Amarantine Chapter Four - Alone
Title: "Amarantine"
Chapter: 4 of 10 - Alone
Rating: PG
Pairing: John/Elizabeth
Genre: Romance/Angst/Drama
Summary: "He didn't have forever, but you do. And you wonder time and time again, if that makes a difference."
Author's Note: This is my first Atlantis fic in quite a little while, and it feels nice to come home every once in a while, I've gotta say. I've been working on it for some time now and I hope that it's reached it's potential. I've written it for anuna_81 as a gift.
This is set following "Ghost In The Machine" (in a sense). And it leads on to well beyond the end of the series. I hope that the fic can explain it for you.
Also noted: Each chapter will be accompanied by an Enya song. These songs have all been specifically chosen to coincide with each chapter, so please listen as you read. Think of it as a soundtrack. (Note: All mistakes and annoying repetitions, are mine.)
Disclaimer: All Stargate Atlantis characters and/or locations are the property of MGM. No copyright inringement is intended nor is profit gained from the distribution of this story.
Chapter One | Chapter Two | Chapter Three | Chapter Four | Chapter Five | Chapter Five | Chapter Six | Chapter Seven | Chapter Eight | Chapter Nine | Chapter Ten
Dawn breaks; there is blue in the sky.
Your face before me though I don't know why.
Thoughts disappearing like tears from the moon.
~ I Want Tomorrow, Enya
Chapter 4: Alone
Nervously, you tuck a few stray curls back behind your ear. Meredith gave you a tie to pull your hair back, but it's done little good for the wild curls that refuse to be tamed. "Who am I?" You ask, licking your bottom lip as you watch him smile gently. He's looking at you like he's only just realised that the two of you have been left alone and he seems to be thinking it over, or more likely, he's deciding where to start.
You find that you're extremely curious about him because you figure, that with his distinguished brow and his secretive smile, he would have been an attractive man when he was younger. Which of course, leads you to thinking about what he looked like when he was younger and you blush as he catches you studying him and he's looking at you as though he knows exactly what you're thinking.
You get a strange, eerie feeling that a long time ago, that happened a lot.
"You were-" He stops himself and averts his eyes, blinking, before he looks back up into your eyes with an apologetic half smile. "are," He clarifies. "the original leader of what we called 'The Atlantis Expedition'." Your first impulse is to think that sounds fascinating but you also have no idea what it means; you don't have to say anything though, because it's written plainly on your face, at least you think it might be, because he's reading you like a paperback of 'War&Peace' and while you're not entirely sure where that particular reference came from, you're grateful that he jumps straight into explaining it for you. "This-" He gestures around you, generally. "is the city of Atlantis."
You eyes widen at that and you find yourself immediately wanting to know everything. Who you are, who he is, what it really means to be in the city of Atlantis. You want to know why this city is so special and why there seems to be so few people here. You want to know what it is that has him saying your name with such reverence that your heart tingles and you're praying to whatever god used to hear your prayers, that the name he's given you, really is yours. You've known him five minutes and you're silently begging that you don't have to give him up. He holds too many secrets and even if they're all lies, his eyes are so honest and you want to believe him.
Inching forward on the mattress until your bare toes are almost touching the ground, you lean towards him and instead of tilting away like you thought he would, he's reaching out to you with an old, shaking hand. "Come with me." He whispers and you don't hesitate. You slip to the ground and you feel the wrinkles of his fingers against your palm. In between the callouses his hands are soft and you smile, because his touch is gentle and sure.
You don't even care that you're not dressed yet and you're hugging the over-sized jacket around you like it's already yours. You were uncomfortable around him before, being as scantily clad as you are, but you realise that it came more from his sudden appearance in the room, and perhaps his age. But you're comforted by him now, happy to be in his presence and no longer disoriented as he invades the small bubble of space around you.
You're walking down a dimly lit hall and you can feel his chest at your shoulder. Every now and then the spance of his worn muscles brushes against your back, because his walk is slanted and his steps, difficult. But he's guiding you with a firm hand at the base of your spine and you're content to walk, watching as the lights flicker on the further you go. Not even aware that behind you, they fade to black as they'd once been, waiting patiently for his return to give them life again.
"Where are we going?" You question and you're annoyed with yourself that you've let your voice lose it's timbre. It's weak and wobbly, but he doesn't seem to mind. There is even a hint of a smile in his answer as he gestures for you to turn slightly, down another hallway, as he answers.
"Somewhere that I hope you'll remember."
