That Which Is Always Present (4/4)
That Which Is Always Present
What might have been and what has been/Point to one end, which is always present.
- T.S. Eliot, Burnt Norton (thanks to wychwood for the title suggestion)
Part One: Elizabeth
Part Two: John
Part Three: Rodney
Part Four: Teyla
She found Toran in the atrium, sitting quietly beneath a large alap tree, half hidden by its fronds. The two marines serving as guards and escorts were a respectful distance away and she knew better than to ask them to leave; instead she nodded to them and they nodded back, a silent agreement to pretend privacy in a situation where there could be none. It was all right -- Athosians were used to living in view of everyone else.
"Toran," she prompted when he didn't notice her standing right before him.
He startled at his name and stood. They touched foreheads, as though they were old friends greeting each other after a long separation, even though in truth they were but strangers to one another. And yet they were not strangers at all.
She had barely known Colonel Sumner except as a man who did not seem to either appreciate or accept her; were it not for his bravery and sacrifice in their prison cell, she would not have mourned his loss beyond that which was polite. Sergeant Markham had been a genial face, a lively young man in a group of same; she knew him better through his death, as one of many weights John Sheppard carried with him and would not share.
Of the two most familiar to her, the Aiden Ford who had come through the gate pained them all; the grief and guilt of what their Aiden had become warred with the unaffected good humor of the man they were presented with. Toran, however, was for her alone to mourn; Colonel Sheppard was the only one still with them who had met Toran and he didn't seem to remember their admittedly brief encounter. She had had to explain to Elizabeth that Toran had died that first night in the Wraith hive, the other casualty beside Colonel Sumner, the one nobody spoke of because nobody knew. Elizabeth, of course, had been most apologetic.
"It is very good to see you, Teyla Emmagan," Toran said in a low voice. "I did not think I would do so again until I went to the Ancestors."
She had suspected from his reaction to seeing her in the conference room that her alternate was dead, so this confirmation did not hurt as much as it might have. "Nor I you," she replied. "Our Toran has been lost to us for a long time."
They sat beneath the alap, close but not touching. Her Toran had been a confidant and an ally; if she had been anyone but the leader of her people, he might have become more. But taking a lover from among those she led would have upset the delicate balance of power, so friends they had remained.
"Doctor McKay believes that he has figured out the reason for your arrival in our reality," she said, not quite accepting the word as it rolled off of her tongue. "And that, given time, he may be able to return you to your own."
She had seen many things in her time in Atlantis, but this was much harder to accept than watching the devices of the Ancestors come to life or marveling at the ways of Earth. Even the trickery of the mist people could be reduced to an especially effective illusion of the mind, a step beyond what the Wraith could do. But this, this was something else entirely.
"I must admit to being eager to return," he said, a wry smile replacing the wary concern. "I find all of this... a little beyond me. Much of what I see here is just as it is in the Atlantis I know, but...."
"But it is discordant," she finished. "I agree. It is why I hesitate to offer to bring you to the mainland to see the rest of our people. They would be very glad, but also very confused."
What she did not say -- what she did not need to say -- was that the reappearance of Toran, no matter how she tried to explain that it was not their Toran, would be viewed as a sort of trick of the Wraith. The only ones the Wraith gave back were those they marked (Ronon) or changed (her own ancestors). The way the people of Atlantis looked at this new Aiden Ford, that is how her people would look at Toran.
"Your people live on the mainland?" Toran asked, genuinely surprised.
"Yours do not?"
Toran shook his head sadly, then told her of how his Athosians had quickly grown uncomfortable living in Atlantis and had left. They had moved to Akai, a world they had long hunted on when winter came to Athos. The Wraith had found them there and the few survivors of the second attack had fled to Atlantis, where they lived once more.
It was odd listening to him, she thought, and hearing of what amounted to an alternate past, the effects of her own choices not made. She and Halling and the elders had indeed discussed leaving for Akai, but then Halling had broken his foot and by the time it had healed, they had gotten over the worst of their unease and decided to stay.
When Toran spoke of his life in his Atlantis, it seemed both very much like her own and nothing like it at the same time. He did not speak of his role with the same satisfaction that she would have in his place. He was uncomfortable among the Lanteans and in the City of the Ancestors still and had not built the bonds of friendship that she had; he earned his keep in Atlantis, but had not yet found it a home.
