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TITLE: A Kingdom, Broken - Part Three
SUMMARY: Their goal was always to defeat the Wraith - or, at least, to find a way by which Pegasus could live without the shadow of the Wraith over them. But there could be no great success without an equally great price.
CATEGORY: action-adventure, drama, with a squidge of romance
RATING: PG-13
SPOILERS: Much of it occurs after Enemy At The Gates, and you will have to know what happened in Prodigal, but no major spoilers.
DISCLAIMER:
NOTES: Okay, so the writing has been a little slow lately. And long. And complicated, what with several ficathons due and massive epic plotbunnies trying to colonise my brain. Did I say the last section was part 2 of 3? AHAHAHAHA. Yeah, no. Um, sorry. Classic case of scope-creep in writing. This chapter I'm writing really is the last. Really. John is going to save the day, we'll finish the story, and everyone gets to go home with cookies. Yay, cookies!
A Kingdom, Broken
Part I | Part II
A Kingdom, Broken - Part III
John was nearly asleep.
The TV was turned all the way down, so only the light flickered across John's face as he watched actors move across the screen, talking, laughing, gesticulating.
On his chest, Torran shifted and John froze. Tiny limbs moved, the sprawled toddler made a soft lip-smacking noise, turned his head, and went back to sleep.
John peered down at the beanie-encased head snoozing on his breastbone and sighed with relief. At nearly fifteen months, Torran was a sound sleeper - probably because he spent the rest of the day on his feet. And while he had a cadre of keepers in the city, the boy was clever and cunning - by the end of an hour, most people were glad to hand him off to someone else.
Getting him to sleep was a nightmare for just about everyone except John and Ronon - probably because they were the only two guys willing to let Torran fall asleep on top of them. According to the Law Of Torran, people made more comfy beds than actual beds.
Teyla was due back from a meeting in Woolsey with a representative from the IOA. There'd been a little trouble during Atlantis' brief sojourn to Earth when the IOA had been reluctant to allow the city - now considered Earth's best line of defence against a planetary attack - to return to Pegasus. The combined arguments of the SGC's highest and the new President's approval of Atlantis' return had swayed the balance.
What Earth had started in Pegasus, they would finish, said the President, although he'd warned them that they wouldn't be able to throw unlimited resources at it. You've done well with what you have. But we haven't got anything more to give you, right now.
Ronon hadn't exactly been happy with that pronouncement - coming from a society united by a single common enemy, he had no patience for warring factions. Knowing Earth and how the politics there worked, John was grateful they'd gotten even the permission to keep doing what they were doing. If the SGC and the IOA had been in agreement on the point that Earth owed Pegasus nothing, then they might very well have kept Atlantis on Earth and just sent Teyla and Ronon back.
Still, the IOA were now extremely suspicious of 'undue influence' on the workings of Earth, and had been grilling Teyla and Ronon - Teyla in particular.
Although it wasn't said, John knew perfectly well why the IOA had taken a sudden, sharp interest in her - for the same reason that he was lying on his back in the rec room with a toddler sleeping on his chest.
They hadn't said anything. Nobody had said anything. But John thought knew where this was going, however slowly, and he had no intention of changing direction. Not this time.
Teyla hadn't discouraged him, at least.
It wasn't the same as the earliest days - it couldn't be with Torran around. But in a way, it was better. John had made peace with his personal demons, and Teyla was making peace with hers.
Nine months gone, six of them without a word to say where Kanaan was. There was a point at which hope died, and Teyla seemed to have reached that point some months ago. John hadn't pushed, had tried to be as inconspicuously supportive as was possible for a guy in his situation.
Still, when they went to Athos to take Torran to visit her people, John never stepped through without wondering if a familiar and unwelcome face would be among those waiting for them at the other end.
So far, he'd been lucky.
Maybe someday he'd be unlucky, but until then, John was going to enjoy the friendship he'd almost forgotten he'd lost. And maybe try for the relationship he'd never had the courage to pursue.
But that was still only a possibility.
The doors hissed as they slid open, and he twisted his head around enough to see Teyla entering.
"You look very comfortable." Her mouth curved softly as she took the sofa-chair down by the feet-end of John's couch. Her voice was hushed to keep her son from waking, but John didn't think she needed to worry. Torran was making little bubbly noises in his nose, which meant he was pretty far gone - and that John would shortly have baby snot on his shirt. One of the hazards of child-minding for Teyla and why Rodney refused to touch Torran at all. "He was no trouble?"
"No more than usual. How was the meeting?"
Teyla hesitated, her eyes flicking to the TV screen and studying the episode that John wasn't actually watching. "They touched on something new today," she said after a careful moment. "Dr. Pickwise wished to know if we are in a sexual relationship."
Oh.
"Yeah. I...probably should have warned you about that." It was harder for him to avoid looking at her - he was facing her, while she was facing the television, the changing light flaring colours off her profile. "They're going to assume we're sleeping together. It...kinda comes with the territory."
She glanced over at him, a wry smile touching her lips. "Yes, I recall Sergeant Bates was very suspicious."
Although Bates seemed to have mellowed since he'd returned to Earth. He'd even asked about Teyla when John had met him on Earth, done a double-take when told she was pregnant, and his eyes had instantly slid to John's face. It had almost been a pleasure to tell him that the father was one of Teyla's people and watch him look guiltily away - almost.
"You can tell them to back off." John kept his voice low, although he felt like he was vibrating with anger. "It's intrusive and none of their business."
He was going to have a word with Woolsey when he got the chance. Nobody from the IOA had so much as hinted at such a question to him yet. It was pretty underhanded to confront Teyla with the question first instead of coming to him.
"What?"
Teyla was watching him now, seeing more than he'd expected. "Your people are very...sensitive...about the nature of their relationships."
"Yeah, well...we like to know where we stand."
Although he'd avoided the question so far.
Then again, John reflected as he looked back down at Torran, he wanted to know where he stood, he just hadn't asked because he wasn't sure what the answer would be.
Silence tumbled down between them, broken only by the murmur of the television and the sound of Torran's bubbling-nose. Teyla tilted her head, apparently watching the show, a faint frown creasing her brow as she tried to work out what was happening in the final few minutes of the episode.
John watched a few scenes, then let his gaze drift back to her.
He wanted to ask, "What did you tell them?"
But the internal censors regulating inane stupidity had a good hold of his tongue, and he looked down at the toddler lying on his chest.
She'd have told them the truth, of course. Which was that they were friends. Just friends.
"John?"
He jerked, then froze as Torran shifted. On the television, the show had ended and the credits were scrolling up the screen. A moment later, Torran's weight lifted from John's chest, leaving a cold patch. Small arms fastened around Teyla's neck as she jiggled him into position, but it seemed that even just the sense of 'mama' was enough to reassure Torran and the long lashes never lifted from the big dark eyes.
John swivelled his legs off the edge of the sofa cushion and stood. The world tilted. One hand came down on the sofa arm, the other flailed out, and Teyla grabbed it in hers. Their fingers meshed, a solid connection.
"You are okay?"
He took a moment to let the dizziness wear off, then let go of her hand. Her fingers were cool against his, but the touch felt like a brand. "Got up too fast," he said, dragging his fingers through his hair. "Thanks."
Her mouth tilted at one corner, wide and warm. "Thank you for keeping Torran."
John shrugged. "I said I'd help." It hadn't been easy, but he'd kept his promise to her, and she'd kept hers to him. There'd been no more talk about leaving the city or giving up the fight, nothing that suggested she wanted to go back to her people.
Now, Teyla seemed content.
Watching her shift Torran to her hip, John hoped he could be. One hand rose to brush the back of the downy head, and he kept his eyes on the sleeping face still soft with baby fat. This was as close as he was allowed to come; to touch, but not to hold. John had made his choice when he never moved on his feelings for her and Teyla had chosen someone else.
Life was a bitch, and sometimes she had puppies.
But Kanaan had gone away, and John could dream for a little while. He'd wake up someday, but it would be good for as long as it lasted.
