(no subject)

[4jace]

TITLE: Union
AUTHOR: 4jace
SPOILERS: Half-way through season three
SUMMARY: He would die by her side if he failed. 
RATING: A very mild R (Some bad words, intensity, and the suggestion of almost-nudity)
FOR: This story is for Ivy Lea, who wanted “participation in a native ritual on a planet Atlantis hopes to trade with” or “an anniversary of something significant to either John or Elizabeth (not a wedding anniversary or the anniversary of when they arrived in Atlantis)”. I didn’t intend for it to happen, but somewhere in the middle of writing prompt 1, I realized prompt 2 was also going to make an appearance. Thanks to RedMeg for the beta!  I hope you all enjoy the story.

Ritual

“You’re worried about something.”

Her voice startled him more than it should have; he wouldn’t normally have jumped when she spoke. Tonight, however, the darkness unnerved him, and he knew with a growing certainty that something wasn’t right…

She’d noticed his reaction, of course. “You really are worried! John, what is it?” She stopped walking and placed her hand on his arm, forcing him to stop as well.

He didn’t want to talk about this with her. “It’s nothing.” Seeing her disbelief, he shrugged. “I’ll be glad to get home.”

“Is it something with the trade negotiations?” Her eyes were troubled. “Everything has been going so well-”

“No,” he said. “There’s no problem with the talks. You’re doing great, as usual.”

“Thanks,” she replied warmly. “You know it’s my favorite part of the job.”

He clutched a hand to his chest. “I thought rescuing Rodney from the lemon chicken in the cafeteria was your favorite part.”

“John…” She narrowed her eyes at him.

“Elizabeth…” he returned mockingly.

She sighed. “The only reason I have to rescue Rodney is because you put lemon on the chicken in the first place.”

“It’s in my job description to torture Rodney. It clearly says so on page five of my contract.” He smirked.

She laughed. “Well, that makes all the difference.” She dropped her hand from his arm and resumed walking. He followed, missing the warmth from where they had touched. After a minute, she spoke again. “You are worried about something, and you hadn’t been…until now. Did something happen today? Or maybe last night? We didn’t walk like we usually do.”

Damn. He had hoped to distract her, but she wasn’t one to let go of something when she was concerned. Besides, he had known she would notice his absence last night. They often walked together in the evening when they were away from Atlantis, spending the final minutes of the day talking with each other and sharing their thoughts about the day’s events. Last night he couldn’t have faced her. He didn’t really want to explain himself now, either. Reluctantly he said, “Last night…Bryn…”

He could feel her sudden stillness next to him, and he braced for rejection. “The woman who sat next to you at dinner?”

He nodded. “She…after dinner…”

“I think I get it,” she interrupted, her voice a bit stiff. Then she relaxed and said softly, “You don’t have to talk about this if you don’t want to.”

He shook his head. “No. I…I told her no. Then I just…went away. I needed some time by myself, and then I went to bed.”

She was quiet for moment. When she finally spoke, there was a gentleness to her tone that eased some of his discomfort. “Are you okay?”

“I’m fine.” I’m tired, I’m lonely, and I can’t shake the itchy feeling that keeps crawling along my spine, but other than that, life’s great. It was time to change the subject. “Do you think the Sanyra will accept our latest offer?”

To his relief, she accepted his redirection gracefully. “Nothing’s ever certain until the ink’s dry, of course, but I think we’ve reached an agreement that benefits everyone.”

He nodded. It had been clear when they arrived that the planet was undergoing a dramatic ecological change. Rodney had predicted that the environment would prove uninhabitable in about fifty years. The Sanyra needed help relocating. “We provide the Atlantean version of a U-Haul…”

“And they provide us with ancient texts that, when translated, just might lead to the discovery of another ZPM,” she finished with satisfaction. “Hopefully tomorrow will-” she broke off with a small cry of pain.

His heart leapt into his throat as she fell. “Elizabeth!” That feeling…I should have listened. He knelt beside her.