He served the same purpose for Colonel Sumner's team than she had done with then-Major Sheppard's -- guide and chaperone to a group of voyagers whose innocence was their greatest attribute and worst weakness all at once. The Lanteans' absolute refusal to accept the dominance of the Wraith attracted Toran the way it did herself -- they forced you to believe in what you would never have even imagined on your own.
But from what Toran said -- and what he didn't say -- there were differences between their Atlantises that went beyond the people who lived there. As she tried to explain them, Teyla found herself smiling as she described the almost impetuous way of life that had developed in Atlantis their first year, the sort of lurching from crisis to crisis to victory to near escape that had been as exhilarating as it had been exhausting. It had been like running over unsteady ground toward a great prize, she told him, never quite sure where or even if the ground would give way beneath their feet. Toran smiled in return; life under Colonel Sumner and Doctor Weir was not often exhilarating, although it was frequently exhausting.
Toran had never been a man for great adventure, so she was not surprised to see him look slightly horrified as she detailed some of their adventures within and without the city. He told her of some of his team's trips, of how first meetings with new worlds never got easier, and it seemed that Colonel Sumner took a far more cautious approach than the one she was used to. He was recounting to her how he had taken Colonel Sumner to Belkan and how they'd nearly had an incident when the marines refused the traditional glass of ale when Sergeant Markham joined them.
"Captain Hanzis said that you'd be here," Markham explained, refusing Teyla's offer to sit. She thought that he looked as if he had been crying, but did not want to say as much. The marines, she knew, were very sensitive to that sort of thing.
"Are you well, Sergeant?" Toran asked, apparently feeling no such restraint.
Markham nodded, a rueful smile on his face. "I was doing a favor for the other me."
Teyla raised her eyebrows.
"Your counterpart is dead in this world, is he not?" Toran asked.
"That's pretty much the point," Markham said, developing an extraordinary interest in the alap tree rather than look directly at them. "I recorded a video to get sent back to Earth. A kind of goodbye to his parents. The me from this reality didn't even have a death letter to send home."
Teyla remembered the way Ford had spent time with each expedition member in the time before the siege, recording messages for their families. None of them could tell the truth about where they were or what sort of threat awaited them. Was this not just the same thing? "I am sure that Sergeant Markham's parents will find comfort in seeing their son one last time," she said before Toran's dubious expression could find form in words.
"I hope so, ma'am," Markham replied, a wry, embarrassed look on his face. "I'd offer to take a message back for you, but everyone in our reality would know that it wasn't really from their Teyla."
"That is quite all right, Sergeant," she told him, nodding in appreciation. "It appears that some of the greatest differences between our realities are in path our people have walked. I do not think that anything I might say would be of value."
Markham shrugged. "You never know, ma'am," he said. "At the start, when we didn't know friend from enemy, there was talk that you might've had something to do with the Wraith attack on the Athosians on Akai."
"Sergeant!" Toran looked horrified, turning to her with an apologetic grimace. "It was never thought of by us, Teyla. You must know that."
She smiled as best she could. "It is all right, Toran," she assured him. "There were similar suspicions raised here, when Colonel Sheppard's team was attacked by the Wraith several times on other worlds."
Markham, to his credit, did not look vindicated.
"They were wrong," Toran said hotly. She suspected that his ire stemmed from the accusations of his own world, not hers. "You have obviously forgiven them, but--"
"Actually, they were correct," she admitted. She did not want to tell Toran or Markham about her more physical connection to the Wraith, but this could be shared. The embarrassment and anger at the initial suspicions, as well as the horror at their validation, had long faded. Sergeant Bates and his neverending suspicion were long gone. She explained the necklace and its nefarious design.
She expected the response to be amusement, but while Markham had the knowing look of someone who was quite used to John Sheppard accidentally activating the devices of the Ancestors, Toran grew pale.
"We brought that necklace back with us from the Hive ship where you were killed," he said in a whisper, barely audible over the ambient noise in the atrium. "I remembered it from when you used to wear it every day. I kept it with me as a remembrance of you and so it was with us on Akai."
"Fuck," Markham muttered, smile gone. "Did you bring it back with you after the evac?"