It's when the rooms are brightly lit and the stars of the night sky are shining in through broader windows that you realise you recognise this place. But you don't remember it from before; you wish you did; you simply remember standing on the threshold of a room that made you quiver, flanked by Meredith and Caleb. The halls sound like trickling water and you wonder if they've done that to enstill a sense of peace in the inhabitants, but you remember that he said you lead an expedition to Atlantis and putting two and two together tells you that, this city wasn't always theirs; yours; you're still not sure how to define yourself.
He waves a hand in greeting to a man passing by, clutching a computer, and you realise that now that you're with him, you're not recieving those same strange looks you did, when Meredith and Caleb found you and brought you into this place. The man simply inclinded his head, tipped it in greeting and continued to walk. And it makes you wonder who exactly this man is, to these people, to this place and more importantly, to you. You look up at the man then, realising that you don't know his name, nor how to address him. You don't need to though, because he looks down at you slightly and he smiles. And you're not even disconcerted that he's moved a touch closer.
You want to ask him the question that's eating you alive, but somewhere inside you you're sure that he plans to get to that in time. You have no idea why you feel that way, because you know nothing of this tired-looking, old, soldier. You stop suddenly, turning to him as you realise that what you've just thought, you couldn't have known. He watches you intently and you're surprised that he's not concerned with your young fingers travelling up the lines of his old torso. You feel the warmth of his body through the fabric of his button-down shirt and you feel that once upon a time, his chest was lean and taut and his muscles more defined, but you suppose that could be said of any young man, softened with age. Your eyebrows knit together as your fingers tickle the edge of what you're looking for. He's smirking, as you glance at him, though you're not sure why.
He lets you move. He doesn't even attempt to stop you as you press your palm over the warmed metal that rests against his chest. It makes a clinking sound, as the two peices collide and suddenly, you're far too curious to simply feel, you want to see. You reach up, pausing as his eyes search your face, before he reassuringly gives you a nod and you're reaching for his neck, pulling at the ball-chain until two flat pieces of metal fall free against your hand. You let them drop, hitting his chest with a clank before your shaking hand fumbles for them again.
"What are they?" You ask, but he just smiles and you can't help but search your mind for a reason you'd known they'd be there. You don't find one, but that doesn't scare you as much as you thought it would. You study them, not entirely sure what you're looking for because they're small and metallic and they're covered in a sequence of numbers that make no sense to you. There is a name and you figure that it's his name, though you don't want to ask in case you're wrong. "Is this -" You hesitate, swallowing. "is this you?" You're tilting the small metal disk up towards his eyes and he studies it closely, as if he's never read them before and you get the destinct feeling that he's playing a game with you.
"Last time I checked." He grins and you find that his humour makes you smile. You look back down at the disk, you're twisting it in your fingers and you haven't even noticed that your arms are comfortably pressed into his chest and he's not moving for fear that you'll step away.
"J. Sheppard..." You read. "DOB: 01.05.67 - AB+ - ATA." You look up, confused. "What does that mean?"
He blinks and you suddenly realise how close you are. You jump back, unaware of the saddened expression that washes over his face in the seconds that you're not looking at him. You wonder about the way he'd looked at you, like he'd expected those words and numbers to somehow bring you back and you feel guilty, because he's trying and you're failing to see what he wants you to see. "I'm sorry," He clears his throat and you look up, not entirely sure what he's apologising for. "I thought that, maybe," He takes a deep breath. "I'm sorry. Look,"
"What year is it?" Your question startles him and he seems to need a moment to breathe, studying you.
"Twenty, sixty-six." He answers, as though that very truth was a burden. Almost as though he didn't want to tell you, regardless that it means little to you.
"When did I disappear?"
"Ah," He falters and you realise that while he seems so very uncomfortable, he's willing to answer you anything. That tells you more than you thought it would. "sixty years ago."
You stumble backwards, unsteady on your feet until your back hits the wall. He tries to reach for you, but his efforts are half-hearted because he knows you don't want to be touched, not now. And for a moment you're annoyed that he knows you so well, when you don't know him at all. You look up at him; your heart is beating wildly in your chest and your hair, long ago given up on being tied back, falls in your eyes as though it wished to add to the fogginess of your thoughts by obstructing your vision; you don't brush it away.
"Elizabeth;" He stumbles as you pull away from him, shuffling down the hall and suddenly, the cold beneath your feet is palpable again. "please." He's pleading and you're running, stumbling, turning back to him.
"Why don't I look like you?" You look down at your hands, they're lined a little, older than Meredith's but still young and vital. They're still strong and the freckles along your arms make you feel like a child. "I should look like you."
