To Sleep, Perchance to Dream

Disclaimer:I do not own Stargate Atlantis. Therefore, I shall not get halfway through this story and inform you that I'm scrapping this to write a Stargate Universe one and you should think yourselves lucky that I'm going to publish another part sometime next year, but hey, you'll get over it as long as you get your 'fix'! Therefore, I shall not tell you that you are outside my preferred demographic to read this story. Therefore, I shall not tell you that I'm only interested in attracting readers who are new to this genre. Therefore, I shall not tell you that 'all good things must come to an end...'

Right. Now, I've got that off my chest, back to the story...

Here's something I threw together while updating Dead Man's Shoes... see what you think...

It was set forward in Season 5 (or even Season 6, but that's not going to happen now, is it?) before I even got to see Season 5 in the UK and I avoid anything spoilerish like the plague, so there are some discrepancies... e.g. I assumed there was no more Kanaan... don't think it spoils the story though...

15,000 plus words. Three parts, to be published, Mon, Weds. and Thurs.

To Sleep, Perchance to Dream - Part One

He had to get off the mountain.

Before the breath in his lungs froze.

The Jumper lay behind him in the snow. Black and smoking. So he had nothing.

Clear blue, blue sky. Black distant peaks. Black jagged rocks that cut the snow. And the snow, white, brilliant and blinding.

Alone. He had no one. And he had nothing.

Thrown against the controls on impact. Busted ribs for sure, despite the vest.

Now to wade through deep, deep snow. The cold. The pain at his chest. Altitude. Breaths short. And cutting. Couldn't think straight. Need to think straight. And get off the mountain.

Down. Down the mountain. Cold soft white, white snow that shushed and hushed but crushed at energy. Legs that were numb and stumbled. Ploughing a way through the snow. Hands that were numb. One to hold the pain at his chest. One flailing in the snow. Driving a way through the snow. For he had to get off this goddamned mountain.

Breaths that cut and snagged. The cold numbing thought. Thought only of aching cold. The sounds of the snow. Shushing and hushing. Soft. So soft. Sleep. So weary. He could sleep. He could drop into the softness and not get off the mountain.

The trail of a desperate animal. White spotted with red. White spotted with blood. The taste of blood in his mouth. That froze on his lips. He… had… to… get… off… the… mountain.

He fell.

Kicked and kicked wildly at the snow. White. White all around. That smothered and buried. Couldn't breath. Couldn't breath. And pain… god-awful pain cutting his body in two…

…Kicking at the bedclothes tangled at his feet. Laying face down in the pillow. Laying uncomfortably at the very edge of the bed. So his ribs hurt...

It'd been a dream then…

He shifted. One day, he was gonna put in an order for a bigger bed.

He blearily watched the hem of the gauzy curtains at the nearby open window, drifting in. And out. Breathing rhythmically with the chill dawn breeze blowing in from the sea. He shivered. Pulled the cover up over his body and head, turned over and fell asleep again…

…And he was asleep again. With breath so still. So still… His arms folded on his chest. Which was weird. He never slept like that. At least... his side no longer hurt.

Outside. Outside the window. Thumping noises. Voices that called but muffled by the deep, deep snow.

He felt annoyed. Soon, he would get up and shut that damn window. Get up and shut that damn window. But he couldn't. Because he was so still… and his breath was so still…

He hadn't made it off the mountain then…

The man in red robes. Throwing off the heavy animal skin coat, wet and flecked with flakes of snow. Handing it to his companion. Approaching the bed with haste and concern.

"How long ago?"

"An hour."

"A little hasty with the funeral pyre?" He indicated to the window, where labourers could be seen hewing timbers.

"The weather is turning again."

"An hour. Then there is still time…"

Wake up, mahalele. Wake up, mahalele. It is not time for you to sleep.

And the heat from the man's hand reached for his very heart…

…He woke again with a start. Now he was hot. And threw off the covers angrily. Damn, his head just didn't get it! He needed the sleep…

oOo

"He wanted you to have this." A small wooden box.

"What is it?"

"A gift. Yes. You may look inside." A silver ball. Nestled on a red velvet cushion.

"Again, what is it?"

"We do not know. We assumed that you do."

"Why did he die? He looked so well."

"It happens. When a life is given, the giver's own is often forfeited."

oOo

"Well, it's impressive…" said Radek, looking down at the opaque silver ball, measuring a hand's breadth across, sitting neatly on its red velvet cushion in its box of mahogany, or Ingoran equivalent.