“I’m okay; I’m just clumsy.” She laughed shakily. “I stepped in a hole.”

His relief was so great that it took a few seconds for him to remember how to breathe. “You’re not clumsy. It’s my fault for dragging you out for a walk when the night is so dark.” He ran his hands along her limbs, checking for injuries.

“I don’t mind,” she argued. “I enjoy our talks.”

He was glad to hear it, but he still felt guilty. “How much enjoyment are you going to get from a broken leg?” John asked gruffly. His hand stopped over her right ankle when she winced. “Steady. Can you move it?”

“Yes. I think it’s just a sprain,” she said.

“I didn’t realize that doctorate of yours was in medicine,” he countered. “Give me a minute to check this out.” Reaching into his pocket, he pulled out a flashlight.

“Now you use a light,” she said sarcastically.

“It’s nicer without it,” he replied, and then he could have hit himself for saying so.

There was a slight pause before she replied. “Yes, it is.”

His fingers pressed gently against her ankle. “I think it’s okay,” he said gruffly. “We won’t be able to wrap it until we get back to the village, though. Can you walk?”

“I think so.”

“I could always carry you.” He looked up at her, his eyes laughing mischievously.

“I can walk, thank you,” she said primly.

He decided to quit while he was ahead. “Okay, up you go. Easy.” He helped her to her feet, slipping his arm around her waist to keep her steady. She slipped her arm around him and leaned into his side. “Think you can make it?”

“Yes.” She turned her face toward him, her eyes serious and dark.

The guilt he was feeling intensified when he saw the pain she was trying to suppress. “I’m sorry about this.  I should have been more careful.”

She shook her head firmly. “You’re not responsible for the universe, John Sheppard. It was an accident. I’m just glad you were here to help me get back.”

He pulled her even closer to his side. “I’ll always be here.” Their eyes met, their beautiful, aching secret hovering unspoken between them.

~~~

It hurt so much. She thought she had lost him an age and a lifetime ago, only to find him again when she had at last given up all hope. How it had thrilled her when he had returned to the village! He had looked so handsome standing there in the morning light, and her heart had been filled to overflowing with the joy of his presence. He had returned to her, honoring a bond that nothing, not even death, could truly sever.

She had been shocked when he did not immediately come to her side. Was he waiting to join her at a later time, when privacy would be the sole witness to their reunion? A bond was a very personal thing, after all. But surely, she had thought, after such a long separation it did not matter if others noticed their expressions of love? Finally she decided that he did not recognize her; whatever had kept him away all of this time and returned him in such an unusual manner must have stolen his memory. All that was needed was for her to remind him.

She had waited all day to approach him, while her soul cried out with anguished longing for the return of all they had once shared. When she had finally spoken with him, she had been gentle, afraid that revealing the depth of their bond too quickly might frighten him. She had simply meant to speak with him, but once they were alone her feelings overwhelmed her and she pressed herself against him. To feel his kiss again…to have his strength wrapped around her as she lost herself in his caress…she could wait no longer.

But he had pushed her away, rebuffing her efforts with a stranger’s courtesy. Stricken, she had retreated to her home, to the bedroom they had shared so long ago, where gasping, wrenching sobs had torn at her heart until she could cry no longer. She had at last fallen asleep, sure that life was truly no longer worth living.

Sanity returned this morning in the form of determination. He simply did not remember; she could not be angry with him for something over which he had no control. She would have to be patient, knowing that somehow she would find a way to show him all that they had once been. She had waited throughout the day and then walked to the home where he was staying. She had thought that if she could just have a few moments of privacy with him, she could explain.

When she arrived at the house, she was irritated to see that he was leaving for a walk…and he was not alone. A woman was with him, one of the members of the strange group with which he had traveled. They were talking quietly and standing far closer than was appropriate for people who were not bonded. Suspicion and burning grief formed a pool of black anger in her heart.

She followed the couple, her fury building as she noticed the little mannerisms which indicated the depth of their regard for one another. As she watched, the truth was revealed to her. His memory gone, he had formed a bond with another woman. Perhaps that woman…harlot, slut…had even deliberately suppressed his memory so that she could claim him for herself. With the bitter truth came absolute certainty about the necessary course to be taken. This other woman had to die, for it was she who had stolen his memories and defiled the sacred trust of the lifebond. Once she was gone, he would remember. Once she died, he would return to his rightful place beside the only woman who could ever truly love him. All would be as it should be.

With trembling hands, she reached into the pack that she carried with her at all times and removed a single dart. She was one of the best huntresses in the village; she would only need one shot. The dart was already prepared; one never knew when a wanluk or mynar might wander too close to the village. It was a simple matter to place the dart into the aryar and raise her arm. Her eyes were filled with hot tears, but her aim was true. One shot, and he would be hers again. She fired.