Toran shook his head. "My tent was destroyed when the Wraith came," he said, looking down at his hands. "I came back to Atlantis with little more than what I was wearing."
She took Toran's hands gently, unknotting them and grasping firmly. "There was no way you could have known," she told him firmly. "Just as there was no way I could have known. Do not blame yourself for what happened. The fault remains where it has always rested: with the Wraith."
The words meant nothing, as she knew too well. Many nights she had stayed up, wondering what choices she could have made that would have saved Toran and her people's home. There was nothing she could have done that would have saved her own people without damning the Lanteans; to not explain the Wraith would have been as good as leaving them to be culled. And the longer she knew the Lanteans, the better she understood that there would have been no way to explain the Wraith without some sort of proof. There were no such threats where they came from; they would have thought her stories ridiculous. It had taken her a long time to find peace with what had happened, as innocent as her role had been. Toran would find his own peace in time as well.
"Jumper Two to Atlantis," a disembodied female voice announced over the intercom. "We have visual confirmation of phenomenon. Stand by for transmission of energy readings."
The control room was crowded, despite it having been closed to all inessential personnel. It seemed as though half of the science division was present, scurrying like purposeful bugs from console to computer to console. Teyla stood with Ronon on the concourse, leaning against the railing that looked down upon the stargate.
"Send it when you're ready," McKay replied. Teyla could hear him, but not see him. "Can we get a video feed as well?"
It had taken more than a week's searching to find the first star near enough to conditions that were deemed favorable. She did not understand most of what was going on; her knowledge of the stars was limited to how to tell time and direction at night. In this she and Ronon were alike, which was why both of them had chosen to remain in Atlantis rather than occupy space on the many missions to investigate possible leads.
"Still working on it," Colonel Sheppard's voice responded. "But for the record, it looks kinda cool."
"Of course it looks cool," Rodney replied, irritation clear. "You're watching for one of the most amazing astronomical spectacles known to man."
There had been three false alarms so far, stars that fit all of the requirements the astrophysicists and astronomers had laid out and yet somehow failed to do what they were supposed to do. Three times already, then, they had performed this odd ritual of congregating and waiting and tempers were getting shorter with each misplaced hope. Nevertheless, Colonel Sumner and his team stood waiting on the platform below, prepared to leave through a hastily-established wormhole.
"Jealous, Rodney?"
"Yes, yes I am," McKay said. "Now stop gloating and get the data transmitted. It'll take us a few minutes to model the blast wave radius."
She had said goodbye to Toran three times already, only to then take the next meal with him after his departure had been postponed. They had parted with wry smiles again this morning, prepared to repeat the post-failure ritual again and yet hoping that they did not have to. Now, Toran stood next to Lieutenant Ford -- he was not Aiden to her, despite his affability and unfailing politeness. Lieutenant Ford had spent his time in Atlantis with the other lieutenants, none of whom had known the original, and Teyla had been struck by how much he resembled them in temperament rather than being a strong copy of the young man she'd considered a friend. The one she had known had laughed more, been much more relaxed, and she wondered if those differences had led to his downfall. But there was no one to share her theories with; John did not want to discuss him and Rodney had been far too busy.
She did not think it surprising at all that John had volunteered to take as many of the jumper missions as the other pilots; he, more than anyone else, seemed to be affected by the appearance of the men who had died in their reality. He hid his feelings well, as he always did, but she had known him for far too long to accept what he left on the surface for others to see. She had seen the mist people's attempts at bringing his dead friends back to life and his forced, brittle good cheer of the past fortnight was too similar to his reaction to that. She also knew that there was no point in pressing him; his practice sessions had taken on an edge of frustration and anger and she took that as an accurate indication of his true emotions.
"Data stream commencing," the woman's voice said. "Are you receiving?"
"Yes we are, Mary," Doctor Zelenka replied. "Starting the model now."
"What are they doing?" Ronon asked her, gesturing with his chin toward the control room. He had not bothered to attend any of the previous attempts to send Colonel Sumner's team home.
"Doctor McKay believes that opening a wormhole through the exploding star will send Colonel Sumner and his men back to their reality," she said. "At least that is how I understand it."
Ronon made a face. "Sounds like a wild guess."
