There were so many people. She could almost forget that sometimes: the streets clogged with bodies cocooned against the cold and each other by layer upon layer of puffy winter coats, the wind sweeping in off the lake to tear at her scarf and her hair and threaten to blow her frail frame through the crossing and into traffic if some burly good-Samaritan (or, more likely, perv) didn’t pick her up and drag her.

She hadn’t missed it - not marching in step with thin training uniforms doing a better job of separation than even the cruel gusts of the windy city ever could. In Colorado, there was no one to carry you if you fell. There were shouts and screams, sergeants or upperclassmen, or cocky flyboys commenting on G.I. Jane and how it was such a waste of such a fine piece of tail. It wasn’t much different than the bar late at night, pouring drinks and serving food while men tried to grab her ass, all because it was better than going home to shouts that did cut her to the core, broken glass, and the sound of flesh hitting flesh. Here, she could ignore the smell of alcohol, strip it off with the fake wedding band and the apron. Here, she could take refuge in the detached impartiality of her profession. She interacted with people - but it was just for tips.

She saw their faces now ... so many faces. She remembered taking the ‘L’ one day, calculating the number of people there must be in a single car, the number in just one train, the number traveling in this one city this very hour, the number of people traveling around the world, the sheer force of motion on the surface of this measly little planet. And each one with a story - that one was a carpenter in his spare time, that one was cheating on her husband with her boss, that one bought that suit used and was wearing it to his first interview at the unemployment office, that one beat his wife with his daughter’s softball bat, that one was a Cubs fan, that one had a son who died of leukemia, that one dressed as Santa Claus every Christmas, that one had eyes that showed the suffering of all humankind.

And now, there were no crowds. It was strange to her, a girl who had always wished to escape the industrial clutter of Chicago, trapped by grime and winter, and a history of labor and misery, until she escaped to the wild mountains of Colorado and a life so secret that there were not enough people who knew in all the world to form a mob. But she would have preferred even the claustrophobic chaos of the urban sprawl to this new galaxy with no crowds, only herds.

And she saw their faces, twisted and blue, with teeth sharp like jagged mountain ranges piercing the innocent blue of the sky, melancholy, the color of hunger. They wore suits and neckties, rags and needle-tracks in their veins, Prada and Gucci and Old Navy. They smiled seductively, red lips and hair against blue skin on billboards: Coca-cola and Clinique and the World AIDS Fund, all promising to insulate the world against age and ugliness and hunger. They walked the streets; they owned homes; they mowed lawns; sat in front of big screen TVs. They smiled and they danced and, without doubt, they loved. But before it all, they fed. Or maybe it was during ...

And then they were standing before her, flashes of pictures that moved together into one, like those flip-books you bought as children, like old movies that flickered, soundless in black and white: her father, face twisted and red in drunken indignation, raising his hand to strike her, not knowing that this time she would strike back; her mother, sneering as she stumbled in late another morning, bruises on her hips and bite marks on her neck; her brother, sitting calmly in his room, burning his cigarette into patterns on the desk as he aimlessly browsed the web for instructions on bomb-making and whole-sale trenchcoat factories; her boss, grinning at the loud slap that rang out in the air after every time her backside passed his eager hand; the man in the alleyway holding a knife before him as he snatched her purse; her drill Sergeant as he screamed ‘pussy’ at ear-splitting volume, spittle flying; Captain Aberman as he wiped his cum-stained hands on the crisp blue material of her dress-uniform skirt; the yellow cat-like eyes of the Wraith staring out at her from behind them all.

She turned, and Aiden was there, opening his arms to her, grinning wide to reveal spiky teeth and a smile filled with lust; and Major Sheppard, spiky brown hair grown long and white as he gripped the controls of the jumper like he’d never let go; Elizabeth Weir, claws gripping a stack of books, laws and regulations, until the pages ripped and spilled blood.