~~~

Elizabeth opened her mouth to speak, but instead gave an anguished cry of pain and collapsed against him. Stunned, he began to lower her to the ground. “Elizabeth?” He hadn’t thought her ankle was that bad…then he noticed the dart sticking out of her left shoulder. Anger mingled with horrified concern. “Elizabeth!” He shook her gently, even as he keyed his radio and barked orders at Teyla. His eyes swept the forest around them, but nothing moved.

She lifted pain-filled eyes to him, her face cloudy with confusion. “John-”

He cursed as she slumped against his chest, her face ashen. “No. No.” Frantically he felt for her pulse, his tension only building when he found it faint and irregular against his fingertips.

A burst of static came from the radio, as Teyla asked again for his position. Pulling Elizabeth into his arms, John pressed the switch and responded, his voice harsh. “Forget it; we’re on our way back. Elizabeth’s hurt; she’ll need medical attention as soon as we get there. Ten minutes.” Too long…long enough to feel her slipping away from him. “Hang on,” he pleaded with the unconscious woman in his arms. Holding her close, he ran.

***

Teyla wondered if John had any idea how he looked as he carried Elizabeth into the village; she knew that the intense, terrified expression on his face would haunt her the rest of her days. “Colonel Sheppard,” she called to him, guiding him to the building where a medical team had been hastily prepared. John raced into the room, placing Elizabeth on the bed as directed. Teyla had to physically pull him away from the other woman’s body so that the medical personnel could work. He moved just far enough to be out of the way and stood hovering alongside the team, gulping in deep breaths of air. His eyes never left Elizabeth’s face.

“What happened?” Ronon asked brusquely.

“We were talking,” John replied. “Just talking. She hurt her ankle, and we were about to head back to camp, when suddenly she fell beside me.” He wiped his hand across his mouth. “She’s been shot with some kind of dart. I don’t know who did it. I didn’t see anyone-”

“We know,” one of the villagers replied grimly. He was holding the silvery blue dart in his hand. “All of our people use personalized weaponry to identify a kill during hunting season. To know the hunter, we only need to recognize the weapon. This is Bryn’s arrow.”

If possible, John’s face grew even paler. “It’s my fault,” he whispered.

Rodney looked at him, dark suspicion in his eyes. “Who is Bryn? Sheppard, what did you do?”

Anger flashed across John’s face. “She came on to me last night after dinner. I turned her down, Rodney.” His eyes continued to study Elizabeth, and when he spoke again, his voice was almost too soft to be heard. “I must have made her angry. It’s my fault she attacked Elizabeth.”

“You don’t know that-” Teyla began, but the villager interrupted her soberly.

“Bryn lost her bondmate last year. We had hoped she was doing better, but she obviously needs more care than we had foreseen.” He looked at John. “Colonel Sheppard, you bear a slight resemblance to her former mate.  We will take steps to make sure Bryn receives proper treatment; I’m terribly sorry this happened.”

John waved his hand impatiently. “It doesn’t matter. Just tell me what you’re doing to help Elizabeth.”