The fingers at his jaw surprised him, he turned his head and began to ask a question that fell silent as his lips brushed Teyla's.
It wasn't intentional. He felt her surprise in the way her lips stilled about the words she'd been about to say, in the sudden tension in the fingers against his jaw. He felt her interest in the way she tasted of uncertainty and indecision, and the faintest hint of oolong. But John moved his mouth gently against hers, closing his eyes to savour the feel of her - no force, no coercion, just an invitation for her to see him as more than a friend.
When she pulled back, he supposed he had his answer. Her gaze was steady, but her expression was troubled. "John?"
"I... It's okay, Teyla." He forced himself to smile, prepared to take the step back. "I know... I didn't mean..."
Her thumb across his lips silenced him, pity and exasperation in her face.
When she lifted her mouth to his, it was John's turn to be surprised.
He didn't let his surprise last very long.
His fingers slid through the tendrils at her nape, cupping her head in one hand as he tilted his mouth to explore the angles of the kiss, the shape of her lips, the taste of her tongue. His heart was thrumming in his chest, like it wanted to shake his body apart at the seams.
John leaned in, felt her smile, and leaned in further.
They'd have to talk about this later - when they'd finished kissing each other, when Torran had been put to bed, when they had a moment to ask what this meant. John knew where he wanted this to go; but he wanted to know that Teyla wanted it, too.
But right now, in the twilight, with Teyla's mouth in his, and Torran's head cradled in his hand, John figured talking could wait.
--
Her temples throbbed to the beat of her heart - a steady pounding so loud, Teyla could hear screaming in her head.
Oh. Wait. That was her son.
Consciousness flared, like a firelighter in the dark of a cave. John. Kanaan. Michael. Torran.
Torran.
"Torran!"
She had vision to see only one thing clearly - her son running over to her bedside, nearly tripping over his small feet. Hands lifted him up to the bed, and he half-fell, half-lunged to Teyla's arms.
She accepted the pain of his weight in exchange for the pleasure of his liveliness.
Her eyes closed as she breathed an old prayer of gratefulness to the Ancestors. Perhaps they did not watch over her as she had once believed, but she needed to be thankful for her son's life, and the Ancestors were as reasonable a recipient as any.
His fear resonated so strongly inside her - the darkness, her absence, then her silence, and John's leaving. Torran was too young to remember Kanaan's departure consciously, but he'd felt her loneliness in the time between when she'd been left in the city and before John had made an effort to become involved.
Teyla felt his breathless terror at being left alone again, and struggled to disentangle herself from her son's emotions. He was alive and she was alive. She had achieved that much against...
"Michael."
She looked up at the circle of faces around her bedside, their expressions changing from relieved to anxious at her words.
Yet, it was not the concern of those aware of a great danger, but the concern of those worried about her. Jennifer was the first to speak. "He's dead, Teyla. He's been dead for months..."
They did not understand. Perhaps they thought her delirious or forgetful in her unconsciousness. She was no longer in her darkened rooms, but in the infirmary. Yet the lighting was low, and the mood of those around her was subdued.
It was nothing too difficult to arrange, even with their pitiful precautions.
She had seen what he had done to the city through the lens of his mind - his twisted intent, to make of Atlantis what Atlantis had made of him.
Teyla shook her head slightly as Carson stepped in to check the numbers on her bedside machine.
"I am not misremembering. Michael is responsible for what has happened to the city. He--" Abruptly, she recalled herself to her son's weight in her arms, and knew she could not say what had been done to Kanaan - not now.
"Teyla..."
Teyla saw the look they exchanged, a frowning question as to whether she was sun-touched. She swallowed and forced herself to composure. "How long has the city been like this?"
"Six hours," said Jennifer, her expression tight and tired. "Teyla, about Kanaan..."
"He is dead. I know." But she could not spare the time to grieve - not now. Atlantis was in more danger than they had thought or imagined. "Where is Rodney?"
"In the control room, fretting himself to a shred," said Carson dryly. "As has this little one."
"Mama!" Torran declared. "Torran good. Don sick."
Teyla froze, her hands tightening around her son's back. "John is sick?"
The look that passed between them this time was a warning. Teyla recognised it as the forerunner of news they feared would trouble her, and would try to mitigate.
"Carson."
"Rodney suggested using the chair to find out what was wrong with the city," Carson began.
"Colonel Sheppard went in...but he didn't come out."
Fear stung her, cold and bitter. Their expressions did not indicate death, but their news was not all good, either. "Did not come out?"
"According to Radek, he went into a trance state while in the chair and then fell unconscious. They tried reviving him, but..."
The chair was not commonly used unless the city was threatened. Teyla sat up, sudden fear sliding through her. "Are we under attack?"
In her mind, she saw the city as a bright light, a pulsing beacon in a fluid world of half-light connections, information flowing around her in integrated consciousness. And she felt the answer, even before Jennifer answered.
"No. Not exactly. We're not sure of the details, right now-- Oh, no." Her hand came down on Teyla's shoulder. "You're not going anywhere, Teyla."
She'd begun to ease herself up into a sitting position, gently shifting Torran in her lap, but the glares being levelled at her by both Carson and Jennifer suggested that they were not going to make what she had to do, easy.
"I must. I know what is happening."
"You've been out of it for the last six hours, Teyla. Rodney's got it under control. They've already fixed the communications in the city..."
"And yet it is dark in the room beyond." She regretted even that slight snap when Jennifer looked hurt. Yet that did not stop the urgency of her mission.
Perhaps they would be more sympathetic if she started with something they would understood? Once she had that much, she could push her limits. "May I at least see John?"
"He's still in the chair," said Carson, collapsing her hopes like a badly-erected tent. "We've hooked him up to monitors for the moment - I only came back to exchange some files. But you shouldn't be going anywhere, love."
"You need to rest - you've...you were comatose when they brought you in, and you've been unconscious for hours..."
"Teyla?" Ronon strode in, and Teyla could have laughed with relief. At last, an unequivocal ally she could use!
"Ronon. Michael is behind this."
Ronon blinked, but it only took him a moment to realign his thinking - a Runner thought on his feet or failed to survive. "The device was his?"
"Yes. He...he planned for...for it to be brought to Atlantis, planned that it should take over our systems, leave us open to his attack."
"Is he on his way?"
She shook her head, not trusting control of her voice. Michael was dead; but that did not mean his plans were ended. He had always taken the long view - in that, his cunning had outstripped Atlantis'.
Both Carson and Jennifer were staring at her. "How do you know this?"
She could not divulge Kanaan's role in it - nor Michael's deception. That was still too raw for explaining, too sensitive to relate - especially where her son might hear. Later, she would tell them the details. Later, she would ask after the body, would bury it as though the man who'd worn it had been the man who'd loved her, not the creature who'd turned her into a symbol of his obsession.
Ronon's hand was already at his earpiece, and a moment later, they could all hear Rodney's outrage at being interrupted. "Teyla's awake. She says this is Michael's doing."
"The device began to take over Atlantis' systems the instant it passed into the city," she said, picking up what she had gleaned from Michael's thoughts during her struggle with him. "It did not need connection to begin with - only an initial draw of power from the Stargate."
There was a pause on the other end of Ronon's conversation, then a snapped question.
"Kanaan told me." It was a lie, yes, but one that would cut through the complexity of explanation.
"Teyla--"
"I know he is dead," she said, and felt her throat clog. "Please. I must talk with Rodney."
Without a word, Ronon unhooked his earpiece and handed it to Teyla. She took it with relief and fitted it to her ear. "Rodney, this is Teyla."
"Look, we've got a crisis in the city--"
"You have been locked out of the city's systems," she said. "I know. It will have allowed you the appearance of access, only to deny you shortly after. And when you attempt to break in, the accesses shift."
"Yes. That's exactly-- How did you know that?"
Explanations would take too much time. "There is a backdoor, but I require access to the system."
"Well, you're not going to get it from there," said Rodney. "Teyla, what's going on?"