And there was no goodness to be found in this world, as she looked down, finding herself in a familiar bed, covered in military-issue sheets, naked skin even bluer in the moonlight, claws tracing toned muscles as she fed ... Aiden screaming her name in pain and pleasure, power coursing through her like a whirlwind ... a heat so stifling that she ...

Annie Parker bolted out of bed, feeling the soft warmth of another’s limbs tumble off the sweat-soaked surface of her bare back. She looked over to see Aiden snoring softly, too deep in his drugged sleep to protect her from these nightmares.

She groped around in the moonlit darkness, finding a clean black shirt a few sizes too large in the top drawer of Aiden’s dresser. What was she doing here? What did she think she could accomplish sleeping with a fellow officer, and her best friend in this galaxy?

She felt the shame, as heavy and disgusting as her weakness. This is why women weren’t meant for this kind of job. This is why they had all those regulations - because in the end, they were too weak, too needy. It was too easy to fall for the illusion of safety, as though a few scant hours spent close to another heartbeat could bring you any closer to the warm and fuzzy that was the heart of collective security. This wasn’t what the military was about, even if it might be the ultimate objective in a more universal sense.

As she stumbled into the bathroom, wiping disgustedly at the dark circles beneath her eyes that she just couldn’t seem to make disappear, and pulling her hair back into a neater ponytail, she wondered what would happen if Major Sheppard didn’t survive.

It was an overly morbid thought, she knew, but one had to always act against the future. That was part of good tactics: to have a plan for every contingency, to mitigate the effects of every conceivable change. If something happened to Major Sheppard, she knew what Weir would do. There was only one thing she could do after she was done grieving. She would promote Aiden Ford to head of military operations. He was clearly Sheppard’s second, and his chosen successor. And he was a man. It was bad enough that Elizabeth was the gal in the big chair ... bad enough that Sheppard was an overeducated flyboy with a pretty face, not a soldier who lived and breathed the art of war. It was bad enough that they were a city of civilians, looking for security and finding none ... looking for people who they thought could protect them, when there was no protection against this threat. Maybe it just made them realize that no matter how well they thought they knew the universe, there was always a chance, no matter how improbable, of disaster.

She wanted to cry. She wanted to be held. She wanted to know the secrets of the universe, the meaning of all this and the outcome. She wanted to go back forever to blissful ignorance. She wanted to escape somehow, to find something absolute she could cling to. But she found herself grasping at strands, gossamer threads of ideals and concepts, right and wrong and the gray in between as insubstantial as the fog.

But before the tumultuous sea of her emotions could wash over her full force, bleach her white as bone, she heard a knock on the door, and without thinking, limped over to open it.

She realized too late, in the surprised expression on Teyla’s always-animated face, that she was caught in an incredibly incriminating position.

She pressed on a forced smile, receiving one in return. “Hi, Teyla. What can I do for you?”

Teyla’s eyebrows frowned, but the smile faded only slowly. “Good evening, Lieutenant.” It was a sure sign of Teyla’s surprise that she did not call her by her first name. After Annie had gone to Teyla’s quarters to apologize for exposing her to that harmful alien nanovirus and found her both forgiving and fascinating, they had been companionable friends and training partners.

Annie looked down at her sockless feet, pink from the cold of the tiled Atlantian floor. She didn’t know whether or not she was making Teyla uncomfortable or not ... if she had feelings for Aiden herself. Maybe they weren’t good enough friends to discuss it, or maybe Athosians didn’t talk about that sort of thing. Maybe Teyla was bound by some sort of obligation that forbid it. Maybe Teyla was embarrassed. Maybe there was no sex out of wedlock in her culture. Maybe ... “I’m sorry, Teyla, this is awkward,” she said at exactly the same time that Teyla said,

“Forgive me, Lieutenant. I did not mean to intrude.”

They laughed stiltedly, not looking at each other. Then Teyla gave one of her radiant smiles. “Perhaps this can be of use. It is not my intention to ... ‘step on your toes?’ but it is a matter of grave importance.”

“Don’t worry about it, Teyla. What is it?”

