Disclaimer: I don't own "Stargate: Atlantis." I am in no way trying to make a profit off this story, I am merely writing it and posting for my and other people's enjoyment.
Synopsis: RononTeyla, SheppardWeir. AU. How far would you go, how many rules would you break, to change the past and make the future right?
Warnings: Violence, character death (not permanent), some kissing
Pairings: Ronon/Teyla John/Elizabeth (eventually)
Spoilers: Siege; Runner; Sateda; Trinity
Title: Journey to Forever
Dedication: To Dia, who is a never-ending fountain of support, good ideas, and never-ending friendship. You're so awesome, girl. Thank you!
Special thanks goes to my fantastic beta, Mama Jo, without whom this "Journey" never would have made it to where it needed to go. Thank you!
Author's notes: When I originally wrote "Journey," it turned out rough and hurried. Both I and my beta felt that it had potential, so we have gone through and revamped the entire fic while (we hope) still keeping the feeling and expression of the old. I hope you enjoy this polished version of "Journey"—and thank you for reading!
Journey to Forever
Glass. For the past three months glass had separated them and her, but today would be the last day for that.
After this, it would be six feet of dirt.
Lieutenant-Colonel John Sheppard stuck his hands in his pockets and stared down into the isolation room below him. "Beckett said how much longer it's going to be?" he asked the man slumped in the chair next to where he was standing.
Ronon Dex didn't move his gaze from Teyla Emmagan's still form, now sustained only by the breathing tube down her throat. "Probably another twenty minutes or so."
John nodded morosely. "What else did he say?"
Ronon finally looked away from Teyla and up at Sheppard. "That all hope is gone now. But I suppose we knew that three months ago, didn't we?" There was a bitter edge to his tone: it had been there ever since Teyla had been put in isolation with severe burns to eighty percent of her body and massive internal injuries. It had grown worse early the previous morning when Beckett had declared her brain-dead and gently suggested she be taken off life-support. Ronon had stormed out of Beckett's office, and hadn't left the observation room since. His hair was even more of a disheveled mess than normal; he looked like he hadn't slept in days (which he hadn't); and there was a tiredness in his eyes that John hadn't seen since first meeting him.
"Yes, we did," John agreed quietly. "Ever since the explosion." He rubbed his eyes with his hands, trying to get rid of the images in his head: of the explosion, the floor quaking beneath his feet; of the fire roaring and heating his skin; of Elizabeth's lifeless body, bruised, bloody, burned. . .
He muttered a curse, shaking his head sharply to dispel the images. "Rodney says he's not going to come. He doesn't want to be here when Teyla. . . When Beckett takes her off life support."
This time it was Ronon's turn to nod, a small motion of understanding. He didn't say anything; he just continued to stare glassily at Teyla.
The silence stretched for a long uncomfortable time. Ronon finally broke it by saying, "I guess I need to let the Athosians know. They said the last time I was over there that they'd get a place ready for her to be buried."
John glanced at Ronon. The Athosians had hoped, like all of them on what was left of Atlantis, that she'd recover. But when it became apparent she wouldn't, they had pretty much appointed Ronon to be their new leader in Teyla's place. It was as though they just naturally assumed that it had been what Teyla would want—which was probably true.
"Okay. I'll take you over. . .after."
Ronon nodded, and then their attention was drawn to the door below, which had opened. Doctor Carson Beckett, Atlantis's chief surgeon, entered the isolation room. He looked up at the two men in the observation room, sharing a quiet moment of grief and understanding with them; then reached out and quietly disconnected the breathing machine.
John closed his eyes as the last few beats of the heart monitor registered; faltered; turned to one long, single tone. Just as Carson silenced the machine, he heard the door behind him slam shut as Ronon left.
To Be Continued. . .