She swallowed. The long story was too long, and the short would not be enough for Rodney. "It is complicated, Rodney."
On the other end of her earpiece, there was a moment of digestion.
"Teyla, are you sure about this? We don't have time to humour your delusions of grandeur, you know."
From anyone else, it would have been an insult. From Rodney, it was just...Rodney. "I am sure," she said and began to ease Torran out of her arms so she could get up. Naturally, he began wailing, clinging to her as though she would vanish.
"Oh, God, you're not going to bring him along with you! We've got to work around here, Teyla!"
Jennifer tried to take Torran from her arms, and he only wailed louder. Teyla shook her head and kept him in her arms with a sigh.
"He will be quiet, Rodney. I promise." Torran was simply tired and stressed. As were they all. "I will be there shortly."
She was tempted to add, If you can be patient, but resisted. The safety of the city was more important than any petty retort she wanted to make.
Easing off the bed with her son still clinging to her, Teyla grimaced as the edges of the hospital gown gaped.
"Not exactly fashionable, is it?" Carson asked with a slight smile that faded after a moment. "Okay, I'm making you a bargain, Teyla. You're going to the control room, but you're going to be wheeled along in a chair."
"By Ronon," added Jennifer with a stern look at Ronon. "Who knows what's going to happen if he doesn't look after you."
Ronon grinned and shrugged as Teyla juggled Torran over to her hip and handed back his earpiece. "You're up to this?"
She nodded, although she wanted nothing more than a good rest. It had been a long day for her, too - from seeking out John on New Athos early this morning, to the journey back to her body and the city. She had known missions-gone-wrong that were less exhausting than today.
Carson left with them, on his way back to the chair room, leaving Jennifer in charge of the infirmary.
"How is he?" Teyla asked softly as Ronon wheeled her along. Torran sat happily in her lap, watching the world sail by with infant glee.
The hesitation told her more than Carson's reply. "He's a stubborn man. He'll make it out okay. We're trying everything we can to rouse him out of it..."
She swallowed hard and nodded. "Thank you."
"He's important to us, too." And with one of his slight, wry smiles, Carson headed off down the corridor towards the chair room.
Teyla said nothing until he was out of earshot. "How is he, really?"
"It's bad," Ronon said, his deep voice quiet and grim. "Radek said he screamed at the start and struggled. Then he collapsed. They tried to take him out of the chair but he went into convulsions, so they put him back on and monitored him from there."
"What happened?"
"He was trying to 'read' the city. Like what you can do with a hiveship." Ronon only paused a moment - barely long enough for Teyla to process that John had been trying to communicate with Atlantis. "What happened with Kanaan?"
The question took her by surprise. It should not have done so. The facile half-truths she could present to the Lanteans were evident half-lies to someone more adept at reading her.
"It was Michael," she said softly, and her fingers traced her son's cheek. "He transferred his mind into a clone of Kanaan's body to get into Atlantis."
Ronon was silent for a while, moving them through the quiet corridors of the city. Then. "You killed him?"
"Yes."
"Good."
It was a simple, quiet exchange, and it needed nothing more. Ronon understood everything that she had left unsaid.
They reached the control room soon enough that Torran was still excited by the wheeled trip through the city's corridors, but clearly far later than Rodney had expected. He was scowling at Mr. Woolsey from behind a computer as they came out into the gateroom, and the tone of his voice had been quite clear even further back along the corridor.
"...like a shell's been put around the city systems. When we try to break the shell, it develops new layers - ones that our cracking programs can't adjust to."
"Haven't we seen this before in the Replicators? Learning systems?"
"Well, yes. But our way of dealing with it then was to get them the first time! In case you haven't noticed--"
"Strangely, Dr. McKay, I have noticed," said Mr. Woolsey with a hint of impatience as they climbed the stairs from the darkened gateroom and into the well-lit control room. "Teyla, Ronon."
Rodney glared at his computer screen, not even lifting his gaze to greet them. "Took you long enough," he grumbled although Teyla saw the slight easing of his hunch that suggested he was glad to see them.
Around the room, other technicians clustered around a handful of computers. Most glanced up as they came in, but few stopped their work. Teyla saw Amelia glance up with a quick, warm smile for her and Ronon before she returned to pointing out something on her screen to the two women watching over her shoulder.
"What's going on?" Ronon asked, bending down to swing Torran up in his arms.
"What do you think? They're trying to get the system," said Rodney, his fingers flashing speedily across the keyboard. "Not that they're getting very far."
The grim expression he turned on the computer screen suggested he wasn't getting very far either.
Mr. Woolsey frowned briefly at him, then turned to Teyla. "Teyla, you think you can fix this?"
She could. She knew what Michael had done, knew how to combat it. But she could not do it all - that was beyond her. Her understanding of the city's systems was better than many of the military personnel, but she did not have the time to practise what she knew the way Rodney or the control room technicians often did.
"How'd you know all this anyway? And how'd the virus - or whatever it is that's keeping us out - get onto our systems? I mean, I loaded it onto a standalone, not onto the network..."
"We have a wireless network in the city, Rodney."
"Yes, but it requires a protocol key..." He trailed off, realisation widening his eyes as his lightning-quick mind made the connections through logical outcomes.
At least he had the tact not to blurt it out.
Kanaan had possessed the knowledge of the protocol key from his time in the city. He had learned to use the Atlantis network - perhaps not with the facility that Teyla had learned in her time here, but then, he had never been wholly comfortable with the technology she had grown to understand.
"It was not willingly given," she said quietly, moving around the console and indicating the computer behind which Chuck was sitting. "May I?"
The young technician half-lifted his hands in a 'go ahead' gesture. "If you can get in, go for it," he said, scooting backwards and giving her access. "We've been trying to get in - without success, I might add."
"We've been successful!" Rodney protested.
"We haven't gotten through!"
With her wrists resting on the computer's edge, Teyla opened one of the text editor programs. Carefully, she began picking out commands that she had stripped from Michael's thoughts - the fragments of code he had put together to block the Lanteans from the system, and the means by which he had intended to gain control of what he had done.
"Teyla?" Mr. Woolsey peered over the console. "Are you certain you can get in?" The overhead lights reflected off his glasses, making his gaze opaque and a little disconcerting.
"Yes," she began, continuing to pick out the letters one by one.
"And you didn't answer my question about how you know all this," Rodney added.
"If she can do it, why ask questions?"
Heads turned to look at Ronon, jiggling Torran over by the balcony. One of his dreadlocks was being utilised as a chew toy, and Teyla's warning, "Torran," earned her what she was sure would become an 'I wasn't doing anything, Mama' expression in years to come.
"Because she might make things worse?"
"You do that all the time."
"I make things better!"
"But sometimes you make them worse, first."
"I do not!"
"Yes, you do."
"Do not!"
Mr. Woolsey intervened before it could descend into the childish back-and-forth. "Perhaps we could argue who does what after we've restored control of the city?"
It was something that John might have said if he had been here to mediate. Teyla forced back the clutch of fear in her chest as she continued typing out the lines of code. John was in good hands - Carson would do everything in his power to keep him alive. All Teyla must do was buy time.
Beneath the repressive gaze of the city's administrator, Rodney pulled himself together, shot Ronon a ferocious glare which was met by a wolfish grin, and peered at Teyla's screen. "Huh. That looks...reasonable."
There was a snort from over her shoulder. Chuck had apparently been watching her painstaking typing. Now he leaned across to indicate the lines of code Teyla had written. "It looks like a login script, McKay. See the syntax? That would be the command frame for the login, this is the protocol structure, and that's probably the password string that allow the program entry. Right, Teyla?"
She thought understood most of what he had said; but much of the detail of what she had just done had been gleaned from Michael's mind. It took her a moment to respond. "I believe so. Rodney, are you ready to take control of the city."
"What? Yes, of course-- Wait! At what point are we talking about control of the city? At the operating system level, or the applications level?"
Teyla stared at him. "I do not know that."
