//
This story is completed
He is tall and broad shouldered, with a stern face and a hooked nose. Smile lines are worn deep into his cheeks and forehead, though when he extends a hand for her to shake in the Atlantean way, his features speak of long years within the formal structure Rodney had always complained about at great length. More than just the regal stiffness of his posture tells her that he is a man that commands great loyalty and respect.
On Athos, they weave legends about men like him, especially if they live to such an age.
"Ms Emmagen," he nods to her, head canting to the side just slightly.
"Teyla, this is Colonel Dillon Everett, our new commanding officer," Aiden stutters then, finally aware that he has left her at a disadvantage. He is only a few years younger than she, but Teyla will always see Aiden as a boy. The Atlanteans are allowed to remain children for far longer than Teyla's people have the luxury.
The colonel smiles are her now, just the small upturn of his lips, telling her that he is not a child, but has grown old enough to find patience for the inexperienced.
"Colonel Everett," Teyla nods to him. "You may call me Teyla."
"Teyla." His smile is full now, smoothing out the lines of the battle-scared face. He lifts her hand to his lips, dusting her skin with a brief kiss.
It is not a greeting she has seen the Atlanteans use before, but she still finds herself blushing.
"I have heard a lot about you, Teyla. Though I think that perhaps Dr. Beckett was exaggerating when he said that you had super powers."
She smiles fondly at that. Carson is such a sweet, considerate man.
He notes her smile. "Or perhaps he's right."
"Thank you, Colonel, but I assure you . . ."
"Please, call me Dillon." Surprisingly, he is the first Atlantian besides Elizabeth to gift her with such and offer. Only through great suffering did she come to know Aiden and Rodney to that degree. Colonel Sumner had always looked through her as though she were not there.
"The Genii are competent hand-to-hand fighters, sir, but their technology has not progressed to the degree where they can apply technological advantages like . . ."
Dillon doesn't quite roll his eyes. The kid is quoting the mission briefing that landed on Dillon's desk this morning word-for-word. A year out here and the kid's still green as a whole goddamned pine forest. He can't even begin to imagine how he was back at the SGC.
But Ford is a good soldier. Marshall thought so, at least, and Dillon is willing to trust him. Marshall was a good man – too damned fine a soldier to lose to a throw-away war a galaxy away. He shakes his head. Ford doesn't notice. But the alien does.
She catches his gaze, and he winks back at her. She certainly is enchanting – petite, but clearly strong, all defined muscles and long flowing amber hair, a mix of races, with an extraterrestrial grace to her movements. And her smile. A man could get lost in a smile like that.
"I read the report, Lieutenant," Dillon says, eyes still locked on the alien. "What can you tell me about the Genii, Teyla?"
She looks away at that, eyes flashing with something fierce, untamed. Dillon likes that in a woman. "It was a great betrayal. My people have traded with the Genii for many generations and always fairly. We showed them understanding and compassion following several severe cullings of their world. And yet, when their plan against the Wraith proved untenable, they failed to show us that same understanding."
She weaves her words like a storyteller. Perhaps they will go down in history exactly the way she says them, never locked into the unchanging grid of the page. He thinks about America when it was once untamed wild, filled with a people just as untamable. Dillon finds he likes that quality.
"And the Wraith?"
Her dark eyes flash serious. "Are you sure you wish to know?"
"I read the report on what happened to Dr. McKay and Colonel Sumner – that's enough to make me need to know."
"I have spoken to Elizabeth and your anthropologists on the subject."
"I'd prefer to hear it from an expert," Dillon says, fixing her with his most charming smile.
"I see." She offers him a small grin. "Then follow me, I have much to tell you."
Dillon is sure to keep abreast of her, letting Ford stumble behind. They pass a squadron of Marines doing training exercises around the small base they have set up in the ruins here. They all salute him as they pass and Dillon narrows his eyes, noting that he can easily tell the difference between the first settlers and those just shipped in. Later, he'll be giving a speech on what being back in touch with Earth means for those on the first wave of the expedition.
