When you woke he was dead.
Gentle. Even. That was Teyla. He nodded.
He woke to find a corpse in his arms, already stiffening against his shoulder.
Yes, he said.
Oh, John, she said, and bent her head to his breast in comfort, her hand tight on his wrist.
He dropped his face against her hair, warm and real and so far from dead. Teyla.
I grieve for you, she said, And for all you lost.
I can't. I don't.
She lifted her face, a rueful expression on it. You forget that I once spent an entire day with you believing that I was Captain Holland.
I said…
You said a great many things. Her dark eyes were gentle, but her hand on his wrist was tight enough for him to feel it. But I am Athosian, and I do not follow your stupid rules. You said nothing that made me think badly of you.
I can't even. His heart was pounding so loudly, one fear piled on top of another, and nothing to do, nowhere for it to go.
Look at me. Teyla's voice was low and urgent, her hand tightening around his wrist like cuffs. He could not look away. You have said nothing that makes me think badly of you, then or now.
He couldn't look away. He couldn't disbelieve her. Teyla didn't lie, not like that. Not with that sound in her voice, not with her eyes snapping as they did.
I have thought nothing ill of you, John. In all the firmament, you are my fixed star.
At that he closed his eyes. He couldn't look, couldn't see what was written on her face so plainly. There were no words. He had no words. He never did, even in the face of death. Teyla, he said, hoping she knew it was apology, that it stood for everything that crowded round in circles, forever unsaid. He dropped his face to her hair, holding her tight, tight as though he would never let go, as though the world would end and they would still be sitting like this, his arm around her and her hand tight on his wrist, his face against the top of her head and hers against his shoulder.
I know, she said. I know.
She knew everything, knew him to the bone and still dared to look. He rested on her while the stars moved overhead, unfamiliar stars in strange constellations. One of them was home. One of them was Atlantis.
For as long as it could be. For as long as the powers that be allowed it. Before something happened, and he was sent back to Earth, before there was a road that led to another desert, another death where at least he wouldn't take anybody with him. Sooner or later, it always goes that way. You can't escape forever.
They sent me home, he said. After. They sent me home, and Nancy. John swallowed. One day they'll send me home.
I will not let you go, she said, and her voice was fierce. Do you not understand that I am stronger than that?
If I get hurt, he said. If I get hurt badly enough I'll get sent back. And sooner or later I'll be reassigned anyhow.
If you are reassigned you can resign, she said. And let them hunt you through Pegasus if they wish, though I imagine Sam would have small stomach for it. And if you are hurt, do you really think that we would allow them to send you back to Earth? Do you think Ronon would allow it, having gone with you and seen your family?
John shook his head, his face against her hair. If the Air Force does it, you can't stop it. If it's bad enough.
She lifted her eyes to his. We are your family, John. When Ronon says he is your brother, he means it. We will not let anyone take you away. We will not let it happen. And do you not think that Carson would move mountains to treat you here no matter what anyone said or allowed? That Radek would open the Stargate for us even if it were locked down? That Sam would fail to find you if you did not want to be found? Teyla smiled a long, secret smile. And do you not think that General O’Neill knows that? Do you think he does not know what an asset you would be to the Genii or to any government of Earth as a contractor? Even if you lacked two good legs, do you think that Mr. Desai or the Ariane corporation would not hire you in a heartbeat to be their man? He is too clever for these things not to have crossed his mind. John, you need never return to Earth if you do not want to.”
He let out a long breath he did not know he was holding. It was true.
“John, there is no road that leads to the places you dread. Not anymore. You have passed every turn that led there, and now it is all unknown.”
He put his forehead to hers. “One of those screwed up vets who drifts from job to job, never quite getting it together, the kind of guy who dies alone in a cheap motel somewhere…”
“We are your family, and we will never let that happen.” Her voice was flat. “Perhaps you will die in space, or in the cocoon of a hive ship, but you will not die on Earth, John Sheppard. That is fact.”
“Ok.” He took a deep breath. “I can live with that.”
“Good,” she said, her hand still tight on his wrist. “Now you should sleep. I will watch.”
“You’re tired too and you’re hurt…” he began.
“I have slept for several hours.” Teyla checked her watch, the luminous dial shining faintly in the dark. “Nearly six hours, actually. It is midnight here, with ten hours to run until dawn.”
“And getting colder all the time.” In the cave it must be in the sixties from their body heat, but outside the temperature must be in the fifties and dropping.
“Sleep a while,” she said. “I can watch, and you can sleep here beside me where you will hear if I make any sound.” She let go of him, lifting her head. “You must be able to fly the Ancient warship, and right now you cannot.”
He nodded. Right now he wasn’t sure he’d trust himself to find his way from the jumper bay to his own quarters. “Ok.”
“Lie down and rest as you can,” she said, pulling the third mylar blanket from around her and passing it to him. “I will call you if I see anything.”
“Maybe just for a minute.” He stretched out as much as he could, his knees still bent because of the narrowness of the entrance. Nice, soft rocks. Cold. He pulled the blanket up to his chin. He’d never sleep like this, not keyed up and frozen.
The last thing he saw before he drifted off was Teyla silhouetted against the stars, her chin lifted, the barrel of the P90 beside her.
John woke to darkness and soft voices.
“There. Is that better?”
“Much better, thanks.”
It took a moment to place the voices. Dahlia Radim and Carson.
“I think there is another MRE in my pack,” Teyla said. “Carson, perhaps you should try to eat.”
John rolled over, sitting up. It was still dark. In the back of the little cave Dahlia was helping Carson to sit up. He looked drawn and pale, but far more alert than he had before. Dahlia was looking in the pack, and drew out a foil packet as he watched.
“That’s the one,” Teyla said from the other side of John. She was still sitting in the entrance, the gun across her lap, barrel pointing out into the night. Her breath made a cloud of steam in the cold air.
John scrubbed his hand across his unshaven face. “How long did I sleep? And how much has the temperature dropped?”
“Five hours,” Teyla said. “And I think it is around freezing.”
“You’ve been sitting there like that for five hours? You should have woken me.”
“I have been warm enough.” Teyla dropped her voice. “Also I am not sure I can move. My hip has stiffened up.”
John swallowed, his voice low enough for Carson not to hear. “You may have a hairline fracture.”
“It does not matter if I do or not,” she said. “There is nothing that can be done about it, and I cannot stay off it. We are twelve miles from the Ancient warship. We must get there. When we do I will rest it.”