Debut - locked to Sam
The Lucian Alliance was grasping at straws to maintain control of the situation and TJ knew that given enough time, the crew of the Destiny could wrest control back. The Alliance was too fractured, too fraught with in-fighting to be effective and it was only a matter of time before they collapsed and the more cohesive crew could overpower them but TJ wasn’t sure that time was a luxury that they had. Rush had said something about passing close to some sort of pulsar and the radiation would kill them all so even if Young and the rest of the military could subdue the Alliance, the outside threat would kill them indiscriminately.
Between a rock and a hard place, but TJ had been in this situation before. Life or death became a way of life in the Air Force but even her training and her missions offworld and at Icarus couldn’t have prepared her for this eventuality. Being twelve and bright-eyed while her dad guided her first stitches was a hell of a lot different than now, same hands shaking as they dripped with the blood of an enemy. She had gloves on but it wasn’t something you could ever wash off, the feeling that someone’s life was slipping right through your fingers. This woman was technically her enemy, someone hell-bent on destroying what little she had to call home out in the black expanse of space but TJ couldn’t stop being who she was, couldn’t stop being the medic. It could be Young bleeding here, or Riley, or any of the others and she would be working just as hard as she worked now. It didn’t matter because in the end, they were all human. They all made choices, for good and bad, and just because the Alliance was at cross purposes with them now didn’t mean that their rights were any less.
That probably wasn’t a popular opinion and TJ huffed a short breath between her lips, thinking for a fleeting moment about what Young might say if he heard her say that, or worse, the Director of Homeworld Security. She thought maybe Wray might agree with her; the IOA tended to take a more humanist view about things than the military and TJ thought that if she ever came back to the Stargate program, she might try coming back as a civilian rather than an officer. It was an idle fantasy, considering her conduct with Young was enough to have her blacklisted forever, but maybe they’d overlook that in light of the extreme circumstances that she’d had to face out here.
Maybe. The USAF wasn’t known for sympathy and TJ wasn’t the type to look for it. She didn’t want to be pitied, not for the pregnancy and definitely not because she was stupid and fell in love with a man she couldn’t have, but she felt she might want sympathy, if someone could manage to give her that without seeming judgmental or condescending. She let her gaze flick down to the stitches, the sutures all in a neat line despite how her mind had wandered. Suturing was rote, almost like a natural extension of her own hand, and it was good when she just needed time to sit and think. She drifted back into that easy rhythm until she saw something flash out of the corner of her eye, something incongruous with the aimless milling about that most of the hostages and the Alliance men had been doing. Sudden movement and TJ was on her feet, watching in horror as one of the airmen locked in with her reached for one of the Alliance henchmen and wrestled with him for the gun he was holding.
Some of the men she’d seen on the battlefield had said time slows down when you’re about to die and TJ had never put much stock in it; she hadn’t seen a lot of direct combat until Icarus and the Destiny, but watching the gun move in a slow arc, she had to think it had some sort of weight. She heard the sound of it much later than she should, like a video feed with the audio out of sync, and the short, staccato rap of the bullets contrasted with the ping of the ricochet against steel. She ducked, she must have ducked, because her face was pressed against something hot and rough like sand and there was a rush of blood in her ears that could have been the ocean.
TJ’s first reaction was to curl into herself, knees tucked up against her chest and everything she had devoted to protecting the baby. She hadn’t wanted the baby, not really, but there hadn’t been a choice out in the middle of space with no medical equipment and no doctors to speak of. Women had been having children for centuries with little to no medical help and there was no way to have an abortion done without bleeding out; there had been no logical choice outside carrying to term. After a while, after the eventuality of the situation had sunk in, she’d fallen in love with the child. Maybe it was the wrong choice, but she’d made that choice when she first went to Young’s bed and there was no backing out of it now that it had tangible consequences. There was no easy way out.
The rush was still in her ears but it was quiet, an odd dichotomy of sound that made her lift her head to look around. There was a beach, a long stretch of it, and people scattered here and there. It was nothing like any of the planets they’d been to since leaving Icarus base and TJ had to wonder if she’d finally broken, finally snapped. It would be understandable, really; she was sure greater men and women had crumbled under far less pressure but TJ wasn’t the type to let an external situation break her down. She wanted to do something, needed to be active, and losing her mind just wasn’t an option.