"So you can get into the system, but once you're there, you don't even know--?"
"Rodney, I can get you access to the system," she told him, her voice growing sharp with weariness and stress. "Is that not enough?"
"Not if I don't know which level I'm supposed to be trying to control it--!"
Again, it was left to Mr. Woolsey to interrupt. "Why don't we just assume that we're looking at the easiest level to operate?"
"That would be the operating system level," said Chuck. "There'd be little point in creating a trojan horse to hand over control at an applications level if someone else still controls the operating system."
Teyla finished the last few lines of the program, and saved it to the computer's drive. Then she opened up the command prompt and typed in the execution line. Her heart was in her throat - was she sure of this? To fail would be demoralising for them all, and Rodney was right - this was not her usual area of knowledge.
Yet she knew she was the only one who could do this. Perhaps this was not her usual area, but that did not mean she could not try.
"Rodney? The window is narrow during which it will ask you to give it a code."
"Any code? Six characters, minimum one capital and one alphanu-- All right, all right, I'm ready." He rolled his eyes and muttered about small pleasures. "Okay, Teyla, hit it."
She 'hit it'.
A moment later, Teyla rolled back her chair, leaving Rodney access to the laptop on which she'd been working. His fingers flashed across the keyboard as the prompts displayed themselves, and a moment later, the city was his to control.
"Okay, so we've got the ZPM access...unlocked. Power...unlocked." Down in the Gateroom, the lights came on.
"Gate control systems...unlocked." Behind Teyla, the sudden patter of dozens of hands on keyboards betrayed the resumed access to the city. The technicians began exchanging status updates, and Teyla moved out of Chuck's way so he could reach Rodney's computer, then went to take Torran from Ronon's arms.
"Communications...rerouted..."
"Ligh!" Torran told her as he scrambled into her arms, pointing up at the gateroom lights. Ronon grimaced faintly as he inspected the heavily-damp end of his dreadlock, then tossed it back over his shoulder.
"City systems-"
"What's going on up there?" Carson's voice suddenly cut through their earpieces. Teyla's heart leapt in her breast, pounding at the cage of her chest, as though it could burst free of her pain. "Hold him down! Alice, don't let him bite his tongue--"
Mr. Woolsey was swiftest to reach his earpiece, his hands unburdened by children or computer keyboards. "Dr. Beckett?"
"The lights came up and Sheppard went into convulsions - did you get the system back?"
"Dr. McKay's working on it now." Mr. Woolsey turned to Teyla. "Shouldn't the system have let him out if you opened it up?"
"It should." Teyla felt cold fear clutch at her heart, pressed her cheek to the top of her son's head. "I do not know why--"
Rodney was still typing. "What kind of convulsions?"
"Like an epileptic fit. Blood pressure's up. His EEG's gone wild. Whatever you're doing to the city is affecting him. You've got to stop it."
"We can't-- The city's still sending a signal out--" Rodney hesitated, and his eyes flickered from Teyla to Ronon, his expression desperate. "We can't."
Mr. Woolsey looked grim. "How bad is it?"
"He's going into fibrillation..." Through the earpiece, she could hear grunting and thrashing, urgent voices, and the irregular beep of the heart monitor as it marked the beat of John's heart.
"What's happening?" Ronon asked, urgently. Teyla glanced up at him - she still had his earpiece, he had gone without until now.
"Cardiac arrest," said Rodney. "We can't bring up the city--"
Mr. Woolsey grimaced. "Dr. McKay, the city is sending out a signal to anyone who has the technology to read it. Including the Wraith. We can't afford to let the Wraith know our position--"
In Teyla's ear, Carson was calling for the defibrillator. Beneath his orders, she could hear people moving with hurried concern, their voices little more than the rising and falling tones, but their meaning as clear as the morning dew on a tava crop.
She could barely breathe. So soon after the realisation that she had lost Kanaan, must she lose John as well? It burned within her, guilt and anguish and anger and regret. She had let herself be deceived by Michael, and all of Atlantis was paying the price for it.
"Mama?" Torran patted her cheek with a damp hand, his expression anxious. And Teyla realised Rodney was looking at her. So was Mr. Woolsey and Ronon, and the eyes of the technicians lifted briefly from their computer screens to rest on her face asking one thing of her.
"Teyla?"
John's life or Atlantis? She had made the choice once before; she had not thought she would ever have to make it again. Others had made the choice of Atlantis over an individual life, too. It was not the first time.
And yet the question was left to her?
Was it because of the relationship between them? She was not the only one who loved John, cared for him. She would not be the only one to suffer for the loss of him.
"Take the city back, Rodney." Her voice was steady. It was not truly a choice. John would not condone his life over Atlantis' survival. He would not forgive them for saving him at the cost of the city.
"But--"
"I cannot bring the shells down again," she said, her eyes stinging . "It was designed to be opened once, and then sealed. Michael would not have hesitated."
And yet Rodney did. Understandably, but dangerously.
"If we miss this opportunity, we may not get Atlantis back."
In her earpiece, the sounds of Carson's people grew more frantic.
"...losing him..."
"...10mL of epinephrine..."
"...might have to switch to CPR..."
Their desperation was cold as despair; the expectation she could feel in the eyes of the Control room personnel was a burden Teyla didn't want. Even Mr. Woolsey seemed to be hesitating over the call, his expression hesitant behind his heavy-rimmed glasses.
Did you want to tell the others? John had asked that first morning as he sat down beside her on the bed, freshly showered and damply delicious.
Distracted, Teyla had been surprised by the query. Will they not find out? Then his meaning sank in. You wish to keep this a secret?
No, John had said, immediately. Then he'd hesitated, looking down at his hands. But you might.
She had curled her fingers into his hair, damp drops sliding between her knuckles as she kissed him, slow and sensuous, until he had no breath left in him. And when they parted, dragging air between their lips, she had told him, I have lived in the space between what is personal and what is important all my life, John. It does not matter to me.
He'd studied her face for a long moment, his gaze steady on her, as though he sought reassurance in her eyes. Then I don't want to keep this under the radar.
In their time together, John had never said the words I love you. Teyla had never expected them from him, and would have been alarmed had he voiced any such sentiment. It was only in time that she had realised that the admission, in John's own way, had been powerful as any declaration.
He would not hide their relationship; he would not draw the all-important line between what the Lanteans saw as personal and professional. She was important to him on both levels, and he would not pretend otherwise.
And she had told him the truth: her love for John was personal, yes, but it was not more important than Atlantis.
She looked at Rodney and felt tears sting her eyes. "Do it."
Her will did not waver, and neither did her voice. Yet the others seemed almost shocked. Resigned to the inevitable, perhaps, yet shocked - another contradiction of the Lantean way. Their spoken beliefs tended one way, but their unspoken expectations tended another.
At this moment, Teyla could not care who blamed her. This was the right thing to do.
"She's right. We need control of the city." The support from Ronon was unexpected and yet should not have been. They had learned expedience at the hands of the Wraith; they knew what it meant to sacrifice for the good of the whole.
"John would want it." The words felt like sawdust out of her mouth, but she got them out.
"He'd order you to do it himself."
Rodney swallowed and looked down at his hands. "Not that he could order me," he said hoarsely. "Seeing as I'm not military." But his fingers moved across the keyboard, and Teyla forced herself to watch as his hand hovered over the 'Enter' key.
"Do it."
The tap of one key echoed through the Control room and the screens above the Control room flashed into life. A moment later, the technicians were back at their desks, running system diagnostics and passing comments through the room. Teyla stood, relinquishing the station back to Chuck, but her eyes fixed on blank air, and in her mind, she saw John's body arch with a scream that crackled Ronon's borrowed earpiece.
Rodney hunched over his laptop, his head in his hands, and she could feel Ronon's eyes on her as Carson's voice grew ragged in her ear. "We're losing him. Keep the oxygen on and we'll go to CPR."
Teyla closed her eyes against the tears that stung them, and pressed her lips to her son's head. I am sorry, John.