The villager looked anxiously toward the bed, obviously seeking guidance. An older man stepped away from Elizabeth’s side and approached the group. It was Alel, the Sanyran healer who had been present at many of the negotiations. “I’ve examined Dr. Weir, and I’m afraid the news is not good. The dart was loaded with Tryson…it’s derived from the Trys plants you’ve seen on the outskirts of the village. It’s a highly dangerous toxin.”

Teyla read the truth in his eyes before he said anything more, and she drew a shallow breath. It amazed her how much this moment could still hurt, after all of the many times she had been here before. John, however, had not realized what the doctor was trying to say. Sure that there was a solution, he asked, “What’s the antidote? How are you going to fix it?”

Alel looked at him with sympathy. “The toxin has already worked too quickly, Colonel Sheppard. There’s nothing we can do.”

Ronon was the one who called it what it was. “She’s dying.”

Alel nodded grimly. “Yes.”

“No,” John countered fiercely. He turned to face his team. “Head back to the gate and get Beckett.”

“There’s not enough time,” Alel said. “She’ll be gone before they get back.”

“So we’ll carry her to Atlantis,” John argued.

“She would not survive the journey,” Alel replied gently.

Silence fell over the group. John swallowed hard and shook his head. “No,” he repeated quietly. “There has to be something you can do.”

Alel took a deep breath. “Perhaps…is she bonded with any of you?” He asked the group, but he looked directly at John.

“Why?” John asked harshly.

“There is a treatment, but it’s extremely dangerous. Probably more so for her, because she’s foreign. She wouldn’t survive it without a bondmate. She might not survive it in any case.”

“You told us during the meetings that bondmates share love and a lifetime commitment, the most sacred vow your people can take,” Teyla said.

Alel nodded. “It is the most fulfilling relationship any of us have in our lifetimes. If Dr. Weir’s bondmate could blend with her in the ritual treatment ceremony, it might give her enough strength to survive.”

John was quiet for a long moment, struggling with his thoughts. Finally he asked, “Does the bond have to work both ways?” Seeing Alel’s confusion, John clarified, “Would it work if the person bonding with her…felt that way, even if he wasn’t sure she felt the same?” He flushed, but he met the other man’s gaze.

Alel studied him and nodded slowly. “It might. It has worked that way in the past. However, the risk is greater. Dr. Weir and the bondmate would both be in danger.”

“Meaning they could both die,” Ronon said.

“Yes.”

John’s gaze returned to the fragile form lying on the bed. “I’ll do it,” he said, his voice quiet but firm.

“You must be sure, Colonel Sheppard,” Alel said. “Once we begin-”

“I’m sure,” John said. He looked at his team. “Teyla, Rodney, head back to the gate and get Beckett…just in case.”

“So we’re just supposed to leave you here? This could kill you, you know!” Rodney sputtered.

“I did this to her, Rodney. I won’t let her die, not if there is even the slightest chance to save her.” His anger and grief prevented further discussion.

Teyla pressed her hand to his arm. “We will hurry.” With a final glance at his face, she left the room with the still-protesting scientist.

John watched them go with an inscrutable expression. Finally he looked at the tall warrior standing beside him. “Ronon…”

The other man folded his arms and took a watchful stance. “I’ve got it. Do what you need to do.”

John nodded gratefully.  Turning to Alel, he took a shallow breath. “I’m ready.”

The other man gestured toward the bed. “Quickly, then. We haven’t much time. You’ll need to remove your shirt.” John looked at him, startled, and then glanced at the bed where the other medical personnel were removing Elizabeth’s top. “You’ll need to be very close for the bond to be strong enough,” Alel explained.

John couldn’t look away from the delicate grace of Elizabeth’s skin. She was so beautiful that it was hard to believe she was dying… “Right,” he said harshly. “Just tell me what I need to do.”

Following Alel’s guidance, John stretched out on the bed and gathered Elizabeth in his arms. She was lying on top of him, her chest pressed securely against his. Using a slender cord, Alel tied Elizabeth’s left wrist to John’s right and then secured their hands to the bed. “Her arm must remain still during the treatment,” he explained.

