'Amarantine' Chapter Eight - Hero
Title: "Amarantine"
Chapter: 8 of 10 - Hero
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 Six | Chapter Seven | Chapter Eight | Chapter Nine | Chapter Ten
Instrumental.
~ Enya, The Memory Of Trees
Chapter 8: Hero
"You're out here again." Turning your head slightly, you see Meredith's silhouette in the doorway to what was once your office. The lights are on inside; a change to the norm of the last sixty years, because you made the concious decision to remember everything that you can, now. In the pitch black covering her front, you can't see her, but by their absence at her sides, you know that she has her hands firmly clasped together. You're not the only one that has lost today, you know that and you know that she's hurting too, but you couldn't find it in yourself to stay in that room, with them, with him.
You smile sadly, and it's a slow, empty motion that you know she recognizes. "It's the only place I feel at home, really."
She nods silently, making her way across the balcony and slowly lowering herself to sit beside you. She takes a deep breath and it's winter over San Fransisco, so you can see the cloud of her warm breath float away on the shadows of the chilly night. You've been outside long enough, that your own breath doesn't leave the same mark anymore.
She purposely turns her head towards you and you can see her eyes now, even if still shadowed slightly. You're aware your own face is in full light from the door ahead of you and the windows behind, you're aware that she can see every line of every tear, but you reason that she'd have known they were there regardless, so you ignore it. "No it's not, Elizabeth."
Your mouth opens slightly in protest. You want to fight that, yes it is. It's the only place where you felt you could touch him, really touch his soul. It's the first place you remember arguing with him, it's the first place you remember seeing him, as he is now.
You pause, eyes widening as you realise that he's no longer what he was, no longer as you've come to know him. He's now something entirely different. He's now, gone. And suddenly, you agree with her. You don't feel at home here, you never did. It was only home because he was in it.
Her lips curve in a slight smile that sparkles in her eyes and for a moment, you wonder how she can possibly conjure such a mirthful, knowing expression at a time like this. But you want to slap yourself for being so depressive. He wouldn't have wanted that. He was a dark, sometimes brooding man. He had his demons, many of whom you knew all too personally but you know, perhaps better than anyone, that he had a childlike heart. He was so full of wonder and adventure; so brave, so courageous, so bold. He was a hero, in the truest, most poetic sense of the word.
You finally admit that you didn't like to call his stories fairy-tales because you were hesitant to believe them; on the contrary, you believed every single word. No, you liked to call them fairy-tales, because the image of him riding in on a white horse, to save the day at the eleventh hour, with shining armour and a sword to weild his heroic purpose, was not something you had difficulty imagining. In fact, when he talked of BDU's and flack vests so tight they itched, you thought of silken robes and edwardian crests. When he talked of running for all he was worth, from a T-Rex on a barely habitable planet, you thought of him standing his ground against a broad-winged dragon. You unconciously smile as you remember him talking of coming home to you, knowing you were here waiting and you remember imagining yourself as the princess, locked in the safety of the tower, able to look out upon her kingdom, but never leave.
"I suppose you're right." You concede and ignore the way she's looking at you like you disappeared for a moment, because you know that's precisely what you did. You drifted, back into thoughts of him and them and way back when the stars were different. "Did he," You start, but stop and she turns from the stars to you, waiting patiently. "Did he ever talk to you, about me?"
She's silent for a moment and you imagine that she's thinking. You're hoping that she's searching for the right words and not deciding what to say and what not to. You don't want to be spared truths, not anymore.
"He," She takes a deep breath and you find yourself holding your own. "He mentioned a woman a few times. I never knew a name or anything like that, but when he'd talk about her, he'd get this look in his eye like he was somewhere else. I always wondered who this woman was, but I never asked. It just didn't seem right, I felt like I'd be intruding on something special, something sacred." She meets your eye and you feel suddenly, completely exposed. "I can see now, from what he told me, that he was talking about you."
"What did he," You're embarressed and your cheeks flush at the way your voice cracks, nervously, but you clear your throat and continue. "What did he say?"
She smiles against the moonlight and you know now, that the name of the woman you see in her smile, is Jeannie McKay. Someone that you met only very briefly, but who you respected, greatly.
"He said that she was a great leader, that she was the first person who'd ever given him a real chance, who'd ever offered him a door that had been slammed closed in his face time and again." You smile privately, remembering the look on his face when you'd asked him to join you on the most terrifying mission of your life. You hadn't known him then and he hadn't known you, but you'd seen something in his eyes, something powerful, something truely noble. You remember wanting that kind of man by your side, well trained military loyalists be damned. You remember wanting him, because protocols weren't his concern, people were and the mission you were embarking on was nothing like the world had ever seen before. The centuries of military rules, never applied to you; they didn't, couldn't have.
She's quiet again, but you're satisfied enough, not to ask for more. You feel warmer, safer. You can still feel the chill right down to your bones, but it's no longer the emotional drain chilling your body to the core. The pain has ebbed away just enough for the breeze to do the cooling and the night to keep your drying tears, shadowed. You don't expect it, when she speaks again.