In her ears, the fight for John's life went on.
--
SUMMARY: Their goal was always to defeat the Wraith - or, at least, to find a way by which Pegasus could live without the shadow of the Wraith over them. But there could be no great success without an equally great price.
CATEGORY: action-adventure, drama, with a squidge of romance
RATING: PG-13
SPOILERS: Much of it occurs after Enemy At The Gates, and you will have to know what happened in Prodigal, but no major spoilers.
DISCLAIMER:
NOTES: Okay, so the writing has been a little slow lately. And long. And complicated, what with several ficathons due and massive epic plotbunnies trying to colonise my brain. Did I say the last section was part 2 of 3? AHAHAHAHA. Yeah, no. Um, sorry. Classic case of scope-creep in writing. This chapter I'm writing really is the last. Really. John is going to save the day, we'll finish the story, and everyone gets to go home with cookies. Yay, cookies!
Part I | Part II
A Kingdom, Broken - Part III
John was nearly asleep.
The TV was turned all the way down, so only the light flickered across John's face as he watched actors move across the screen, talking, laughing, gesticulating.
On his chest, Torran shifted and John froze. Tiny limbs moved, the sprawled toddler made a soft lip-smacking noise, turned his head, and went back to sleep.
John peered down at the beanie-encased head snoozing on his breastbone and sighed with relief. At nearly fifteen months, Torran was a sound sleeper - probably because he spent the rest of the day on his feet. And while he had a cadre of keepers in the city, the boy was clever and cunning - by the end of an hour, most people were glad to hand him off to someone else.
Getting him to sleep was a nightmare for just about everyone except John and Ronon - probably because they were the only two guys willing to let Torran fall asleep on top of them. According to the Law Of Torran, people made more comfy beds than actual beds.
Teyla was due back from a meeting in Woolsey with a representative from the IOA. There'd been a little trouble during Atlantis' brief sojourn to Earth when the IOA had been reluctant to allow the city - now considered Earth's best line of defence against a planetary attack - to return to Pegasus. The combined arguments of the SGC's highest and the new President's approval of Atlantis' return had swayed the balance.
What Earth had started in Pegasus, they would finish, said the President, although he'd warned them that they wouldn't be able to throw unlimited resources at it. You've done well with what you have. But we haven't got anything more to give you, right now.
Ronon hadn't exactly been happy with that pronouncement - coming from a society united by a single common enemy, he had no patience for warring factions. Knowing Earth and how the politics there worked, John was grateful they'd gotten even the permission to keep doing what they were doing. If the SGC and the IOA had been in agreement on the point that Earth owed Pegasus nothing, then they might very well have kept Atlantis on Earth and just sent Teyla and Ronon back.
Still, the IOA were now extremely suspicious of 'undue influence' on the workings of Earth, and had been grilling Teyla and Ronon - Teyla in particular.
Although it wasn't said, John knew perfectly well why the IOA had taken a sudden, sharp interest in her - for the same reason that he was lying on his back in the rec room with a toddler sleeping on his chest.
They hadn't said anything. Nobody had said anything. But John thought knew where this was going, however slowly, and he had no intention of changing direction. Not this time.
Teyla hadn't discouraged him, at least.
It wasn't the same as the earliest days - it couldn't be with Torran around. But in a way, it was better. John had made peace with his personal demons, and Teyla was making peace with hers.
Nine months gone, six of them without a word to say where Kanaan was. There was a point at which hope died, and Teyla seemed to have reached that point some months ago. John hadn't pushed, had tried to be as inconspicuously supportive as was possible for a guy in his situation.
Still, when they went to Athos to take Torran to visit her people, John never stepped through without wondering if a familiar and unwelcome face would be among those waiting for them at the other end.
So far, he'd been lucky.
Maybe someday he'd be unlucky, but until then, John was going to enjoy the friendship he'd almost forgotten he'd lost. And maybe try for the relationship he'd never had the courage to pursue.
But that was still only a possibility.
The doors hissed as they slid open, and he twisted his head around enough to see Teyla entering.
"You look very comfortable." Her mouth curved softly as she took the sofa-chair down by the feet-end of John's couch. Her voice was hushed to keep her son from waking, but John didn't think she needed to worry. Torran was making little bubbly noises in his nose, which meant he was pretty far gone - and that John would shortly have baby snot on his shirt. One of the hazards of child-minding for Teyla and why Rodney refused to touch Torran at all. "He was no trouble?"
"No more than usual. How was the meeting?"
Teyla hesitated, her eyes flicking to the TV screen and studying the episode that John wasn't actually watching. "They touched on something new today," she said after a careful moment. "Dr. Pickwise wished to know if we are in a sexual relationship."
Oh.
"Yeah. I...probably should have warned you about that." It was harder for him to avoid looking at her - he was facing her, while she was facing the television, the changing light flaring colours off her profile. "They're going to assume we're sleeping together. It...kinda comes with the territory."
She glanced over at him, a wry smile touching her lips. "Yes, I recall Sergeant Bates was very suspicious."
Although Bates seemed to have mellowed since he'd returned to Earth. He'd even asked about Teyla when John had met him on Earth, done a double-take when told she was pregnant, and his eyes had instantly slid to John's face. It had almost been a pleasure to tell him that the father was one of Teyla's people and watch him look guiltily away - almost.
"You can tell them to back off." John kept his voice low, although he felt like he was vibrating with anger. "It's intrusive and none of their business."
He was going to have a word with Woolsey when he got the chance. Nobody from the IOA had so much as hinted at such a question to him yet. It was pretty underhanded to confront Teyla with the question first instead of coming to him.
"What?"
Teyla was watching him now, seeing more than he'd expected. "Your people are very...sensitive...about the nature of their relationships."
"Yeah, well...we like to know where we stand."
Although he'd avoided the question so far.
Then again, John reflected as he looked back down at Torran, he wanted to know where he stood, he just hadn't asked because he wasn't sure what the answer would be.
Silence tumbled down between them, broken only by the murmur of the television and the sound of Torran's bubbling-nose. Teyla tilted her head, apparently watching the show, a faint frown creasing her brow as she tried to work out what was happening in the final few minutes of the episode.
John watched a few scenes, then let his gaze drift back to her.
He wanted to ask, "What did you tell them?"
But the internal censors regulating inane stupidity had a good hold of his tongue, and he looked down at the toddler lying on his chest.
She'd have told them the truth, of course. Which was that they were friends. Just friends.
"John?"
He jerked, then froze as Torran shifted. On the television, the show had ended and the credits were scrolling up the screen. A moment later, Torran's weight lifted from John's chest, leaving a cold patch. Small arms fastened around Teyla's neck as she jiggled him into position, but it seemed that even just the sense of 'mama' was enough to reassure Torran and the long lashes never lifted from the big dark eyes.
John swivelled his legs off the edge of the sofa cushion and stood. The world tilted. One hand came down on the sofa arm, the other flailed out, and Teyla grabbed it in hers. Their fingers meshed, a solid connection.
"You are okay?"
He took a moment to let the dizziness wear off, then let go of her hand. Her fingers were cool against his, but the touch felt like a brand. "Got up too fast," he said, dragging his fingers through his hair. "Thanks."
Her mouth tilted at one corner, wide and warm. "Thank you for keeping Torran."
John shrugged. "I said I'd help." It hadn't been easy, but he'd kept his promise to her, and she'd kept hers to him. There'd been no more talk about leaving the city or giving up the fight, nothing that suggested she wanted to go back to her people.
Now, Teyla seemed content.
Watching her shift Torran to her hip, John hoped he could be. One hand rose to brush the back of the downy head, and he kept his eyes on the sleeping face still soft with baby fat. This was as close as he was allowed to come; to touch, but not to hold. John had made his choice when he never moved on his feelings for her and Teyla had chosen someone else.
Life was a bitch, and sometimes she had puppies.
But Kanaan had gone away, and John could dream for a little while. He'd wake up someday, but it would be good for as long as it lasted.