Teyla leads them down a dried out riverbed lined with thick pine trees. He's sure that his Marines have marched through here a hundred times before, but he's surprised when she just slips around a bend, disappearing into a cave that none of them ever seemed to know was there.
He narrows his eyes at Ford, who grins sheepishly. "Sorry, Sir."
Teyla pulls down a torch from the wall and takes something out of her pocket. A click, and the torch is a blaze of fire.
"Impressive," Dillon remarks. "Lead on, my dear."
She turns and smiles at him, voice turning serious. "It has not happened for some time, but I believe this happens over and over again. It is the rhythm of the world, and before your people came, I had believed this it was the Ancestor's way of keeping balance in the world. But you came to us from beyond the reach of the Ancestors . . . beyond the Wraith."
She brings her torch closer to a drawing on the cave wall – a pale, ghastly face with cat eyes and white hair. "One day, they will wake, and you will understand."
The first thing Dillon does is divide his forces. If anything, Teyla has taught him that the Wraith will come, and when they do, Atlantis had better be prepared. Their primary objective is to harvest Ancient technology, and those soldiers better suited to babysitting duty stay on field teams, but Dillon breaks off a separate platoon, whose job it will be to fight the Wraith, if and when they do surface. He rotates them in and out of the Athos base, where they train in guerilla tactics and the newest weapons developed in the Milky way. They even have a bay full of 302s waiting alongside the gateships.
He's proud of his men, especially when Teyla approaches him one day with a smile on her face. "Charin says your ships fly as swiftly as the Wraith darts," she says, prompting him to send Major Taylor on a mission to have tea and something called tuttle-root soup with an old woman until he knows everything he can glean about Wraith air-fighting tactics.
The defensive forces, lead by Major Taylor and Lieutenant Ford, are blossoming, with help from Teyla and her people, and Major Morales has found them another ZPM. The place is running like a dream, and Dillon feels as though he can finally relax and enjoy a little R&R, the kind only posting a galaxy away from the chain of command (and your wife) can bring.
He smiles, summoning Lieutenant Parker to Athos the moment she and Dr. Kavanagh return from MXG-777 (what Ford calls Planet Playhouse). Parker rarely spends time on the Athos base anymore, thanks to his new troop deployments – none of the female officers do, but she was first wave, and Dillon is gratified to see her make her way up to Teyla and bring their foreheads together immediately.
He leaves them alone for a while, while he hears Major Taylor's latest personnel request. He's asking if he's allowed to pull guys out of retirement. Dillon frowns at him, but Taylor wouldn't be the kind of pilot that he is if he weren't a little crazy, so Dillon lets it slide with a laugh. As much as Dillon liked Marshall, he has to admit that sometimes he was a little too much of a stickler for the rules and the regs. Out on the frontier, you've got to get your best people to do their best, whatever it takes.
After about twenty minutes, Dillon calls Parker over to join him on rounds. She's cute enough, for a jarhead, with curly blonde hair pulled up in a ponytail and a face like a porcelain doll. Dillon would consider getting in on that action, if she weren't in his chain of command. But, with natives like the gorgeous and graceful Teyla Emmagen running around all over Pegasus, he doesn't need to even tempt himself.
"What can I do for you, Sir?" Parker asks, with a happy smile.
"I see you're enjoying yourself, Lieutenant."
"Well, it's always nice to see the Athosians, Sir. Colonel Sumner assigned me as liaison officer, so I've spent a lot of time out here."
Dillon nods. "I read your file, Lieutenant. Actually, that's why I called you out here."
"Would you like me to transfer to second platoon, Sir?"
Dillon chuckles. Sure, if second platoon had a T&A patrol. "No, Lieutenant, you'll do fine where you are." Dillon hates women in the service – especially if he has to send them out somewhere to get killed. But he does have to admit that if you put a nice piece of ass like Parker with a couple of horny scientists like Gall and Kavanagh, they might have a chance in hell of actually following her orders.