"Yeah, impressively so not interesting!" snorted Rodney.

"No. It is impressive," maintained Radek in a calm level voice. "It is no mean feat to engineer a construct such as this, a perfectly solid sphere," he said, pushing his glasses back onto the bridge of his nose, trying to preserve a serious expression.

"So you still don't know what it is, or what it's for?"

"Its molecular composition eludes-" began Radek.

"Look, Sheppard!" butted in Rodney impatiently, "it's harmless! It's not an explosive device, (Woolsey had insisted on a containment unit before he could bring it through the 'Gate.) or a weapon or a power source! That's what you wanted to know, isn't it?" And Rodney had picked up the ball and was playfully tossing it from one hand to another. Sheppard fought the urge to snatch it from him. Hell, the guy who'd given it to him, had died to save his life.

"It has no energy signature whatsoever, you see," explained Radek. "It is completely inert."

"Sheppard! Slice off the bottom, and you have a very useful… paperweight!" and Rodney slammed the ball against Sheppard's chest so hard and so suddenly that Sheppard was forced to cradle it quickly in his arms to prevent a broken toe. And Rodney left.

"Or a door stop." And Radek followed. Bursting out into a fit of giggles when he joined Rodney. The two sniggering in unaccustomed shared humour.

oOo

"You're late! And you look awful!" Rodney. As usual, good with the compliments.

"Couldn't sleep."

Teyla, he liked. More sympathetic. "Bad dreams, Colonel?"

Well, he wasn't exactly going to admit to that… Rodney would never let him hear the last of it. And he knew Ronon would be in full smirking mode too. He pretended he hadn't heard either. But Teyla wouldn't let up.

There was something about having a baby that made her more… maternally. Was that a word? Not one he'd use anyhow. But it would do. More maternally to all and sundry.

"Not premonitions I hope?"

"Oh, please!" Rodney might ridicule. But Teyla understood. She understood that Earth soldiers were superstitious. With their talk of lucky charms. Or being jinxed… and bad dreams before a mission. Though Sheppard was never bothered with any of that.

"No. Just couldn't sleep." And he ran a hand through his thick black hair, stifling a yawn, waiting for Chuck to activate the 'Gate. Wishing he'd got out of bed a whole lot sooner and not missed breakfast. He could really do with some of that coffee right now. If Rodney had left any… He doubted that Rodney had managed much shut-eye either. Derision aside, Sheppard could see that Rodney was still as excited about M89 P23 as he had been at 03.30AT that morning…

M89 P23 should not have had an operational gate. They'd never been able to access it since they had first arrived at Atlantis. There were twenty or so such gates that for some reason were inactive. Now and then, usually on the twilight shift, when controllers were bored stupid, a programme was run to systemically try accessing them one last time. Little expecting any change.

There never was.

Till last night.

Just after midnight.

When the dial out to M89 P23 activated a viable wormhole. Rodney was summoned. And he was still bouncing around like a puppy when Woolsey had arrived. And when Sheppard had finally been persuaded to crawl out of bed.

It was ok for Rodney. He hardly ever needed three or four hours sleep. Perhaps because he still had twenty five years worth of strong black coffee to work off. And then he hadn't been stuck on QW2 49T the previous night, when a whole herd of Mongo beasts had taken up residence in front of the Stargate just before their return. And Mongo beasts were sacred to the people on Mongo. And it was taboo to shoo them away. And you didn't go near them anyhow coz of their poisonous spikes. And so there was nothing for it but to sit tight and wait for them to mosey on out. But can you sleep with Mongo beasts fifty metres away? Hell no! Their guide said it was mating season and that's when they hoot, honk and boom… all night long. Sheppard was military trained and could normally grab fifty winks wherever and through whatever but… not… through… that… By dawn break, he was ready to kill someone…and it could have easily have been Rodney… He was the first to greet them in Atlantis and was far too bright and breezy for his own good, insisting they head straight back, because the technology they'd spent a whole fruitless search for the previous day was there after all, and when the Mongo beasts really get into mating then the people of Mongo fast and don't accept guests and shut down the gate and that would be, by his reckoning, that very evening. But another whole day of fruitlessly searching. And yeah, Sheppard had already been through his mental list of fifty ways to murder a McKay when he eventually did get some sleep of one and a half hours before Rodney was at his door. And it wouldn't have been too difficult to add another fifty ways to kill a Mckay, or to have narrowed it down to just the one throat tightening variety but he was too damned tired and would have been too damned tired to have carried out the evil deed anyway.