He doesn't know what to say and you can see it. He hadn't planned for this and you're so deeply sorry that you can't let it go, that you can't just smile and accept what is so undeniably wrong.
"I disappeared sixty years ago. Why aren't I old? Why can't I," You stop. You don't know what you're trying to ask because there are too many questions and far too many ways to ask them wrong.
"Elizabeth," His voice is soft, gentle and you wish that it wasn't. You wish that he didn't sound so safe and familiar because you want to run from him but you don't know where else you could possibly find comfort. "I don't know why. I don't know what happened to you, but I've been waiting," His voice is barely more than a breath and your heart is breaking as you listen to it, as you hear the tears in his voice as you feel them on your cheeks. "I watched everyone else go and I've been waiting, a really long time."
You want to reach for him, your instinct is to touch him, hold him and tell him that you're there. But your brain screams at you that you have no idea who he is, just how he makes you feel and logically, that's not enough. Sixty years and you haven't aged a day. You can't ignore it. He tries to reach for you hand again and the movement is tentative, but you yank your hand away as though it's been burned and suddenly, without thought, you're running as fast as you can. You can hear his voice behind you, calling the name he'd given to you so readily, but you don't answer. Because you know that if you turn around, you'll run straight back to him because you'll have given into the fear that you don't know where else to go.
You run until all that lies ahead of you is stairs and light. You're not sure where the energy has come from, but you take the stairs faster than the level ground until people stop staring and no one stops you and a wall opens up to the sky.
You stop dead in your tracks. The breeze is warmer than when you woke near to the ocean and the clouds across the sky are welcoming. You step out, flinching as the door closes behind you and you're surrounded by blue and white. Your curls dance across your throat and you can taste the salt in the air as you lick your lips. The leaves on the potted tree beside you, rustle and it's the only other sound apart from the birds that skim across the ocean's surface. It's calm and serene and you think that it's the perfect place to stop and take a breath. You close your eyes, letting the sunshine warm you as you take slow, steady breaths. But you're still shivering and you realise that the sun itself wouldn't know how to warm this particular cold and you back away from the rail, until your shoulders hit painted glass and you're sliding down to the floor. You pull your knees into your chest, watching as the birds fly higher and higher, above the line of the mountains in the distance and with each flap of their wings they're further away.
And you realise, as you hug your legs tighter and wish you had the answers; that you're so completely alone.
TBC.
Chapter: 4 of 10 - Alone
Rating: PG
Pairing: John/Elizabeth
Genre: Romance/Angst/Drama
Summary: "He didn't have forever, but you do. And you wonder time and time again, if that makes a difference."
Author's Note: This is my first Atlantis fic in quite a little while, and it feels nice to come home every once in a while, I've gotta say. I've been working on it for some time now and I hope that it's reached it's potential. I've written it for anuna_81 as a gift.
This is set following "Ghost In The Machine" (in a sense). And it leads on to well beyond the end of the series. I hope that the fic can explain it for you.
Also noted: Each chapter will be accompanied by an Enya song. These songs have all been specifically chosen to coincide with each chapter, so please listen as you read. Think of it as a soundtrack. (Note: All mistakes and annoying repetitions, are mine.)
Disclaimer: All Stargate Atlantis characters and/or locations are the property of MGM. No copyright inringement is intended nor is profit gained from the distribution of this story.
Chapter One | Chapter Two | Chapter Three | Chapter Four | Chapter Five | Chapter Five | Chapter Six | Chapter Seven | Chapter Eight | Chapter Nine | Chapter Ten
Click to viewDawn breaks; there is blue in the sky.
Your face before me though I don't know why.
Thoughts disappearing like tears from the moon.
~ I Want Tomorrow, Enya
Chapter 4: Alone
Nervously, you tuck a few stray curls back behind your ear. Meredith gave you a tie to pull your hair back, but it's done little good for the wild curls that refuse to be tamed. "Who am I?" You ask, licking your bottom lip as you watch him smile gently. He's looking at you like he's only just realised that the two of you have been left alone and he seems to be thinking it over, or more likely, he's deciding where to start.
You find that you're extremely curious about him because you figure, that with his distinguished brow and his secretive smile, he would have been an attractive man when he was younger. Which of course, leads you to thinking about what he looked like when he was younger and you blush as he catches you studying him and he's looking at you as though he knows exactly what you're thinking.
You get a strange, eerie feeling that a long time ago, that happened a lot.