“Dr. McKay believes that we might find a solution to Major Sheppard’s condition by opening this box ... which requires two people who ...” Teyla paused, pursing her lips. Annie had always found it strange that Teyla never said ‘um’ or ‘er;’ silence seemed more appropriate somehow. “Dr. McKay instructed me to find two people who love each other.”

Annie gulped. “Teyla ... what Aiden and I just did is against ...”

“I told them that the two of you have known each other longer than most here and saved each other’s lives on multiple occasions.” She smiled sagely.

But did that make it love? Did saving someone’s life, serving with them, making love with them even mean that you loved them? She didn’t know.

Annie shrugged. “It’s worth a try, but I doubt ...”

Teyla clasped her hand and smiled reassuringly. “Meet Doctor Weir and Doctor McKay in the lab.” Then she was striding off gracefully down the corridor, a purpose to her step that Annie had searched for her entire life ... a certainty.

“Wait. Where are you going?”

“To the mainland.”

Annie was about to ask why Teyla was taking this time for a visit, but then she heard a muffled groaning behind her.

“Aiden?”

“Mmmmphf. Mornin’, Annie.” He swallowed roughly, as though his mouth was dry, running his fingers through hair not meant to have fingers run through it. As the grey blankets tumbled off his toned chest to settle just low enough to revel the sharp lines of his hipbones, Annie looked away, flushing crimson.

“So . . “ there was really no easy way to say this. “So ... um ... Dr. McKay made some breakthrough. We need to get to his lab.” She tossed him his pants and turned around as she put hers back on, irrationally wanting to cover by light of day which she had been proud to show him in the dark of night.

“Okay.” She could here the shrug in his voice. They weren’t usually needed for scientific stuff. Well ... she got called all the time, but it was mostly so Dr. Wu could stare at her chest. Not that she really minded all that much - Radek was teaching her how to speak Czech.

“Actually, we need to hurry.”

“Why? Is there something wrong with the ma ... ow.” Annie turned around to see Aiden rubbing his head, after having fallen over in a tangle of pants and muscles that didn’t look like they should be so clumsy. She rolled her eyes.

“They need two people that love each other.”

“Oh ... do ... oh.” He scratched his head again and then looked around for his hat, not meeting her gaze.

They finished dressing in awkward silence.

“Well if it isn’t Jack and Jill,” McKay smirked, barely looking up from his notes and a beautifully engraved silver box, set with exotic teal stones. “Nice of you to join us.”

Annie looked at Aiden for the first time since they left the room in order to roll her eyes. McKay was such an asshole. Not the worst, which was very troubling, but he was still a chauvinist pig. And he wasn’t funny, even if he thought he was. Teyla had the patience of a saint, she knew, but how Major Sheppard and Aiden put up with him (and in Sheppard’s case seemed to almost ... enjoy it) she did not know.

After a moment’s silence McKay looked back up at them. “What are you waiting for? Come on, Ford, chop chop.”

Aiden stared at him blankly.

“Oh, yeah, right, I forgot I’m dealing with marines ... jump off a cliff if the national anthem tells them to, but ask them to walk across the room and touch a box ...” He motioned for them to step forward.

“Hey, Doc, all you asked for was two people who ...” He scratched his head, again. Did the boy have a scalp disease or something?

“Come on, Ford, you can say it ... I know it’s a four letter word and everything, but honestly, could you be any more disgustingly macho commitment-phobic high school quarterback?”

“I was the quarterback.”

“Oh. Look, Ford, just touch it, okay? You too ... er ... Lieutenant. Come on, Ford, didn’t your drill instructors ever teach you how to hustle?”

Aiden rolled his eyes and placed his hands on the box, and Annie followed suit. Nothing happened.

“Maybe you need a natural gene?” Aiden shrugged.

“No, no ... he didn’t say anything about that. We can make this work. We just need a little bit of trial and error. Try going first, Lieutenant.”

Annie sighed. Couldn’t he even say her name? “Me, Doctor McKay?”