Arms curled around her belly, she walked gingerly along the beach, catching the first person she saw and frowning a little as she asked a tentative question:
“Where’s the ship? Did we crash here?”
Between a rock and a hard place, but TJ had been in this situation before. Life or death became a way of life in the Air Force but even her training and her missions offworld and at Icarus couldn’t have prepared her for this eventuality. Being twelve and bright-eyed while her dad guided her first stitches was a hell of a lot different than now, same hands shaking as they dripped with the blood of an enemy. She had gloves on but it wasn’t something you could ever wash off, the feeling that someone’s life was slipping right through your fingers. This woman was technically her enemy, someone hell-bent on destroying what little she had to call home out in the black expanse of space but TJ couldn’t stop being who she was, couldn’t stop being the medic. It could be Young bleeding here, or Riley, or any of the others and she would be working just as hard as she worked now. It didn’t matter because in the end, they were all human. They all made choices, for good and bad, and just because the Alliance was at cross purposes with them now didn’t mean that their rights were any less.
That probably wasn’t a popular opinion and TJ huffed a short breath between her lips, thinking for a fleeting moment about what Young might say if he heard her say that, or worse, the Director of Homeworld Security. She thought maybe Wray might agree with her; the IOA tended to take a more humanist view about things than the military and TJ thought that if she ever came back to the Stargate program, she might try coming back as a civilian rather than an officer. It was an idle fantasy, considering her conduct with Young was enough to have her blacklisted forever, but maybe they’d overlook that in light of the extreme circumstances that she’d had to face out here.
Maybe. The USAF wasn’t known for sympathy and TJ wasn’t the type to look for it. She didn’t want to be pitied, not for the pregnancy and definitely not because she was stupid and fell in love with a man she couldn’t have, but she felt she might want sympathy, if someone could manage to give her that without seeming judgmental or condescending. She let her gaze flick down to the stitches, the sutures all in a neat line despite how her mind had wandered. Suturing was rote, almost like a natural extension of her own hand, and it was good when she just needed time to sit and think. She drifted back into that easy rhythm until she saw something flash out of the corner of her eye, something incongruous with the aimless milling about that most of the hostages and the Alliance men had been doing. Sudden movement and TJ was on her feet, watching in horror as one of the airmen locked in with her reached for one of the Alliance henchmen and wrestled with him for the gun he was holding.
Some of the men she’d seen on the battlefield had said time slows down when you’re about to die and TJ had never put much stock in it; she hadn’t seen a lot of direct combat until Icarus and the Destiny, but watching the gun move in a slow arc, she had to think it had some sort of weight. She heard the sound of it much later than she should, like a video feed with the audio out of sync, and the short, staccato rap of the bullets contrasted with the ping of the ricochet against steel. She ducked, she must have ducked, because her face was pressed against something hot and rough like sand and there was a rush of blood in her ears that could have been the ocean.
TJ’s first reaction was to curl into herself, knees tucked up against her chest and everything she had devoted to protecting the baby. She hadn’t wanted the baby, not really, but there hadn’t been a choice out in the middle of space with no medical equipment and no doctors to speak of. Women had been having children for centuries with little to no medical help and there was no way to have an abortion done without bleeding out; there had been no logical choice outside carrying to term. After a while, after the eventuality of the situation had sunk in, she’d fallen in love with the child. Maybe it was the wrong choice, but she’d made that choice when she first went to Young’s bed and there was no backing out of it now that it had tangible consequences. There was no easy way out.
The rush was still in her ears but it was quiet, an odd dichotomy of sound that made her lift her head to look around. There was a beach, a long stretch of it, and people scattered here and there. It was nothing like any of the planets they’d been to since leaving Icarus base and TJ had to wonder if she’d finally broken, finally snapped. It would be understandable, really; she was sure greater men and women had crumbled under far less pressure but TJ wasn’t the type to let an external situation break her down. She wanted to do something, needed to be active, and losing her mind just wasn’t an option.
Arms curled around her belly, she walked gingerly along the beach, catching the first person she saw and frowning a little as she asked a tentative question:
“Where’s the ship? Did we crash here?”