fires but had helped her make them?

He turns back to his two teammates.

“Well then,” Sheppard continues, “Teyla, I want you to go help find the survivors’ families.  Start with this little guy.”  He takes a moment to wiggle his finger playfully in the baby’s amused face as Teyla nods.  “Ronon, I want you to meet Lorne and Keller at the gate.  I know I already told them the way here, but they might need some more help carrying all of Keller’s stuff.”  Ronon nods.  “I’ve already got Rodney using the lifesigns detector to help get as many of the victims out of the bonfires as we possibly can.  Some of the villagers are helping us right now, but I don’t know how long that will last so,” he sighs, “I’m gonna try and smooth things over with Shiana,” Teyla gives him a look, “I know, I know.”

“And what about Kenmore,” Ronon asks.

“Apparently she’s applying as much medical attention to the survivors as she can.  And that’s a good thing,” Sheppard adds quickly, “I want to keep her as far away from Shiana as possible.”

Teyla nods, “I believe that is for the best.  But Shiana may be walking among her people, especially the wounded.”

Leave it to her to give voice to the warning.  But…

“I already thought of that.  That’s why I told Rodney to keep Kenmore bouncing around from bonfire to bonfire with him and when we’re sure we’ve got the living out of there, I’m going to rely on you,” he points at Ronon, “to keep her bouncing from person to person,” Ronon doesn’t look happy about it but he nods anyway and right now John was taking anything on his side he could get, “And with any luck we might just make it through this.”

Ronon walks forward to help the next villager just walking in with another villager flung over his shoulders in a fireman’s carry.  Teyla and Sheppard head over to the entrance too and stand aside as Ronon leans down and flings one of the injured man’s arms around Ronon’s neck, relieving the carrier of half of his burden.  The Satedan helps direct the man to where they can relieve themselves of their burden when another villager comes walking in cradling another child that looks to be about three years old.  She’s barely responsive and dusted in soot.  Sheppard’s eyes linger on her face and her slitted eyes.  She was so small and cherubically angelic, but in her little white dress that looked like a burned christening gown, she looked more like a fallen angel to him.  Cast down from Heaven to Hell by some unseen madness.  His fist clenches by his side.  For the first time, John feels like what Lieutenant Kenmore did was absolutely acceptable and he’d fight in defense of it every step of the way either against Woolsey or Shiana.  When the villager and child are clear, Teyla and Sheppard walk out.

 *                      *                      *

Outside in the slowly brightening of day, the smoke was slowly starting to clear from the vivid blue and nearly cloudless skies above, Teyla immediately walks up to the nearest villager and begins asking him about the baby in her arms.  Sheppard smiles, he could always count on Teyla.  Her calm head, nice voice, manners, and above all else her good name among many worlds.  For those characteristics alone, he normally left this sort of political—God he couldn’t even bring himself to think of the damn word in his own mind—thing to her.  But today he couldn’t do that, even on trial his face more than the rest of his teams’ was the face Shiana put on Atlantis.  He slips on his sunglasses and heads further into the village.  Today he had to play politics himself, and God he hated politics.  Every soldier did, or at least ever soldier that was in his mind a real soldier and not a career soldier trying to rise through the ranks to some sort of cushy congressional or senate seat some day.  He strongly fought off the urge to violently shudder in physical revulsion.

Along the way he sees Kenmore on her hands and knees administering CPR to a villager, looked to be a middle-aged man so badly burned and scorched that he had to have been pulled from the core of one of the lit bonfires.  Sheppard stops in his tracks and watches for a few tense seconds before the man suddenly gags and begins hoarsely coughing.  John puts the foot of his that had instinctively risen to run in her direction back on the dry soil of the village’s main avenue.  The Lieutenant helps the man lift up his head and hands him a wooden ladle of water from a half-barrel bucket a foot away from them.  As the revived man drinks deeply, undoubtedly from a parched throat, and sputtering the entire time, likely due to his desperation for something cool and refreshing and life giving, the Lieutenant takes a piece of cloth out of her pant’s pocket, dunks a small tip of it, perhaps just the size of the fingertip underneath it, into the pail of water she’d taken the ladle out of, wrings it as much as she can between her pinching fingertips, then begins to wipe as much of the man’s face clean as his extensive wounds will allow her to.  Even from here, John could see her pucker her lips together in something akin to a gently blowing kiss the sort he remembered his mother blowing into his face when he was child and she was applying a damp cold cloth to his feverish forehead.  It was funny how tender, how maternal she could be with people who weren’t them.

Sheppard starts walking again.  It wasn’t that hard to find Shiana, he could hear her screaming her head off about Atlantis’ involvement here from inside a hut that was far bigger than any of the other’s he’d seen so far; in particular, she was screaming about his team…and Kenmore.

“They must be stoppedWe are the people of this village!  We are the people of this world!”

If anything, the woman was a riveting orator.  Sheppard removes his sunglasses and ducks underneath the large hut’s deeply overhanging grass thatch and passes through its open doorway, carefully ducking underneath the bent lip of the door flap pinned up by a pretty decent sized wooden nail.

The place is packed, looks like Shiana called a makeshift town hall in the last few seconds since he’d last seen her.  Perhaps she was a helluvalot more than just a good speaker.  Damn she’s quick.  Sheppard angles around the back of the crowd, following the perimeter of the oval-shaped hut until he could get a clear view of Shiana holding court in the center of the room.  And the crowd’s given her plenty of that to work with, John figured they’ve given her a diameter of at least, what, two feet on either side of her plus say a foot for the woman’s width proper, five feet.

“They do not know what we have suffered.  They don’t care what they are responsible for.”  She took a moment to compose herself in her circle of clear floor space.  John presumed she was trying to quell a vivid recollection of watching her family being incinerated by the Replicator’s right in front of her eyes.  “We have lost many,” her voice was still loud but shaking with the emotion she had fought to keep from overwhelming her a moment ago; now she used it to power her speech, “There is not a single one of us here who has not suffered that.”  Many heads in the crowd bobbed at this.  “We have been left behind by the Wraith,” more nodding, “by these so-called Replicators with their weapons of light,” even more heads nodding, “and we have been left behind by disease,” emphatic nodding.  “Brought by him!

She points accusingly at Sheppard, all eyes turn to him.  He pales.  He hadn’t realized she’d seen him come in.  And the crowd in front of him parts and exposes a path to him to the rest of the room.  Sheppard swallows hard.  And he thought he could smooth this over.

“By Atlantis,” Shiana roars.  “Once again they have brought death and destruction to us, to our people!”

She addresses the crowd, her fervor bolstered by his presence and the attention she’s drawn to it, to how out of place he is among her and her people.

“Will we allow them to do this to us?  Will we allow them to do this to us again?”

The crowd cheers to her rallying cry; she was a one-person wrecking crew to Atlantean goodwill.  Quickly, John realizes he’s in a room full of people cheering for his butt to be thrown back through the Stargate to Atlantis.  And that was probably the nice thought they were having about getting rid of him.  He glances over at the crowd and sees a few raised pitchforks, actual pitchforks.  They started out with the torches and now they’ve broken out the pitchforks too.  John wasn’t liking where this was headed; he’d seen Frankenstein before, it was one of his favorite movies and he remembered that it didn’t work out well for the monster in the end.  He had to put a stop to this fast.  He cautiously steps down the path still opened to him and steps out into the open the crowd has created for Shiana.  He turns around to take in the crowd surrounding him, coming to rest on their passionate leader.  Her elegant chest heaving with intense shallow breathes.  Her whole defiant body seething at him, daring him.  John held her gaze for a moment then returned his attention back to the crowd.

“We are simply here to help you,” he announced.

Murmurs of dissent ripple through the crowd.  Oh boy.

“And with that in mind, I have been instructed to tell you that more of us are coming here.”

The murmur becomes a full out cry of derision.  Sheppard holds up his hands to try and shush them down.

“It is…it is only one other team…and a medical unit…We are only here to help you.”

“You have to be instructed to help us,” Shiana latched on to that fact and John immediately regretted his word usage, “You have been instructed to invade us.”

Sheppard shoots her a glance.  It hadn’t been the way he’d figure she’d use those words against him, maybe ‘How dare it have to be you were instructed to help us’, but not invasion.  He goes back to addressing the crowd.

“We are not invading you,” he tries to explain, “we are simply trying to provide medical assistance as per our alliance last year.”  Good, good, emphasize that.

Shiana glares at him.

“That alliance was not my choice.  I found you guilty.”

Damn, but at least there was an opening now for him to help himself here…

“And yet we’re still here helping you,” he says to her, turning to face her with a somewhat lopsided smile and casually playful demeanor that he hoped would be perceived just as charming and good naturedly intentioned as he meant it to be.  This was a peacekeeping mission after all.  Humanitarian.

“And yet you are still here trying to tell us how to live our lives.”

Damn it, she turned it against him again!

“At least you still have your lives,” John snaps.  Oops, bad move…

Shiana turns on him.

“You call this living?!”

John stays silent.  Her vehemence so palpable he thought he might have had to take a step back from her when she turned, but he’d fought the urge.

She gestures around the hut, to her people, “What is there to live for?!  More of this?  More death?”

John looks out at the crowd again and all the faces looking back at him.  And he sees the one that can prove his point better than he could ever say it.  He gestures at a child with a dirty face in the front row.  The boy was maybe nine years-old and wearing a jacket made of a thick woven dark blue wool and thick woven beige pants with a taupe linen peasant shirt, all so worn and torn he looked like an extra from Oliver Twist.

“He looks worth living for and I bet there’s a lot more where he came from.”  The bonfires had ravaged more than just the bodies in the piles.  John looks at Shiana and she looks like she could spit venom in his face.  He goes back to addressing the crowd and it looks like they might actually be on his side for once.  “Like I said, more of my people are coming.  Just show us how and we will help everyone we can,” he gestures at the door, his extended hand palm-side up.  The open offering made.

The villagers take a moment to look at each other.  Then the murmurs start again.  John’s stomach catches, but he keeps up the showing of his good intentions, Atlantis’s good intentions.  Then the villagers begin to file out the door, telling each other what further supplies or elements John’s team might need.  Local medicinal treatments that perhaps Atlantis’s doctors would not know of or about.  John nods to himself.  Inside, he can actually feel his body breathe a sigh of relief.  And thanked his lucky stars that the sigh didn’t physically show.  Apparently this politics thing wasn’t as bad as he had originally thought.  He looks over at Shiana with a smile, one of his confident, even more charming ones…But he didn’t remember her ever looking quite this lethal before.  His smile deadens.

“You don’t know what you’re talking about,” she growls at him.

John stays silent.  A little afraid to speak.

“I will stop you from destroying more of my people.”

She stamps out.

His eyes follow her wake.  In the bright light from outside, her silhouette seems to warble like it’s actually exuding the heat from the fires.

And once again, he lets the mask of a smile drop away from his face, John thought he could smooth this over.

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Episode Two- The Fires- Chapter Three

Chapter Three

 The forest is quiet.  It’s so pristine out here, so…untouched.  The smoke hasn’t covered the sky yet, sunlight streams through the tall pine trees and floods the open path.  He could see the finely trodden blades of grass and the branches that looked due for their trim out of the line of traffic from behind the dark tint of his sunglasses.  There was no bird song, no sounds of other diurnal animals wandering the forest grounds or the tree’s barks.  It made sense.  Animals still don’t go anywhere near the concentration camp sites in Europe; the smell of death clung to the soil still, permeated it too much.  It’s like when people say “The ground has developed a taste for blood” because of all of the bad things that have happened on it but only the animals can sense it, only the animals seemed to take the saying seriously.

Clank, clank, clank, clank, clank

Then Sheppard slumps down into the pilot’s seat of his jumper and starts picking at the controls in front of him.  In the silence he had focused on the sound of his boots walking up the fairly inclined grassy path.  Now…He looks up and watches the bright and happy woods outside the jumper’s window for a moment.  All of it washed in golden sunlight.  It was so peaceful out there, so…unlike what he had to do.  Finally, he sighs, reaches over, and starts dialing a gate address.

 

Several personnel are milling about the dark as usual Command Center of Atlantis, going about their daily routines of sitting at consoles eyeing the city’s systems or playing gopher for those sitting behind the consoles and running things down or up to their various departments, when their Stargate in the gate room below starts to come to life.  Klaxons immediately begin to sound as the gate rapidly begins to lock in its incoming chevron sequence.  Chuck, the technician who mans the DHD console and lovingly nicknamed amongst the Expedition as the Chucknician, starts confidently working at his station as he announces over the city-wide communications system…

“Unscheduled off-world activation.  Unscheduled off-world activation.”

The Stargate’s glacial-iridescent iris closes across the hole at the center of the gate as Richard Woolsey, Commander of the Atlantis Expedition, walks into the Command Center from his office just across the small walkway bridge between the two rooms.  The wormhole activates.  The brilliant undulating silvery light of the active Stargate seems even more extraordinary due to the fact that the overcast, almost stormy sky outside will not permit any sunlight to shine.  Rendering the cities normally exquisite light mosaics cast by her autumnally colored stained glass windows null and the windows themselves extraordinarily dower and foreboding with their unusual backgrounds of indigo-grey clouds coming through the clear parts of the glass and their tinted parts looking like various shades of shadow ascending into the dark.

“Do we know who it is yet,” Woolsey asks urgently, looking down into the gateroom below.

“Receiving the I-D-C now, Sir…It’s Colonel Sheppard,” Chuck answers.

“Very well then, let them in,” Woolsey orders.

Chuck looks up at Woolsey, confused.

“It’s a radio transmission, Sir,” he tells him.

“What,” Woolsey looks shocked at him.

Chuck nods.

“Patch him through then,” the administrator amends his order as he runs a hand over his bald head, stress tensing the muscles in his neck.  He told himself to hold off first on saying to himself ‘Not again’ just yet.

Woolsey waits for Chuck to do his work then the technician looks back up at him and nods.

“Colonel Sheppard, we were expecting your team to return in about an hour.  Your check-in is early.  Is there anything wrong?”

“Yeah,” Sheppard’s voice came over the radio, “we’ve hit a little snag in that.”

Oh God.

“‘Little snag’,” Woolsey repeats.

“Yeah, Lieutenant Kenmore sort of interfered.”

Woolsey’s face sets into a glare even though Sheppard nor any other member of his team was there to see it, “I see.  How so?”

There was a pause…Oh God

“The village near the gate was having a bonfire or two to bury their dead from the Hoffan virus…,” Woolsey instinctively lowers his head out of respect for the mere thought, Sheppard continues, “Kenmore sort of freaked out and pulled some of the bodies out of the fires.”

“I see,” Woolsey’s voice deepens into its School Principal tone of voice.  This was not going to help their relations with the Pegasus’s Coalition of Planets and this leader in particular.  Woolsey could think of nothing more invasive, insulting, and disrespectful than interfering with another culture’s burial rites.