“Yes, you. God, I’m really tempted to believe the whole thing about blondes and intelligence, despite the lack of proper experimental evidence ...”

She glared.

“Right. Okay. That didn’t work. Let’s try with you touching this teal design here.”

“The eye?” Aiden asked incredulously.

“Yeah, that.” Still nothing happened. “Keep your hands there. I need to take more readings ...”

But no amount of readings in the world would make this work. She felt it in the emptiness in her chest, in the labor of each breath, in the melancholy she’d seen in her own eyes. “That’s not necessary, Doctor McKay.”

“And you have a degree in mechanical engineering since when?”

She bit her lip. Of course McKay would make this difficult. But it was something that had to be said. “No, I mean it’s not necessary because I don’t ...” she looked down in shame. She hated being vulnerable in front of this disgusting angry man, who she probably would have kicked in the balls by now if he weren’t so important to the expedition. She felt like all those times in the past when she had been forced to submit, to shame and expose herself to disgusting creatures like him, because she was weak and there was no other choice. She had fought tooth and nail to never have to be so exposed again.

“Oh.” He stared into space in a moment of silence as Annie tried to avoid looking for Aiden, trying to determine if he was hurt or relieved by her statement. But before either of them could apologize, McKay was off again: “Well, what am I supposed to do now? I don’t know the gossip. You’re a woman, Lieutenant; who else on this base is ... you know?”

She fought down the feminist rant she knew was coming. It wasn’t as though all girls were gossips. Though she did know that Wendy and Dr. Kellog had been caught on the west pier ...

“What’s the matter, McKay? Can’t you say it?”

McKay gave him a withering look. “Nobody asked you, Ford. Now, I remember something about neurotransmitters ... get Carson over here. Maybe we can fake it.”

“Dr. McKay, you don’t really think you can just fake ...”

But she was interrupted by the entrance of Teyla, Stackhouse, Halling, and Jinto. It was a bit crowded, considering the pigsty Dr. McKay seemed to call home.

“Woah. Did I say, ‘let’s have a shindig in McKay’s lab?’”

“I do not understand this ... ‘shindig,’ Dr. McKay, but I have brought for you two people who love each other very much.” Teyla turned to Halling and smiled warmly.

“Jinto and I are very proud we can be of some help,” he said, placing his hands on his son’s shoulder.

Annie felt idiotic not to have thought of that. But, then again, clearly McKay did too, because he was just staring at them, gaping. He’s probably thinking about kiddie porn or something, the perv. “Dr. McKay would like you to touch the box. I’d do it before he questions your heritage or your intelligence,” she informed them.

“Certainly.” Halling closed his eyes as his hands touched the entrancing teal eye. He took everything having to do with the Ancients so seriously. And Jinto looked even frightened, as he reached out a shaking hand. But the second they both touched it, the designs woven around the outside clicked, silvery swirls retracting to reveal a crack, and then as Halling lifted the lid, a sparkling opalescent interior. He reached in and pulled out ...

“A necklace? He uses his dying breath to show me a piece of costume jewelry! That asshole. He just wants me to suffer the endless torture of being left with nothing to remember him by but this gaudy piece of ...”

Luckily, Dr. Weir entered before he could continue with his rant. “Calm down, Rodney. You don’t know that it doesn’t do anything. Why don’t you ... take some ... electro ... spectrum ... something?”

“Yes, yes ... I was just getting to that.” He waved his hands at her and dove for his laptop.

Dr. Weir looked tired and almost pale, her dark hair lying flat against a clammy brow, but she was making a good effort to put on a reassuring smile and hide the pain in her eyes. “I just spoke with Carson. He’s stabilized the major’s condition for the moment and he doesn’t think that hooking him up to the jumper did any damage that wouldn’t have occurred otherwise.”

“That’s because he’s a dead man either way,” Rodney snapped.