"Then, if I might speak freely, Sir."
He nods.
"Why am I here?"
Dillon smiles, trying to look friendly and unassuming. "What can you tell me about Miss Emmagen, Lieutenant?"
"She's the leader of the Athosians, as her father was before her. But the title wasn't passed on automatically. It had to be earned. She fought ten men in the traditional Athoisan art of bantos fighting as well as gained some sort of ritual pronouncement from the Ancestors, through meditation."
Dillon has seen Teyla fight – all the men on the base have made a point to once they found out that she does so in a halter top and a skirt slit high up her thigh. Still, it surprises him that she was able to best ten men. "She beat ten of them?"
Parker laughs at that. "No, Sir, I believe she only beat four, but the Athosians judge things as much by how one behaves in a fight as whether or not they win. It would not make sense to elect their best fighter to a role that is largely diplomatic."
Dillon grits his teeth. "You've been spending too much time with the anthropologists, Lieutenant."
"Sorry, Sir."
"No, don't apologize. One needs to know these things."
"I also believe that they selected her because of ‘the Gift of the Ancestors.' Supposedly she has the ability to sense the Wraith. Doctor Beckett later determined that it is due to several aberrant genetic markers in her blood and is working to create a gene therapy much like the ATA treatment."
"Do we have to fear any changing sentiments from the Athosians, considering that we've set up base here? Is it possible that Miss Emmagen will lose her power, through another election or by marriage?"
Parker shakes her head. "I do not believe so, Sir. The Athosians do not practice marriage as such. They might come together to raise a child, but it is just as likely that only one parent will take responsibility, oftentimes the father, in fact. And leadership does not pass through elections so much as a general consensus. There are some that do not agree with our alliance, but Major Taylor's idea to allow them to train with our weapons has gone over very well."
"Excellent. And Emmagen, herself? Walking around in the outfits she does must get her a lot of attention from the Marines. Are we in any danger of offending her and thus losing the support of her people?"
Parker laughs at that. "I doubt it Sir. When we first arrived here she promised a night to anyone who could beat her at bantos fighting. Half the platoon tried. It was better than Disneyland, Sir."
Dillon grins. "So nobody won?"
"Not yet, Sir."
"Excellent."
Teyla is up at first dawn, practicing the forms on the hill above the settlement. The Atlanteans are also up early, but they train first by running miles along the hunting trails or doing body-presses in the soil. It does not seem particularly meditative, but then again, the unhurried calm of mediation is not the Atlantean way.
Teyla finds herself missing Dr. McKay. For when he was here, he would great her at the end of her stretches, two cups of stout tea in his hand and a thousand complaints like birdcalls to greet the dawn. It was not calm, but there was something reassuring in it – perhaps that this man had survived the Wraith and still found the strength to be angry about it. It brings Teyla hope to think that there are people out there with such strength that a feeding could not rob true life from them. She enjoys the news Aiden brings of him and his new life in the tropical islands Aiden calls Hawaii. She is sure Rodney will find much to complain about in a habitat so teaming with life.
She chides herself for letting her thoughts drift, surprised when a solitary form climbs up the hill to stand beside her, two branches held in his hands. "Colonel Everett," she smiles. Much has changed since the Atlanteans have appointed this new commander. He brings with him a new mission – not just to strip this galaxy bare of the legacy of the Ancestors and capture it for their own, but rather to look for a better future for this galaxy and his own. He takes the threat of the Wraith seriously. Teyla wouldn't dare tell him this about his old friend, but if Marshall Sumner had headed her warning, then he might still be alive now,
"Teyla," he nods to her, holding out the two sticks. "How do you think these will do?"
"They are very nice . . . sticks, Colonel," she replies diplomatically.
He grins. "Well, if I am going to best you at bantos fighting, I'm going to need the right tools."