“There’s more,” Sheppard announces.

Of course there is.

“Surprise me.”

“The bodies Kenmore pulled out were still alive.”

“What,” Woolsey was dumbfounded.

“And we’ve found more survivors in the bonfires.”

“My God.”

“There’s more,” Sheppard informs him again.

“What,” Woolsey exclaims.  How much worse could this get?

 

Sheppard runs his hand through his hair, scruffing it up even more than it already was; he doesn’t really know how to explain this.

“Kenmore had another…accident,” is the only way he can figure to explain it.  He’d never seen anything like it before.  And even when he had seen things similar, like Chaya’s white electricity or Rodney’s ability to jam enemy weapons just by thinking about it when he accidentally Ascended himself, John had never been the one to try and describe things.  That was Rodney’s job, even when it involved Rodney.  But Rodney wasn’t here, he was helping the injured.  Reporting what’s happened so far is John’s job.

“What type of accident,” the cautious worry in Woolsey’s voice, even over the jumper’s comm system, only helps to amp up John’s anxiety even more.

“When she freaked out, she kinda set some of the gathered villagers on fire.”

There’s dead silence on the other end.  Sheppard turns his chair to look out the open back end of the jumper to the sunbathed, glittering Stargate surrounded by tall healthy, green alien pine trees.  He still wasn’t sure how to describe what he’d seen or what he’d heard.  The sound of her voice…John supposed he could try, but right now all he could think of was simple words that just sounded too simple and too stupid to be accurate.

“Yeah, it’s pretty bad out here,” he fills in the silence with something kind of on topic but still nowhere near describing what new uncontrolled Ancient abilities Kenmore had exhibited yet again.

“Should I send Doctor Keller and her team?”

“Yeah, a lot of teams,” John answers, relieved to not have the subject be so explicitly on ‘How the hell do we get out of this mess this time?’ nor the Lieutenant’s super powers, “I don’t think they’re the only village doing this.”

“Of course.”

And John wondered if that was a comment on the more than one village thing or on the Keller needs to bring a lot of teams with her thing.

“And,” he really hated having to add this, “Kenmore pissed off Shiana.”

Again there was a long dead-air pause on the other end then…

“Colonel Sheppard.”

“Yeah?”

“I think you better start at the beginning.”

Sheppard nods, that wasn’t what he had wanted to hear but he’d figured he’d hear it anyway, and settles into a more comfortable position in his chair.  He was going to be here awhile considering how he believed he was going to stumble around probably repeating himself, looking for the right words to describe Kenmore’s telekinesis—or was it pyrokinesis?  Was that even a word?  Well Rodney made Carson float in the air with his mind and a gesture of his hand.  It had been pretty freaky to see him do it in the jumper bay after mocking him over the firefight.  That was a good place to start, ascending Rodney floating Carson like a piñata in the jumper bay had been freaky…

*                      *                      *

The day’s threatening storm clouds passed without so much as a rumble or a drop of rain.  Warm sunlight glittered through the stained glass windows and glared through the open balcony doors with a strong, fresh, salty breeze.  The mess hall was pretty filled.  But what could you expect when this actually was the time most of Atlantis was on lunch break?  The voices of the people were so loud and carried so far in the cathedral-like room that Major Evan Lorne practically had to shout to be heard, even when he was leaning down right next to the ear of the person he was trying to talk to.

“Okay,” he yelled, “they’ve got Salisbury steak, chicken caccia—,” Oh dear God, what is that stuff, “cacciatore,” his eyes looked over the table some more, “chicken fried steak—“

“Chicken steak,” little Michael Kenmore shouts.

Lorne smiles and reaches over for the tray of said food; thank God the little guy’s voice was high-pitched enough to carry over all the racket of Lorne’s fellow hungry Expedition members.  He hands the slightly warmed banana cream pie yellow-colored plastic tray to the little waiting hands.  Michael carefully balances the tray on his short forearms, his fingers reaching up and latching over the tray’s lip tightly.  Lorne turns him straight ahead and scoots him a few steps further to the next table’s group of food.  He leans down next to Michael’s ear again.

“Okay, there’s apples, oranges, bananas, and gelatin.”  He wasn’t about to dignify what an SG mess hall defined as jell-o by calling it jell-o.

“Gelatin!”

“They’ve got yellow, green, red, and blue.  Which color do you want?”

“Blue!”

Lorne reaches over and picks up a clear plastic cup of the blue wiggly stuff with a dollop of white fluffy whipped cream on the top, there again Lorne wasn’t sure he’d dignify that by publicly calling it cream.  He fits it, balanced awkwardly, on Michael’s tray between where his drink would go and the entrée’s side of glazed baby carrots.  Lorne starts to shoo Michael on to the table of drinks when the call comes in over his earpiece…

“Major Lorne, this Woolsey.”

Lorne reaches up and touches his earpiece, activating it…

“Lorne here.  Yes, Mister Woolsey.”

“Assemble your team and report to the gateroom immediately for an emergency medical mission.”

Lorne looks down at little Michael eyeing the new lunch selection in front of him:  drinks.  His little eyes glazing over at the bottles of water, cartons of chocolate milk, plain milk, and bottle of pretty priceless out here soda pop.

“I’ll be there as soon as I can, Sir.  Lorne out.”

Lorne eyes the top of Michael’s head for a moment then starts looking around at all the assembled.  There has to be someone here that he knew both he and Ursula would trust to take care of Michael just the way they would.  He turned, still searching through face after face in the crowd.  He completes the one-eighty to find right behind him was a certain scientist with a chin-length mane of disheveled sandy-colored hair that gave him the look of Beethoven and wearing glasses that had slipped down the bridge of his nose a little as he stared down at his own banana cream pie-colored plastic tray of food…a certain Czech scientist.  He was perfect.  Lorne couldn’t think of or see anyone better for the job.

“Radek.”

Doctor Radek Zelenka’s head shoots up at the mention of his name.

“Yes, Major.”

Lorne smiles and scoots Michael in front of him.

“Have you met Michael Kenmore, Ursula’s son?”

Radek looks down at the little boy grinning up at him.  Before the scientist could say anything…

“Could you watch him for me?  Woolsey’s got an emergency medical situation he needs my team for,” again before Zelenka could say anything, “Thanks.”

Lorne leans down and tells Michael, “Michael, this is Doctor Radek Zelenka.  He’s going to watch you until either your mommy or I get back, okay,” with a couple of claps on top of the boy’s shoulders and then he was gone.

Zelenka watches the Major rush away then looks back down at the little boy in front of him.

“I’ve got blue gelatin,” the happy little face announces proudly.

Zelenka tries to smile at him.

“I like white milk.  Could you help me with it, please?”

Zelenka looks over at the table of drinks.  He supposed that wasn’t too much to ask.  Radek pushes his glasses up to their proper position then reaches over and picks up a carton of milk and puts it on the child’s tray.  The boy eyes his little pint-carton of milk like it was gold.  And Radek flinched, the children on M7G-677 got the same dangerous look in their eyes when they saw chocolate.  It reminded him of what he always imagined the children looked like in The Lord of the Flies when they killed Piggy.  Wait, didn’t Piggy where glasses?  Radek’s glasses slip down the bridge of his nose again.

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Episode Two- The Fires- Chapter Two

Chapter Two

 The hut is really unremarkable.  Random bits of straw stick out of the walls here and there, telling everyone that walked in that the huts of this planet were constructed from chocolate-colored mud fortified with the strands of the local animal bedding.  And every wall has a window but no curtains or coverings of any interior sort, just the hint of exterior shutters if you peered closely enough at the edges of the window.

Plain and sparsely decorated, it is typical of a hut definitely defined as a meeting place and not someone’s abode.  There’s a single tall bookcase made of woven materials that looked like probably a surprisingly sturdy and weight-tolerant reedy grass containing no books whatsoever, just a metal pitcher and a couple of cups on one of the eye level shelves, most likely made of a lithe nickel of some sort, and a few knick knacks, again doubtlessly some baubles meant for a “he who holds the stick gets to talk” sort of a thing, against one wall.  In the middle of the room is one long, large, rectangular table made from something akin to mildly rejuvenated and polished driftwood lined on either of its two longer sides with three chairs each, likewise of driftwood.

Kenmore heaves the little girl onto the table and then sets about unwrapping the baby from the girl’s arms as Ronon, who’d closely followed her in, walks around her to the other longer side of the table.  He watches her and says something he’d never thought he’d say to Lieutenant Kenmore…

“Do you need any help?”

She looks up at him.

“You got any medical training?”

“A few things Keller’s taught me and stuff I taught myself.”

“That’s good enough for me.”

Kenmore takes the baby and, shooshing it and cradling it gently in her arms, lays the baby down on the table in front of him, beside the girl.

“Get some warm water and start cleaning the baby off.  The sooner we can get him clean, the sooner we can assess any further damage done to him.”

“How do you know it’s a ‘him’,” Ronon asks, noticing the baby was still wrapped in a somewhat charred blanket.

Kenmore falters for a moment then keeps on going, “I don’t…I have a son.”

Ronon nods, he could understand that.  He walks over to the bookcase, grabs the pitcher, and heads past Sheppard and back out of the hut.  Kenmore continues batting the girl’s cheek, stirring her to further revival, as Sheppard and Shiana look on from beside the hut’s arched doorway covered by a door that was more giant flap than actual door and made of a hefty combination of thick animal hide with woven braids of reedy grass for its trim.  The hide-and-grass door flap shifts, Teyla runs in and takes up the position Ronon just vacated.  She sets the medical kit on the table at the baby’s feet.  Her distressed maternal instincts made her feet fleeter than usual.

“What do you need,” she asks Kenmore.

“A tiny vial with the word vapors written on its label.  It’s old fashioned but it works.”

Teyla opens the black canvas kit and begins frantically searching through it for the vial.  She finds one and reads its label.  She shakes her head and puts the vial back.  She finds another vial, reads it, and puts it back.  She picks up another one and reads it.

“I found it.”

“Good.  Now open it, but be careful.  Don’t open it up too close to your face.  It’s powerful stuff,” Kenmore directs.

Teyla nods.  She holds the squat brown vial far out in front of her and twists the black cap off of it.  She looks to the Lieutenant for further instruction.

“Put the vial underneath her nose.”

Teyla stares at Kenmore.  The Lieutenant nods at her.

“It will knock you on your ass, but it won’t hurt her,” Kenmore tells her, “It’s what she needs.”

Teyla looks past the Lieutenant at Sheppard, he nods, and Teyla lowers her hand with the vial to the girl’s nostrils.  After a second, the girl suddenly gasps.  Teyla yanks her arm back as the child starts to weakly struggle against the strong odor.  Her eyes aren’t opening.  Kenmore grabs hold of the girl’s shoulders and starts to shake her, using the discomfort to rouse her further.

“Come on girl, come on.”

Sheppard continues to watch from the doorway.

“You had no right to do this,” Shiana growls at him.

Sheppard looks over at her.  Fury is burning in her narrow black eyes and her whole body is shaking with resentment.  Kenmore scoffs.  Teyla glances up at Shiana then returns her eyes to Kenmore’s work.

“You had no right to do this,” Shiana spits at him again, “You had no right.  When there were beams of light shooting down from the sky and they took the life of my children, my husband, my family, you brought those beams.  You had no right to interfere then.  You have no right to interfere now.”

Kenmore can’t take anymore.  She suddenly stops shaking the girl.

“And what right do you have taking another mother’s children away from her,” she snaps with just as much venom.

“Kenmore.”

There’s a moment of tense silence after Sheppard’s snap.  Teyla’s eyes go back and forth between Shiana and Sheppard and the Lieutenant, an argument, or more likely a fight, now would do no one good.  The girl starts to cough, drawing the Lieutenant and Teyla’s attentions back to her.

Kenmore puts her fingertips to either side of the girl’s throat and looks intently into her face.  After a moment, the girl’s eyes open up into slits to reveal a pair of bright Caribbean ocean blue eyes.

“She’s going to be fine,” Kenmore announces.

Ronon enters with the pitcher and a clean cloth, procured somewhere along the way, in his hands.  He walks over to Teyla’s side, pauses at the sight of the tension so palpable in the room, and looks to Sheppard as well.  Kenmore addresses Teyla.

“Can you take over?”

Teyla nods at her.

“Good, I’m gonna go outside and help the others.”

Kenmore heads for the doorway.  Shiana grabs her arm, she looks the Lieutenant dead in the eye…

“These people deserve a proper burial.”

“Lady, back off or I’ll bury you.”

“Kenmore,” Sheppard warns again.

Kenmore yanks her arm out of Shiana’s grasp and walks out the door.  Sheppard looks at Shiana.  The tan-skinned tribal leader fairly grins at him with contempt and her words drip with it.

“‘Innocent’?”

Sheppard holds her gaze for a moment then walks out of the hut, the mocking word echoing after him in his mind.  The flap of the door falls closed.  Shiana looks back at Teyla and Ronon.  Teyla recaps the vial and puts it down then walks around the table to where Kenmore had been and starts seeing to the little girl.  Ronon sits the pitcher on the table at the baby’s feet, dips the edge of the cloth into the fresh, crystal clear, clean water lying a few inches beneath the pitcher’s lowest rim, and starts to tenderly clean the baby’s face.

 

Kenmore walks away from the hut.  Sheppard comes out of the hut, sees her, and trots after her.  When he’s close enough to her, he grabs her upper arm and yanks her back to him.

“What the hell do you think you’re doing,” he snaps at her.

“Holding up our end of the deal, remember?  Aiding.  Protecting.  Helping.”

“You were way out of line back there.”

“Make a choice Sheppard,” Kenmore yells back at him.  “Politics or people,” she yanks her arm back and walks away from him; she doesn’t look back, “Sometimes you can’t have both.”

Sheppard watches her go.  If ever there was a time in his life where he as a grown man wanted to stomp his feet and bounce his clenched fists up and down in the air beside him, it was now.  He was trapped.  Kenmore technically hadn’t done anything wrong.  Saving people from being set on fire was never the wrong thing to do, but Shiana was the leader here and she already hadn’t wanted them here in the first place.  Now Kenmore had marched right through their funeral rites and stamped all over the woman’s toes and was brewing up a war between the two of them that Sheppard was sure was going to amount to nothing other than a living Hell.  Aw damn it.