"Look! Look! Don't you see it!" exclaimed Rodney, in front of the console, bringing up telemetry from the Malp.

"Wha? Wha's there?" Well, he wouldn't see anything through half-shut eyes, would he? Nor propped up against a console for support with his arms folded. A whole two metres away.

"It appears to be…" and Woolsey frowned with the concentration of peering at the screen, "inside a building?" He removed his glasses and squinted, to see if that helped to see more clearly. It didn't. He put them back on "But it's dark. Quite honestly, it is very difficult to discern anything, Dr. McKay," he said straightening up.

"Yes! Yes! I know that!" said Rodney, impatiently. "Sheppard!" And Rodney turned to see where he'd gotten to. Why wasn't the Military Commander right at his side when he wanted him?

"Rodney?!" And Sheppard had woken with a start.

"Oh, come on, some more interest wouldn't go amiss! It's Atlantis, Sheppard! It's Atlantis!"

"What is?" Now his sleepy brain was really confused. Or was his confused brain really sleepy? Atlantis. That's where they were now, right? Or had he slept through something…

"It's another Atlantis, Sheppard! And it's underwater!"

Well, that got his attention…

oOo

"No! No! Emphatically no, gentlemen!" Woolsey. Putting the dampeners on everything. As always.

It didn't help that the lights went on suddenly and there were these guys on the other end looking just like Replicators. They didn't appear threatening and regarded their Malp with mild condescending amusement. Which really got up Rodney's nose and nearly put him off the idea anyway. They'd explained they'd had a power failure which hadn't happened in two and a half thousand years. They really shouldn't have been so apologetic, coz, well, some utility companies back home would love that sort of record. And it'd been playing havoc with their systems ever since. So that's why the 'gate which they kept closed against the Wraith had been temporarily opened. No. They weren't Replicators. Well, someone had to ask… and they seemed a little affronted that they had. A mixture of humans and Ancients and Ancient humans… Like Atlantis then… though hidden from the Wraith…hidden from Pegasus… all these years.

And then it was Atlantis turn to answer the questions. A whole load of shrugging coz, really no one had the answers. No. They weren't Ancients. No. They didn't know what happened to the Ancients who'd retreated to Earth. They probably ascended. No. We didn't kill them. Yeah, we can work the tech coz some of us have the ATA gene. How was that? Dunno. Ancient experimentation probably. Or… they slept around. But no one was prepared to tell them that. Ok. Since your Machine is through the gate, you may as well come too. Recognized kinship and all that. No weapons though. No weapons? Ronon won't like that. Hell, Sheppard didn't like the sound of that either.

Woolsey still adamant. They could still be Replicators. Just like the time when the Team and Elizabeth first went to the Replicator Homeworld. And that was just like Atlantis. And why hadn't they ascended, like on Earth? Shouldn't just take their word for it. Sometimes you just have to take a chance. It's called trust, Woolsey. Ever heard of that? So he relented.

And Rodney struggled with the concept too. Trust. Rodney. It's a sort of polite thing. It goes with good manners. You don't mess up. You don't just dive in there and ask for ZPMs. You wait for them to be offered. Ok? And quit drooling.

And then Sheppard said it could wait till morning. He was dead beat.

"But Sheppard!"

"It can wait Rodney!

"But Sheppard!"

"I said it can wait until morning Rodney!"

"But Sheppard, it is morning!"

"Crap!"

oOo

But he was gonna get one more hour. One more glorious hour if it killed him.

oOo

Perhaps Woolsey was right. But he wasn't gloating. Which would be unusual. Except he had so much fear on his face, there wasn't enough room for gloating.

They'd just come through the 'gate and were immediately surrounded by guys in white overalls, and breathing masks - and guns.

"Ok, so what happened to trust?" asked Ronon as they all raised their hands.

"Yeah, what he said." As Sheppard eyed up the weapons. But they weren't dead.

"Please don't be alarmed. You have to understand…" came a muffled voice through one of the masks, "the last time someone came through the 'gate, we fought a plague for months after and were nearly wiped out. We have to insist that each of you have a medical. "

"Well, that seems fair," said a relieved Woolsey. He didn't have to wet himself then. "We…" and his voice cracked, his nerves still tight in his throat, "would have to also have to insist on that protocol if the situation were reversed."

"At least," pointed out Rodney, in a low voice, "they're not Replicators. Would they be afraid of human disease?"