And that’s when the heard a muffled sniffle. Annie looked around and then down to see Jinto wiping his eyes. Halling went to him immediately, shooting McKay a glare that Annie had never expected to see on his gentle features. “Major Sheppard is going to be okay, isn’t he, Father?”

Halling hugged him tight. “We can only hope that the Ancestors watch over him, my son.”

McKay made a sarcastic snort, but a glare from nearly everyone else in the room stopped him from saying what they were all thinking: It was the Ancestors that were responsible for this in the first place. They were doing this to Sheppard.

“It will work,” Elizabeth remarked, to nobody in particular. Her eyes were unfocused and there was something in her voice ... confidence, inspiration. “We just need to give it a try.”

“I’m so glad you agree, Elizabeth.” McKay snatched the choker out of Halling’s hand and placed it in Elizabeth’s.

“Rodney, I ...” She looked bewildered.

“Well, it doesn’t fit me, as if that isn’t immediately apparent. You put it on.”

“But Rodney, the gene therapy didn’t work on me.” She held it out to him, but he didn’t take it.

He waved his hand dismissively. “It’s not going to fit Carson either. Just do it.”

“But ...”

“It’s not going to bite. It’s a piece of jewelry!”

Elizabeth sighed exasperatedly, but complied. Annie found herself holder her breath while McKay took readings. Elizabeth looked truly beautiful wearing it, even in her worn-out, strung-out state.

After a few minutes looking at the readings on his laptop, McKay spoke, “Hmm ... that’s interesting. No ... wait ... “ some finger snapping and scrolling and then the nervous biting of a bottom lip.

“Well?”

“Um ...”

“Rodney!”

He sighed. “I got nothing.”

“Nothing!” Elizabeth reached back too undo the clasp. Then her eyes widened in horror. “Rodney, it won’t come off!”

“It’s not going to do anything to you, Elizabeth. Relax. Besides, you put it on.”

“Because you told me to, Rodney! I was expecting that you might tell me if you thought it wasn’t going to come off!” Dr. Weir was getting really mad now. Though Annie supposed it was warranted.

“What am I? The great and powerful Oz? Please, Elizabeth, I’m sure it’ll come off eventually. It’s not like you’re going to starve to death or have a hypoglycemic reaction or something from a fancy piece of jewelry. Worst case scenario: you have to go around looking disarmingly beautiful for the rest of your life ... god forbid.” Couldn’t the man go five minutes without hitting on someone or something?

“As much as I appreciate the complement, Dr. McKay, you’re still in trouble. You don’t even know what this thing does!”

“I know. That’s why I had you put it on. Deal with it, Elizabeth. When Dr. Lang ...”

“Lin.”

“Whatever, finishes with the translations on the ruins, you can get him to go over the inscription and ...”

“I already went over the inscription, Rodney! It says, ‘Binding one existence to another through knowledge and wisdom.’”

“Do you think this is another glowy-sex thing?” Rodney asked, incredulously.

“What?” Elizabeth fingered the necklace almost frantically. Annie didn’t blame her. She really could have gone her entire life without hearing Dr. Rodney McKay say ‘glowy-sex.’

“Come on, Elizabeth. I’ve read all of Colonel Carter’s mission reports ... for educational purposes, of course.” Yeah right. “And she mentioned an incident in which and an Ancient named ...”

“I know, Rodney. I’ve read them too, and I’m pretty sure there was no mention of glowy-sex.”

“Puh-lease, learn to read between the lines. Haven’t you read any of the Holy Books? All this ‘and then he knew her and they have five bazillion kids’ nonsense. I mean, it’s not like all those screaming brats come from a firm handshake and some icebreakers.”

“I didn’t know you were religious.” Elizabeth scowled, still fumbling with the choker nervously.

“Before I cut a hole in it to put relevant books in; I had to have something to read.”

“You cut a hole in your Bible?” Aiden sounded shocked, if not slightly angry. Annie looked over at him and frowned. He didn’t seem like the type to be easily offended, especially considering how much McKay made fun of him. It shocked her that she’d never seen this obviously-religious zeal shining in his eyes before.