“Right,” John said, intertwining his fingers with Elizabeth’s. He curved his other arm around her waist, wishing that she didn’t feel so cold against his skin. “What’s next?”

An elderly woman approached the bed. “This is Janyl, who will assist with the bonding,” Alel explained. “She can only help you reach the ritual bonding state; she cannot enter the bond or view what occurs there. She also cannot sever the connection if the procedure does not go as planned. You must choose to enter the bond, and you will have to find your own way out.”

“I get it,” John said brusquely. “We’re wasting time. How do I start?”

Janyl placed her hands on both his and Elizabeth’s heads. “Close your eyes and think of Elizabeth. Think only of her. Reach for her with your mind…and your heart.”

The instructions seemed sort of nebulous to John, but he closed his eyes and tried to comply. He thought of Elizabeth, of all the many things he enjoyed about her…her smile, her dry humor, her intelligence, her strength, how beautiful she looked in red…he pictured her standing on the balcony at home, her thoughtful gaze facing the evening sky. Would he have the chance to stand there with her again? Come back to me, Elizabeth, he thought silently.

Heat seemed to flow from his mind into Janyl’s hand and across to Elizabeth, and John caught glimpses of the most beautiful, pure ribbon of light he had ever seen. How pretty, he thought. I wish Elizabeth could see this. He felt a flutter against his wrist, the wrist that was tied to the woman who was more important to him than his next breath. It took him a moment to realize he was feeling her pulse…far too slow and weak. Don’t do that, Elizabeth. Don’t fade away from me. Come stand beside me and look at this beautiful light…

Then he was there.

***

Physically, nothing much had changed. She was still lying in his arms, with her head pressed into the curve of his neck. He could feel the cord that bound their wrists and the weight of the bed beneath him. Mentally, however…spiritually…they were somewhere else. Some time else. Life, breath, the galaxy…nothing existed except these two frightened, committed people. She was facing away from him, but he could feel her anxiety as she spoke. “You shouldn’t be here, John. It’s too dangerous.”

“I know,” he replied lightly, trying to tease her out of her concern. “When we wake up from this, you’re going to kill me for seeing you topless.”

She let out a choked laugh. “I’m not topless. I have on a bra.”

He thought of the scrap of lace he’d caught a brief glimpse of before the bonding. “That’s not a bra; that’s a figment of my imagination.” Some logical part of his mind wondered how he could be speaking to her…his boss…in such an inappropriate manner, but he couldn’t seem to control himself. It was as if he had no inhibitions in this state; whatever he thought became instant knowledge between the two of them.

“Yes, this thought process is almost…exhilarating,” she replied, and it didn’t surprise him at all that she had understood his thoughts. She laughed. “It’s almost like being drunk.”

A glimpse of humor crept into their bond, and he drawled, “Do you have something you want to share with the class, Dr. Weir?”

She smiled against his shoulder. “Sometime when we really are drunk, ask me about the aardvark and the pink bikini.”

He got enough of the mental image to realize that the story was really funny. “I’ll hold you to that,” he chuckled.

Suddenly she moved against him, her muscles tensing. “Aah…”

“What is it?” he asked, but he sensed it before she could respond. The pain slithered through her body like the poisonous snake it was…engulfing, destroying.

“I think they must have started the treatment,” she said, her teeth chattering.

“Hold on to me,” he urged, tightening his free arm around her waist. Leaning his head against hers, he buried his face in her hair and willed his strength into her body. She clung to him, and they both gasped in acknowledgement of shared pain. He closed his eyes and tried to focus on the beautiful light that had led him here. Drawing her with him, he was able to cover them both in the warmth of the light.

She relaxed infinitesimally. “That’s better,” she said faintly.

He smiled grimly against her hair. “You’re lying.”