"Unless it's a ruse?" pointed out Ronon, in an equally low voice.

And Woolsey was scared again.

oOo

"Separate rooms? Well, that's mighty decent of you…" but he didn't want the Team split up. What happened to trust, Sheppard?

"You do not approve? It is for your privacy. We thought you would prefer it that way."

"It is fine," said Teyla, smiling politely.

"You sure?" asked Sheppard softly. "You're sure you're ok with this?" He shouldn't feel more protective of her than the others. It should never make any difference that she was a woman. It never had. But now she was a mother too. Did it make her any more vulnerable? Nothing could be worse through that door than being in the hands of Michael, after all…

"Do not concern yourself." Trust. And he had to trust that she knew best.

Rodney was the problem. Hesitating before his door. Blowing out breaths.

"I can do this…I can do this…" Wiping sweaty palpitating hands on the back of his BDUs. He was gonna get a prod with one of those guns if he didn't look out. But how do you explain to total strangers that the guy had a morbid fear of anything… medical.

"It's for ZPMs, Rodney," he encouraged.

"Yeah, right…" and Rodney walked in.

oOo

"I don't like it," growled Ronon. They were all waiting in the corridor. Except Woolsey, who as leader of Atlantis had gone off to do… negotiating stuff. And except Sheppard. Who hadn't come out yet. At least the guys in the white hazmut suits had gone.

Ronon was pacing up and down.

"Why are they holding onto Sheppard for so long?" He made up his mind. "I'm going in there."

Teyla pulled at his sleeve sharply.

"No. No. You must not upset out hosts."

And just then the door opened. And out walked Sheppard with a female medic. No. And out walked a smiling Sheppard with a 'hot' lady medic.

Rodney rolled his eyes. "We can't leave you a minute!"

"I don't know what you mean, Rodney…" as he eyed up the medic walking away down the corridor.

Who stopped once.

And looked back smiling at Sheppard.

Who looked back smiling appreciatively at the medic.

Who looked back smiling seductively at Sheppard.

A male assistant came hurrying along the corridor in the opposite direction.

"We apologise for keeping you all waiting but we've just been assessing Colonel Sheppard's ATA gene."

"Hey, I've got that too!" protested Rodney. And now he was pissed off about two things. Firstly. He'd had a thick grunt of a male doctor who had been none too gentle in… certain areas of his examination. And secondly. Sheppard's cocky grin of superiority.

"Ah, but Rodney…you're not a natural…" and he just knew Sheppard meant that in more ways than one…

And there was worse to come…

"They were really impressed, Rodney. It appears I'm a lot more Ancienty than anyone ever knew. In fact, they're so impressed that if you go along with this nice assistant now, he'll take you to his lab. and show you around and-"

"-Yeah, and I'd want to do that, why?" The male assistant looked a little offended.

"Hey! Don't knock it, Rodney, I've just offered my body to science to give you this chance."

"Offered your body to what? Is that what they're calling it these days!" Ronon and Teyla were smirking.

Sheppard sighed and prodded Rodney repeatedly on the shoulder to punctuate his every word. "If-you-go along-with-the-nice-assistant-he'll-take-you-to-his-lab-and-help-you-produce-your-first-ZPM."

Rodney just stood there.

He was hearing things, right? He was dreaming, right?

He stared at Sheppard. Wide eyed. His mouth may have been wide open too. Coz he just stood there. Stupid. He was hearing and dreaming things. Coz ZPMs just didn't get offered in corridors outside of med. rooms. You had to slog away for endless hours at a screen looking for possible locations. You had to go on long dangerous missions for ZPMs. You had to fight the enemy for ZPMs. You had to endure untold hardships for ZPMs. You didn't just get ZPMs simply because Sheppard had had a medical.

But he'd always dreamt it hadn't he? Always dreamt it could, would, would eventually, be this easy.

"You're… kidding," his voice hoarse. Please don't let Sheppard be kidding. Coz it really wasn't funny this time.

"No, Rodney… I'm very deadly serious." There was a smile there. But not that sort of smile. A smile that he was pleased too. A smile… and no, Sheppard wasn't the least bit like them… but a smile Aunties gave you when they handed you what they knew was just one of your most favourite toffees in the whole wide Universe.

But, Sheppard was always so good at this. At the wind up. But, and Rodney looked, the assistant was serious too.

"This is for real?"