That has her laughing, deep and hearty and full. "If you intend to best me at bantos fighting, you will need much more than that, Colonel. Here," she reaches into her back, pulling out her lucky banta, made with her own hand at her coming of age ceremony. They are not as well balanced as the ones she had made for her, but the Colonel shall make due. "You may train with these for now, Colonel. And if you make the level of children when they turn fourteen, we will find you the perfect branches to mold yourself a pair as I did these."
He nods to her. "Just show me what to do."
Dillon is having a bad week. Between Dr. Weir constantly trying to assert her authority over him in strange little passive aggressive ways, Morales and the botanists getting captured by some sort of feral cave man, and Sergeant Bates throwing a hissy fit about him giving Teyla and few of the Athosian VIPs their own GDOs, he really just wants something to shoot.
But then, Teyla comes through the gate unexpectedly, trying out her new GDO and smiling at Bates from where he stands atop the steps, glaring at her. She's wearing a tailored velvet number with a high collar the reminds him of the slim traditional dresses of the Chinese. Dillon can't help but stare.
"Good evening, Colonel," she says, nodding to him.
"Teyla, what can I do for you?"
"Nothing specific, Colonel."
"Just testing your GDO?" He grins, sure that she's really just coming to see him.
"Actually, I was hoping that since you had allowed me this gift, I might see more of the City of the Ancestors. Among my people they are venerated as gods, though the more I learn of their history, the more I am forced to call that belief into question. Still, it would be a great honor to learn more about the world in which they lived."
Dillon was planning on getting caught up with some of his paperwork tonight, but nobody's going to begrudge him the chance to get laid. Not after the week he's had. "Of course, Teyla. I would be honored."
He doesn't show her anything strategic, like the chair room or the jumper bay, but he does show her the underground baths that they have not yet had the cause to operate, the database room with the story of the Ancients in Pegasus, the greenhouses, and the view from the east pier (along with a bottle of champagne and some truffles he's had shipped from Earth).
She giggles as the champagne, eyes bright and shining, though not particularly drunk (much to his disappointment, she can hold her liquor). "My people produce a strong drink that burns the roof of your mouth, but it never occurred to us to fill it up with bubbles."
Dillon laughs too, feeding her a truffle and relishing in the feel of her lips against his fingers. But, even after half the box is gone, it is clear that she's not going to be putting out tonight, staring forlornly up at the stars and the constellations she's named for him. "I had always wondered if it was the Ancestors the created us, and now that belief has been confirmed. And yet, it has also been made clear that that they abandoned us to fight an enemy that they themselves could not stop. They were creators and not yet gods."
He lays a hand gently on her back, guiding her back to rest on his outstretched arm as they look up at the sky. "They may have been creators and they may have abandoned us, but that doesn't mean that there are not Gods out there, watching over us and helping us to fight for what's right."
"By the talk of many of your scientists – Doctor McKay, especially – I was led to believe that your people had no Gods."
Dillon chuckles. "No. We have many. The one I believe in is just and kind. He once sent his only son down to Earth, where he was tortured and hurt by man, and yet, he made a covenant with us and promised that no matter how we suffer and no matter how many mistakes we make, there is salvation for us in the end. We will fight the Wraith hard in this life, and in our paradise, they will never intrude."
"Ascension, you mean?"
"Like Ascension, maybe. You live on forever. And all you have to do is have faith that you will be saved."
She tilts her head to the side. "Faith is not something we find in abundance in this galaxy."
"Well, maybe," Dillon whispers, " It's time to start."
Colonel Everett . . . Dillon, is diligent with his practicing. He meets her every morning he spends on Athos and she can tell that he has been practicing even when they are not together. She doesn't know why she yearns for his respect the way she does. Perhaps because he is an exotic man or one that commands the respect of a true leader. But the main reason, she thinks, is the hope he promises – new ideas and new confidence, and the kind of attention she has never been faced with before. It is a luxury to spend as much time and attention pursuing someone as he does her, and she finds herself melting under it. He is not like the others.