“Maybe,” she replied. After a time, she asked, “Do you think we’ll know if it doesn’t work? Will everything…go away…or will we just stay like this forever?”

“I’m not sure,” he said. He thought of an eternity spent with Elizabeth lying in his arms…with his hand bound so that he couldn’t do everything his body wanted to do. He supposed he’d always known that he would end up in hell someday.

“John!” she laughed.

“Sorry,” he mumbled. You’re beautiful…and distracting.

And you’re a good man, came her instant reply.

I don’t feel like one. He thought of past disappointments, of friends long dead…of the Genii.

That one was my fault. The weight of the burden carried heavily in her thoughts.

“No,” he said sternly. “You couldn’t help it. And once I thought you were gone…once I believed he had killed you…nothing could stop me from reaching you. They had to die for what they’d done to you, and I wouldn’t leave you with him.”

“I know,” she said softly. Hot tears fell against his skin. John…you can’t always protect me. Look at you now…you’ve deliberately put yourself in danger…

“I will always go where you are,” he said harshly. “Whatever it takes, however long it takes, I will do anything to keep you safe.”

She didn’t reply, but her tears fell even harder. Her grief was mixed with the increasing physical pain that threatened to overwhelm her fragile body. The guilt he was barely holding at bay magnified a thousand times over. It’s my fault you’re here…

“It is not your fault!” she said, exasperated. “You can’t help it if some woman thinks you look like her dead husband.” She turned to face him, her eyes flashing with irritation.

“Careful,” he murmured, mindful of her arm. He was pretty sure that anything they did here wouldn’t affect the outside world, but he wasn’t taking any chances.

“I am being careful,” she muttered crossly, “but you’re being an idiot. You’re not to blame for Bryn’s actions, and I haven’t lost respect for you because some woman found you attractive.”

“I didn’t respond to her,” John replied. “I turned her down as politely as I could; I swear I was polite, Elizabeth.”

She smiled gently. “I know you were.”

Restless, hurting, he continued. “I should have known from the look on her face…something wasn’t right. If I’d paid more attention, but mostly I just wanted to pretend it never happened. Then I avoided you last night because I didn’t want to explain…”

“You don’t have to explain anything to me,” she said quietly.

But I should. His eyes met hers, and in this timeless place there was no hiding behind duty and fear. I should explain, because of what you are to me.

Her eyes filled with tears. “John,” she whispered. “I-” Whatever confession she had planned to make ended in a terrified scream.

He cursed as he felt the pain rip through their bond. “Elizabeth!” he cried.

Her face was white with horrified awareness. “John…God…I don’t think I can…”

“Yes you can,” he said harshly.

She shook her head, frantically trying to escape from the agony that covered her body. “I can’t…it hurts…”

“Don’t think about it,” he ordered. He knew it hurt; he could feel it, too. He pulled her further into the light, trying to carry as much of the pain as he could. Eventually he felt the warmth seep into their bodies, but he knew the poison wasn’t truly gone.

She buried her face in his neck, her body shaking with pain and exhaustion. Was it like this with the Wraith? When did you realize you were going to die?

“This is different,” John replied grimly. “You’re not going to die.” When she didn’t reply, he tightened his arm around her. “You’re not.”

She moved slightly against his chest. “The light is so beautiful,” she murmured softly. “It’s you, of course.”

“What?” He studied the dark midnight color of their bond.

“Blue,” she said softly. “The color of patriots…warriors…heroes.”

He shrugged uncomfortably. “I’m not a hero.”

She raised her head to look at him. “You are to me.” She reached out with a gentle touch of her mind. “I wonder…”

John drew a husky breath as the color of the light changed, mixing with a vibrant, deep red. Looking at it now gave him a sense of completion unlike anything he had ever felt before. “Yes,” he whispered. “That’s right.”

“Yes, it is.” She closed her eyes and rested her head on his shoulder. “Perfect.”