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Episode Two- The Fires- Chapter One

Chapter One

Standing on the edge of the woods, at the edge of a landslide-born dead drop below, Sheppard’s team and Kenmore stare at the scene that lies before them.  Down below in a massive clearing bordered on the right by dozens of huts indicating a village and all around by the tree-saturated hills are groups of dozens of people gathered around five giant randomly placed bonfires.  Some of the people gathered are walking up to the fires carrying large limp bundles in their hands.  Both Kenmore and Sheppard have seen it at least a dozen times before they joined the SGC and they needn’t have fought either in Iraq or Afghanistan to remember the way those particular bundles overflowed limply beyond the arms that tenderly carried them to their final destinations:  dead bodies.  The carriers of the dead toss their bundles onto the fires, already piled high and spilling onto the ground around their bases.  Three of the fires are lit.  Their bizarrely golden flames crowning their piles like ordained volcanoes and spewing curls of acrid black smoke into the air.  While one of the remaining two bonfires is just starting to cough up whisps of grey trimmed in white smoke, undoubtedly a fire being rebuilt over the remains of an old one like a cannibalistic phoenix, the other bonfire still remains unlit, not smoking, and still being built.  Fresh and new, a disgusting play on the idea of pure.

“My God,” Rodney gasps.

“It must be their dead from the Hoffan plague,” John says.  And another vivid memory of Afghanistan arises from long buried shadows in his mind.  It started out like all of his usual memories of that battlefield:  the blackened shadow silhouette of his helicopter gliding over the desert sands towards a hostile city, the rotor blades moving so fast they simply appeared as a greyed blur circling the dark reflection of the chopper’s main body.  Then he’d see a far off pillar of smoke, small.  Just starting to pale around it’s edges, meaning it was burning itself out and whatever threat there had been was long gone.  But still interesting enough for him to dip his helicopter a little closer to the surface in order to get a better look as he approached and passed by.  He’d thought what he was seeing was a burning out humvee dying a fiery death…until he got up close…and realized it was a bunch of bodies piled together and rigormortis had set in.  Afghani “mass graves,” someone had told him once that’s what they were nicknamed.  The people were too scared to go out into the open and stay there long enough to bury their dead properly so they just piled the bodies together and set them on fire so at least the wildlife couldn’t get at their loved ones or diseases coming from decay.  They were afraid the soldiers would pick them off if they spent any more time on a funeral than that…or if the soldiers didn’t, the Taliban might.

…And flaming dog bodies lying beside the abandoned roads, the Taliban would use those as bombs.  Lure sympathetic soldiers, like John, in and detonate.  John liked dogs, had a puppy when he was little until his…Dad had “accidentally” ran over the little thing after he and John had had a fight.  John couldn’t help but feel “accident” had had nothing to do with it.  They had gotten into a fight over the puppy’s care and John’s Dad ended up backing over the little two month-old Golden Retriever.  The old man tried to apologize…but John had been too distraught and wouldn’t have anything to do with him.  John’s mother had been just as distraught as John had and spent the rest of the day consoling him.  Spent the rest of the next two weeks consoling him, actually.

His Dad bought him another puppy, but it just wasn’t the same.  John played with it for a couple of months, but ended up giving the baby Weimaraner to his brother.  It had always been more of Dave’s puppy than John’s, they both played with it even though it had been a gift to John but it just wasn’t John’s puppy…He’d never forgiven his father for running over Twinkie.  Yet another thing on a long list of things that had come between John and his father and stayed there until the old man’s death.

At the funeral, Dave had made some snarky, mean-ass dig about John only showing up to know if he’d gotten any money in the will; it had caught John off guard then but now he remembered his father making some equally snarky, mean-ass comment to John when he gave him Snickers about how John damn well better like the dog because of how much it cost to replace the dog he’d ran over.  Why had it always seemed to be about money with those two?  Maybe that’s why John never got along with them, they never saw anything beyond the dollar signs…Silently, he wished they could see this.

“They must have run out of room to bury them,” Teyla speaks up and the thought comes to her as a feeling.  If her own people had been exposed like the rest of the Pegasus Galaxy had, this might also have been their fates.  Suddenly she was very thankful for them being turned into hybrids from Wraith-hybrid Michael Kenmore’s experimentation or killed outright by him and his followers.  She never thought, what was her friends’ expression, ‘in a million years’ that she would be grateful for that.

Everyone continues to survey the scene below in grim sobriety…except for Kenmore.  The look of horror and panic on her face is still there and it’s growing in intensity.  She’s practically becoming distraught.

“No,” she begs.

Sheppard looks at her.  He could understand the feeling, but it wasn’t their call.

“It’s their burial rites, Kenmore,” he tells her softly, seeing if that could calm her down any.  It hadn’t when his CO had tried it on him that first week in Afghanistan, after flying by that pillar of smoke, but it might here, it was worth a try.

Kenmore’s distress increases.  She yells…

“Don’t!”

Both she and the team are too far away for the people below to hear her.  Two men walk out of one of the village’s huts directly bordering the bonfire’s clearing with torches in their hands.  The crowds part for the men to make their ways.  They walk over to the unlit non-smoking pile of bodies.  Kenmore panics.

“Stop!”

Sheppard loses patience with her.  Annoying the team was one thing, being distraught by the scene was one thing, but disrupting the funeral rites of another culture was something very different and very insulting to him.  You don’t go around telling other people how you think their loved ones should be buried.

“Kenmore,” he snaps.

The men toss their torches on the unlit bonfire.

Desperate, Kenmore…

“Stop!”  Her voice takes on a bizarre, rapid echo like her voice alone was trying to break the sound barrier with as much chaotic speed as possible.  As she yells, Kenmore spreads her arms out as if she’s shoving people out of her way, shoving the men away.

Suddenly the flames from the bonfires shoot out from their piles like the flares of an exploding firework and engulf random people standing around them.  The flames of the torches suddenly shoot back and engulf their carriers.  The enflamed start screaming and staggering desperately away from the piles, flailing.  Their blazing arms extended away from the rest of their bodies.  From this distance they looked like miniature Wicker Men coming to life to horrify the masses.  The whole crowd is thrown into chaos and confusion.  Some villagers flew the scene, screaming in mortal terror and the seeming magic of the terrible moment; others somehow managed to stay in their mournful spots surrounding the bonfires, acting as though nothing had happened, that there was nothing bizarre going on around them.

The team stares in shock at Kenmore and shocked at what the Lieutenant’s uncontrollable Ancient powers have managed to do again.  Kenmore doesn’t wait for them to come to their senses enough to tell her about it though.  She runs over the edge of the crest and slides for a few feet down the landslide slope of the hill then switches to her other foot and slides further still, going back and forth from left foot to right foot skiing in her combat boots down the rest of the slide.  At the bottom, Kenmore barely manages to scramble to her feet in time to stop her butt from hitting the ground and she runs for the still unlit pile of bodies.  She shoves villagers frozen in place by grief out of her way.  Then one of the engulfed torchbearers stumbles and flails towards her.  Kenmore stands aside with her hands up in surrender and lets the screaming man go past her then continues her run towards the bonfire.

Kenmore falls to her knees at its edge.  She looks the pile of bodies over for a horrified moment then dives into it, pulling body after body aside.  Suddenly she finds what she’s been searching for:  a little red-haired girl that looks to be about seven, maybe eight or nine years-old wearing a light blue nightgown scorched and torn and just as covered in dirt and soot as the rest of the pile’s occupants.  Kenmore pulls the little girl from the pile and uncovers the body of an infant, maybe three or four months old, lying swaddled in a dirty white blanket underneath the arm of some other body underneath the girl.  Kenmore pulls the infant from the pile as well and drags the two children a few feet from its edge.

As she leans over the bodies, the first of the team joins her.  McKay falls to his knees across from Kenmore and right beside the baby.  Kenmore checks the little girl’s throat.

“What the hell do you think you’re doing,” he asks, aghast at such a hideous show of arrogance.  Never, in a million years, would even he be so arrogant enough to storm into the middle of a funeral and start telling people how to bury their families and friends.  The arrogance of it.  The brashness of it.  The hypocri—

“She’s still alive,” Kenmore yells at him.

“What,” he gapes.

She leans across the little girl and checks the baby in front of McKay.  A slight tilt to the baby’s head and Kenmore leans further over to the infant, clamps her mouth over its mouth and nose, and, as gently as she possibly can while as breathless as she is, exhales.  Suddenly she reels back.  Whatever seal smoke had created in the child’s throat is broken and the baby starts shuddering with its cries.  McKay stares down at it.

“Oh my God.”

Kenmore reels her body back to tending the girl, who’s still unresponsive.  Finally the rest of Rodney’s team catches up to them, apparently Rodney’s propensity for arrogance lead him to shove people out of his way without consideration for their well-being and allowed him speed while the others’ propensity for politeness had staggered themselves.  Teyla and Sheppard fall to their knees at the feet of the girl and baby.  They stare down at the survivors.

“Doctor McKay, go back to the jumper and get the medical kit,” Kenmore orders.

“I’ll do it,” Teyla offers in a rush of voice and breath.

The Athosian reaches out to Ronon as she scrambles to her feet.  He helps her up and she runs back through the crowd towards the hill and their jumper.  Hopefully her kindness towards strangers would not be so forgiving this time.  Seconds were precious and minutes were gold.

“What can I do,” McKay asks now that his original task has been stripped of him by a far speedier teammate.

“There’s more out there,” Kenmore tells him as she tends to the girl, “Get them out of the piles.”

Kenmore puts her ear close to the girl’s lips and looks down her body.  The girl’s chest moves up and down slightly, barely perceptibly, but it was moving.  Thank God.  McKay looks behind him at the smoldering and non-smoldering piles then he looks back at Kenmore.

“How,” he was dumbfounded.  He wasn’t like Kenmore.  There wasn’t any half-Ancient DNA in him that would allow him to ESP out the living from the dead…And there were piles of burning bodies…there were bodies inches away from him…and, and…Good God, the smell.

Kenmore slowly looks up from the girl at him.

“Get a life signs detector,” she snaps.  Wasn’t it obvious?

Kenmore turns her attention back to the girl.

“I don’t have one,” McKay tells her.  The smell.

Kenmore looks back up at him again.  She knew the situation was mind blowing, she’d been on peacekeeping missions in hideously abused countries before, but really?

“Then go back to the jumper and get one!”

McKay struggles to his feet and runs in the same direction Teyla had.  Sheppard had tried to help him up, but McKay ignored him; the first trickles of panic were setting in.

Kenmore goes back to the little girl.  She pats the girl’s cheek a couple of times.  The girl stirs.  Kenmore finally allows herself to exhale in relief.

Quickly she gathers up the screaming baby and puts the infant on the girl’s chest.  She wraps the girl’s arms around the baby.  Then she gathers up both survivors and strongly stands up, cradling them in her arms.  Sheppard stands up with her and looks back at the piles.  She said there were more in there, how many more?

Kenmore starts to head towards the nearest hut.  Ronon and Sheppard follow behind her.  But it was like traversing a disturbing forest.  The villagers that have stood by this entire time in a state of what Sheppard hoped was numb bereavement remain frozen in some sort of time that obviously Sheppard, Ronon, Kenmore, and Rodney and Teyla aren’t trapped by.  No one is parting for the Lieutenant to get her young casualties to some safe shelter where they could get better medical attention than raw, in-the-moment, battlefield expertise.  She has to shove her way through every hole she can find that might be big enough for her and her precious load to get through, but, without knowing even vaguely what the kids’ injuries are beyond smoke inhalation and exposure, Kenmore doesn’t push too hard.  She doesn’t want to, but she’s got to get these kids the hell out of this Hell.  Sheppard glances over at Ronon.  Ronon does the same.  Then Sheppard looks back out at the throngs of unmoving human trees in front of Kenmore and the children and yells…

“Out of the way!  Make a hole!”

“Move,” Ronon bellows.  Slowly but surely, some of the crowd begins to shift, snapped out of their ice by the Satedan’s bombastic grumble like the preceding earthquake of a volcano before it erupts.

As they yell for the crowd to give Kenmore room and whoever doesn’t move, Kenmore pushes through, someone from the back of the crowd pushes towards them.  Suddenly a woman shoves two people out of her way and stands in front of Kenmore, forcing the Lieutenant to stop.  She was the same height as Sheppard, although the only time John had ever met her she had been sitting on what he would call a throne which had been big enough to hide any sense or hint of her height.  She was wearing the same outfit the first time he’d met her.  A burgundy suede corset accented with gilt filigreed thread designed to look like lace with cap sleeves and a chin-high, stiff collar of the same burgundy suede but free of the fine thread.  The interior of the collar was trimmed in short peacock blue feathers, so brilliant against the burgundy gemstones of the choker necklace with dangling strings wrapped so elegantly around her throat by a strip of suede of the same color.  The suede appeared again wrapped around her biceps, the short blue feathers blooming from their bottoms like the petals of a flower.  And the suede appears again in the woman’s long voluminous skirt slipping out from underneath her top and complimented with a trellis of pearls sewn together to form a falling pattern of tiny, graceful flowers leading a path down to her pretty feet on complimentary tan leather heels and held in place by the heels’ tan leather straps.  Her whole stunning form framed by a cape of beautifully painted, translucent material attached somewhere at her back, where the cap sleeves end and the corset begins perhaps, and a headdress of the same burgundy gemstones as the choker, pearls, and gold crowning her gorgeous raven haired head; she dressed like a queen amongst the peasantry.  The three SG members look on the fuming face and figure of Shiana, the woman who had put Lieutenant Colonel John Sheppard and his team, as representative of the entire Atlantis Expedition, on trial for crimes against the humans of the Pegasus Galaxy a year ago and had also been the only judging member of the tribunal to find Sheppard, his team, and the people they represented absolutely guilty.

“What did you do,” she accuses Sheppard.

“I didn’t do anything.”

A sour smile crosses the woman’s lips, simpering her gorgeously exotic face.

“Isn’t that what you always do, start things that you cannot possibly finish and then leave others to suffer and die in your wake?”

Ronon glances at Sheppard.

“And do you always sacrifice your living with your dead?  ‘Cause if you do Lady,” Kenmore readjusts the heft of the two children in her arms, “You’re doing a bang up job.”

The Lieutenant shoves past Shiana and continues to make her way to the hut her adrenaline had selected.  Shiana, slack-jawed at the way someone would so blatantly treat her like that, watches Kenmore’s back for a moment then turns her head to glare back at Sheppard and Ronon.  Clearly these people of Atlantis had no idea how to treat others properly, she waits for Colonel Sheppard’s apology on behalf of one of his subjects.  The two men exchange looks with each other then they too move past the leader of one of the Tribes of Santhal.