"He told me, only once, of the terrible mistake he made."
Caught by surprise, your head whips around to her, eyes begging for explanation. "He told me about the Replicators, what they were, what they did. He told me about so many of your enemies and so many of the foes he faced. Mostly in the form of fairy-tales with embelishments, but I learnt to tell the difference between the truth and the fabrication. Anyway," She turns her whole body toward you, reaching up to hold the hand you have resting on your knee. "he told me about what happened to you, about that one decision that ruined everything."
"What decision?" You ask, because you find that that's something you just can't recall. John told you that that's one memory that just might not come back; Damage caused by the accident, he reasoned, nothing to do with your ascension.
Her eyes are surprised. "You don't remember?"
"No."
She blinks and you wish in that moment, that this was one thing that didn't need to be explained to you because everyone seemed to have a terrible time getting it out.
"There was a choice, one that could have been prevented. One that could have prevented all this." You know immediately, that she's talking about you and being the last of your kind. "I don't know the details, but he said that the day he ignored your hesitance, your intuition, was the one day he's regretted his entire life."
"No," You breathe, seeing flashes of an icy silence drift through your mind. You see John and the Atlantis briefing room and you remember being angry and tired and fed-up. You remember disagreeing with him and you remember, the hurt that you felt when you realised it didn't matter. "it can't be."
She looks confused and you want to explain to her, everything that you're feeling as the memories flood you. But they're blurred and distorted and you can only pick out snippets that wouldn't make sense if you tried to explain. Then, suddenly, you're struck with a notion.
"What is it exactly, that you do on Atlantis?" She looks taken aback by the question, but you don't let that hinder you.
"I'm a scientist."
"What kind of scientist?"
Her brow furrows and even though you're still grieving, you feel the faint smile tug at your lips.
"Uncle John encouraged me to study Astrophysics, like my grandfather. He said that I had the potential to be as smart as my Great Aunt Jeannie, but I never met her."
You smile completely then, studying her face. "You look like her. I think you'd have liked her."
"Really?" She looks hopeful and in a strange turn of events, you're the teacher of the past. It feels good.
"Yeah," The word drifts out on a breath. "So, do you think it would be possible, to send me home?"
"To Washington?" She blinks and you realise that she must have read your file. But no, you don't mean Washington. You have nothing there, nothing left. No one.
"No," You shake your head, turning your eyes back to the stars and remembering John's arms around you as he made up stories about the Pegasus constellations. "The past."
TBC.
Chapter: 8 of 10 - Hero
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 Six | Chapter Seven | Chapter Eight | Chapter Nine | Chapter Ten
Click to viewInstrumental.
~ Enya, The Memory Of Trees
Chapter 8: Hero
"You're out here again." Turning your head slightly, you see Meredith's silhouette in the doorway to what was once your office. The lights are on inside; a change to the norm of the last sixty years, because you made the concious decision to remember everything that you can, now. In the pitch black covering her front, you can't see her, but by their absence at her sides, you know that she has her hands firmly clasped together. You're not the only one that has lost today, you know that and you know that she's hurting too, but you couldn't find it in yourself to stay in that room, with them, with him.
You smile sadly, and it's a slow, empty motion that you know she recognizes. "It's the only place I feel at home, really."
She nods silently, making her way across the balcony and slowly lowering herself to sit beside you. She takes a deep breath and it's winter over San Fransisco, so you can see the cloud of her warm breath float away on the shadows of the chilly night. You've been outside long enough, that your own breath doesn't leave the same mark anymore.
She purposely turns her head towards you and you can see her eyes now, even if still shadowed slightly. You're aware your own face is in full light from the door ahead of you and the windows behind, you're aware that she can see every line of every tear, but you reason that she'd have known they were there regardless, so you ignore it. "No it's not, Elizabeth."
Your mouth opens slightly in protest. You want to fight that, yes it is. It's the only place where you felt you could touch him, really touch his soul. It's the first place you remember arguing with him, it's the first place you remember seeing him, as he is now.
You pause, eyes widening as you realise that he's no longer what he was, no longer as you've come to know him. He's now something entirely different. He's now, gone. And suddenly, you agree with her. You don't feel at home here, you never did. It was only home because he was in it.
Her lips curve in a slight smile that sparkles in her eyes and for a moment, you wonder how she can possibly conjure such a mirthful, knowing expression at a time like this. But you want to slap yourself for being so depressive. He wouldn't have wanted that. He was a dark, sometimes brooding man. He had his demons, many of whom you knew all too personally but you know, perhaps better than anyone, that he had a childlike heart. He was so full of wonder and adventure; so brave, so courageous, so bold. He was a hero, in the truest, most poetic sense of the word.