The fingers at his jaw surprised him, he turned his head and began to ask a question that fell silent as his lips brushed Teyla's.
It wasn't intentional. He felt her surprise in the way her lips stilled about the words she'd been about to say, in the sudden tension in the fingers against his jaw. He felt her interest in the way she tasted of uncertainty and indecision, and the faintest hint of oolong. But John moved his mouth gently against hers, closing his eyes to savour the feel of her - no force, no coercion, just an invitation for her to see him as more than a friend.
When she pulled back, he supposed he had his answer. Her gaze was steady, but her expression was troubled. "John?"
"I... It's okay, Teyla." He forced himself to smile, prepared to take the step back. "I know... I didn't mean..."
Her thumb across his lips silenced him, pity and exasperation in her face.
When she lifted her mouth to his, it was John's turn to be surprised.
He didn't let his surprise last very long.
His fingers slid through the tendrils at her nape, cupping her head in one hand as he tilted his mouth to explore the angles of the kiss, the shape of her lips, the taste of her tongue. His heart was thrumming in his chest, like it wanted to shake his body apart at the seams.
John leaned in, felt her smile, and leaned in further.
They'd have to talk about this later - when they'd finished kissing each other, when Torran had been put to bed, when they had a moment to ask what this meant. John knew where he wanted this to go; but he wanted to know that Teyla wanted it, too.
But right now, in the twilight, with Teyla's mouth in his, and Torran's head cradled in his hand, John figured talking could wait.
--
Her temples throbbed to the beat of her heart - a steady pounding so loud, Teyla could hear screaming in her head.
Oh. Wait. That was her son.
Consciousness flared, like a firelighter in the dark of a cave. John. Kanaan. Michael. Torran.
Torran.
"Torran!"
She had vision to see only one thing clearly - her son running over to her bedside, nearly tripping over his small feet. Hands lifted him up to the bed, and he half-fell, half-lunged to Teyla's arms.
She accepted the pain of his weight in exchange for the pleasure of his liveliness.
Her eyes closed as she breathed an old prayer of gratefulness to the Ancestors. Perhaps they did not watch over her as she had once believed, but she needed to be thankful for her son's life, and the Ancestors were as reasonable a recipient as any.
His fear resonated so strongly inside her - the darkness, her absence, then her silence, and John's leaving. Torran was too young to remember Kanaan's departure consciously, but he'd felt her loneliness in the time between when she'd been left in the city and before John had made an effort to become involved.
Teyla felt his breathless terror at being left alone again, and struggled to disentangle herself from her son's emotions. He was alive and she was alive. She had achieved that much against...
"Michael."
She looked up at the circle of faces around her bedside, their expressions changing from relieved to anxious at her words.
Yet, it was not the concern of those aware of a great danger, but the concern of those worried about her. Jennifer was the first to speak. "He's dead, Teyla. He's been dead for months..."
They did not understand. Perhaps they thought her delirious or forgetful in her unconsciousness. She was no longer in her darkened rooms, but in the infirmary. Yet the lighting was low, and the mood of those around her was subdued.
It was nothing too difficult to arrange, even with their pitiful precautions.
She had seen what he had done to the city through the lens of his mind - his twisted intent, to make of Atlantis what Atlantis had made of him.
Teyla shook her head slightly as Carson stepped in to check the numbers on her bedside machine.
"I am not misremembering. Michael is responsible for what has happened to the city. He--" Abruptly, she recalled herself to her son's weight in her arms, and knew she could not say what had been done to Kanaan - not now.
"Teyla..."
Teyla saw the look they exchanged, a frowning question as to whether she was sun-touched. She swallowed and forced herself to composure. "How long has the city been like this?"
"Six hours," said Jennifer, her expression tight and tired. "Teyla, about Kanaan..."
"He is dead. I know." But she could not spare the time to grieve - not now. Atlantis was in more danger than they had thought or imagined. "Where is Rodney?"
"In the control room, fretting himself to a shred," said Carson dryly. "As has this little one."
"Mama!" Torran declared. "Torran good. Don sick."
Teyla froze, her hands tightening around her son's back. "John is sick?"
The look that passed between them this time was a warning. Teyla recognised it as the forerunner of news they feared would trouble her, and would try to mitigate.
"Carson."
"Rodney suggested using the chair to find out what was wrong with the city," Carson began.
"Colonel Sheppard went in...but he didn't come out."
Fear stung her, cold and bitter. Their expressions did not indicate death, but their news was not all good, either. "Did not come out?"
"According to Radek, he went into a trance state while in the chair and then fell unconscious. They tried reviving him, but..."
The chair was not commonly used unless the city was threatened. Teyla sat up, sudden fear sliding through her. "Are we under attack?"
In her mind, she saw the city as a bright light, a pulsing beacon in a fluid world of half-light connections, information flowing around her in integrated consciousness. And she felt the answer, even before Jennifer answered.
"No. Not exactly. We're not sure of the details, right now-- Oh, no." Her hand came down on Teyla's shoulder. "You're not going anywhere, Teyla."
She'd begun to ease herself up into a sitting position, gently shifting Torran in her lap, but the glares being levelled at her by both Carson and Jennifer suggested that they were not going to make what she had to do, easy.
"I must. I know what is happening."
"You've been out of it for the last six hours, Teyla. Rodney's got it under control. They've already fixed the communications in the city..."
"And yet it is dark in the room beyond." She regretted even that slight snap when Jennifer looked hurt. Yet that did not stop the urgency of her mission.
Perhaps they would be more sympathetic if she started with something they would understood? Once she had that much, she could push her limits. "May I at least see John?"
"He's still in the chair," said Carson, collapsing her hopes like a badly-erected tent. "We've hooked him up to monitors for the moment - I only came back to exchange some files. But you shouldn't be going anywhere, love."
"You need to rest - you've...you were comatose when they brought you in, and you've been unconscious for hours..."
"Teyla?" Ronon strode in, and Teyla could have laughed with relief. At last, an unequivocal ally she could use!
"Ronon. Michael is behind this."
Ronon blinked, but it only took him a moment to realign his thinking - a Runner thought on his feet or failed to survive. "The device was his?"
"Yes. He...he planned for...for it to be brought to Atlantis, planned that it should take over our systems, leave us open to his attack."
"Is he on his way?"
She shook her head, not trusting control of her voice. Michael was dead; but that did not mean his plans were ended. He had always taken the long view - in that, his cunning had outstripped Atlantis'.
Both Carson and Jennifer were staring at her. "How do you know this?"
She could not divulge Kanaan's role in it - nor Michael's deception. That was still too raw for explaining, too sensitive to relate - especially where her son might hear. Later, she would tell them the details. Later, she would ask after the body, would bury it as though the man who'd worn it had been the man who'd loved her, not the creature who'd turned her into a symbol of his obsession.
Ronon's hand was already at his earpiece, and a moment later, they could all hear Rodney's outrage at being interrupted. "Teyla's awake. She says this is Michael's doing."
"The device began to take over Atlantis' systems the instant it passed into the city," she said, picking up what she had gleaned from Michael's thoughts during her struggle with him. "It did not need connection to begin with - only an initial draw of power from the Stargate."
There was a pause on the other end of Ronon's conversation, then a snapped question.
"Kanaan told me." It was a lie, yes, but one that would cut through the complexity of explanation.
"Teyla--"
"I know he is dead," she said, and felt her throat clog. "Please. I must talk with Rodney."
Without a word, Ronon unhooked his earpiece and handed it to Teyla. She took it with relief and fitted it to her ear. "Rodney, this is Teyla."
"Look, we've got a crisis in the city--"
"You have been locked out of the city's systems," she said. "I know. It will have allowed you the appearance of access, only to deny you shortly after. And when you attempt to break in, the accesses shift."
"Yes. That's exactly-- How did you know that?"
Explanations would take too much time. "There is a backdoor, but I require access to the system."
"Well, you're not going to get it from there," said Rodney. "Teyla, what's going on?"