Sheppard nodded gravely. "For real, Rodney." No. No. Soon Sheppard was going to crack up sniggering. And Teyla. And Ronon. Unable to hold back the laughter anymore. And Rodney would be the fall guy, yet again.

"Why? Why are they doing this?" Verification. There! That would suss them out. That would find out if this was just one big joke at his expense.

Sheppard shrugged. "Kinship?"

"Right…" and Rodney nodded in understanding. "This is for real then?" He was repeating himself.

"Yes, Rodney, it really is for real."

"Now? I'll go now?"

"Yes, now."

And Rodney was wiping sweaty palpitating hands on his pants. "This is it then…"

"Yeah, Rodney… this is it…"

oOo

Sheppard couldn't sleep. And neither apparently could Teyla.

He'd gone for a stroll, exploring, their hosts having practically given them the freedom of the city. But he was bored. Listless. Corridor after corridor. The same as Atlantis. Only with more tech.

That's when he found Teyla. Looking at the underwater strangeness of the ocean beyond the glass of a large window.

"It is so airless, so stifling… was Atlantis like this when you found her?"

He couldn't honestly remember. There had been too much going on at the time. Perhaps a coldness. Perhaps a staleness in the air.

He propped himself against the low sill leaning with one thigh, also taking in the view.

"You didn't need to stay you know. I thought you'd want to get back to Junior."

"They have an historian… Gelian… who was very interested in the Athosians… we were talking and it became very late…"

…And somehow, she is able to open up to this stranger. This mahalele. And she tells him of her childhood. Of the Wraith. Growing up in the eternal threat of culling. Losing her family to them. How she had trained to fight, in order to protect her people from them. Meeting John Sheppard, another mahalele, for the first time. The move of her and her people to Atlantis. How one among the Athosians had captured her heart and was the father of her child. About Michael. And her rescue...

He suggested we met again over breakfast… but now, I find I cannot sleep." She smiled weakly. "Too much excitement in one day… and there is such a suffocating air… I was wondering if there was a gym…" and she could tire herself out.

"It's probably the shielding…" he said, nearly absently. "I'd thought about going for a run…" Same reason. But he'd only his BDUs and boots. Though he knew that if he'd asked, the Ingorians would only be too pleased to find him something more suitable…

"You cannot sleep either? And yet you were so tired this morning?"

"Same as you, I guess…" he shrugged. "Too much excitement." And his face frowned. A round of meetings. Appointments. Guided tours. People to see. Even another medical. Invitations to lunch. When he met their Leader. With Woolsey. Coffee. Or the Ingorian equivalent. With sweet snacks. And a lavish supper later. Ignoring the initial welcoming reception, they really had been throwing out the red carpet. But it made his head whirl. With all the small talk. Which was polite. And the medium talk. Which was about Earth. And large talk. Negotiating trade. Technological exchanges. He just wasn't used to doing all the dignitary stuff. Hell, he might as well as gone and worked for his Dad. And tomorrow, or the day after the next, depending on when Rodney was finished, they'd have to do the whole thing over in reverse. On Atlantis.

He stood, putting his hands in his pockets.

And Teyla sighed. "On Atlantis, at least, we have the balconies." Or can go out onto a pier.

He had an idea. Impulsive, he knew.

"There's an island close by, on the surface." He'd seen the maps. "Why don't we hotwire a Jumper?"

"Hotwire?" Her mystified face. Hell, she really had meant it when she'd said she was bored with the cop movies and had gone to sleep.

"Yeah… it means borrow." Of course, he didn't actually have to steal it. But he just didn't want to go into the moralities of grand theft Jumper right then…

"The Ingorians would not mind?" She sounded doubtful.

Feel free to explore the city, he remembered them saying. And tomorrow they were going to take him out in a Jumper to a much larger mainland beyond anyway. And yeah, imagine having this luxury - their security was pretty damned lax. Especially as it was late.

"No, you forget, I'm their blue-eyed boy at the moment." And he turned heading for the Jumper bay before she had the chance to go all pedantic on him and point out that he actually had hazel eyes.

oOo

Two white moons. One in partial eclipse. But sufficient light to see the beach where they'd parked. The black sea laced silver and frilly. Murmuring softly. Whispering with the dry rattle of tall sea grasses that grew on near by dunes.

"It is a beautiful evening," and Teyla gratefully drew in deep breaths of the cooling air. She was pleased that she allowed herself to be persuaded to come.