He blocks her strike, though she did not expect to earn a hit. He is a good fighter – strong and quick. He is also a fast learner. But Teyla has been doing this her entire life. She feints, blocking his attack easily, before striking again. This time she earns a hit to his forearm. He does not waver, however, eyes glinting dark and serious.
Dillon is silent during their sparing sessions, fully concentrating on besting her, even though there is little hope for him in that department. He would still be considered a beginner by her people, even though his strikes are sure and strong.
She maneuvers him back in the small clearing so that he is nearly backed into the thick trunk of one of the Ancestor's trees that grow so high you can barely see their tops from the ground. He is panting, brow painted with the soft sheen of sweat. She is out of breath as well, for though he is no match for her speed and knowledge, the strength of his blows demand force to counter.
She grins at him before another volley sees him disarmed and pressed back against the trunk of the tree. "Do you remember, Dillon, that I issued a challenge to your men?"
He nods, seriously.
"I promised a night to whomever could defeat me."
He smiles a little, but eyes the sticks she has pressed up against his neck warily.
"Do you want to defeat me?"
"Very much," he admits.
She nods, releasing him and watching him as he bends to retrieve the sticks.
His next attack is fierce and desperate, but still he does not revert to sloppiness. It is not that she knows that she's made the right choice. Dancing around him, she delivers three blows in succession – his wrist, his ribcage, the back of his knee. He winces, but stays standing, crouching down defensively.
"Still, you hope to defeat me?" She forces her features into seriousness.
He answers with another attack – two strikes that she blocks before ducking out of the way and adding another hit to his rump as he passes, causing him to stagger, but not fall to his knees. He whirls around, parrying her next move, but leaving his left side open for yet another blow.
Teyla could have him at his knees at any time she pleases, but she wants to see how much he will stand. "And now, Dillon?"
His breaths are ragged, but he motions for her to attack again. A leg swipe and a careful hit knock one of his sticks from his grasp, and she spins away, kicking it out of the ring.
"You have but one banta left, Dillon. Do you still wish to continue?"
He nods.
"Very well." She shows mercy on him this time, restraining the blow to his wrist and to his shoulder and again to his left side.
He's still able to block half of her blows, which shows her that he's been practicing. He almost manages to fool her with a kick, in fact, earning himself a hard strike to the thigh. He limps a little when she retreats, allowing him to circle her.
"You would still like to defeat me?"
"More than anything," he pants, raising his one stick tiredly, the other hand now clasped around his side.
Teyla nods. Her attack is quick, her right foot kicking out at the same time as a strike to his shoulder to bring him to his knees. Teyla throws her banta aside, kicking him forward until she is straddling him, forcing his one remaining banta to her breast. "Look, you have disarmed me."
He chuckles then, letting the banta fall uselessly between them, before tangling his hands in her sweat-soaked hair and drawing her down on top of him for a kiss. "You've more than disarmed me," he coos, stroking her cheek as she moves on top of him, letting her take all she desires.
Dillon is happy. Three months in another galaxy and already he's got a beautiful apartment on the sea, three platoons of the best damned Marines the Corps has to offer, and a girl . . . he grips his bruised side, wincing . . . he's got a girl like they don't make ‘em back home.
Teyla is gorgeous and athletic and violent in all the right ways. He doesn't mind letting her have control, but he also loves those times where she's soft and supple beneath him, urging him on with desperate little gasps, her legs wrapped around him like a vice. Even when she was young and not wrinkled and sagging, his wife had never been that flexible.
And now, all he has to do is sit back and let it happen. After their big confrontation about respecting the locals, Bates' paranoia actually serves to take a load off of Dillon's worries about city security, and though Weir is still a grade-A feminist cunt, she knows how to manage the scientists and take on the administrative and diplomatic side of things. In fact, she's got half the science department looking into a very promising weapons system on an abandoned planet. If they get that up and running, they're sure to be free from the Wraith.