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Episode Two- The Fires- Prologue

Prologue

The room was as vast as the gateroom.  Starkly bright pyramid shaped lights in half hexagon shaped formations accent the high up ceiling, casting spotty lighting at best over the large area.  It’s second story opened up onto the main floor with railings that looked like all the railings they’d normally find around the city and it’s floors were outlined with highlighted tracks of lighting that evoked notions of the gateroom staircase accompanied with the occasional pillar light or giant ‘floor’ to ‘ceiling’ wall sconces that have become lovingly nicknamed “chicklet lights”.  Just in case you got lost in the dark in here up on the second floor.  And jutting out into the room on the second floor were ramps where previously silent vehicles had laid in wait.  But only one laid there now, while three more of its companions were being tended to on the main floor.  Atlantis’ jumper bay, during the daytime, never exactly went unused.  But today, it wasn’t exactly being underused either.  Two jumpers were out on training flights with a couple of new ATA-capable pilots that came through the Stargate two weeks ago along with Team Atlantis’ newest Lieutenant, likewise ATA-capable.

Although her ATA sensitivity was far more extravagant than anyone else’s in the formerly Lost City of the Ancients.  That fact was mostly due to this particular Lieutenant’s reason for being there in the first place:  she was half-Ancient.  But that didn’t necessarily earn her any friends in the city nor did she want any more than the ones she already had.  It did however award her a place on the top team; again, that didn’t necessarily earn her any friends in the lost city nor did she want any more than the ones she already had.  Lieutenant Ursula Kenmore and Major Evan Lorne push a heavy cart weighted down with two stacks each of three large grey metal crates over to the open back of the first puddle jumper on the main floor.  Stationed on the jumper’s ramp, Lieutenant Colonel John Sheppard and his teammate Ronon Dex unload the stacks of crates as Doctor Rodney McKay makes an inventory log of every crate they haul in and Teyla Emmagan shifts each crate into its proper place on board Jumper One, Colonel Sheppard’s favorite jumper.

“Why do we have to do this again,” Kenmore asks.

Rodney, Teyla, and Ronon look at each other.  The two men look severely like they really want to roll their eyes and Teyla just looks like she’s waiting for the time when she has to step in and break up whatever may happen next, which in her limited amount of experience with the newly arrived Lieutenant could mean as much as collapsing buildings if not testing the tempers of her already short-fused fellow teammates.

“There are civilians who need these supplies on a planet we’re friendly with,” Sheppard explains, acting and feeling like he had done it for the fifteen-billionth time even though it was only the first.

“We didn’t have to do this back at the SGC,” Kenmore comments more to herself than to anyone else, but it was loud enough for all of them to hear.

McKay can’t take anymore and speaks out from his spot inside of the jumper…

“Yeah, we’ll you’re not back at the SGC,” he hoped that stung as much as he wanted it to, “We’re sort of on our own here and things happen a little differently out here considering that we don’t have a planet Earth to rely on.  We have to play nice with all of our little friends.”

“Hey, we have to play nice back on Earth too.  We haven’t been the only ones with Stargates.  The Russians had one too you know.  Imagine having to kiss Doctor Zelenka’s ass just to get a computer from him.”

McKay hesitates; she did have a point and an unpleasant visual to go with it.

“Don’t get me wrong,” the Lieutenant goes on, “We’ve helped out the other planets we’ve been on back in the Milky Way, but we never had to actually go out and deliver the goods.  Usually the SG teams were reserved for exploration and first contact scenarios, it was the research teams, the scientists, that delivered the peacekeeping stuff and kept up the good relations.”

“Yeah, well we have to deliver these supplies our selves.  The good relations on this planet are a little…tricky.  Their leader is a woman who put us—,” the Colonel catches McKay shooting a glaring look at him as Sheppard drops a crate at Rodney’s feet.  Sheppard takes the hint, “me,” he corrects, “on trial for our crimes against the whole of the Pegasus Galaxy.”

“That’s nothing,” Kenmore tells him, “We were put on trial too for our ‘crimes’ against the Milky Way.”

McKay looks like he’s going to relish this, he knows she’s wrong, “And who put Earth on trial?”

“The Nox.”

Shocked, McKay peeks out from the inside of the jumper at her, “The Nox are peace-lovers.  Why would they put anyone on trial for anything?”

“The Goa’uld.  I don’t know whether or not you realized this Doctor McKay, but we sort of had a knack for really pissing them off.  I think it might have had something to do with our whole blowing up Ra therefore sending the rest of the System Lords into a feeding frenzy for as many star systems as they could get a hold of and helping to start a Jaffa rebellion that led the System Lords to subsequently start massacring people in grand sweeping bloodbaths on nearly every single planet in the galaxy just to maintain their death grip on interplanetary slavery,” she commented with a sarcastic smile on her lips.

“Oh,” Rodney answered back weakly then he takes a moment to get back his strength of snark and says, “And when did this trial supposedly happen?”  He still knew she was wrong.

Kenmore looks over at Lorne and the man quips off without hesitation and without even noticing his companion’s looking at him, “She can’t tell you.”

Kenmore makes a fake gun shooting at him gesture with one of her eyes shut and a click sound out of her mouth.

Sheppard and his team temporarily stop in their work and stare at Lorne.

“Why not,” Rodney asks indignantly.  He hated being left out of anything, he looked like he was on the verge of stamping his foot and calling for his Mommy to make Lorne and Kenmore start playing nice with him.

The two soldiers look at each other then look back at the others.

“We can’t,” they answer in unison with Kenmore shrugging.

That was not the answer the others had wanted to hear.

Kenmore addresses Sheppard as McKay retreats back into the jumper to try and figure a way of getting this little tidbit of information out of her, “So who’d you get done up for?”

Sheppard doesn’t see the harm in answering her honestly.

“The Wraith,” he tells her as he unloads another crate from her and Lorne’s cart and sets it down just inside the jumper then he stops and leans on the crate’s top; actually, there were a lot of people they had been responsible for over the years.

Kenmore shrugs it off and the rest of them go back to work.

“The Hybrids,” he goes on, “the Replicators…bad guy Asgard.”

“Well, we’ll match your Replicators with ours, we’ll check your Asgard with the Ori and well, as for the Hybrids, we’ll see ya’ the Super Soldiers,” suddenly she laughs, “and raise you Ba’al.”

Sheppard wasn’t sure this was so funny, this wasn’t a game.  At least not what they’ve been through in the Pegasus Galaxy.

But McKay can’t let the challenge slide, “And we raise you…we really don’t have anyone.”  McKay’s voice trails off as he realizes that their retrovirus-created Lieutenant Michael Kenmore could pretty much match Ba’al, but that would only lead to Kenmore raising them again with Anubis  most likely and they really didn’t have anyone that could match Anubis.  He leans a little bit against Jumper One’s ramp’s frame; well there were those aliens they met attacking the Daedalus when the ship kept going through variations of its self in different universes.  Maybe those guys could match Anubis, the team really hadn’t got to know anything about them other than they were a whole new race of people that another variation of the Atlantis Expedition somehow managed to piss off in another reality and they were really hard to kill…oh and there were a lot of them.  The other Sheppard’s F-302 squadron barely kept all of the alien forces in check, it was their own Sheppard’s help onboard the Daedalus and the ship’s own surprise appearance and reappearance that ended up tipping the scales in Atlantis’ favor.  Huh, trying to figure out this tit-for-tat stuff was actually pretty hard…

With the cart now empty, the Lieutenant and Major take up its handle again and start to tug it back away from the jumper.  On the other side of the room, safely away from the farthest reaches that the hole in the jumper bay floor can recess, Kenmore leaves Lorne beside the cart and walks back to the jumper and up its ramp.

“Friendly relations aside,” she comments, “this still sucks.”

She passes between McKay and Teyla inside the interior of the puddle jumper’s rear compartment and takes up her usual seat on one of the plush and rather comfy gray vinyl-covered benches.

“This is still a gracious and friendly gesture well needed to these people,” Teyla tries to smooth over; it was going to be a hard trip if she did not, “It is our agreement as part of this alliance to aid and protect them, to help them.  It was our promise.”

Kenmore gets comfortable, without looking up, “They’re farmers with pitchforks,” she says, “they know they suck.”

Teyla rolls her head away from Kenmore.  As a member of one of those races of so-called ‘farmers with pitchforks’ in the Pegasus Galaxy, she was insulted.  She looks towards Sheppard with her frustration.  They all do.  Sheppard takes in all the unhappy expressions about Kenmore looking back at him from his team and he looks over at Lorne.  Lorne holds up his hands in the universal gesture of ‘Don’t shoot the messenger’.

“That’s just the way she is,” Lorne tells him as quietly as he can while still being able to be heard by Sheppard.

That was not what Sheppard had wanted to hear, but…he nods and turns back to his team.  He gestures with his head for the rest of them to get to their usual positions, but he feels no less trapped for being the one caught in the middle.  John kept telling himself that that was one of the many prices of command, but it still didn’t make him resent the situation even less.  Woolsey had made it quite clear in his office at the end of that first disastrous day with Kenmore that she was on Sheppard’s team and that was it.  She wasn’t leaving it, wasn’t being transferred to another team; she was quote “Too valuable to be squandered there”.  But still…John makes his way to the jumper’s front and sits down in the pilot’s seat.

After a moment, the jumper hums to life.

Lorne waves at Jumper One as its ramp begins to rise.

“Have a nice trip,” he calls out to it.

Jumper One’s ramp closes shut and the vessel rises a few feet off the ground.

*                      *                      *

The wormhole wasn’t any bumpier a ride than expected, but the exit was a bit tight.  Actually, drastically tight.  A dense forest of alien pine trees crowded around the planet’s Stargate.  It was a miracle Sheppard managed to maneuver the jumper into the only available space, between a couple of spindly teenage saplings just beyond the Stargate’s initiating flourishes range, in time.  In the little craft’s cockpit, Sheppard breathed a hefty sigh of relief braced against his console.  He took a moment as his friends and teammates recovered from his slamming on the brakes and veering the jumper as sharply as he did then he eases his torso back from the jumper’s controls and pilot’s console and keys in the sequence that tells the stopped hovering ship to lower to the ground.  For the moments as the jumper settles down onto the bright green, ankle deep grass below it, he wondered if this was the planet’s leader’s idea of sarcasm.  They had not been informed that it would have been easier to just activate the wormhole and shove people pushing the crates of supplies through into the area.  That there really wasn’t enough room to fit a jumper into this Stargate’s area.

Finally, with the jumper firmly on the ground and parked, Sheppard lowers the ramp and the team starts unloading the crates out of the jumper into the wooded area’s tremendously small clearing a few feet off to the left of where they were parked and just a few feet further out of an activating Stargate’s range.  Okay so this was sarcasm, it had to be.  The clearing around the Stargate was even more ridiculously smaller in person than what quick glimpse was given through the speeding jumper’s window.  Only a few other saplings were growing a small distance, enough for the Stargate’s flushing’s suction sort of action when it activated to clear it, behind the gate.  Everywhere else, full grown trees, two hundred or so feet high, crowded all around them and towered over the Stargate, making even that large structure seem dwarfishly small and of course them tinier still.

Kenmore takes a crate and drops it a few feet farther than some of the other stacks they’ve piled up, starting a new pile.  Ronon, placing his own crate on one of the stacks they’d already started, pauses to watch her for a moment.  Sheppard puts down a crate beside his friend’s.

“Why is she here,” Ronon asks him, “We don’t need her.”

Sheppard looks up and watches Kenmore lean against the crate she’d just sat down and wipe her forehead.  Yeah, his friend was right, but…

“Woolsey says we do.”

Ronon glances over at Sheppard.  That was a weak answer.

“Do you always believe what Woolsey tells you,” he asks.

Sheppard eyes his friend, but doesn’t say anything.  It wasn’t like it had been his choice to keep her around, half-Ancient DNA or not.  He supposed he could tell Ronon what Woolsey had said about the matter, the specific case the former attorney had pled, but would that really work with Ronon.

 

Kenmore, in her own little world a small distance away from the other members of her assigned team, lowers her arm from wiping her forehead as she stares down at the ground next to the crate she had just started to lean against.  Her damp sleeve slips past her view.  It was funny how much sweat had built up for what three, four minutes of work.  The last time she sweated this bad with so little effort was that hellhole night over the southern Baghdad countryside.  She smiles for a moment at the crazy memory.  Thirty-two Apaches against four Republican Guard divisions, 40,000 men, well-hidden in territory they knew well.  Giving the opposition the unmitigated advantage of damn good cover.  At night too.  And by the end of that night, one of their own had been shot down and the remaining thirty-one Apaches had been forced to turn back, leaving the Guard practically untouched.  Which couldn’t be said for the Apaches, almost each and every one had sustained damage.  Ursula remembered throwing a tearful, cursing tirade when she’d finally landed and took a look at the hits her baby had taken.  And she’d only gotten more irate when the morning’s light got even better and she finally got a good look at her Longbow’s wounds.  Yep, their intel about that place had been pretty crappy then.  And judging by the way Sheppard had slammed his baby’s brakes coming out of the gate, some things never change no matter what galaxy you were in.

Suddenly a smell comes to her and she wrinkles her nose at it.  It’s both rank and cloyingly sweet…but strange enough it’s familiar as well.  Kenmore looks around her.  The more she catches the smell in her nostrils, the more the sense of familiarity engulfs her and continues to elude her.  Kenmore straightens up and starts sniffing the air around her.  More and more.

 

Sheppard places another crate down on the one he had placed just moments before and looks up at Kenmore again.  He sees her suddenly stand up with an odd expression on her face like she knows something’s off but can’t put her finger on what.  Usually when Teyla had that look on her face, her Spidey-sense was telling her something bad was coming.

“Something’s up,” Sheppard nudges Ronon as the Satedan sets down another crate on top of the stack he’d already started.

Ronon looks up at Kenmore again too and sees her starting to sniff the air.  He glances at Sheppard beside him and Sheppard returns the look.  The acknowledgement is silent and doesn’t require any sign of agreement.  Both men walk over to Kenmore.

“What is it,” Ronon asks.

Kenmore ignores him and turns in every direction she can following the scent.  Sniffing.  Turning in circle after circle after circle.  It was dizzying watching her.  She mouths words to herself, not saying any of them, and moving her lips and turning so fast Sheppard can’t catch a single word.  Then she slows.  She transitions from series of small sniffs to single long deep inhales of the air around her.  Her eyes drift off to the left of their landing zone to the start of a large path that leads away from their clearing, finally tracking the scent.  Her eyes wide with recognition…and something else.

“Burning,” she tells them.

Suddenly she bolts down the path.  Ronon quickly pursues with Sheppard following him.

“Kenmore,” Sheppard yells.

God damn it.  Not again.

Kenmore doesn’t slow up.  She desperately runs down the path, pushing herself hard.  She can hear the others following just as hard behind her, but her mind wasn’t on them.  She knew that scent now and she has to reach it, has to stop it.  A low branch from another alien tree that bore a striking resemblance to a stripped birch struggling to fill in what gap had managed to happen between two pine trees smacks into her forehead, but she pushes beyond it.  The terrain is so reflective it felt like she was running the same small indistinct stretch of it over and over like she was trapped on a treadmill.  Her desperation to go somewhere anywhere that let her know she was gaining any distance starts to overwhelm her.  And suddenly she breaks onto the crest of a hill with nothing but an eroded drop on the other side of it…and stares in horror at the scene before her.  Ronon, his long-legged strides had practically matched her smaller but more determined ones, comes up beside her within seconds and stares at the scene beyond.  Sheppard comes up between them and can’t believe his eyes.  After a moment, Teyla runs up to the small measure of free ground before erosion on Kenmore’s other side and McKay comes to a stop behind Teyla; they too stare in shock at the scene before them.