"Yeah," said a pensive Sheppard, kicking at dry, loose sand. But it was not a shyness that came from their close physical contact. They had long ago put their relationship on a friends only basis. Nothing had been said. It had just happened that way. And could not mutual respect be a stronger bond than the love between a man and a woman? Sometimes she felt uneasy about the way John regarded her, however. As if… she'd been placed on a pedestal and could never be touched…

No. This shyness came from an unfamiliarity…no an unwillingness to… she had heard the people of Earth laugh at this and to use the inverted commas sign… though she believed the phrase to be truly applicable in most cases… an unwillingness to connect with their inner self… an unfamiliarity with emotions that would admit there actually was beauty around them and they could be affected by it. The denial was strong in most Earth males she had discovered. It was certainly strong in John. But it did not necessarily follow that those emotions were not there…

They'd walked in silence for a few moments.

"Do you believe that anything will come of this mission to Ingoria?"

"Hope so…But this is a rest period…You're not supposed to talk shop…" She could sense his wry smile in the semi darkness. He really had had his fill of Ingoria for one day.

"Rodney still works."

"Yeah…give him coffee and he'll do that."

"He was not too upset by the news then?"

" 'Fraid so, and then some…" But they'd all felt pretty gutted. And to give Woolsey fair dues, it'd been the Lantean Commander's finest hour to try and dissuade the Ingorians. But they had continued to insist that ZPMs were only for use on Atlantis. And that in weaponry, they were to be used only for defensive purposes. And they demanded periodical inspections to ensure the Lanteans kept within those perimeters. Hell, it was going be like having two IOAs breathing down their necks.

The change of heart came about when they'd heard of things like… wars and factional societies on Earth. They took the Asgard viewpoint. That Earth wasn't ready for the technological advances that Ingoria could offer them. And they didn't wish for one sector to have an unfair advantage over the others. Woolsey's principal argument had been that with the new means to generate power alone, they'd no longer be any need to fight over valuable resources. It'd cut little ice. They just had to be grateful that Atlantis was still permitted the use of the ZPMs out of some sort of sentimentality, though they'd still have to go cap in hand to the Ingorians for the raw materials…

"Walked far enough now?"

Teyla nodded.

"I think I will take that run…" he decided. Up through the sand dunes. That should really knock him out and make him sleep. "See ya back at the Jumper." And he pushed off and was gone into the shadowy grasses.

Only a minute later, and he slithered down through a gap, some fifty metres further on, sending a cascade of sand before him. He turned quickly to look back up the way he'd just come. Something was wrong…

"John?!" she called, hurrying.

"Can you… that smell!" Disgust in his voice. And he'd brought up an arm to cover his nose.

She nearly laughed. And certainly smiled broadly. At his squeamishness. He was concerned by… an odour?

But as she approached, she smelt it too. And instinctively followed his example. Covering her face. Something like the 'rotten egg' smell that once emanated from Rodney's lab. and caused a widespread panic.

Found the back of her throat. Choking. And her eyes stung. And watered. And John already madly coughing.

And a strangled curse broke through…

"What the?" And she dared to look. A shadow moving at John's feet. Drifting. Layering. Thickening fast around him. Even in the moonlight she saw its colour. A brown mist. The colour of…iodine…Curling upwards.

"John! Move!" But she moved towards him instead. As he seemed paralysed. Or blinded already. Made helpless by the mist.

"Stay…Stay…Back!" Spluttered through the paroxysm of his lungs. She stopped. Hesitating. As he dropped to his knees. Perhaps less potent there? Less of the mist. But now lower still. A hand on his belly. And another that hardly kept him from the ground. Wanting to crawl but couldn't. Groaning in the coughing. She moved again. The gas taking her own air as cutting in her throat.

"No!! No!! Go back!! What is it?! What is it?!" And the scream filled up the beach and the whole night. As he rolled over onto his back. Screaming in agony. And she hesitated again. Chilled and frozen by the scream. This is not John. This is not John. John never screams. He never screams.

"I…can't see! I… can't… see! Damn!... It's... in my eyes!"

...She would move forward. But now… mesmerised… transfixed... Now he is burning… Horrified… he is burning before her… this is seconds only… but he is burning fast… his clothes smoulder and flake away as ash… his skin red and blistering… before her very eyes… he is silent now… and writhes and arches his back… silent hell now… silent screams through screaming lips that burn and blister and blacken like the rest of his face… it is the vision of the Ancient pilot again… but this is real… this is John… and she can do nothing but stand and watch… now he is burning… now he is burning… and she cannot... move forward…

oOo