That's right up until Teyla comes storming into his office, Parker (who's still supposed to be in the infirmary recovering from the flu) trailing after her, looking panicked.
"What are you doing here, sweetheart? I thought we were going to fly out to the mainland tonight," he asks with false sincerity.
Teyla glares in a way that reminds Dillon of his wife. Still, the sex is too good to dump her yet.
"I'm sorry, Sir. We were just talking . . ." Parker pants, looking distraught, and still a little under the weather.
Teyla ignores her. "Dillon, you did not tell me you were harboring a Runner!"
He stands immediately. "A runner?" He shoots a glare at Parker. The military did not commission her to get him in trouble with his girlfriend.
"The man you have in your jail facility is a Runner. I have never before met one, but there are stories. The Wraith implant men of exceptional fighting skills with tracking devices, and hunt them down as training. If you keep him here, you will alert the Wraith to your location."
Okay, he wishes he'd heard this earlier. He taps his radio. "Dr. Beckett, meet me in the holding cells." He turns to Teyla. "Thanks, darling," he kisses her on the cheek on the way out. "I'll take care of this and we'll still be on for tonight."
She seems a little bewildered, but Dillon doesn't give it a second thought. The second they pull the transmitter out of that guy, he's going to have some serious talking to do.
"So you and Everett?" Aiden asks, looking more than moderately disgusted. Teyla kicks him with one of the boots she has traded with the Atlanteans for, smiling at the way he steps back and holds his hands up.
"Hey, I surrender. I guess I'm not ever going to understand it, but . . . man . . . McKay is going to be heartbroken."
Teyla shakes her head. She does not usually go out on missions with the teams, and she can tell that Dillon disapproves, but she was requested specifically by the people of this village to help them hunt down a monster (she suspects a Wraith) that is preying on their people. She's taking Aiden and Major Taylor along so they can gain experience in fighting Wraith as a favor to Dillon, for which he should be grateful, instead of implying that she cannot look after herself.
"Doctor McKay was not my type either before or after he was transformed, and he knows as much."
Aiden laughs. "Yeah, I hear ya. Though I think he's found someone who is his type, believe it or not."
Teyla winces. Rodney was a very loud and often stubborn man, but his success in surviving the Wraith would have garnered him much female companionship, had he stayed. "And who is this . . . what do your people say? Lucky person?"
"Or unlucky. Apparently some surfer dude who hurt himself and let McKay nurse him back to health."
"I always knew that beneath the . . . difficult exterior, Rodney was a kind and generous man."
Aiden snorts. "If you say so, Teyla. I think that under the difficult exterior, there was just a skinnier asshole. But you're right, he grows on you."
"Grows?" Even though they speak in the trade tongue, the Atlanteans still have not learned to reduce their colloquial language in front of others. Only Dillon seems to understand. The only Earth phrases he uses with her seem to be terms of endearment.
"You get used to him."
"I see. Please, tell me more about the woman he has found for himself."
"Man, Teyla. Dude means a man."
"Oh." Teyla has heard, of course, that there are men who love other men, but on Athos such a thing is not allowed for what it robs from the next generation. "On your world, there is a way for two men to conceive a child?"
Ford laughs. "No." He seems confused when she waits for more. "Um . . . Major Taylor, maybe you should answer this one."
Taylor turns from where he's walking ahead of them. "Christ Ford, ‘don't ask, don't tell, don't gossip to the aliens.'"
"Sorry, Sir. I just . . . she's not going to tell anybody."
"If it is important to you, Major, I promise that I will not."
Taylor seems to think about this for a second before he explains. Teyla likes him. He's warm and charming, and though she often does not understand his humor, his warriors seem to find him funny. "On Earth, we're not so desperate for children as here. It's okay if two men never raise a family, though some gay couples do adopt or find women to have children for them. Not everyone accepts it, which is why you can't tell anybody, but it's not a bad thing."
