Hot fires surround the small cell, but Elizabeth is wickedly cold. The hard metal floor underneath her shines, a contrast to the gray smoke and dirt around her, but it is dull to her eyes. She does not recognize such things as this anymore. She’s learnt not to. When she first escaped from Oberoth with the rebel replicators, she hadn’t trusted them. And when they had run into the wraith on a planet, they had fought to save her when the wraith had tried to subdue her – sensing she was not a full replicator. She had been regretful when she was forced to watch the wraith kill them.

The wraith had taken her; beat her for entertainment, fed on her for endless amounts of time, removing her nanites slowly, without knowledge. She could feel it though, the nanites that ruined her life being slowly removed from her frail body. She almost felt like thanking them, but never did, for they came at her, twisting her memories and creating false realities, just like Oberoth had done.

Elizabeth lies on the shiny, cold, but painstakingly hot, metal floor, curled into a small ball. Her arms are wrapped around her legs, pulling them into her chest. She attempts to make herself warmer, in spite of the rising temperatures already creeping into the cell and on her lithe frame.

Her teeth are chattering, and she accidentally bites on her lip hard, drawing blood. Her vision is blurry, and she has to squint to see the bright orange flames in front of her. She sighs, closes her eyes, and thinks that this may finally it. She’s waited long for this moment that she thinks is about to occur. Elizabeth has already accepted her fate, but that fate is not yet ready to accept her just yet.

Elizabeth faintly feels the burning of flames on her skin. She not does move away from them, she does not have the strength to. So Elizabeth closes her eyes. She waits for the flames to overcome her and for her to finally be free from her captors. But, the flames never come and she wonders if this is another trick of the mind brought on by the Queen.

She will not give her, it, the satisfaction anymore, however. And she does not move. But, this time it is different. This time, she hears voices; loud, some quiet, some angry, some sad, surprised. She’s never heard the voices before. Not once. She almost misses them. Until she realizes it’s probably another trick.

She is more surprised to find someone is touching her, but more than that, someone is picking her up. When she feels one of the hands support her back, she almost stops breathing. She knows that hand, or, she thinks she knows that hand. She insists that maybe it is another trick; maybe the Wraith Queen has decided to twist around with her fragmented mind once again. So she doesn’t grab onto the man’s neck and shoulders, she merely lies limp in his arms. Thinking, hoping, wishing, it is not another trick of the Queen.

Her head bobbles up and down painfully as the man runs with her in his arms. He tries to support her head on his own while running, but it is difficult, and he would rather just get her out of there as fast as he can. He shouts various orders to numerous soldiers, their shocked eyes betraying them.

“Lorne, get that jumper over here now!” He shouts.

Elizabeth wants to say something, anything. But, she cannot open her mouth, nor, if she could open her dry mouth, she cannot speak. She hasn’t spoken for quite some time. She thinks it was when the Queen made her conjure up the vision of her team dying in front of her. She can’t remember the way in which they all perished in front of her, but she knows it was complete torture, and it seemed all so real.

The man carrying her stops for a moment, and she senses he is looking around; most likely for the jumper that is to get them off the planet. As he stops, she feels the bright outside sun on her face, her weak legs, and her limp arms. It has been so long since she has seen the sun, or even taken a breath of the outside air.

She breathes in deeply, wincing slightly as the pressure from her long breath hurts her chest, her ribs, and just about anywhere. The man seems to notice, and he lifts her up more, rubbing her back, unaware that it also stings. But, she does not wince, for even though she could cry from the pain, the feeling of his comfort overwhelms the pain.

“Its okay ‘Lizabeth, we’re gonna get you outta here.” He says, his voice hoarse.

Her eyes are closed and she contemplates opening them. But she dares not; for fear that the warm, familiar voice will have the face of her nightmare.

She hears a familiar voice yelling, another very deep one, also familiar. Then, the man starts to run once again, her head bobs up and down. They reach the jumper, she knows, because she is laid down in the back. She likes the feel of this floor, as she felt disgusted when laid on the Wraith’s prison cell.

The jumper takes off and she almost sighs with relief. Almost. But, she never knows if this is real or not. She’s not sure if anything is real anymore.

She drifts off into a dreamless sleep – for the first time in a year – to the sound of the jumper’s engines and her once forgotten team’s voices.