He realized that her pulse was fading, beating ever fainter and more slowly against his wrist. It was an unforgiving timepiece, marking the seconds until her death. “Elizabeth,” he said sternly. Fear lent an edge to his voice.

Her answer was a gentle sigh, her breath fading against his shoulder. So tired…

His heart broke against the fractured brush of her thoughts. She sounded so far away… “Elizabeth, you can’t sleep now.”

Thank you for sharing this with me, John. Thank you for everything.

Anger mixed with his fear as he shouted, “I don’t want your gratitude, damn it! Wake up!”

Silence was his only answer.

If she had a pulse, it was too faint for him to notice. More terrified than he could ever remember being, he shook her. “Elizabeth!”

Her lifeless body lay still against his chest.

“No!” Tightening his arm around her, he placed his cheek against hers and wept. “Elizabeth…please.”

There was no answer. He was alone, cursed with a devastating emptiness that would never be filled again. He thought it couldn’t possibly get worse…until the light also began to fade away. His part remained true, but the deep red beauty of her spirit began to slip away as if it had never existed at all. As if she…they…had never been. Her body was gone, and her soul was leaving on a path he could not follow.

“No,” he whispered. He reached out to the light in desperation and was amazed to see it flicker. Had it grown stronger? “No,” he said again, louder this time, as he grasped for the light with his thoughts. There. It caught and held for a few blessed seconds, red and blue mixing and holding sure in a moment of grace. Somehow he knew that this was the answer, just as he knew what would become of him if the plan didn’t work. He could follow, refusing to release her spirit, but he would die by her side if he failed. He didn’t even hesitate. Life without Elizabeth was death.

Holding her as tightly as he could, he took a deep breath and reached with all of his strength for the light. “Come back to me,” he pleaded. “I won’t let you go. We still need you…I need you.” I love you. The light drew closer and closer; without a moment’s thought, he dove in to the center of its warmth…

…and she was there. Gasping for breath, tears streaming down her face, she reached out with a shaking hand and caressed his face. John. She closed her eyes and lifted her lips to his.

He kissed her, handing her his soul in the purest moment of his life. I love you.

It was the kiss of lovers, the kiss of the damned who refused to accept their damnation. It was grief and strength and life intertwined with the unfailing bonds of deep, absolute devotion. Their lips pressed and clung, warm skin shaping and accepting. His arm, solid and male, encircled the silk of her feminine skin. The rush he felt was almost primeval. I will not lose you…you are my bondmate…

Her gentle hand brushed his skin in return. And you are mine…

An intoxicating rush flowed through their souls and hearts with a lovely, pulsating heat. It took him a moment to recognize it for what it was...their heartbeats, sounding in perfect rhythm. Pounding through veins, sweeping through precious tissue…eagerly beating between their bound wrists. Her pulse. It kept time faithfully with his, warm and whole against his skin. This was no weak, fragile cadence.   This was a joyful declaration of unyielding love.

She looked up at him. You’re here.

He held her gaze with his own. I’ll always be here.

More tears welled in her eyes as she leaned her forehead against his. Thank you.

He pressed his hand to her side. Let’s go home.

Remembrance

He woke beside her in the early gray light of morning, the memory still fresh in his mind. The dream always accompanied this rather traumatic anniversary. It had been the worst, and best, day of their lives. They had died and been reborn. They had lost everything...and had gained so much more.

It had taken years…too many years…for duty to make room for the truth that had been acknowledged and accepted that day. It could have been, and often had been, frustrating enough to drive them both mad. They had survived because the bond was stronger than any schedule or regulation. They had survived, and when the time came, they had claimed what was rightfully theirs.