"You were-" He stops himself and averts his eyes, blinking, before he looks back up into your eyes with an apologetic half smile. "are," He clarifies. "the original leader of what we called 'The Atlantis Expedition'." Your first impulse is to think that sounds fascinating but you also have no idea what it means; you don't have to say anything though, because it's written plainly on your face, at least you think it might be, because he's reading you like a paperback of 'War&Peace' and while you're not entirely sure where that particular reference came from, you're grateful that he jumps straight into explaining it for you. "This-" He gestures around you, generally. "is the city of Atlantis."
You eyes widen at that and you find yourself immediately wanting to know everything. Who you are, who he is, what it really means to be in the city of Atlantis. You want to know why this city is so special and why there seems to be so few people here. You want to know what it is that has him saying your name with such reverence that your heart tingles and you're praying to whatever god used to hear your prayers, that the name he's given you, really is yours. You've known him five minutes and you're silently begging that you don't have to give him up. He holds too many secrets and even if they're all lies, his eyes are so honest and you want to believe him.
Inching forward on the mattress until your bare toes are almost touching the ground, you lean towards him and instead of tilting away like you thought he would, he's reaching out to you with an old, shaking hand. "Come with me." He whispers and you don't hesitate. You slip to the ground and you feel the wrinkles of his fingers against your palm. In between the callouses his hands are soft and you smile, because his touch is gentle and sure.
You don't even care that you're not dressed yet and you're hugging the over-sized jacket around you like it's already yours. You were uncomfortable around him before, being as scantily clad as you are, but you realise that it came more from his sudden appearance in the room, and perhaps his age. But you're comforted by him now, happy to be in his presence and no longer disoriented as he invades the small bubble of space around you.
You're walking down a dimly lit hall and you can feel his chest at your shoulder. Every now and then the spance of his worn muscles brushes against your back, because his walk is slanted and his steps, difficult. But he's guiding you with a firm hand at the base of your spine and you're content to walk, watching as the lights flicker on the further you go. Not even aware that behind you, they fade to black as they'd once been, waiting patiently for his return to give them life again.
"Where are we going?" You question and you're annoyed with yourself that you've let your voice lose it's timbre. It's weak and wobbly, but he doesn't seem to mind. There is even a hint of a smile in his answer as he gestures for you to turn slightly, down another hallway, as he answers.
"Somewhere that I hope you'll remember."
It's when the rooms are brightly lit and the stars of the night sky are shining in through broader windows that you realise you recognise this place. But you don't remember it from before; you wish you did; you simply remember standing on the threshold of a room that made you quiver, flanked by Meredith and Caleb. The halls sound like trickling water and you wonder if they've done that to enstill a sense of peace in the inhabitants, but you remember that he said you lead an expedition to Atlantis and putting two and two together tells you that, this city wasn't always theirs; yours; you're still not sure how to define yourself.
He waves a hand in greeting to a man passing by, clutching a computer, and you realise that now that you're with him, you're not recieving those same strange looks you did, when Meredith and Caleb found you and brought you into this place. The man simply inclinded his head, tipped it in greeting and continued to walk. And it makes you wonder who exactly this man is, to these people, to this place and more importantly, to you. You look up at the man then, realising that you don't know his name, nor how to address him. You don't need to though, because he looks down at you slightly and he smiles. And you're not even disconcerted that he's moved a touch closer.
You want to ask him the question that's eating you alive, but somewhere inside you you're sure that he plans to get to that in time. You have no idea why you feel that way, because you know nothing of this tired-looking, old, soldier. You stop suddenly, turning to him as you realise that what you've just thought, you couldn't have known. He watches you intently and you're surprised that he's not concerned with your young fingers travelling up the lines of his old torso. You feel the warmth of his body through the fabric of his button-down shirt and you feel that once upon a time, his chest was lean and taut and his muscles more defined, but you suppose that could be said of any young man, softened with age. Your eyebrows knit together as your fingers tickle the edge of what you're looking for. He's smirking, as you glance at him, though you're not sure why.
He lets you move. He doesn't even attempt to stop you as you press your palm over the warmed metal that rests against his chest. It makes a clinking sound, as the two peices collide and suddenly, you're far too curious to simply feel, you want to see. You reach up, pausing as his eyes search your face, before he reassuringly gives you a nod and you're reaching for his neck, pulling at the ball-chain until two flat pieces of metal fall free against your hand. You let them drop, hitting his chest with a clank before your shaking hand fumbles for them again.
"What are they?" You ask, but he just smiles and you can't help but search your mind for a reason you'd known they'd be there. You don't find one, but that doesn't scare you as much as you thought it would. You study them, not entirely sure what you're looking for because they're small and metallic and they're covered in a sequence of numbers that make no sense to you. There is a name and you figure that it's his name, though you don't want to ask in case you're wrong. "Is this -" You hesitate, swallowing. "is this you?" You're tilting the small metal disk up towards his eyes and he studies it closely, as if he's never read them before and you get the destinct feeling that he's playing a game with you.