“Oh my God,” Kenmore breathes.

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Episode Two- The Fires- Front Cover

And thus we come to Episode/Book Two…

Some promises are hard to keep…

gate edit(halfwaythere)(final)

When Team Atlantis, along with their new fifth team member Lieutenant Kenmore, make good on one of the promises Richard Woolsey bargained for on their behalf during the trial conducted by Pegasus Galaxy’s fledgling Federation of Planets, they are in for their toughest challenge yet.

The team is on a low key mission to bring food and medical supplies to a world ravaged by the Hoffan virus.  There they are met with giant bonfires of dead bodies.  Tensions become high when Lieutenant Kenmore barrels into the funerals and starts pulling bodies out of the fires.  When the team confronts her, they discover that the bodies are not dead but still alive, and those aren’t the only people being burned alive.

As the team tries to tend to survivors, they encounter the people’s leader:  Shiana, Leader of one of the Tribes of Santhal and the only judge at the trial to vote the team guilty and ardently so.  The already present animosity between Shiana and Atlantis reaches fever pitch when Kenmore starts taking Shiana head on.  Just when Lieutenant Colonel John Sheppard hits his boiling point with both women, the Wraith show up…

How much can a strained alliance take before it snaps?

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Episode One- The Fifth- Epilogue and Acknowledgements

Epilogue

Michael Junior bundles the double-fist of bed covers he’s got against his chest again and rubs his cheek against the smooth, cool softness of his pillow.  Even in the dark, the part of the room that was his is awesome.  He smiles again and wiggles his bare toes underneath the covers again.  Enjoying the feel of the smooth softness that wasn’t too cool and wasn’t too hot but just the right sort of cozy.  He fights the urge to giggle in the darkness then he hears rustling.  It doesn’t scare him though, he’s heard it before.  Quietly, Michael rolls onto his back and looks down the length of his bed and over at his mother’s bed.

She’s flung her covers aside and is getting out of bed.   Then she stops, sitting over the edge of her bed, and looks around the room for a while.  Her movements are small and slow, tired out.  It is clear his mother isn’t taking to their new room they way he had.

Finally she walks over to stand by the window above her bed like he’s seen her do lots and lots of times in their old home back on Earth.  She leans against the window’s frame and looks out.  The lit up city stretches out below.  Each individual light like a diffused beacon amidst the dark shadows of the unlit surfaces of the city.  Some pearly white, some warmingly golden, others autumnal orange, and others still blushed antique pink.  Those lucky enough to be clustered together light’s join in blushing glows, creating halos of ethereal light adorning all around the city like the gospel of Atlantis.  The twin moonlight reflects off of the glassily rolling seas out beyond the quieter, sparingly lit piers.  Her eyes stay out there.

She reaches underneath her pajama top and holds on to the Army’s necklace she always wore.  He knew she was missing his Daddy.  Silently, he watches his mother mourn, as she has done hundreds of times before, in the darkness…I’m sorry Mommy.

Acknowledgements

First and foremost, thanks to everybody associated with the Stargate franchise, especially Stargate Atlantis.  Without your work on this totally awesome series, this book would not be possible in so many ways.  Thank you, thank you so very, very much!  And, of course, to all of the fans of this franchise and especially this series, like me, thank you for buying this book and keeping the Lost City of the Ancients’ lights on and still burning even though we don’t get to see her on a regular television basis anymore.  Yep, we just aren’t going to let this series go!  And thank you to everyone that has ever been associated with Stargate SG-1/Atlantis/SGU Magazine for every scrap of information, interviews, short stories, and just everything a writer could ask for all in one handy place.  I’m so sorry the magazine is gone, but know I have every issue of that was ever made and they are all always at my side to make every Stargate story I write just as accurate and the best that it can possibly be.  I wouldn’t do any less for my fellow fans.  Thanks for helping me make that possible.  I’d also like to thank Fandemonium for never letting the gate close!  Fans never let fans down!  Many grateful thanks to author Jaimie Duncan for your short story “A Pebble in the Cairn” that was featured in Stargate SG-1/Atlantis Magazine Issue #14.  It greatly and deeply helped shape Ronon’s inner thinkings as well as his interactions with his fellow team members and his behind-the-scenes relationship history with them in this story.  It was a tremendously big help for and with a character who was known for being the strong and silent type.  Thank you to Robert Picardo for fleshing out the Richard Woolsey character.  You gave me someone so multi-faceted to work with from the very beginning and for that I will always be thankful for your work and association with the Stargate franchise and to GateWorld.net, David Read, Chad Colvin, Shaun Farrell, and Bryan Cairns for the interviews and compiling you did for Stargate SG-1/Atlantis/SGU Magazine with Mister Picardo in Issues #23, #24, #25, and #26, everything all of you did helped me bring out even more of the Woolsey character, like how he felt when he found out he was being put in charge of the city and when he first came to her, to really round out this story and to feature Woolsey as a main factor in it.  Thank you so much.  I’d like to give a lot of kudos to Stargate Wiki and everyone who goes to it and adds information to it because I couldn’t find the name of Ronon’s “As good as” Satedan wife anywhere else.  Likewise, another thank you to all my friends and extended Stargate-lovin’ family at GateWorld.net, thanks for the Omnipedia to further help me answer all my littler questions like what console exactly does the Chucknician man in Atlantis’ command center and thanks to Chuck Campbell for the character in the first place.  A huge amount of gratitude to Brad Wright and Robert C. Cooper, Martin Wood, Joe Flanigan, and Robert Patrick for the premiere episode of Stargate Atlantis “Rising” for which I have been able to echo this scene and novelize it in this story to show how far Sheppard’s character has come from his first year and how Kenmore can bring all of that out in him let alone showing some of her own personality in the process.  I’d made for a great scene between two characters then and it makes for a great scene between two characters now.  Thank you so much.  I’d like to thank the artists of the Cosmic design of tarot cards for their beautiful images and to the creators of the Gundam Wing version of tarot cards for the sweet irony of your Heero-Yuy as The Hanged Man card; I love Gundam!  Thank you to stlyrics.com for the lyrics to “Zip-a-dee-doo-dah” from The Song of the South, let alone for helping me spell them right.  It added another depth to the Lieutenant Ursula Kenmore character.  To writer Carl Binder, director Andy Mikita, and actors Rachel Luttrell and Joe Flanigan for the season one episode “Letters From Pegasus,” the moment you created and I novelized here enhanced Sheppard’s character in a fabulous way that I absolutely have all of you to thank for.  Thank you again to Carl Binder, Andy Mikita, and Rachel Luttrell for their incredible work with the fourth season Atlantis episode “Missing,” it provided such great background for the Teyla Emmagan character to draw upon in this moment that I referenced in this story.  It was a beautiful wealth of insight and emotion, thank you.  Thanks goes out to everyone involved with the creation and conceiving of the season four episode, “Spoils of War.”   It helped establish Ronon’s thoughts about Kenmore and all the explanations the series came up with through its five years that clouded and made it possible to not exactly know or be sure where the new Lieutenant Kenmore comes from!  We know what Rodney had found out, but we didn’t know if he was indeed getting the truth.  He was, but it was fun to keep the guessing going to the end!  You allowed me to have a writer’s dream of a “tah-dah” moment.  Thanks everybody bunches for that!  Likewise thank you to everybody involved with the season one episode “Sanctuary,” especially you visual effects guys.  It was really helpful for fleshing out the reasons why Kenmore was posted to Atlantis, with her son, and behind her back.  And for putting a clue in place as to who and what she is and what she could potentionally mean for the Expedition.  In short, it kind of gives her her roots and I will always be grateful to you for that.  You gave her her first spark, thank you.  And kudos to Jennifer S. Carroll’s article “Appellate Specialization and the Art of Appellate Advocacy” as I found it in the Florida Bar Journal’s June 2000, Volume LXXIV, No. 6 issue for providing me with the background on what sort of lawyer Richard Woolsey was and what that meant exactly.  It helped me work out how Woolsey would have acted throughout that last scene of his and helped set up the final official entrance of Lieutenant Ursula Kenmore into the canon of Stargate Atlantis and Team Atlantis itself.  And lastly, to my Mother, thank you for being the first person to put a pen in my hand and telling me to go out and have an adventure and watching Stargate Atlantis with me—p.s. the adventure is awesome.  Thank you beyond every word I could possibly write or say for your undying support, Is breá liom tú Mamaí (I love you Mommy).

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Episode One- The Fifth- Chapter Fourteen

Chapter Fourteen 

The toe of John Sheppard’s black combat boot wiggles slowly, lightly, in the air as John wedges his thumbnail in between his teeth and stares down at the gateroom from one of the visitor’s chairs in Richard Woolsey’s office.  It was all he could do to keep his body distracted, he had a feeling if he paced anymore in here one of two things would happen:  he’d fall through the floor from the path he’d worn in it or Woolsey would order a couple of marines to hold him down just to keep everyone else from losing their sanity.  But his mind wasn’t distracted.

The gateroom was quiet, not anything like it had been a couple of hours ago when Doctor Keller and her team rushed his newly returned jumper, John blinks, or this morning when Lieutenant Kenmore had stepped through the gate among the other newly arrived.  John closes his eyes.  The gateroom had been alive and busy then, filled with dozens of people running.  He opens his eyes again.  It was deserted now with the occasional tumbleweed of a marine or some other personnel that crossed into view but otherwise…

The sound of rustling papers reached his ears again…or he wished it was.  Woolsey wasn’t here yet.  That was John’s punishment, sitting in Woolsey’s office alone to think about what had happened.  John closes his eyes again.  It had been a weird flight back, a haunting flight back.  Lorne had ridden back with them, leaving his own jumper to be piloted back by his second…

John looks back at Lorne.  The marine was sitting in the back on a bench staring down at…

John opens his eyes again, looks down on the gateroom, swallows, breathes, and closes them again.

…her laying in the middle of the floor of the rear compartment.  The Major, his friend, looks just frozen.  John turns back around and watches the trees and fields pass quickly away underneath the jumper as he flies it as fast as he can back to the gate.  He knows what Lorne is thinking back there.  How do you tell a child his mo…

John gasps and opens his eyes again.  He gives in to the feeling inside of him.  He huffs and puffs and starts to look everywhere around the office except down into the gateroom.  He blinks back tears.  In all his years as part of the SGC and as a soldier in the Air Force, he had never had to tell a child—

Finally, he heard it, not paper rustling but footsteps.  John closes his eyes, this time thankful.  He opens them as the footsteps clearly bring themselves behind him and start to walk around him.  Richard Woolsey comes into view out of the corner of John’s eye, comes around his desk, and sits down with the most terrifying grin Sheppard has ever seen…

*                      *                      *

With Ronon standing behind her, Teyla sits quietly and soberly on the end of a bed in Atlantis’ infirmary.  There isn’t any true hustle and bustle going on around her, not anymore; it is just business as, regretfully, usual.  Her eyes look to the pair of dirt-covered boots beside her then the tattered set of green BDU pants coming out of them and her eyes trail up the fatigues to their head.  Lieutenant Ursula Kenmore sits up in bed as Doctor Rodney McKay works at a bank of computers a step or two away to the left of Kenmore’s bed.  Teyla watches as Doctor Jennifer Keller stands on the right side examining the soldier’s newly healed head wound.  Jennifer’s fingers press against the Lieutenant’s temples and guides and directs Kenmore’s head around so the Doctor’s astute eyes can catch the glinting light off of every angle of its surface.  Kenmore does not even have a scar.  Teyla has always admired the doctor’s craft but this was exceptional.  After a moment, Keller nods.

“That’s doing nicely.”

Keller let’s go of Kenmore’s head.  She picks up a clipboard from the desk she rolled up beside her and makes a note on it.  The doctor puts the board back down then walks around the end of the bed, passes politely in front of Ronon, beside Teyla, and quietly steps in between Rodney’s back and Kenmore’s other side.

“Okay, now let’s take a look at how that broken arm of yours is healing,” Keller takes Kenmore’s arm in her hand, the one that had been slumped up by the Lieutenant’s head, holds it out, and starts to slowly roll it from side to side and rotate it at the elbow.  Her eyes measuring every part of this critical test.

Teyla looks back down at the hands she has been wringing in her lap for the past hour.  She is not sure whether or not she should ask this question, but she cannot restrain her curiosity any longer.

“Lieutenant Kenmore, may I ask you something?”

Kenmore looks up from watching Keller checking on her held out arm and nods rather carelessly at Teyla.

“Why did you take the card with you?”

“In my Mother’s culture, we have a saying:  Those that walk with Death—“

One of her usual quiet smiles crosses Teyla’s face and she begins nodding…

“Do not fear it,” she finishes for Kenmore, “We have the same saying among my people as well.”

Kenmore nods back.

Keller rolls Kenmore’s arm the other way in her hands, rotates it a few more times.  She seems content with how it’s healed and nods at Kenmore then walks back around to her clipboard and makes a few more notes.  Kenmore rubs her chilly elbow as McKay adds a few finishing touches to whatever he’s working on.

“Okay, I think I’ve got it,” he says.

He steps back and shows the screen of the computer he was working on to them.  It has a freeze-framed image of hybrid Michael the last time he was in Atlantis standing in the light of Woolsey’s office when he had taken over the city and held Teyla and her infant son hostage.  Teyla averts her eyes, uncomfortable at the sight.  It is not something she wants to relive and if Michael is indeed still alive, it is not a realization she is prepared to face right now.

“Is this the guy you saw,” Rodney asks the Lieutenant.

Kenmore leans forward and looks the image over.  She crinkles her brow at it.

“Kinda,” she finally says unconvincingly after a moment’s silence.

Rodney and Teyla immediately start at this.

“Please, what do you mean by ‘kinda’,” Teyla begs.

“Well the guy I saw looked like that but he didn’t look so…sick.”

“Yeah, well, he’s been experimenting on himself,” McKay informs her.

Kenmore leans forward and peers at the image.

“No…that’s not it,” she shakes her head.

McKay stares at her.  He of all people would know what they were talking about, “Oh really?  So what’s the big difference?”

But Kenmore ignores him as she continues to stare at the frozen computer screen, McKay appeals to the others as Kenmore gives him the silent treatment.  Teyla doesn’t know what to say and Ronon just shrugs at him with the same look he had given Sheppard back in that first big room of the warehouse, ‘What had he expected?’  Rodney throws his hands up in the air then, finally, Kenmore does break her silence.