She acknowledged his reaction with a wry smile. It did and she did not think that anyone felt differently. "It is a chance and it is one that Colonel Sumner feels worth taking. Were it us that were lost, I'm sure we would accept any 'shot in the dark' to get us back where we belonged. It is not that different from some of our own improbable escapes."
Ronon grunted reluctant agreement and turned back to watching Colonel Sumner pace slowly on the platform below. Ronon, unable to imagine an Atlantis not directed by Colonel Sheppard's casual hand, found Sumner curious. While he had seemingly forgiven Sumner and his men for their murder of his counterpart and had pronounced him a good leader of men, he had also made it clear that he did not think that he might have chosen to stay in Sumner's Atlantis -- or that he might have been asked in the first place.
The exchange between the scientist in the jumper and those in the control room continued; Teyla did not even pretend to comprehend what was being said or what it meant except that this fourth try seemed to have a greater chance of success. After a curt back-and-forth, the stargate was activated and kept open by sending radio signals through, even though there was nothing on the other side. Elizabeth made her way from the control room balcony down to the platform. She handed something to Colonel Sumner and grasped his elbow firmly in farewell.
"Blast wave in ten," Zelenka announced in a loud voice. "Nine, eight, seven, six...."
Sumner and his team had already moved to the stargate and were standing in a line, ready for their cue. Up on the concourse, the tension was almost palpable and Teyla had to relax her grip on the railing.
"Go on one!" McKay shouted.
"--Three, two, ONE!"
They disappeared through the wormhole and it closed a long moment later, but not before a muted bang could be heard.
"Good luck and god speed," Elizabeth said quietly in the silence that followed.
Epilogue
"Well," Ford sighed, "We're definitely on MJ3-229. The question is which one."
Sumner looked around. It wasn't a planet they'd been to before. Wasn't a planet anyone had been to before judging by the tall grass. "One way to find out, Lieutenant."
"Dialing Atlantis, sir," Ford replied, high-stepping his way to the half-hidden DHD. The chevrons engaged and they waited for the kickback before pulling out their GDOs.
Did they get back or are they in yet another reality? That is left as an exercise for the reader.
What might have been and what has been/Point to one end, which is always present.
- T.S. Eliot, Burnt Norton (thanks to wychwood for the title suggestion)
Part One: Elizabeth
Part Two: John
Part Three: Rodney
Part Four: Teyla
She found Toran in the atrium, sitting quietly beneath a large alap tree, half hidden by its fronds. The two marines serving as guards and escorts were a respectful distance away and she knew better than to ask them to leave; instead she nodded to them and they nodded back, a silent agreement to pretend privacy in a situation where there could be none. It was all right -- Athosians were used to living in view of everyone else.
"Toran," she prompted when he didn't notice her standing right before him.
He startled at his name and stood. They touched foreheads, as though they were old friends greeting each other after a long separation, even though in truth they were but strangers to one another. And yet they were not strangers at all.
She had barely known Colonel Sumner except as a man who did not seem to either appreciate or accept her; were it not for his bravery and sacrifice in their prison cell, she would not have mourned his loss beyond that which was polite. Sergeant Markham had been a genial face, a lively young man in a group of same; she knew him better through his death, as one of many weights John Sheppard carried with him and would not share.
Of the two most familiar to her, the Aiden Ford who had come through the gate pained them all; the grief and guilt of what their Aiden had become warred with the unaffected good humor of the man they were presented with. Toran, however, was for her alone to mourn; Colonel Sheppard was the only one still with them who had met Toran and he didn't seem to remember their admittedly brief encounter. She had had to explain to Elizabeth that Toran had died that first night in the Wraith hive, the other casualty beside Colonel Sumner, the one nobody spoke of because nobody knew. Elizabeth, of course, had been most apologetic.
"It is very good to see you, Teyla Emmagan," Toran said in a low voice. "I did not think I would do so again until I went to the Ancestors."
She had suspected from his reaction to seeing her in the conference room that her alternate was dead, so this confirmation did not hurt as much as it might have. "Nor I you," she replied. "Our Toran has been lost to us for a long time."
They sat beneath the alap, close but not touching. Her Toran had been a confidant and an ally; if she had been anyone but the leader of her people, he might have become more. But taking a lover from among those she led would have upset the delicate balance of power, so friends they had remained.