“My study-book, actually. We Christ-killers don’t call our sacred text ‘The Bible.’”

“Oh.” Aiden looked nervous, embarrassed, and still really angry all at the same time. Religion was strange that way, though Annie had a feeling that it was supposed to be so much different.

She supposed she believed in God, if only because she needed to in order to believe in good. She had seen so much evil in this life ... so much suffering that she longed for the cleansing power of justice the way most longed for the light of the sun. It had to balance out somehow. She knew sin ... there must be redemption. There were philosophers that claimed that you could have justice without a God, and lawyers were supposedly the most heathen of them all, but atheistic justice was contingent upon the will of men, and she had long given up trusting them to do the right thing. Even Rousseau, who believed all justice was divine, could not bring himself to believe that it was a truth human beings could ever know on earth. So she had to hope. She had to believe that this all meant something ... that people were judged and summarily punished in some great hereafter, and that she would be rewarded for her suffering. But then she remembered the words of a man who knew suffering just as intimately as she: That Justice is a blind goddess / Is a thing to which we black are wise/ Her bandage hides two festering sores / That once perhaps were eyes.

“Look, I need to get some work done. If all you people aren’t doing something, I suggest you all leave,” McKay snarled.

“Perhaps we could visit Major Sheppard?” Teyla asked a still teary-eyed Jinto, leading him out of the room.

“Lieutenant Ford, Lieutenant Parker, Carson told me to tell you that you had better be resting if you aren’t doing something of life or death importance. So you should get back to your rooms.”

“Yes, Ma’am,” Aiden said as he offered Annie his hand and she hobbled out of the room with him.

She could only fake pain and exertion halfway there. It was too dishonest. “So ...” she said.

“So.”

“So, I’m really sorry, Aiden.”

“Don’t be.” His jaw was set and he didn’t meet her eyes. “You can’t help how you feel. I can’t help how I feel. But we think we know how we do. I’m not sure how comfortably I would have been with a machine telling me I loved someone anyhow. It’d be kind of a pressure, you know?” She nodded. “I still care about you, Annie. I just ... it’s a big step.”

“I know, Aiden. It’s scary.” She smiled slightly as he reached for her hand and squeezed it. “And I care about you too.”

Maybe that was enough.

Annie curled her legs protectively to her chest, staring down at her one personal item - a collection of poetry, cover hard and worn, probably an antique - unsellable now, in this galaxy. She remembered finding it in the attic beneath grandmother’s hand-knitted quilt, and the secret stash of her father’s gin that she wasn’t supposed to know about. She turned to her favorite poem in the entire thing:

Though sands be black and bitter black the sea,

Night lie before and behind me night,

And God within far Heaven refuse to light

The consolation of the dawn for me, --

Between the shadowy burns of Heaven and Hell

It is enough love leaves my soul to dwell

With memory.

She sighed, wondering if she would ever even have that before she died, fighting this good fight. For her, perhaps there would be nothing but the all-consuming darkness, with no consolation in sight.

But before she could dig herself deep into a painful emotional meditation, the door opened and in stormed a very pissed-off looking Rodney McKay. “Get your gear, Lieutenant; we’re heading out.”

“Excuse me?” What business did he have, barging in like this? What if she was changing or something? And weren’t there locks on the doors? What a creep.

He was quickly followed by Aiden, at whom she felt perfectly justified in directing a look of righteous indignation. “Sorry, Annie, but we gotta go.”

“Go where?” She hadn’t heard any alarm klaxons, but judging by the way McKay was already geared up and panting and Aiden was pulling the bandages away from his trigger finger, something urgent was definitely going down. She reached for her vest even as he answered.

“Major Sheppard’s gone back to the planet, Annie. We have to go get him.”

“But the Wraith ...”

McKay snapped his fingers at her. “We know, we know. It’s not as though he’s exactly Mr. Mental Stability right now. Elizabeth sent a MALP: the Wraith are there and he didn’t even take a jumper, so we can’t wait for you to put your face on ...”