“This is the guy that created the clone of Beckett, right?”

It’s such an odd question that McKay bends down a little to try and look Kenmore in the eyes, but she’s so close to the screen he can’t really succeed, but he tries.

“Carson,” he corrects her as he tries to figure out what’s going on in her head, what she thinks she sees by the dart of her eyes left and right as they examine hybrid Michael’s image over and over again.

“Yeah…and you say he died here?”

“Yes,” Teyla leans forward too, trying to peer at Michael’s image and also at Kenmore from her position behind the Lieutenant.  What is it exactly that the young woman thinks she sees?

Kenmore’s eyes suddenly dart to Keller.

“Did you do an autopsy?”

Without looking up from her clipboard, Keller answers, “Yes.”

“Go get me the report Cupcake,” Kenmore goes back to staring down the image of Michael.

Keller slowly looks up and gapes at her.  McKay’s jaw drops at the unruly woman then he tries to work through his indignation, maybe lifting a warning finger at the Lieutenant might help convey his feelings more emphatically, “Excuse me but you do not, do not, give any orders around here, especially to her,” he points at Jennifer, “and you especially don’t talk to her like that.”

Sensing she isn’t going to get what she wants anytime soon this way, Kenmore reaches behind her, draws the Beretta left nestled against the small of her back during the rush of medical assistance as soon as the jumper got back to the gateroom, no one had bothered to remove this particular weapon from her person, and points it at Keller.  Jennifer steps back, McKay’s eyes go wide, Teyla leans back away from Kenmore, and Ronon’s hand immediately slips down to the ever easily accessible handle of his weapon.  He switches it on with his thumb.

“Okay let’s all just calm down here,” Keller tries to diffuse the situation.

Kenmore doesn’t seem quite as interested in diffusing as Keller does.

“Give me the autopsy report.”

Keller isn’t buying this, “I’ve had guns pointed at my face lots of times with people demanding all sorts of things—“

Kenmore rolls her eyes as the Doctor continues with her little speech then lazily aims the gun a little askew of Keller and fires.  The blast shatters a hole through the top of the Doctor’s mobile desk.  Keller flinches as does Rodney and Teyla and Ronon draws his weapon, already fully charged, and aims its barrel at the back of the Lieutenant’s head.  The rest of the infirmary freezes in scared silence.

“And I bet none of them ever actually pulled the trigger too.  Now go get me the report Sweetcakes,” Kenmore orders her.

Rodney can feel himself want to scoff, but he can’t bring himself to actually do it.  He had come to the opinion that the new Lieutenant was a crazy loose cannon when she dove full tilt past a barricade of armed Wraith into the rest of an unknown and shielded warehouse, although none of them actually knew there were Wraith hiding behind all those crates at the time but they had known they were stumbling around the place basically blind.  And that was furthermore to Rodney’s point, who in their right mind charged around any place in the Pegasus Galaxy like that?  Well, Sheppard when Rodney first knew him and now for that matter, General O’Neill when he led SG-1 for that matter too, and Sam Carter displayed the odd impulse every once in awhile…With a glance at Rodney that snaps him back from how far his mind had wandered and Ronon, Keller turns and leaves.  Kenmore puts her gun back behind her, nestles it comfortably back underneath her waistband, and goes back to analyzing the image of Michael just as intently as before like nothing had happened.

After a moment, Teyla gently, silently, puts a hand over Ronon’s.  He can feel it, he bet if he looked at her he knew exactly what he would see:  her eyes asking him to put his gun away.  He glances at her.  Yep, he was right about her eyes, and he also knows how right he feels he is.  He glances at the back of Kenmore’s head then back at Teyla.  The Athosian’s eyebrows lift for emphasis and Ronon hesitates for another heartbeat before he relents to his trust in his longtime friend and returns his gun to its holster but he doesn’t charge it down.  He trusts Teyla’s judgment, but there was no way he trusts anything about Lieutenant Ursula Kenmore.

“Don’t ever do that again,” he growls at the back of Kenmore’s head.

“Yeah, yeah, yeah, bite me Lurch.”

Ronon starts to approach her but Teyla puts out an arm to block him.  She focuses temporarily on the polished Lantean floor and, if anyone could have seen them, her eyes said it all.  Should Lieutenant Kenmore stay, this was going to be difficult.  She feels Ronon strain a little against her hand, can feel his chest vibrate against her fingertips.  Very, very difficult.  Teyla lets out a gentle, silent sigh then looks back up again to see Jennifer coming back with a folder.  She hands it to the Lieutenant.

Kenmore immediately flips it open and starts reading.  McKay rolls his eyes.  She could have at least said ‘Thank you’ to Jennifer, he says ‘Thank you’ to people despite what Radek Zelenka says—and everyone else for that matter.

“Is there something in particular you’re looking for,” he snipes.

“Liver damage.”

“He fell off the top of the jumper bay tower.  His liver was mush as was the rest of him.”

“Cellular damage in his liver.”

McKay starts at this.

“Why?”

“All clones show a natural ten percent cellular degradation due to the cloning process itself.”

“We know this,” Rodney was not stupid.  But, oh wait…No, she was not going there with this.

“And for every full year after the initial birth year, the clone will decay another ten percent which results in a clone having a normal lifespan of nine to ten years after which it goes insane and has to be put down.  For some reason doctors can’t explain yet, the liver is the organ that usually shows the cellular decay the most.”

McKay doesn’t like this.  Accelerated aging and health deterioration due to a failing liver.  An organ sacrificed for the sake of science among other things.  Oh, he really doesn’t like this.

“Whoa, whoa, wait.  He was not a clone.  I mean Ronon fought him, granted he kicked Ronon off a balcony and almost killed him, but he still held his own against the guy.”

Kenmore looks at Ronon from over the brim of the folder.  Her ridicule is clear, “You got your butt kicked by a clone?”

He glares at her.  A dark glare that his team hasn’t seen from him since he first joined them.

“He was not a clone,” Rodney is not about to let this drop.  He of all people, Jennifer of all people, Carson too, would know what to look for.

“His liver shows thirty percent decay,” Kenmore says.

Rodney’s jaw drops.  She hands the open folder over to the shocked genius and gestures at the image of hybrid Michael on the computer, “That guy’s a three-year old clone.”

Teyla stares at the computer screen as McKay starts to read the file.  This cannot be true.  This could not possibly be true.  She closes her eyes…

Please do not let it be true.

“Oh my God, you’re right.”

Teyla opens her eyes, already starting to brim with tears, and faces the image of Michael.  No.

It’s a rare enough thing that Rodney would admit something like that out loud, even if they have been working on encouraging it in him, that Keller demands the folder from him and he dazedly gives it to her.  She checks it and starts to sputter…

“Oh my God.  How, how did I miss it?”

“It’s true,” Ronon doesn’t believe Keller could be wrong.  Not about this, not about something so important as whether or not hybrid-Wraith Lieutenant Michael Kenmore was really alive or dead.  They all care about Teyla, Torren, Kanaan, and their people too much to not get this right.  He cares too much not to have gotten this right.

Keller looks up at him, meets his eyes, and nods.  He could have figured it just by the look in her now wide eyes anyway and Teyla’s shock engulfs her entire body.  She cannot hold her eyes up any further.  She stares down at the sheets of Kenmore’s sickbed.  The arm she has been leaning on is trembling just slightly.  Not enough for the others to really see but more than enough for him to notice it.  Ronon thinks about reaching out and putting a hand on his friend’s shoulder, but Teyla doesn’t look like she particularly wants to be touched by anyone other than her partner, Kanaan, or their son, Torren and he knows there’s no amount of patting her shoulder that can make her feel better right now.  She needed her family right now and right now that family did not consist of her friends.  Ronon’s shoulders tense and he keeps his arms folded over his chest.  He nods at Keller.  So…it isn’t done yet.

“You had to be looking for it.  Like you said the guy’s liver was mush,” Kenmore pipes up, either oblivious to or not caring about the turmoil going on around her.

“Oh but you were looking for it,” McKay bites with his usual venom.  How could she not give a damn about what she just told them?  How dare she not at least try to look like she cared?  But she was oblivious.

“According to the files, this guy tested everything out to within an inch of its existence to make sure it was right.  Doctor Beckett was a test run on his cloning process.  He proved viable with the help of an enzyme probably used to subvert whatever side effects this guy’s cloning process’s technique has.  And when Beckett proved safe to you guys, this guy sent the clone of himself in.”

Teyla finally breathes, “But…why?  Why not do it himself?  Why use a clone?”  It sounds like she has gone past being frightened for herself or her family, now she is angry.  The sort of anger no one had seen before she sat in a medical bed in Atlantis’ infirmary under Jennifer’s advisement and all she could do was muse and let the frustration and pain at the loss of all of her people, of Kanaan, engulf her.  Later that moment, Jennifer informed Teyla that her and Kanaan’s union had rendered Teyla pregnant.  And with the hope of new life, Teyla’s anger turned into a sheer, stark determination to recover all that she had lost, not just for herself but for the child that was going to come to her and Kanaan.  Then she would have torn down the city to get to Kanaan, but now…with her family together with her as well as her people, she is more than willing to tear down the galaxy.

“First rule.  Why put yourself in the line of fire when you can put someone else there instead.  And besides, according to your report of that mission,” Teyla looks up at Kenmore, she had not expected the Lieutenant to have paid such close attention in so short a time as she had had with the mission reports supplied to her in the mess hall, Kenmore continues without noticing Teyla’s reaction, “his authority was visibly questioned by an inferior.  First First rule, no one questions the boss.  He wasn’t the real guy, but my guy from the warehouse…that was the real guy and he looked in a helluva lot better health then that one,” Kenmore gestures at the image again.

The team exchange worried looks, how many ways could you say that that was the worst statement of all in this whole new revisited hell of a situation, that clone had been more than enough trouble for them, as Richard Woolsey happily walks up to the group with a not necessarily happy nor unhappy Lieutenant Colonel John Sheppard trailing a step or two behind him.

“Well, Doctor Keller, how’s our patient,” Woolsey beams.

“‘Our patient’,” Ursula repeats.

Jennifer answers Woolsey, feeling more in her element and less deficient in it, “She’s doing fine.”

“Excellent,” Woolsey claps his hands together, smiling, but Keller shakes her head.

“Actually, no it’s not.”

That isn’t exactly a new one.  And here it is, that second shoe Sheppard had been waiting for.

“What do you mean,” he asks.

And it’s everyone else’s turn to stare at Jennifer oddly and wonder what she’s noticed that they hadn’t, but Rodney bows his head as though he’s waiting for something then it dawns on him that that might look suspicious. He looks up.

“She’s healing fast,” Keller tells them.

Kenmore shrugs, “That doesn’t surprise me.  I’ve always been a fast healer, I told you that.”

“But you’re healing quicker than normal.”

Kenmore stares at Keller like the doctor’s crazy, “Isn’t that what ‘fast healer’ means?  That I heal faster than usual?”

“But that’s just it, you shouldn’t be here.  According to the injuries you sustained, numerous contusions and abrasions, a broken arm, three broken ribs, a punctured lung, along with several bone fractures, a fractured skull, massive brain trauma, you should have been in one of the operating rooms the moment you got back.  Two hours ago.  In fact,” Keller checks her watch, “You should still be there.  You’re healing too fast.  You didn’t even need to be in an operating room when Colonel Sheppard and his team—“

“Her team as well,” Woolsey helpfully pipes up but Keller ignores him.

“I’d say it borders on the regenerative capabilities of the Wraith.”

Rodney finds solace in staring at his feet as Ronon and Sheppard stare at Kenmore and Teyla eases herself away from the Lieutenant.

Ronon hadn’t figured it was exactly that, but he had figured that there was something going on here.  And now the Satedan had it.  Woolsey had been conducting experiments behind their backs, had brought back to light the project that had created their Lieutenant Michael Kenmore in the first place.  Somehow Atlantis’ permanent commander, perhaps through an under the table order to another team, perhaps Lorne’s considering that only Lorne so far had managed to refer to her by a nickname and the two’s interactions made it clear there was a history between the two of them that was friendly, after all their Michael honestly thought Teyla was practically his best friend, captured a Wraith Queen and the result was sitting with a snotty attitude right in front of them.  Ronon eyed her dangerously.  His mouth worked, the only problem was he had no idea how to explain Michael Junior.  Michael Junior…perhaps one of the other teams had caught a child Wraith under covert orders again.  They knew only a handful of Wraith males were born as children, those personally created by a Queen.  So perhaps that covert operation had involved the infiltration of another Wraith cloning facility, the Wraith Sheppard called Todd had said there was more than just the one they had found and destroyed?  And that infiltration involved the capture of that facility’s Queen and the capture of a male Wraith child?

Kenmore stares at Keller.

“Are you saying I’m a Wraith?”

“No.”

Sheppard, Ronon, and Teyla look at Jennifer.  With a single word, all of Ronon’s idea about Kenmore was gone.  If she wasn’t some covert-op cook-up, then what was she?

“Then how is this possible,” Teyla asks her friend.

McKay’s time has come.  He looks up…

“I might have the answer to that.”

They all look at him.  It was amazing how all eyes snapped to him whenever he spoke, he always got a thrill out of that, shame he couldn’t get a thrill out of it now even though what he had to say was probably the most important information he had ever had to say the entire time he’s been in this city.  They had been hoping for something like this ever since they came to Atlantis…before, actually.  He still remembered the excitement when they had found an elderly woman in Ancient dress suspended in a stasis pod in the bowels of the city.  They were so excited to think that an Ancient had survived Atlantis’ siege and subsequent evacuation only to discover that it was, in fact, an over 10,000-year-old Doctor Elizabeth Weir that the Ancient Janus had helped survive the Expedition’s first First Arrival so that their second would not result in all of them dying as soon as they stepped foot in Atlantis like it apparently had the first time.  He felt a moment of bitterness.  Elizabeth would have loved this.  He returns his attention back to the bank of computers and starts accessing information from them, setting something those gathered around him couldn’t see, then turning back around and addressing Sheppard.

“Remember when you told me to download everything I could from the computer we found in the warehouse?”

“Yeah.”

“Well, the warehouse had surveillance cameras.  I’ve got video.”

McKay steps slightly off to the side of the computer he had been working on so that the others can see what he’s been doing, what he’s been setting up, this entire time.  He’d brought up two black-and-white video feeds.  One is of the two teams in the computer room.  The other is of a seemingly empty main warehouse room.  He presses a few buttons then steps back completely as the warehouse feed plays.

Wraith-hybrid Michael runs in and he’s almost out of frame when Kenmore steps into frame with her gun aimed at his back.  They listen to their conversation.  McKay stops the video after Kenmore informs Michael that his echo hadn’t work on her, although, funny enough, they can’t hear the echo on the video tape.  Teyla, stunned, looks at Kenmore.

