Photographs by Quezacolt

Photographs von Quezacolt

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I was unafraid. I was fearless. I was lying. How could I be courageous? How could I be valiant? How could I be brave?

I was standing in front of an event horizon, about to go on my very first off-world mission. And why? Because the one person, the one Major that I could talk to and relate to, had gone and gotten himself trapped in an alien jail. That was why I was here, about to embark on what could be my own death.

My team, actually, his old team stepped past me in silence. We all had heard it. We all knew he was being treated badly. We all knew he had been tortured. But what could we do?

We could negotiate.

But for me, it didn't seem enough. These people should have to pay, the less-advanced race had taken her friend, and for no reason. Of course, they called it `insurance against attack' but I felt it was going to make things more hostile between us. John had no plan to attack them when he first stepped through their Stargate.

The only thing I have now, as a reminder of John was his handgun, strapped to my leg, a comforting weight, to know I will give it back to him soon enough. Taking a deep breath, holding onto my vest for dear life, I stepped through, feeling sick as the stars flashed past.

By the time I reached the other side, I was breathing heavily, covered in sweat, and shivering. The world on the other side was dark, never before had I been in such a place, the room we had landed in was eerie as the cells of the SGC, bars could be seen leading to other chambers, most likely filled with convicts, and screams could be heard, the sounds of hundreds of imprisoned souls, locked away for years, most likely like John, innocent explorers.

Sergeant Bates walked past, holding his P90 high, as did Lieutenant Ford, the lack of guards unsettling them. Walking toward a darkened gate, they peeked through the bars, spying a long line of cells, two stories tall, along both sides of the room. The room itself was the size of a baseball stadium, the smell was repulsing, yells and screams coming from each cell.

"Which one?" Ford whispered, staring around at each of the five gates. Biting on my lower lip, knowing it was my decision; I decided the fastest, easiest way. "Spilt up." I said quietly, "Each person take a gate, find John." I watched as they each chose an entrance, each with their guns drawn and faces determined. Breathing deeply, I pulled out his handgun and pushed open my doorway, stepping inside, and trying not to gag at the stench. I walked toward the first cells, staring at the people inside. They were, bloody, beaten and dying. I swallowed, trying to stop the bile gathering in my throat and continued, ignoring the pleas of other prisoners, ignoring the blood seeping from some of the cells.

Taking another, deep breath, I walked until I came to the final cell. My heart was breaking as I saw who was inside, his body battered and bleeding, his brown eyes staring into nothingness, his breathing raspy and shallow. "John?" I whispered, kneeling outside the bars. His answer was a groan, his eyes snapping onto mine. "E-eliz...bth..." I reached in and grabbed his hand, noticing the scars along his cheeks.

"What did they do to you John?" I whispered, feeling tears welling up in my eyes at his condition. His cell was little more then a box, a concrete slab at the back as a bed and bucket in the corner. He didn't answer, his eyes began to droop and I suddenly felt the urge to break him out. Releasing his hand, I used my fingers to pull off the small control panel on the small area of white cement separating John's cell from the one next to him. Inside was a series of wires, all gray like the colour of the prisoner's uniforms. Tugging at a few, I smiled grimly when the doors to all the cells opened slowly, people slowly emerging. Rushing to John, I carefully pulled him to his feet, his groans echoing through the silent hall. I dragged him along slowly, his feet working clumsily, trying to take some of the weight, stumbling every few minutes as we dodged the former prisoners until they slowly arrived at the Stargate, where our team was waiting, guns aimed toward the gates where hundreds of people were trying to break through.

Relieved, their team sped forward, lifting the Major from my tired shoulders. Teyla dialed the Stargate quickly, as the first gate opened. The team ran forward, disappearing through the Stargate. Turning on the last step, I looked at the people gathered around, and whispered in the silence, "Your free. Go home." And I walked through, as cheers sounded behind me as I closed my eyes, glad we had John alive.

"It was an invasion." John yelled, several weeks later, lying in his infirmary bed. I sat beside him in a chair Lt. Ford gladly stole from Bekett's office, smiling at John's antics as he waved his hands around in the air, telling the story of how the men guarding them ran away when they heard the Stargate engage. He hasn't talked about his ordeal yet, the torture. I know it's probably eating at him inside, so I decide right there I'm not leaving until he gets it off his chest. For his benefit and mine. I don't think I can handle, not knowing what happened to him, I think I need to share his pain. It's the only way I will cope with it.

As everyone said goodbye and left, I move my chair closer as he sinks into the pillows. I grab his hand, smiling at him briefly. "I know what you want." He whispered, staring into my eyes. I look down, breaking the gaze and study my hand. "If you don't want to talk about it-" "I know you." He grinned. "You won't leave until you hear it." I bit my lower lip nervously, and his smile faded quickly from his face. "Well." He said slowly, tugging at the sheets with his hands, making them fray. "When I was captured, the bastards beat me up a little. Then a little more. Then a little more after that. Then they got hold of a few electric prods. Jeez..." He winced. "They hurt like hell." His voice was lively, his happiness at returning home overpowering the remnants of the pain. "Then they took photographs..." He said slowly, biting his lip, his voice shaking. "Of me bruised and lying there. If I ever see a camera again, it'll be to soon."

I smiled, moving up to site beside him on his bed, surprising myself when my arms went around his neck. I was even more surprised when our lips met, in a passionate embrace. When we broke apart, our foreheads were resting together, and he was running a finger along my cheek. "I love you, you know that?" He whispered. "Ever since I met you." I grinned, a rare occurrence with all the stress around here, and replied. "I'm just a lovable person." He smiled, and our lips met again. "Erggh. Get a room will you?" Carson walked through the doors, grinning as he chastised them, continuing to the end of the infirmary and entering his lab. "I'll be back." I whispered in his ear, "I have something to take care of."

I almost laughed when I walked back into the infirmary, a few hours later. John was sitting in his bed, a frown plastered on his face as he tugged at the bandages covering his arm. Spying around to make sure no one had noticed, he continued pulling at it, crying out in pain when the material moved against the injuries underneath. Biting on my lower lip, in an attempt not to laugh, I walked over and sat beside him on the bed. "I missed you." He said shyly, with a slight mischievous shine in his eyes. I smile and hand him the package I spent all afternoon retrieving. Smiling, he opened it, his face paling slightly, before a grin breaks out as he stares at the photos taken of the Athosians by Aiden and Teyla. "Jinto apparently loves having photo's taken of him." I say slowly, gauging his reaction. As he reaches the end of the pile, he stares at the one taken a long while ago, when John and I were friends. I was on his shoulders, he was dragging me away from the control room, I had worked twenty hours straight, and he felt it was time I relaxed. I remember his touch like it was heaven.

"They're great." He whispers, pulling my closer.

A Kodak moment.

End

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Photographs von Quezacolt

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