She didn’t want to sound like a coward or a whiner, but as she put her boot on, sending a spike of pain up her injured ankle, she realized that there was something very wrong with whatever these two had in mind. “Are the three of us really the best choices for this mission? Dr. Beckett hasn’t even cleared us for active duty. I doubt Dr. Weir would ...”

“Weir let him go! She obviously can’t be trusted.” Wow, McKay really was paranoid. He made it sound as though they had some sort of foothold situation ... not that such a thing was unheard of at the SGC.

But still ... they were here to obey orders not to defy them, regardless of what Sheppard might think. There were rules and Standard Operating Procedures for a reason. Even the smartest officer didn’t always know the whole picture. The people in charge weren’t just there to drink cocktails and look pretty, and she had to believe that Elizabeth Weir was no exception. Of all the decision-makers on Earth, she’d been chosen. If that didn’t inspire confidence, Annie didn’t know what did. “Dr. Weir might be acting for the best.”

“Yeah right,” McKay spat. “She just stood there like a little girl, watching him dial out. Maybe the choker is a mind-control device or something.” Not that McKay had thought of the possibility before he put it on her ... “I’d investigate it, except we’re losing time.” He looked at his watch as Annie stopped lacing her boot. “Losing time, losing time, losing time.”

But she didn’t budge. Aiden started out the door, calling over his shoulder, “C’mon, Annie. Aren’t you coming?”

She stood, looking at him: strong and brave and handsome, and naive enough to respect someone like herself, in all her weakness. But this was the moment in which she had to be strong - strong because if she could not be true to her beliefs then she would have to give them up as impossible. And she believed in justice - good and evil, right and wrong, necessary and impossible. And this mission was impossible and her stance necessary. As much as they liked to bitch about REMFs, someone with experience had to be back to fight another day, especially a fight like this one.

So she looked into those impatient but passionate brown eyes and bit back her weakness, knowing that, despite the fact that they did not love each other, this was the last time that she would hold his respect, his friendship, and maybe even his gaze. Her voice was quiet, but it did not waver. “I’m not going with you.”

“What!” McKay barked. “He’s going to get himself killed! You’re not just going to sit here and do nothing!”

She leveled on him a glare that was more pleading than angry. “I will and I must. If Major Sheppard and Aiden and I all die there won’t be any officers left on this base and Sergeant Bates will be in charge.” She almost shivered at the thought. It wasn’t that Bates was a bad soldier. He was just a paranoid, misogynistic asshole, who would make the decisions off the battlefield that would leave him unequipped to deal with the battle when it came.

“And if we get the major then he’ll be in charge.” Aiden took a step towards her, grabbing for her hand.

But Annie shook her head. The major was too far gone, the odds of his rescue too slim. They liked to believe in the principle of ‘No man gets left behind,’ because if those in charge didn’t tell it to the troops, then they wouldn’t dive into battle as though they might never die. They wouldn’t sleep soundly -as soundly as was possible on a battlefield- knowing that the soldier sleeping next to them would lay down their life to save theirs. And they wouldn’t take blow after blow from a torturer in the name of their country if they didn’t believe someone would come for them. But Annie knew the history of combat. She knew government reports and military theory and most of all she knew human nature. She knew that it was all a lie - a lie told by the people who won wars so that they might win them. In the trenches everyone believed that they would not be left behind. They all believed they would be saved, and that’s why ‘there are no atheists in foxholes.’

“Annie ...” It was a plea. But the distance between them was a universe apart, too far to cross. She couldn’t ... no, she wouldn’t.

“I’m sorry.”

He didn’t look angry so much as disappointed, clenching his fists and locking his jaw, even as his eyes turned sad. “Fine.” He turned on his heel and walked out of the room. “C’mon, Dr. McKay.”

“But ...”

She didn’t hear the rest of McKay’s protest as the doors shut and neither did they hear her muffled “Good luck.”