“His telepathy did not work on you?”

“Is that what that was,” Kenmore had no idea Wraith telepathy worked that way on humans, she had only ever encountered the alien telepathies of the Milky Way variety, “No,” and if the Milky Way was any measure of telepathic powers, the Wraith’s sucked, “Was it supposed to?”

Before Teyla can reply, McKay stops her with a raised finger, “Wait there’s more.”

Rodney returns to the computer, and so does their attention, he presses a button, and the video starts to play again.  He stands back.  There’s roaring.  They watch Kenmore suddenly turn her back on Michael, falling to her knee, and start firing at the roaring Wraith approaching from off camera somewhere.  After the bursts of fire, she looks back at Michael’s fleeing form then they hear rustling from off camera.  Kenmore looks back in the direction she had been firing except she looks up this time.  Suddenly a Wraith appears, arms outstretched, dropping into the camera’s view.  Sheppard can see it.  With the Wraith drone’s sheer weight and the almost Earth-like gravity of the planet and the fact that it obviously was diving specifically for her, the huge Wraith was just plummeting like a rock towards her.  She couldn’t have fired even if she had wanted to, there just wasn’t enough time.  Kenmore turns away, Sheppard couldn’t blame her, he wouldn’t want to see the end happen like that either, and suddenly a massive burst of white light explodes from her.  Sheppard’s eyes widen and he’s sure his aren’t the only ones.  He knows that light.  As they watch, the Wraith is engulfed by the brilliant light and they can hear him scream.  The Wraith is actually screaming.  It sounds like his meat is being stripped off his bones and he’s aware of every moment of it.

“I cannot believe it,” Teyla says and she’s not the only one with that thought, except for maybe Ronon and Kenmore neither were here at the time.  Although they could have read the report on that mission but, knowing Ronon’s disposition towards paperwork, Teyla doubted he knew the file and, knowing that Lieutenant Kenmore had only gotten access to a fraction of their reports at lunchtime, Teyla had seen it with her own eyes, and had had such little time with them that Teyla doubted Kenmore knew that particular mission report as well.  It was a mission from her first year with the team members of the Atlantis Expedition, it was so long ago she barely remembered it now except for that swath of electric light that seemed to come from Kenmore was so familiar.  Too familiar.  Teyla had seen it then coming from a planet to destroy Wraith darts that were pursuing their jumper as they passed near the planet, a planet guarded by an Ancient.  An Ancient named Chaya.

Rodney lets the video keep playing.  Kenmore looks back at Michael, scared and panicked, then the unmistakable sounds of little things hitting the floor somewhere.  Kenmore looks back behind her and Michael starts to run again as things start to rain down around the Lieutenant.  A paint can slams into the floor next to her, an awl hits the floor, hammers, finally a screwdriver.  The Lieutenant looks from side to side, trying to dodge the flare up from each item, but there’s more tools coming down and she can’t keep up.  Respectably, Sheppard had to admire, she wasn’t letting go of her gun for one damn moment.  Tiny things start pelting her and Sheppard thought the storm was about to let up then the creaking started.  He watches as Kenmore rolls away onto her back, an attempt to see if she could get out of the way in time, but it fails and she only has time left to try and cover her face, but still, Sheppard noticed, she was holding on to her gun.  McKay presses a button and the video pauses.

“I’m not done,” Rodney goes back to the computer and plays the feed of the computer room.

On the video, suddenly Lorne and Sheppard look back at the door.  Rodney presses a button and the video pauses.  He addresses Sheppard again…

“Now you and Lorne said you heard Kenmore scream the name ‘Michael’ loud.  Like she was in the next room.”

Sheppard nods, “Yeah.  Even you said you heard it.  It just sounded far away to you.”

“But you don’t hear it on the video.  You can hear everything else but the scream,” Rodney points out.

Although it bugs him to have to say this, “Maybe you were right.  She was too far away,” Ronon pipes up.

McKay holds up a finger, “You would think that but…”

Ronon rolls his eyes as McKay trails off and goes back to the computer and plays the other video feed of Kenmore on her back.  The video continues on to when the collapsing scaffolding finally lands on Kenmore, crushing her.  McKay pauses the video again.

“Now there, right there,” he points at the bottom of the computer screen, “Look at the time stamp on the videos.”

Sheppard leans in and nods at it.

“They’re the same.  So?”

McKay stares at him.

“Where’s the scream?  It should be on this video, if any video, but it’s not.”

“Maybe the sounds of the scaffolding crashing drowned it out,” Sheppard offers.  It sure as hell was loud enough.

“But it didn’t.”

“How do you know that,” Teyla asks.

McKay offers a glance at Jennifer that everyone catches on to and everyone also catches that he didn’t necessarily want to give the answer, but felt he had to…

“Because Jennifer was watching Kenmore’s son here in Atlantis, giving him his physical,” they all look to Jennifer and she looks completely taken aback and stares at the screen, “And according to her, Kenmore’s son heard his mother scream his name so loud he thought she was in the room with him at the exact same time.”

“But how is that possible,” Teyla seems to ask Doctor Keller as though her friend, by Rodney’s visual insinuation, would be able to answer her just as best as he could.

“It’s not,” Sheppard answers instead.

“It is,” McKay counters.

“How,” Kenmore asks.

John notices her eyeing McKay warily, as though she’s watching a very diabolical trap being set up right in front of her and she knows the very diabolical trap is meant for her and she has absolutely no choice but to walk right into it.  Sheppard shifts his weight to his toes then back again.  He didn’t particularly like the look.  He knew Rodney wasn’t trapping her, it wasn’t Rodney’s style, but…

“The Ancient gene,” McKay says and that immediately recaptures John’s attention.

“What,” John exclaims.

McKay goes back to the computer and starts typing again.  John steps closer.

“The Ancient Gene isn’t a gene so much as it’s a collection of genetic markers,” Rodney recites as he works then he steps back and shows them the computer screen.  It’s a genetic helix revolving in front of a black background with a label at the top of it saying that the DNA strand belonged to:  Lorne, Major Evan L.  McKay presses a few buttons and the helix freezes as yellow arrows point at four flashing parts of the helix, “We know that some of us have these markers naturally like Lorne,” McKay turns back around and brings up another rotating helix.  This one’s labeled:  Sheppard, Lieutenant Colonel John A.  As before, the helix is instructed to freeze only this time, several more arrows appear pointing at its parts than had on Lorne’s, “And some have more markers than others like Colonel Sheppard’s,” Rodney nods at John, John nods back, and McKay stoops back over the computer and blocks it from view again.

Sheppard was getting tired of this.  Why couldn’t Rodney just say whatever he meant rather than a show and very slowly dance around the point of the whole subject tell?

“So?  We already knew that,” Sheppard says harshly, hoping his tone of voice will encourage his friend to speed things up.  It usually pissed Rodney off to no end when John did that but he’d eventually rush just like John wanted him to.  Not this time though.  McKay doesn’t respond.  In fact Rodney doesn’t speed up at all.  He just keeps going at his own pace.  And that peaks John’s interest even more.  What was so important that the findings couldn’t be rushed and needed to be shown let alone told at this pace?  For God’s sake, Rodney breezed through blowing up solar systems and Hive ships.

Finally McKay straightens back up, stands aside, and shows them the computer screen.  It’s a new helix, labeled:  Kenmore, Lieutenant Ursula B., already frozen and with a lot more arrows and glowing parts than Sheppard’s helix ever thought of having.

Sheppard gapes at it, “Holy crap, what is that like fifty-something percent?”

“You’re close.  In fact, it is exactly fifty percent,” McKay looks at Kenmore full on, “She’s half Ancient.”

Sheppard, Teyla, Keller, and Ronon look at Kenmore, who stares at the computer screen in shock.  Woolsey looks down at his feet.  Was that a grin?  Is he actually grinning?  Rodney shifts his eyes to stare at him.  There it was again.  It really was a grin.  It came and went but it was a grin.  And everything falls into place for Rodney.  Slowly he recites the gravity that’s starting to settle on him, his shock can’t be hidden.

“It explains everything.  How she could access things in the jumper we never even knew were there before, why Wraith telepathy doesn’t work on her, how she can heal herself faster than any way we can.  It even explains the scream.  We know the Ancients were capable of telepathy, both SG-1 and our own experiences attest to that.  According to the video feed, she never actually screamed but we three heard it and so did her son.  It would only figure that Michael would have inherited Ancient DNA from his mother.  Sheppard, Lorne, and Michael Junior heard it louder because they have the gene naturally and I heard it far away because I don’t have the gene naturally.  I only have it because of the Ancient Gene Therapy.”  McKay falls silent as the information sinks in for everyone else.

After a moment, Sheppard turns to Woolsey.  Yeah there was grin, a slight one.

“You knew this already, didn’t you,” Sheppard’s tone is accusatory, “You found out she was half-Ancient from the DNA database back at the SGC.  That’s why you brought her here…and her son.”

Everyone’s attention shifts to Woolsey and he finally looks up to face them, grin gone but all the confidence in the world in place of it.

“Yes, yes I did,” and Woolsey falls into the same mannerisms he did when giving a formal speech to plead his case or any case for that matter, John remembered it well from when Woolsey pled their case at an Inquisition for crimes the Atlantis Expedition had hypothetically committed against the Pegasus Galaxy, “I had Lieutenant Kenmore’s transfer put in as soon as I found out that I was to take over command of Atlantis.  I had originally intended her and her son to arrive in Atlantis with me, but her paperwork was slow.  My conference table arrived instead,” he genuinely sounded bummed about the table thing and Sheppard feels the urge to step back from him, “When Teyla was undecided in whether or not she wanted to return to your team after giving birth to Torren, I took the opportunity to push Lieutenant Kenmore’s paperwork through faster, and it was moving faster, but when Teyla decided to return to your team, Lieutenant Kenmore’s paperwork slowed back down again…until a few weeks ago, when the SGC granted my request for her and her son’s transfer.”

Richard Woolsey’s following smile only inspires horror and he watches as it starts to creep into the others’ expressions except for Rodney who had already guessed everything out the moment he saw Lieutenant Kenmore’s DNA when he was helping Jennifer save the Lieutenant’s life by manning their database with Kenmore’s brand new medical information logged into it but not researched and he just had it confirmed by Woolsey’s grin.  Teyla seems to blend her horror with hurt.  She knew she was considered expendable by the Earth’s IOA.  Both Ronon and she had been required to go up before the IOA’s evaluation committee.  Teyla had barely passed and it took an invasion by the Wraith into the SGC itself to pass Ronon.  It had all been surprisingly difficult.  Teyla had been warned by both Colonel Sheppard and Colonel Carter that the International Oversight Advisory would be particularly judgmental and Teyla understood that.  Ronon and she were alien to their planet as well as the Expedition they oversaw after all, but she thought that, with regards to Mister Woolsey, she had proven herself well worth the consideration, perhaps not nearly as expendable as previously thought maybe.  But apparently she was wrong then and wrong now.

“They’re human beings Richard.  They’re not a mahogany conference table.  They are a mother and her son for God’s sake,” Sheppard tries to convey to the man.

“I know that,” Woolsey answers as regularly as though he were discussing the finer points of SGC rules and regulations with John over a tray of food in the mess hall.

John looks shocked at Woolsey for admitting that he would actually do this to people he acknowledged as definitely more than laboratory animals and Woolsey knows it.  Richard decides to continue to plead his case…

“It is for the best,” no one looks like their buying it, but Richard Woolsey isn’t giving up yet; he was an appellate lawyer, it was his second nature not to leave a courtroom without a verdict in his favor, “If Atlantis falls, that means the whole Pegasus Galaxy has fallen to our enemies and after that how long do you think it will take for those enemies to reach Earth again,” he had to emphasize that, it would work in his favor.  They barely survived that last time and were forced to take the whole city to the Milky Way Galaxy to defend their homeworld from the Wraith, but still no one is buying it.  He gestures towards Kenmore with a plead in his eyes aimed at his top team, a last ditch attempt at making this a unanimous agreement, closing arguments, “Lieutenant Kenmore may be just what we need to turn the tide,” he turns to her as he had to dozens if not hundreds of judges, “You will be our most effective weapon against our enemies here in the Pegasus Galaxy.”

Sheppard glances over at Kenmore and sees the same fire brewing in her eyes that brewed in them when she challenged Woolsey at the mission briefing table and Woolsey sees it too.  Sheppard glances down to see whether or not she was balling her fists again.

Woolsey’s ice to her fire returns, last ditch effort done.  His tone turns frosty, “Besides, you can’t go home.  Neither I or the IOA nor the SGC will allow it.  You don’t have a choice.”

And those comments send so much rippling through all of them that no one answers for a moment.  John couldn’t help but notice how the man had lapsed over referencing Kenmore’s son; he probably thought it was best not to stoke that particular fire the way he had earlier, no matter how well it had worked on the Lieutenant then.  Sheppard watches Kenmore because he can’t stomach to look anywhere near Richard Woolsey right now; again he was getting the feeling that the Expedition’s commander was holding off on saying something he wanted to, like ‘You don’t have a choice.  Neither of you’, maybe?  She continues to stare down Woolsey for a few more long moments.  Although John doesn’t want her here, he likes the fighter’s spirit she’s got.  Then she looks back at the image of Michael still on the screen of one of McKay’s computers and John’s stomach bottoms out and he hopes it’s because he could understand why she would turn her eyes away from Atlantis’ commander, but her time spent looking at the image before speaking is shorter this time and she suddenly pipes up…

“You say this guy’s killed thousands.”

Don’t do it, it’s all John can think as Woolsey suddenly perks up.  They both know what this means.  Don’t do it.  John’s praying.  Despite all the bad times this place has been through, that they’ve been through, he’s never prayed in Atlantis before.  He’s never felt he had to.

“More.  Hundreds of thousands,” Teyla says.

Teyla, that didn’t help.  He glares at her.

Kenmore still eyes Michael’s image.

“And you haven’t been able to get rid of him?”

Don’t do it.  He goes back to staring down at his boots.  He couldn’t watch this happen and know that there’s nothing he can do to stop it either.

“We’re doing just fine,” Ronon growls and Sheppard says a silent prayer that his friend’s grumpiness might just kill this.

Kenmore aims a sarcastic look at Ronon, “Yeah I can see that.”

Dammit, she’s as stubborn as General O’Neill is.

Kenmore turns back to stare once more at the screen with hybrid Michael’s image on it.

“So you need me,” she said finally.

And John can tell by the sound of her voice…Damn.

“We don’t need you,” Ronon repeated.

Nice try, Buddy, but it’s not going to work anymore.

“Yes,” Woolsey answered.