They had awoken in the Sanyran village to the relieved gazes of the healers and Atlantis expedition members who anxiously crowded the room. After a brief consultation with Alel, Beckett had determined that Elizabeth was well enough to return home and had hurriedly prepared her for the journey. In the ensuing haste, John had quickly been separated from his bondmate. Pushed to the side, he had watched helplessly as others touched and cared for her. It had been difficult, in those first few minutes, to struggle with the emotions and mental connections he had accepted readily, if somewhat prematurely.

~~~

“You will need a time of adjustment,” Janyl told him. Intelligent eyes peered up at him from her wizened face. “Most people enter the bond with much preparation, but the connection was forced for you. I did what I could to make it easier, but it will take time for you to adapt.”

“Adapt how?” John asked cautiously. There hadn’t been time to seek answers before, but now he found himself wondering what exactly had been done to them during the bonding.

“It is nothing to fear, Colonel Sheppard,” Janyl replied. “The bond will not interfere with your lives or harm you in any way; I sensed enough to realize how strong you both are. The bond will strengthen and stabilize as you spend time together.”

He turned to study Elizabeth’s face. “It’s permanent, then.”

Janyl surprised him. “No. The connection can be broken, although very few of our people choose to do so.” She looked at him shrewdly. “Would you like me to show you how to sever the bond?”

The reply was absolute. “No.”

Humor twinkled in her eyes; she was not the least bit surprised. “You will be fine, and so will Elizabeth. Spend time together, and use the blending marks when you need them.” Her gnarled finger brushed gently against his right wrist.

He looked down at his arm and was startled to see a discoloration there, a blue flame intertwined with red fire, the marking faint but distinct. Glancing at Elizabeth, he realized that she had a matching image on her left wrist, in the exact place where their arms had been bound.

“What do you mean?” he asked.

“When you need to, you will understand.” Janyl bowed her head gracefully. “It was my great honor to serve at your bonding, Colonel Sheppard. May you have a long, happy life.” She left then, before he even had a chance to thank her.

John studied the mark on his wrist, a reminder of the beautiful light he had seen and longed to see again. Alel noticed his gaze and said quietly, “It will always be there when you need it, Colonel Sheppard. In time, you will be able to find it wherever you are.”

He nodded rather uncertainly. Noticing that Elizabeth was ready for transfer, he moved to follow her.

“John,” Alel called.

He turned, impatient to return to Atlantis and yet wanting to respect this man who had saved Elizabeth’s life. “Yes?”

Alel gestured to his arm. “The blending mark…it only appears on the skin if the connection is mutual.”

A deep warmth fluttered at John’s wrist. He met the other man’s gaze and said simply, “I know.”

~~~

Elizabeth shifted in her sleep beside him, and he ran a gentle hand through her hair until she settled again. The connection had been mutual, and he had known how to use it when the time came. The first time had happened shortly after their return to Atlantis. Elizabeth had suffered a small relapse in sickbay, with her heart rate increasing enough to worry Beckett. Without thinking, John had reached over and placed his blending mark against hers. Moments later, her heart rate had decreased and her breathing had returned to normal.

Carson had looked at him curiously. “Right. Well, that’s better then.”

Much later the doctor had examined John’s arm and pronounced the marking to be something like a tattoo. “I would imagine it could be removed if you’d like.”

John had thanked him and left sickbay, never giving another thought to removing the evidence of the most important day of his life. He imagined that Carson had made the same offer to Elizabeth, but her mark had remained as well. Over time, it had proven to be as important and necessary as the Sanyra had promised. When he returned from missions, he would often meet Elizabeth on the balcony and press his arm to hers, sharing everything he had thought and felt since leaving her side. On more than one occasion, the bond had saved one or both of them.

They’d deliberately tied their wrists together on the night they finally consummated the union that had begun all those years ago. The raw strength and power that had swept through them had left them gasping with awe and just a little bit of fear. It had taken them a long time to understand the depth of the commitment they had made, and it was longer still before they became completely comfortable with it. Eventually John came to understand that the bond was as strong as it was because of their natural strengths. Beautiful, brilliant Elizabeth was the only woman with whom he could have formed such a bond. She was his mate…his equal…his love…his future.

Curling along her back, he reached around her and placed his arm against hers. Instantly the light was there, welcoming him home. Bondmate. Closing his eyes, he slept.