"Doctor McKay believes that he has figured out the reason for your arrival in our reality," she said, not quite accepting the word as it rolled off of her tongue. "And that, given time, he may be able to return you to your own."
She had seen many things in her time in Atlantis, but this was much harder to accept than watching the devices of the Ancestors come to life or marveling at the ways of Earth. Even the trickery of the mist people could be reduced to an especially effective illusion of the mind, a step beyond what the Wraith could do. But this, this was something else entirely.
"I must admit to being eager to return," he said, a wry smile replacing the wary concern. "I find all of this... a little beyond me. Much of what I see here is just as it is in the Atlantis I know, but...."
"But it is discordant," she finished. "I agree. It is why I hesitate to offer to bring you to the mainland to see the rest of our people. They would be very glad, but also very confused."
What she did not say -- what she did not need to say -- was that the reappearance of Toran, no matter how she tried to explain that it was not their Toran, would be viewed as a sort of trick of the Wraith. The only ones the Wraith gave back were those they marked (Ronon) or changed (her own ancestors). The way the people of Atlantis looked at this new Aiden Ford, that is how her people would look at Toran.
"Your people live on the mainland?" Toran asked, genuinely surprised.
"Yours do not?"
Toran shook his head sadly, then told her of how his Athosians had quickly grown uncomfortable living in Atlantis and had left. They had moved to Akai, a world they had long hunted on when winter came to Athos. The Wraith had found them there and the few survivors of the second attack had fled to Atlantis, where they lived once more.
It was odd listening to him, she thought, and hearing of what amounted to an alternate past, the effects of her own choices not made. She and Halling and the elders had indeed discussed leaving for Akai, but then Halling had broken his foot and by the time it had healed, they had gotten over the worst of their unease and decided to stay.
When Toran spoke of his life in his Atlantis, it seemed both very much like her own and nothing like it at the same time. He did not speak of his role with the same satisfaction that she would have in his place. He was uncomfortable among the Lanteans and in the City of the Ancestors still and had not built the bonds of friendship that she had; he earned his keep in Atlantis, but had not yet found it a home.
He served the same purpose for Colonel Sumner's team than she had done with then-Major Sheppard's -- guide and chaperone to a group of voyagers whose innocence was their greatest attribute and worst weakness all at once. The Lanteans' absolute refusal to accept the dominance of the Wraith attracted Toran the way it did herself -- they forced you to believe in what you would never have even imagined on your own.
But from what Toran said -- and what he didn't say -- there were differences between their Atlantises that went beyond the people who lived there. As she tried to explain them, Teyla found herself smiling as she described the almost impetuous way of life that had developed in Atlantis their first year, the sort of lurching from crisis to crisis to victory to near escape that had been as exhilarating as it had been exhausting. It had been like running over unsteady ground toward a great prize, she told him, never quite sure where or even if the ground would give way beneath their feet. Toran smiled in return; life under Colonel Sumner and Doctor Weir was not often exhilarating, although it was frequently exhausting.
Toran had never been a man for great adventure, so she was not surprised to see him look slightly horrified as she detailed some of their adventures within and without the city. He told her of some of his team's trips, of how first meetings with new worlds never got easier, and it seemed that Colonel Sumner took a far more cautious approach than the one she was used to. He was recounting to her how he had taken Colonel Sumner to Belkan and how they'd nearly had an incident when the marines refused the traditional glass of ale when Sergeant Markham joined them.
"Captain Hanzis said that you'd be here," Markham explained, refusing Teyla's offer to sit. She thought that he looked as if he had been crying, but did not want to say as much. The marines, she knew, were very sensitive to that sort of thing.
"Are you well, Sergeant?" Toran asked, apparently feeling no such restraint.
Markham nodded, a rueful smile on his face. "I was doing a favor for the other me."
Teyla raised her eyebrows.
"Your counterpart is dead in this world, is he not?" Toran asked.
"That's pretty much the point," Markham said, developing an extraordinary interest in the alap tree rather than look directly at them. "I recorded a video to get sent back to Earth. A kind of goodbye to his parents. The me from this reality didn't even have a death letter to send home."