Kenmore considers Woolsey.  Sheppard looks up at Woolsey too.  Neither one of the soldiers looks particularly happy.  Sheppard knows that it’s highly unlikely that Kenmore or her son will ever return to Earth via anything other than a black plastic bag or a flag-draped metal box and Kenmore knows she’s trapped her son here with her too.  It’s not just herself she’s bargaining with.  Woolsey had threatened to remove her son from her custody through a jail sentence only this afternoon.  She has no other choice.  Dammit, she has no other choice.

“So it’s just temporary then?  I take care of this guy and me and my son can go home.”

They all look at her.  Woolsey looks practically relieved at the change in her attitude.  He nods his head.

“Yes.”

Sheppard looks back at Woolsey with a warning look in his eye for his superior.  He knows Woolsey just told a bald-faced lie.  And the mean sonuvabitch didn’t even have the consideration to hide that he knew he had either.  Sheppard saw him in a whole new light that he wasn’t particularly fond of.  Who was this guy?  This wasn’t the Richard Woolsey he had come to know.  Although…John thought back to the time Doctor Elizabeth Weir had shown up on their door as an unseeable ball of Replicator electricity then took human form and Woolsey almost let one of her fellow Replicator buddies sink the city.  Perhaps this was the Richard Woolsey he had come to know all along.  John saw the light with which he viewed Woolsey shift horrifically back to the light he had viewed him in before.  Woolsey nods at him and John wanted to vomit.

“Just so long as you know it’s temporary,” Kenmore says.

Sheppard doesn’t like having to do this.  Let alone doesn’t he like the circumstances under which she came here, he didn’t what someone on his team who was tricked into coming here and was trapped on his team.  It didn’t exactly make for team bonding and trust-building, but, taking into account her actions today, he thought of her as a reckless liability to his team, more like himself and Jack O’Neill when they entered this whole shebang than John would frankly like to admit.  He had ‘grown up’ here, although he still wasn’t sure that he would technically define it as that way, but he was definitely sure that they did not need to take a step back like that in order take more forward.  He was confident that he didn’t need a reckless liability on his team but…Lieutenant Colonel John Sheppard steps forward and extends his hand out to Lieutenant Ursula Kenmore.

“Welcome to Atlantis.”

Kenmore eyes him.  He’s familiar with the look.  He’s given it himself numerous times.  It’s the look of knowing you’re being betrayed by your superiors and you still have to work with the bastards anyway.  It’s the look of distrust.

“Temporarily,” she reaffirms with a slight nod of her head.

Lieutenant Colonel John Sheppard nods back, knowing it’s a lie, “Temporarily.”

She takes his hand and they share a single shake.

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Episode One- The Fifth- Chapter Thirteen

Chapter Thirteen

It was so loud John almost jumped.  Sheppard and Lorne’s heads suddenly snap back to the open door of the room.  McKay looks up at the door too.  The others look at them.

“What?  What is it,” Teyla asks urgently.  Her eyes dart from man to man.

“Ursula,” Lorne says breathlessly.  The terror is so deep in his voice it’s frightening.

Teyla stares at the open door as well.  Ronon eyes them.  He doesn’t like this.  It’s the first time he’s ever seen Lorne look scared.  And Sheppard…Sheppard looks horrified.  Ronon likes this even less.  Sheppard never cracks.  It’s the one thing he has confidence in his friend for.  The ability to keep the confident, unwavering calm of command in the face of anything.

“What is it,” Ronon asks.

“You can’t hear that,” Sheppard asks.

Wait, what?  Ronon and Teyla exchange glances.  What was going on?  She was not hearing anything.  She is sure of it.  She tries to listen, but no, nothing.

“Hear what,” Teyla asks.

“Kenmore’s screaming,” Sheppard answers and she can see his breathing building and building in his chest.  His heart must be pounding.  It was happening again.  He was not forgiving himself for letting Lieutenant Kenmore go off alone, chased by three Wraith drones, and running the chance of encountering an enemy that even they feared beyond belief.  He had abandoned her.  The same way he felt he had abandoned Lieutenant Aiden Ford.

“It sounds far away,” McKay pipes up.  Teyla looks at him and indeed Rodney looks as though he is straining to hear something.

Sheppard turns and stares at him.

“What do you mean?  It sounds like she’s in the next room.”

Teyla stares at the two of them.  But how could Rodney hear something she could not?  It was notorious that Teyla and Ronon were usually the ones to hear something first.  Both Sheppard and Lorne had good ears too, she could trust their hearing, but how could Rodney, who was usually the last to know when it came to things like this, hear something, anything, she and Ronon could not?  And how could he hear something that Sheppard and Lorne said was so extremely close?  Teyla stares at the door again.

“What’s wrong with her,” Ronon asks.

“Michael’s got her.  Ronon and Teyla, you’re with me and Lorne.  The rest of you stay with McKay.  Rodney, keep going.”

Without needing to hear the order to go, Lorne runs out of the room, letting the echo of Kenmore’s voice in his head lead him to where she might be.  Sheppard was hot on his heels.  Leaving Ronon and Teyla to do nothing but follow them as fast as they could.

Extraordinarily Teyla’s breath is short.  Her blood was rushing.  It did not normally rush.  Her heart was pounding, roaring, in her ears.  Her body had only ever done that once before when she carried her infant son in her arms, running from Michael’s search parties in the heart of Atlantis and even then that was only due to one thing:  she was scared.

*                      *                      *

Where was it coming from?  The screaming had stopped and Lorne was running solely off of the echoing he could still hear, but that was dying fast.  Lorne bursts back into the warehouse room containing the barricade with slain Wraith bodies behind it.  He charges around the front of the barricade, turns right, and charges down the entryway Ursula had taken and the long stretch of hallway ahead of him, them.  They were losing valuable time.  He sees a hallway junction up ahead.  Which way?  Which way did she go?  Lorne closes his mouth, tries to shut out the sounds of his own heavy breathing, his own thundering heartbeat, their pounding footsteps.  There was still a little bit of echo left.  He enters the junction and follows the echo.  After a few more junctions, they stumble across the bodies of three slain drones in the middle of a hallway.  It was the first sign that he had been choosing the right way the entire time.  They slow down and examine the bodies.  Teyla kneels down to examine one more closely but the others don’t have to.

“They’ve been scavenged,” Sheppard says as he looks over another body.

Lorne nods as he surveys the last one, “Standard operating procedure for the SGC.  If you’ve got the time, scavenge what you can from the bodies of the enemy to see if there’s any technology that would prove useful to our cause.”

Sheppard nods.  He had been right, she was a good little soldier.

Lorne moves on to the end of the hallway and the new junction.  He stands there, closes his eyes, and listens under Ronon’s watchful gaze.  Suddenly Lorne’s eyes shoot open, wide open.  Nothing.  Lorne didn’t hear anything.  Even the echo is gone now.  He has nothing to go on.  No, no, he calms himself.  He has to be tricking himself out of hearing it.  He wasn’t listening hard enough.  Lorne slams his eyes shut again and calms everything about his body he can.  No breathing, no raging heart rate.  Just the silence of where he is, and…nothing.  His eyes shoot open again, no, he was not going to be left with nothing.  He frantically looks up the hallway to his right and then to his left.  Back and forth.  Which one?  Which one did she chose?  Where did she go?

Sheppard, still looking down at the body, has to admit, perhaps just to himself that the crazy kid was a good shot.  He had to admire the burst of gun fire, it was all controlled and focused in the middle of the Wraith’s chest, each and every one.  A perfect grouping.  You couldn’t get more textbook than if you wrote the textbook yourself and applied Hollywood camera tricks to it.  She had caught them all off guard and kept them off guard.  Had rendered them just like the paper targets they practiced on:  at a standstill.  He figured she’d got off three bursts in about, oh what was the standard timing ratio of Wraith drone reflexes, four seconds.  She had taken out three armed Wraith drones in four seconds.  Pretty good.  Something nudges Sheppard’s shoulder and he looks over at it.  It’s the tip of Ronon’s gun, but Ronon isn’t looking over at Sheppard.  Ronon nods in the direction he’s looking, straight ahead.  Sheppard looks and sees Lorne looking left and right over and over.  Oh no.  Lorne, who had been leading them, has no idea which way to go and Sheppard realizes suddenly neither does he. He can’t here the echoes anymore either.  Sheppard nudges the side of Teyla’s boot with the tip of his, she looks up at him, follows his line of vision, and sees the same thing her teammates do.  She stands up.  They approach Lorne.  He still doesn’t know which way to go and it was driving him into a crazed panic.  John can pretty well understand how he feels.  If picking a direction was all that had stood in between him and Ford…don’t go there, he told himself, just don’t…him and Teyla when she had been captured by Michael, John would have been just as nuts, had been just as nuts, just as stubbornly determined to get to her and save her.  Luckily for John, all that had stood in between him and Teyla was a Wraith hive ship full of hybrids, Doctor Jennifer Keller worrying over Sheppard’s warehouse collapse wounds, and the command of Lieutenant Colonel Samantha Carter.  Those were easy things to get past to get to their friend in time though.  If Lorne picked the wrong direction, game over permanently.

As though she had been thinking the same thing at the sight of Lorne, Teyla pipes up, “She has consistently picked a particular direction.”

Good girl, Teyla.

That was all the help Lorne needed.  He bolts to the right.  And they follow him.

It takes some time, time Lorne didn’t want to spend, time he feels he’s wasting just running towards the crisis.  Was he getting any closer?  Why wasn’t he getting any closer?  Suddenly the hallway opens up onto another room just like the one the barricade was in and a level of gangways.  From here he can see a pair of shattered crates at the top of some stacks and the parts of bodies of more downed Wraith sticking out from behind the stacks.  Sheppard is too proud to nod his approval.  This kid wasn’t just good, she wasn’t even pretty good, she was pretty damn good.  It was sheer dumb luck that he managed to pull something like this off with a team on his first day with the Atlantis Expedition, but here she had done this single-handedly and he had a feeling with Kenmore that this was all training so taken to heart it was second nature to her.  Okay, so maybe they did need someone like her on the team…maybe.

Lorne spies some feet sticking out of the top corner of his line of vision.  He angles his head and sees the body of a Wraith lying on the floor of another entryway leading into still another part of the rest of the warehouse.  They must be on the other side of the damn thing by now.  Lorne angles again and can see the drone clutching a piece of some fabric that trails even further into the entryway.  That’s it.  Immediately Lorne bolts for the stairs off to their left and starts pounding down them.  Teyla and Sheppard waste no time following their friend and Ronon is forced to follow as well although he notices a set of SGC-grade bootprints in the dust on the gangways heading for another doorway across the room on this level and another much bigger set of definitely not SGC-grade foot apparel scraping across the gangways in pursuit as well.  This was not good.

They head across the room, past the body and the fabric, which happened to be some sort of rust-colored hooded robe, and down the hallway.  There isn’t any junction at the end, it just turns.  No guesswork.  Finally, no guesswork.  Just go as fast as you possibly can.  And they were.

Major Lorne, followed by Lieutenant Colonel Sheppard, Ronon, and Teyla, bursts out of the entryway with the bodies of two dead drones with bullet wounds in their chests braced across its floor and onto the scene of devastation.  The shock overwhelms Lorne.  He stumbles up the hill of rubble a little before his feet finally heed the commands of his stunned brain and he staggers to a stop.

“Oh my God,” he gasps, staring into the heart of it all.

Sheppard, Ronon, and Teyla slow behind him, no less shocked.  Although the building itself is still standing around them and looks unscathed except for the ravages of time, it looks as though the entire place had caved in on the center of the room.  There is a hill of broken, shattered concrete, bent, ripped, rusty piping, chunks and fragments of splintered wood, and destroyed scatterings of what must have been at one point in time tools and other building materials.  Staring at it, they knew it was a hill but somehow their perceptions changed it and it looked more like a mountain.  The scene, the circumstances, are so eerily familiar to Lorne, Sheppard, and Ronon’s own just a year ago when they had raced against time to hunt down Michael and save Teyla and her soon-to-be-born baby from him only for Sheppard right beside Ronon and Lorne right next to McKay to end up buried beneath a building that Michael had booby trapped to collapse.  Bad memories.  So many bad memories came flooding back.  They were all lucky to have survived then.  Distraught, Lorne shouts out…

“Ursula!”

Overtaken by the shadows now surging forward to engulf their minds, Sheppard, Ronon, and Teyla race past Lorne.  Ronon easily scales the debris with his large strides, reaches the bulging heart of the rubble, and starts pulling the larger pieces of broken scaffolding away.  Sheppard and Teyla get on their hands and knees beside him and start yanking away the smaller pieces of debris.  All the while Sheppard screams, it may be a different name, but he couldn’t help but feel he is screaming for every soldier the Expedition has ever lost…

“Kenmore!”

Nothing.

“Kenmore!”

Still nothing.

“C’mon Kenny—“

“Don’t call her that,” Lorne suddenly cuts John off sharply, finally coming to his senses, and charges forward, “She hates being called that.”

Lorne viciously pushes his way between Sheppard and Teyla, gets on his hands and knees, and begins to claw through the debris, frantically calling out to his friend the entire time…

“Hold on Urs.  We’re here.  We’re getting you out.  Urs?”

Sheppard and Teyla hang back from Lorne for a moment, allowing the man his insanity, then they stick to shoveling out the debris in front of them.  With a final straining heave of a large piece of scaffolding by Ronon, they finally uncover Lieutenant Ursula Kenmore.  They stare down at her.  One of her arms is flung up at an odd angle beside her head and the other, clutching the trigger of her P-90, is holding the weapon at an angle across her stomach and chest.  The P-90 is dented so badly it’s practically broken in half.  Sheppard is surprised the stupid thing wasn’t shattered.  Her head is lolling to the side, her face, with closed eyes, is looking into the debris off to her right.  She’s battered, filthy, dirt-contaminated blood pours from a wound on her head, and her body is covered in dust.  She looks like a broken ragdoll, if a ragdoll could be broken.  Yeah, Atlantis has real crappy luck with lieutenants.  After seeing what damage the kid could do, Sheppard thought she of all lieutenants could have survived.  Should have survived.  If it were anybody else, he’d have been proud to have her on the team as soon as possible.

Teyla starts to look down the rest of Kenmore’s body as the three men continue to look at her bloodied face; even though they probably already know the outcome, Lorne reaches down and presses his fingertips against the side of the Lieutenant’s throat anyway.  As he does so, the Athosian woman notices, battered and covered in dust as well, the Hanged Man card sticking out of a pocket torn open on Lieutenant Kenmore’s vest and it suddenly hits her.  The Hanged Man.  She realizes that the Hanged Man card that had been sitting above the DHD had not been there when Lieutenant Kenmore had left the jumper.  Teyla, slack-jawed, looks back up at the Lieutenant’s face.  The Lieutenant had said that she had come here to die.

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