She swallowed. The long story was too long, and the short would not be enough for Rodney. "It is complicated, Rodney."
On the other end of her earpiece, there was a moment of digestion.
"Teyla, are you sure about this? We don't have time to humour your delusions of grandeur, you know."
From anyone else, it would have been an insult. From Rodney, it was just...Rodney. "I am sure," she said and began to ease Torran out of her arms so she could get up. Naturally, he began wailing, clinging to her as though she would vanish.
"Oh, God, you're not going to bring him along with you! We've got to work around here, Teyla!"
Jennifer tried to take Torran from her arms, and he only wailed louder. Teyla shook her head and kept him in her arms with a sigh.
"He will be quiet, Rodney. I promise." Torran was simply tired and stressed. As were they all. "I will be there shortly."
She was tempted to add, If you can be patient, but resisted. The safety of the city was more important than any petty retort she wanted to make.
Easing off the bed with her son still clinging to her, Teyla grimaced as the edges of the hospital gown gaped.
"Not exactly fashionable, is it?" Carson asked with a slight smile that faded after a moment. "Okay, I'm making you a bargain, Teyla. You're going to the control room, but you're going to be wheeled along in a chair."
"By Ronon," added Jennifer with a stern look at Ronon. "Who knows what's going to happen if he doesn't look after you."
Ronon grinned and shrugged as Teyla juggled Torran over to her hip and handed back his earpiece. "You're up to this?"
She nodded, although she wanted nothing more than a good rest. It had been a long day for her, too - from seeking out John on New Athos early this morning, to the journey back to her body and the city. She had known missions-gone-wrong that were less exhausting than today.
Carson left with them, on his way back to the chair room, leaving Jennifer in charge of the infirmary.
"How is he?" Teyla asked softly as Ronon wheeled her along. Torran sat happily in her lap, watching the world sail by with infant glee.
The hesitation told her more than Carson's reply. "He's a stubborn man. He'll make it out okay. We're trying everything we can to rouse him out of it..."
She swallowed hard and nodded. "Thank you."
"He's important to us, too." And with one of his slight, wry smiles, Carson headed off down the corridor towards the chair room.
Teyla said nothing until he was out of earshot. "How is he, really?"
"It's bad," Ronon said, his deep voice quiet and grim. "Radek said he screamed at the start and struggled. Then he collapsed. They tried to take him out of the chair but he went into convulsions, so they put him back on and monitored him from there."
"What happened?"
"He was trying to 'read' the city. Like what you can do with a hiveship." Ronon only paused a moment - barely long enough for Teyla to process that John had been trying to communicate with Atlantis. "What happened with Kanaan?"
The question took her by surprise. It should not have done so. The facile half-truths she could present to the Lanteans were evident half-lies to someone more adept at reading her.
"It was Michael," she said softly, and her fingers traced her son's cheek. "He transferred his mind into a clone of Kanaan's body to get into Atlantis."
Ronon was silent for a while, moving them through the quiet corridors of the city. Then. "You killed him?"
"Yes."
"Good."
It was a simple, quiet exchange, and it needed nothing more. Ronon understood everything that she had left unsaid.
They reached the control room soon enough that Torran was still excited by the wheeled trip through the city's corridors, but clearly far later than Rodney had expected. He was scowling at Mr. Woolsey from behind a computer as they came out into the gateroom, and the tone of his voice had been quite clear even further back along the corridor.
"...like a shell's been put around the city systems. When we try to break the shell, it develops new layers - ones that our cracking programs can't adjust to."
"Haven't we seen this before in the Replicators? Learning systems?"
"Well, yes. But our way of dealing with it then was to get them the first time! In case you haven't noticed--"
"Strangely, Dr. McKay, I have noticed," said Mr. Woolsey with a hint of impatience as they climbed the stairs from the darkened gateroom and into the well-lit control room. "Teyla, Ronon."
Rodney glared at his computer screen, not even lifting his gaze to greet them. "Took you long enough," he grumbled although Teyla saw the slight easing of his hunch that suggested he was glad to see them.
Around the room, other technicians clustered around a handful of computers. Most glanced up as they came in, but few stopped their work. Teyla saw Amelia glance up with a quick, warm smile for her and Ronon before she returned to pointing out something on her screen to the two women watching over her shoulder.
"What's going on?" Ronon asked, bending down to swing Torran up in his arms.
"What do you think? They're trying to get the system," said Rodney, his fingers flashing speedily across the keyboard. "Not that they're getting very far."
The grim expression he turned on the computer screen suggested he wasn't getting very far either.
Mr. Woolsey frowned briefly at him, then turned to Teyla. "Teyla, you think you can fix this?"
She could. She knew what Michael had done, knew how to combat it. But she could not do it all - that was beyond her. Her understanding of the city's systems was better than many of the military personnel, but she did not have the time to practise what she knew the way Rodney or the control room technicians often did.
"How'd you know all this anyway? And how'd the virus - or whatever it is that's keeping us out - get onto our systems? I mean, I loaded it onto a standalone, not onto the network..."
"We have a wireless network in the city, Rodney."
"Yes, but it requires a protocol key..." He trailed off, realisation widening his eyes as his lightning-quick mind made the connections through logical outcomes.
At least he had the tact not to blurt it out.
Kanaan had possessed the knowledge of the protocol key from his time in the city. He had learned to use the Atlantis network - perhaps not with the facility that Teyla had learned in her time here, but then, he had never been wholly comfortable with the technology she had grown to understand.
"It was not willingly given," she said quietly, moving around the console and indicating the computer behind which Chuck was sitting. "May I?"
The young technician half-lifted his hands in a 'go ahead' gesture. "If you can get in, go for it," he said, scooting backwards and giving her access. "We've been trying to get in - without success, I might add."
"We've been successful!" Rodney protested.
"We haven't gotten through!"
With her wrists resting on the computer's edge, Teyla opened one of the text editor programs. Carefully, she began picking out commands that she had stripped from Michael's thoughts - the fragments of code he had put together to block the Lanteans from the system, and the means by which he had intended to gain control of what he had done.
"Teyla?" Mr. Woolsey peered over the console. "Are you certain you can get in?" The overhead lights reflected off his glasses, making his gaze opaque and a little disconcerting.
"Yes," she began, continuing to pick out the letters one by one.
"And you didn't answer my question about how you know all this," Rodney added.
"If she can do it, why ask questions?"
Heads turned to look at Ronon, jiggling Torran over by the balcony. One of his dreadlocks was being utilised as a chew toy, and Teyla's warning, "Torran," earned her what she was sure would become an 'I wasn't doing anything, Mama' expression in years to come.
"Because she might make things worse?"
"You do that all the time."
"I make things better!"
"But sometimes you make them worse, first."
"I do not!"
"Yes, you do."
"Do not!"
Mr. Woolsey intervened before it could descend into the childish back-and-forth. "Perhaps we could argue who does what after we've restored control of the city?"
It was something that John might have said if he had been here to mediate. Teyla forced back the clutch of fear in her chest as she continued typing out the lines of code. John was in good hands - Carson would do everything in his power to keep him alive. All Teyla must do was buy time.
Beneath the repressive gaze of the city's administrator, Rodney pulled himself together, shot Ronon a ferocious glare which was met by a wolfish grin, and peered at Teyla's screen. "Huh. That looks...reasonable."
There was a snort from over her shoulder. Chuck had apparently been watching her painstaking typing. Now he leaned across to indicate the lines of code Teyla had written. "It looks like a login script, McKay. See the syntax? That would be the command frame for the login, this is the protocol structure, and that's probably the password string that allow the program entry. Right, Teyla?"
She thought understood most of what he had said; but much of the detail of what she had just done had been gleaned from Michael's mind. It took her a moment to respond. "I believe so. Rodney, are you ready to take control of the city."
"What? Yes, of course-- Wait! At what point are we talking about control of the city? At the operating system level, or the applications level?"
Teyla stared at him. "I do not know that."
"So you can get into the system, but once you're there, you don't even know--?"