Teyla remembered the way Ford had spent time with each expedition member in the time before the siege, recording messages for their families. None of them could tell the truth about where they were or what sort of threat awaited them. Was this not just the same thing? "I am sure that Sergeant Markham's parents will find comfort in seeing their son one last time," she said before Toran's dubious expression could find form in words.
"I hope so, ma'am," Markham replied, a wry, embarrassed look on his face. "I'd offer to take a message back for you, but everyone in our reality would know that it wasn't really from their Teyla."
"That is quite all right, Sergeant," she told him, nodding in appreciation. "It appears that some of the greatest differences between our realities are in path our people have walked. I do not think that anything I might say would be of value."
Markham shrugged. "You never know, ma'am," he said. "At the start, when we didn't know friend from enemy, there was talk that you might've had something to do with the Wraith attack on the Athosians on Akai."
"Sergeant!" Toran looked horrified, turning to her with an apologetic grimace. "It was never thought of by us, Teyla. You must know that."
She smiled as best she could. "It is all right, Toran," she assured him. "There were similar suspicions raised here, when Colonel Sheppard's team was attacked by the Wraith several times on other worlds."
Markham, to his credit, did not look vindicated.
"They were wrong," Toran said hotly. She suspected that his ire stemmed from the accusations of his own world, not hers. "You have obviously forgiven them, but--"
"Actually, they were correct," she admitted. She did not want to tell Toran or Markham about her more physical connection to the Wraith, but this could be shared. The embarrassment and anger at the initial suspicions, as well as the horror at their validation, had long faded. Sergeant Bates and his neverending suspicion were long gone. She explained the necklace and its nefarious design.
She expected the response to be amusement, but while Markham had the knowing look of someone who was quite used to John Sheppard accidentally activating the devices of the Ancestors, Toran grew pale.
"We brought that necklace back with us from the Hive ship where you were killed," he said in a whisper, barely audible over the ambient noise in the atrium. "I remembered it from when you used to wear it every day. I kept it with me as a remembrance of you and so it was with us on Akai."
"Fuck," Markham muttered, smile gone. "Did you bring it back with you after the evac?"
Toran shook his head. "My tent was destroyed when the Wraith came," he said, looking down at his hands. "I came back to Atlantis with little more than what I was wearing."
She took Toran's hands gently, unknotting them and grasping firmly. "There was no way you could have known," she told him firmly. "Just as there was no way I could have known. Do not blame yourself for what happened. The fault remains where it has always rested: with the Wraith."
The words meant nothing, as she knew too well. Many nights she had stayed up, wondering what choices she could have made that would have saved Toran and her people's home. There was nothing she could have done that would have saved her own people without damning the Lanteans; to not explain the Wraith would have been as good as leaving them to be culled. And the longer she knew the Lanteans, the better she understood that there would have been no way to explain the Wraith without some sort of proof. There were no such threats where they came from; they would have thought her stories ridiculous. It had taken her a long time to find peace with what had happened, as innocent as her role had been. Toran would find his own peace in time as well.
"Jumper Two to Atlantis," a disembodied female voice announced over the intercom. "We have visual confirmation of phenomenon. Stand by for transmission of energy readings."
The control room was crowded, despite it having been closed to all inessential personnel. It seemed as though half of the science division was present, scurrying like purposeful bugs from console to computer to console. Teyla stood with Ronon on the concourse, leaning against the railing that looked down upon the stargate.
"Send it when you're ready," McKay replied. Teyla could hear him, but not see him. "Can we get a video feed as well?"
It had taken more than a week's searching to find the first star near enough to conditions that were deemed favorable. She did not understand most of what was going on; her knowledge of the stars was limited to how to tell time and direction at night. In this she and Ronon were alike, which was why both of them had chosen to remain in Atlantis rather than occupy space on the many missions to investigate possible leads.
"Still working on it," Colonel Sheppard's voice responded. "But for the record, it looks kinda cool."
"Of course it looks cool," Rodney replied, irritation clear. "You're watching for one of the most amazing astronomical spectacles known to man."