You finally admit that you didn't like to call his stories fairy-tales because you were hesitant to believe them; on the contrary, you believed every single word. No, you liked to call them fairy-tales, because the image of him riding in on a white horse, to save the day at the eleventh hour, with shining armour and a sword to weild his heroic purpose, was not something you had difficulty imagining. In fact, when he talked of BDU's and flack vests so tight they itched, you thought of silken robes and edwardian crests. When he talked of running for all he was worth, from a T-Rex on a barely habitable planet, you thought of him standing his ground against a broad-winged dragon. You unconciously smile as you remember him talking of coming home to you, knowing you were here waiting and you remember imagining yourself as the princess, locked in the safety of the tower, able to look out upon her kingdom, but never leave.
"I suppose you're right." You concede and ignore the way she's looking at you like you disappeared for a moment, because you know that's precisely what you did. You drifted, back into thoughts of him and them and way back when the stars were different. "Did he," You start, but stop and she turns from the stars to you, waiting patiently. "Did he ever talk to you, about me?"
She's silent for a moment and you imagine that she's thinking. You're hoping that she's searching for the right words and not deciding what to say and what not to. You don't want to be spared truths, not anymore.
"He," She takes a deep breath and you find yourself holding your own. "He mentioned a woman a few times. I never knew a name or anything like that, but when he'd talk about her, he'd get this look in his eye like he was somewhere else. I always wondered who this woman was, but I never asked. It just didn't seem right, I felt like I'd be intruding on something special, something sacred." She meets your eye and you feel suddenly, completely exposed. "I can see now, from what he told me, that he was talking about you."
"What did he," You're embarressed and your cheeks flush at the way your voice cracks, nervously, but you clear your throat and continue. "What did he say?"
She smiles against the moonlight and you know now, that the name of the woman you see in her smile, is Jeannie McKay. Someone that you met only very briefly, but who you respected, greatly.
"He said that she was a great leader, that she was the first person who'd ever given him a real chance, who'd ever offered him a door that had been slammed closed in his face time and again." You smile privately, remembering the look on his face when you'd asked him to join you on the most terrifying mission of your life. You hadn't known him then and he hadn't known you, but you'd seen something in his eyes, something powerful, something truely noble. You remember wanting that kind of man by your side, well trained military loyalists be damned. You remember wanting him, because protocols weren't his concern, people were and the mission you were embarking on was nothing like the world had ever seen before. The centuries of military rules, never applied to you; they didn't, couldn't have.
She's quiet again, but you're satisfied enough, not to ask for more. You feel warmer, safer. You can still feel the chill right down to your bones, but it's no longer the emotional drain chilling your body to the core. The pain has ebbed away just enough for the breeze to do the cooling and the night to keep your drying tears, shadowed. You don't expect it, when she speaks again.
"He told me, only once, of the terrible mistake he made."
Caught by surprise, your head whips around to her, eyes begging for explanation. "He told me about the Replicators, what they were, what they did. He told me about so many of your enemies and so many of the foes he faced. Mostly in the form of fairy-tales with embelishments, but I learnt to tell the difference between the truth and the fabrication. Anyway," She turns her whole body toward you, reaching up to hold the hand you have resting on your knee. "he told me about what happened to you, about that one decision that ruined everything."
"What decision?" You ask, because you find that that's something you just can't recall. John told you that that's one memory that just might not come back; Damage caused by the accident, he reasoned, nothing to do with your ascension.
Her eyes are surprised. "You don't remember?"
"No."
She blinks and you wish in that moment, that this was one thing that didn't need to be explained to you because everyone seemed to have a terrible time getting it out.
"There was a choice, one that could have been prevented. One that could have prevented all this." You know immediately, that she's talking about you and being the last of your kind. "I don't know the details, but he said that the day he ignored your hesitance, your intuition, was the one day he's regretted his entire life."
"No," You breathe, seeing flashes of an icy silence drift through your mind. You see John and the Atlantis briefing room and you remember being angry and tired and fed-up. You remember disagreeing with him and you remember, the hurt that you felt when you realised it didn't matter. "it can't be."
She looks confused and you want to explain to her, everything that you're feeling as the memories flood you. But they're blurred and distorted and you can only pick out snippets that wouldn't make sense if you tried to explain. Then, suddenly, you're struck with a notion.
"What is it exactly, that you do on Atlantis?" She looks taken aback by the question, but you don't let that hinder you.
"I'm a scientist."
"What kind of scientist?"
Her brow furrows and even though you're still grieving, you feel the faint smile tug at your lips.
"Uncle John encouraged me to study Astrophysics, like my grandfather. He said that I had the potential to be as smart as my Great Aunt Jeannie, but I never met her."
You smile completely then, studying her face. "You look like her. I think you'd have liked her."
"Really?" She looks hopeful and in a strange turn of events, you're the teacher of the past. It feels good.
"Yeah," The word drifts out on a breath. "So, do you think it would be possible, to send me home?"
"To Washington?" She blinks and you realise that she must have read your file. But no, you don't mean Washington. You have nothing there, nothing left. No one.
"No," You shake your head, turning your eyes back to the stars and remembering John's arms around you as he made up stories about the Pegasus constellations. "The past."
TBC.