"Rodney, I can get you access to the system," she told him, her voice growing sharp with weariness and stress. "Is that not enough?"
"Not if I don't know which level I'm supposed to be trying to control it--!"
Again, it was left to Mr. Woolsey to interrupt. "Why don't we just assume that we're looking at the easiest level to operate?"
"That would be the operating system level," said Chuck. "There'd be little point in creating a trojan horse to hand over control at an applications level if someone else still controls the operating system."
Teyla finished the last few lines of the program, and saved it to the computer's drive. Then she opened up the command prompt and typed in the execution line. Her heart was in her throat - was she sure of this? To fail would be demoralising for them all, and Rodney was right - this was not her usual area of knowledge.
Yet she knew she was the only one who could do this. Perhaps this was not her usual area, but that did not mean she could not try.
"Rodney? The window is narrow during which it will ask you to give it a code."
"Any code? Six characters, minimum one capital and one alphanu-- All right, all right, I'm ready." He rolled his eyes and muttered about small pleasures. "Okay, Teyla, hit it."
She 'hit it'.
A moment later, Teyla rolled back her chair, leaving Rodney access to the laptop on which she'd been working. His fingers flashed across the keyboard as the prompts displayed themselves, and a moment later, the city was his to control.
"Okay, so we've got the ZPM access...unlocked. Power...unlocked." Down in the Gateroom, the lights came on.
"Gate control systems...unlocked." Behind Teyla, the sudden patter of dozens of hands on keyboards betrayed the resumed access to the city. The technicians began exchanging status updates, and Teyla moved out of Chuck's way so he could reach Rodney's computer, then went to take Torran from Ronon's arms.
"Communications...rerouted..."
"Ligh!" Torran told her as he scrambled into her arms, pointing up at the gateroom lights. Ronon grimaced faintly as he inspected the heavily-damp end of his dreadlock, then tossed it back over his shoulder.
"City systems-"
"What's going on up there?" Carson's voice suddenly cut through their earpieces. Teyla's heart leapt in her breast, pounding at the cage of her chest, as though it could burst free of her pain. "Hold him down! Alice, don't let him bite his tongue--"
Mr. Woolsey was swiftest to reach his earpiece, his hands unburdened by children or computer keyboards. "Dr. Beckett?"
"The lights came up and Sheppard went into convulsions - did you get the system back?"
"Dr. McKay's working on it now." Mr. Woolsey turned to Teyla. "Shouldn't the system have let him out if you opened it up?"
"It should." Teyla felt cold fear clutch at her heart, pressed her cheek to the top of her son's head. "I do not know why--"
Rodney was still typing. "What kind of convulsions?"
"Like an epileptic fit. Blood pressure's up. His EEG's gone wild. Whatever you're doing to the city is affecting him. You've got to stop it."
"We can't-- The city's still sending a signal out--" Rodney hesitated, and his eyes flickered from Teyla to Ronon, his expression desperate. "We can't."
Mr. Woolsey looked grim. "How bad is it?"
"He's going into fibrillation..." Through the earpiece, she could hear grunting and thrashing, urgent voices, and the irregular beep of the heart monitor as it marked the beat of John's heart.
"What's happening?" Ronon asked, urgently. Teyla glanced up at him - she still had his earpiece, he had gone without until now.
"Cardiac arrest," said Rodney. "We can't bring up the city--"
Mr. Woolsey grimaced. "Dr. McKay, the city is sending out a signal to anyone who has the technology to read it. Including the Wraith. We can't afford to let the Wraith know our position--"
In Teyla's ear, Carson was calling for the defibrillator. Beneath his orders, she could hear people moving with hurried concern, their voices little more than the rising and falling tones, but their meaning as clear as the morning dew on a tava crop.
She could barely breathe. So soon after the realisation that she had lost Kanaan, must she lose John as well? It burned within her, guilt and anguish and anger and regret. She had let herself be deceived by Michael, and all of Atlantis was paying the price for it.
"Mama?" Torran patted her cheek with a damp hand, his expression anxious. And Teyla realised Rodney was looking at her. So was Mr. Woolsey and Ronon, and the eyes of the technicians lifted briefly from their computer screens to rest on her face asking one thing of her.
"Teyla?"
John's life or Atlantis? She had made the choice once before; she had not thought she would ever have to make it again. Others had made the choice of Atlantis over an individual life, too. It was not the first time.
And yet the question was left to her?
Was it because of the relationship between them? She was not the only one who loved John, cared for him. She would not be the only one to suffer for the loss of him.
"Take the city back, Rodney." Her voice was steady. It was not truly a choice. John would not condone his life over Atlantis' survival. He would not forgive them for saving him at the cost of the city.
"But--"
"I cannot bring the shells down again," she said, her eyes stinging . "It was designed to be opened once, and then sealed. Michael would not have hesitated."
And yet Rodney did. Understandably, but dangerously.
"If we miss this opportunity, we may not get Atlantis back."
In her earpiece, the sounds of Carson's people grew more frantic.
"...losing him..."
"...10mL of epinephrine..."
"...might have to switch to CPR..."
Their desperation was cold as despair; the expectation she could feel in the eyes of the Control room personnel was a burden Teyla didn't want. Even Mr. Woolsey seemed to be hesitating over the call, his expression hesitant behind his heavy-rimmed glasses.
Did you want to tell the others? John had asked that first morning as he sat down beside her on the bed, freshly showered and damply delicious.
Distracted, Teyla had been surprised by the query. Will they not find out? Then his meaning sank in. You wish to keep this a secret?
No, John had said, immediately. Then he'd hesitated, looking down at his hands. But you might.
She had curled her fingers into his hair, damp drops sliding between her knuckles as she kissed him, slow and sensuous, until he had no breath left in him. And when they parted, dragging air between their lips, she had told him, I have lived in the space between what is personal and what is important all my life, John. It does not matter to me.
He'd studied her face for a long moment, his gaze steady on her, as though he sought reassurance in her eyes. Then I don't want to keep this under the radar.
In their time together, John had never said the words I love you. Teyla had never expected them from him, and would have been alarmed had he voiced any such sentiment. It was only in time that she had realised that the admission, in John's own way, had been powerful as any declaration.
He would not hide their relationship; he would not draw the all-important line between what the Lanteans saw as personal and professional. She was important to him on both levels, and he would not pretend otherwise.
And she had told him the truth: her love for John was personal, yes, but it was not more important than Atlantis.
She looked at Rodney and felt tears sting her eyes. "Do it."
Her will did not waver, and neither did her voice. Yet the others seemed almost shocked. Resigned to the inevitable, perhaps, yet shocked - another contradiction of the Lantean way. Their spoken beliefs tended one way, but their unspoken expectations tended another.
At this moment, Teyla could not care who blamed her. This was the right thing to do.
"She's right. We need control of the city." The support from Ronon was unexpected and yet should not have been. They had learned expedience at the hands of the Wraith; they knew what it meant to sacrifice for the good of the whole.
"John would want it." The words felt like sawdust out of her mouth, but she got them out.
"He'd order you to do it himself."
Rodney swallowed and looked down at his hands. "Not that he could order me," he said hoarsely. "Seeing as I'm not military." But his fingers moved across the keyboard, and Teyla forced herself to watch as his hand hovered over the 'Enter' key.
"Do it."
The tap of one key echoed through the Control room and the screens above the Control room flashed into life. A moment later, the technicians were back at their desks, running system diagnostics and passing comments through the room. Teyla stood, relinquishing the station back to Chuck, but her eyes fixed on blank air, and in her mind, she saw John's body arch with a scream that crackled Ronon's borrowed earpiece.
Rodney hunched over his laptop, his head in his hands, and she could feel Ronon's eyes on her as Carson's voice grew ragged in her ear. "We're losing him. Keep the oxygen on and we'll go to CPR."
Teyla closed her eyes against the tears that stung them, and pressed her lips to her son's head. I am sorry, John.
In her ears, the fight for John's life went on.
--
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