"Last time I checked." He grins and you find that his humour makes you smile. You look back down at the disk, you're twisting it in your fingers and you haven't even noticed that your arms are comfortably pressed into his chest and he's not moving for fear that you'll step away.
"J. Sheppard..." You read. "DOB: 01.05.67 - AB+ - ATA." You look up, confused. "What does that mean?"
He blinks and you suddenly realise how close you are. You jump back, unaware of the saddened expression that washes over his face in the seconds that you're not looking at him. You wonder about the way he'd looked at you, like he'd expected those words and numbers to somehow bring you back and you feel guilty, because he's trying and you're failing to see what he wants you to see. "I'm sorry," He clears his throat and you look up, not entirely sure what he's apologising for. "I thought that, maybe," He takes a deep breath. "I'm sorry. Look,"
"What year is it?" Your question startles him and he seems to need a moment to breathe, studying you.
"Twenty, sixty-six." He answers, as though that very truth was a burden. Almost as though he didn't want to tell you, regardless that it means little to you.
"When did I disappear?"
"Ah," He falters and you realise that while he seems so very uncomfortable, he's willing to answer you anything. That tells you more than you thought it would. "sixty years ago."
You stumble backwards, unsteady on your feet until your back hits the wall. He tries to reach for you, but his efforts are half-hearted because he knows you don't want to be touched, not now. And for a moment you're annoyed that he knows you so well, when you don't know him at all. You look up at him; your heart is beating wildly in your chest and your hair, long ago given up on being tied back, falls in your eyes as though it wished to add to the fogginess of your thoughts by obstructing your vision; you don't brush it away.
"Elizabeth;" He stumbles as you pull away from him, shuffling down the hall and suddenly, the cold beneath your feet is palpable again. "please." He's pleading and you're running, stumbling, turning back to him.
"Why don't I look like you?" You look down at your hands, they're lined a little, older than Meredith's but still young and vital. They're still strong and the freckles along your arms make you feel like a child. "I should look like you."
He doesn't know what to say and you can see it. He hadn't planned for this and you're so deeply sorry that you can't let it go, that you can't just smile and accept what is so undeniably wrong.
"I disappeared sixty years ago. Why aren't I old? Why can't I," You stop. You don't know what you're trying to ask because there are too many questions and far too many ways to ask them wrong.
"Elizabeth," His voice is soft, gentle and you wish that it wasn't. You wish that he didn't sound so safe and familiar because you want to run from him but you don't know where else you could possibly find comfort. "I don't know why. I don't know what happened to you, but I've been waiting," His voice is barely more than a breath and your heart is breaking as you listen to it, as you hear the tears in his voice as you feel them on your cheeks. "I watched everyone else go and I've been waiting, a really long time."
You want to reach for him, your instinct is to touch him, hold him and tell him that you're there. But your brain screams at you that you have no idea who he is, just how he makes you feel and logically, that's not enough. Sixty years and you haven't aged a day. You can't ignore it. He tries to reach for you hand again and the movement is tentative, but you yank your hand away as though it's been burned and suddenly, without thought, you're running as fast as you can. You can hear his voice behind you, calling the name he'd given to you so readily, but you don't answer. Because you know that if you turn around, you'll run straight back to him because you'll have given into the fear that you don't know where else to go.
You run until all that lies ahead of you is stairs and light. You're not sure where the energy has come from, but you take the stairs faster than the level ground until people stop staring and no one stops you and a wall opens up to the sky.
You stop dead in your tracks. The breeze is warmer than when you woke near to the ocean and the clouds across the sky are welcoming. You step out, flinching as the door closes behind you and you're surrounded by blue and white. Your curls dance across your throat and you can taste the salt in the air as you lick your lips. The leaves on the potted tree beside you, rustle and it's the only other sound apart from the birds that skim across the ocean's surface. It's calm and serene and you think that it's the perfect place to stop and take a breath. You close your eyes, letting the sunshine warm you as you take slow, steady breaths. But you're still shivering and you realise that the sun itself wouldn't know how to warm this particular cold and you back away from the rail, until your shoulders hit painted glass and you're sliding down to the floor. You pull your knees into your chest, watching as the birds fly higher and higher, above the line of the mountains in the distance and with each flap of their wings they're further away.
And you realise, as you hug your legs tighter and wish you had the answers; that you're so completely alone.
TBC.