Teyla has a hard time imagining a world where it is not necessary to think of the next generation, but she has been astounded by the ‘movies' Aiden has shown her and the shear numbers involved. "Doctor McKay is one such man?"
Aiden shrugs. "A little of both, I think. But he really seems to like this guy. It's good. He deserves someone."
"Yes, we all do. Which is why you should be more accepting of myself and Dillon. He is a venerable man and a hope to my people. Is he not deserving of affection as well?"
"Yes. He's a good commander, just . . ." Aiden gestures helplessly. "You . . . and he . . . you're too hot for him."
"I do not see what temperature . . ."
"Just drop it, Ford," the major interrupts, looking harried. "She's got her man. That makes one of us."
"Speak for yourself, Major. I have a fiancée. Um . . . though you probably shouldn't let the brass know about that."
"Hey, you don't tell, I don't," the major replies. "Man, I left a good thing behind, though."
"I'm sorry, man."
"Me too. John was, well . . . he was the kinda guy I'd like to be – the things he'd do not to leave a man behind. That's our service, Ford. That's what we're really doing here, and Everett believes it too. We're not just in this for our own asses, but to help beat the bad guys no matter where we are."
Teyla smiles at that, before stumbling, a bad feeling arising in the pit of her stomach.
"Teyla, what's wrong?" Aiden asks, voice fading against the rising nausea.
"Wraith."
The ocean is burning, wrecked Wraith darts and downed 302s scattered throughout it like bath toys. Taylor is in the chair, but Zelenka says that he's running out of drones, and there are still cruisers in the sky. Five of them were destroyed by the nuclear mines they've set up to protect the planet, but ten of them remain. The Daedalus has taken heavy fire and is coming in hot to try to rest beneath the safety of the shield, and the city is ready to submerge until Ford and his strike team made up of second platoon and Genii returns from their strikes on several other hive ships.
Dillon stands in the control room, hearing Gall rattle off the statistics about the last time the city was submerged and how even the Ancients had eventually be forced to evacuate. They fought their hardest, with their best technology, and maybe if they had an army they'd have a chance in hell of winning this war, but the Wraith are not like the Goa'uld, interested in enslaving, and providing ample opportunity to gain access to their stolen technology and their ways. The Wraith are the wolf in the darkness, coming in on the night to pray and leaving just a quickly. To the local people they appear as demons and magic and nobody has any idea about how they live and breed and operate. Their technology is still a mystery.
Dillon buries his head in his hands, careful to use his artificial gene to lock the doors.
Hours later, Ford comes back through the Gate on a stretcher. Sergeant Markham reports that the mission was a complete failure. They've lost half of the second platoon and all of their pilots except Taylor, and only because he was in the control chair. But at least the civilians are safe, and the city is deep beneath the sea.
Dillon stands next to Weir at the top of the stairway looking down at the stargate, now an eerie shade of blue in the meager lighting provided without the sun streaming through the stained glass windows.
"What are we going to do?" he asks, just as Gall and Zelenka come skidding in, both high and stimulants and talking a mile a minute.
"We fly the city home," Zelenka says, and like that, all their problems are solved.
Teyla looks up at the sky, sitting on an abandoned munitions crate in the middle of an abandoned base in the ruins of a great city. The Wraith come and go, and so do people in her world.
She's angry at Dillon for never saying goodbye, but she's also relieved, twirling the lucky set of banta he left here in her hands. If he had asked her to come with him, it would have been difficult to refuse. But, this is her life, beneath familiar constellations and the threat of white beams sweeping down from the sky.
Life here will go on and soon the memory of the Atlanteans will fade, for here, there is only one history that is written over and over again.
But Teyla will remember a man with grey in his hair and dark serious eyes who spoke of a God who demands only faith. The problem, Teyla knows, is that faith alone is not enough.
FIN