There had been three false alarms so far, stars that fit all of the requirements the astrophysicists and astronomers had laid out and yet somehow failed to do what they were supposed to do. Three times already, then, they had performed this odd ritual of congregating and waiting and tempers were getting shorter with each misplaced hope. Nevertheless, Colonel Sumner and his team stood waiting on the platform below, prepared to leave through a hastily-established wormhole.
"Jealous, Rodney?"
"Yes, yes I am," McKay said. "Now stop gloating and get the data transmitted. It'll take us a few minutes to model the blast wave radius."
She had said goodbye to Toran three times already, only to then take the next meal with him after his departure had been postponed. They had parted with wry smiles again this morning, prepared to repeat the post-failure ritual again and yet hoping that they did not have to. Now, Toran stood next to Lieutenant Ford -- he was not Aiden to her, despite his affability and unfailing politeness. Lieutenant Ford had spent his time in Atlantis with the other lieutenants, none of whom had known the original, and Teyla had been struck by how much he resembled them in temperament rather than being a strong copy of the young man she'd considered a friend. The one she had known had laughed more, been much more relaxed, and she wondered if those differences had led to his downfall. But there was no one to share her theories with; John did not want to discuss him and Rodney had been far too busy.
She did not think it surprising at all that John had volunteered to take as many of the jumper missions as the other pilots; he, more than anyone else, seemed to be affected by the appearance of the men who had died in their reality. He hid his feelings well, as he always did, but she had known him for far too long to accept what he left on the surface for others to see. She had seen the mist people's attempts at bringing his dead friends back to life and his forced, brittle good cheer of the past fortnight was too similar to his reaction to that. She also knew that there was no point in pressing him; his practice sessions had taken on an edge of frustration and anger and she took that as an accurate indication of his true emotions.
"Data stream commencing," the woman's voice said. "Are you receiving?"
"Yes we are, Mary," Doctor Zelenka replied. "Starting the model now."
"What are they doing?" Ronon asked her, gesturing with his chin toward the control room. He had not bothered to attend any of the previous attempts to send Colonel Sumner's team home.
"Doctor McKay believes that opening a wormhole through the exploding star will send Colonel Sumner and his men back to their reality," she said. "At least that is how I understand it."
Ronon made a face. "Sounds like a wild guess."
She acknowledged his reaction with a wry smile. It did and she did not think that anyone felt differently. "It is a chance and it is one that Colonel Sumner feels worth taking. Were it us that were lost, I'm sure we would accept any 'shot in the dark' to get us back where we belonged. It is not that different from some of our own improbable escapes."
Ronon grunted reluctant agreement and turned back to watching Colonel Sumner pace slowly on the platform below. Ronon, unable to imagine an Atlantis not directed by Colonel Sheppard's casual hand, found Sumner curious. While he had seemingly forgiven Sumner and his men for their murder of his counterpart and had pronounced him a good leader of men, he had also made it clear that he did not think that he might have chosen to stay in Sumner's Atlantis -- or that he might have been asked in the first place.
The exchange between the scientist in the jumper and those in the control room continued; Teyla did not even pretend to comprehend what was being said or what it meant except that this fourth try seemed to have a greater chance of success. After a curt back-and-forth, the stargate was activated and kept open by sending radio signals through, even though there was nothing on the other side. Elizabeth made her way from the control room balcony down to the platform. She handed something to Colonel Sumner and grasped his elbow firmly in farewell.
"Blast wave in ten," Zelenka announced in a loud voice. "Nine, eight, seven, six...."
Sumner and his team had already moved to the stargate and were standing in a line, ready for their cue. Up on the concourse, the tension was almost palpable and Teyla had to relax her grip on the railing.
"Go on one!" McKay shouted.
"--Three, two, ONE!"
They disappeared through the wormhole and it closed a long moment later, but not before a muted bang could be heard.
"Good luck and god speed," Elizabeth said quietly in the silence that followed.
Epilogue
"Well," Ford sighed, "We're definitely on MJ3-229. The question is which one."
Sumner looked around. It wasn't a planet they'd been to before. Wasn't a planet anyone had been to before judging by the tall grass. "One way to find out, Lieutenant."
"Dialing Atlantis, sir," Ford replied, high-stepping his way to the half-hidden DHD. The chevrons engaged and they waited for the kickback before pulling out their GDOs.
Did they get back or are they in yet another reality? That is left as an exercise for the reader.