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damagereport
shiny_starlight Rating: PG-13ish
Pairing: Stackhouse/Markham
Summary: An allegory in pieces. You know how it ends.
Spoilers: Various for season one; particularly The Brotherhood.
Warnings: Reflection on character death.
Pieces: 6/6
Boys Don't Cry
Watch the fireworks die.
Dear Adam,
Its almost 4.30am Tuesday, October 12th 2004, and earlier today (yesterday, I guess, now) we both nearly died in the event horizon. Your sleeping, right now. I tried to, but I just can't. Ever since we got back I been thinking and I decided that I had to do this or I'll never get in a PJ again.
I figure if your going thru my stuff, theres a reason (if not – don't be mad at me for doing this & I wont be mad at you for going thru my stuff) and I can't tell you what I know Ill want to say myself. That's why I'm doing this.
We should both of figured out a long time ago that this expadition weren't gonna be easy. I guess we were both just trying to hard to make things go our way. Whatever happened & whatever planet were on, were still marines. We still put our asses on the front line every day for the good of our species (how weird is it to say that?). And every time we do, theres a chance were not going to make it home.
I guess this time I was the one who didn't make it.
First, I want to say I'm sorry if it was my own fault. I hope it wasn't my flying and I hope I didn't hurt nobody else at the same time. They should never have let me fly huh?
Secondly, I know it's selfish but I'm glad your still there to be reading this, because I don't know how I would deal with this myself. Your my family. I don't believe I'll ever see my folks again. If ever you do get back home, I need you to just tell them I loved them, and that I'm sorry.
Mostly, I need to say that I don't regret coming to the Pegasus Galaxy, whatever happens to me. It was my idea right? I know you & I know that if something went wrong your gonna be driving yourself crazy thinking there was something you could of done. And if it was, by some crazy fluke, something you did – I forgive you. I know that you would never do anything to hurt me purposely. And I know you hate it when I get sappy on you, but even though the time since I met was the craziest, most stressful time because of the secrets, it was also the happiest I can ever remember being.
Lastly of all I need you to promise me – cause Ill be watching, I swear – that you won't do nothing stupid. I want you to get the hell out there & carry on. The expadition needs people like you. Your so good at what you do (in so many ways!) and at looking after people and there's so few of us out here, you've got to hold it together. Please.
I love you like crazy – but you knew that cause I just told you and it makes me so happy you do to because I thought you did but I wasn't sure – and I want you to be happy. Don't go hanging on to me forever if you can be happy with some one diffrent. My grandma says that when we die we don't go far from the people we care about and I want to believe that – specially if you go first. Hope you believe it too.
Well, guess that's everything. If you ever get home, stop by and visit my momma's place. Give her and my sisters a kiss for me okay? Don't worry about Jerry or Jimmy, they'll get it. And get in touch with your sister. Please please get in touch with your sister. Moms gonna say your part of ours but you need your own family too.
I gotta go. Need to sleep while your here or I wont get any!
Love always
J.xx
He barely remembered landing or listening to the debriefing in the control room. He did remember feeling sick and needing to work so hard to merely stay on his feet. And he remembered being confused that he didn't want to cry. But the first time in an hour that he really became aware of where he was, was as the light from the corridor spilled across the floor and over the unmade bed in the middle of Jamie's room. Jamie wasn't a naturally tidy person and no amount of training would make him keep his things in order if no one was checking up on him.
The pillow still had a dent in from where Jamie had lain; the blankets were still pushed back and tangled. There were clothes from the day before on the floor, scattered where they had dropped them – too preoccupied with each other to care. It was as if he had just walked out, would be back any second. It just didn't seem possible that Adam was never going to see him again.
Behind him, the door slid closed. The blinds were still drawn and the room was suddenly dark. Eventually, he allowed his knees to fold, sinking down beside the bed where he had that morning. He knelt there, smoothing at the ripples in the starched standard-issue cloth. It was cold. He'd almost been expecting it to be warm from the weight of a body and the shock formed a lump in his throat that he couldn't swallow.
Scrunching his eyes closed, he tried to will himself awake, although deep down he knew it wasn't possible. It wasn't a nightmare, as much as it felt like one. A small and frantic voice inside of him wanted to do something – to go looking for Jamie, even though he knew he couldn't find him – to turn back the clock and refuse to go with Miller, because maybe then he'd have seen the dart approaching or... or at least wouldn't have been left here, alone.
He tried so hard to clamp down on the useless hope that Jamie would just walk in and tell him that there had been a mistake. Jamie was so full of life – so bright and energetic – it was unfathomable that that could have been extinguished in a second. It cut Adam deeply that he hadn't even been paying attention; it made him feel negligent despite the fact there was no way he could have stopped it. All he had seen was the petering plumes of flame and smoke and the tinny hammering of small pieces of debris against the jumper windshield. He had tried not to think what that debris might be, although a hollow awareness haunted him from the pit of his stomach. Suddenly, he felt a desperate need to be close to Jamie – to smell him and touch him and he really, really couldn't anymore – so he stumbled half to his feet and climbed over the bed to the other side, clutching at the nearest item of clothing and pressing it to his lips.
He felt so helpless and weak and so alone and how could this have happened now? Why now, when everything was beginning to pan out as they'd so hoped? Why them? Why Jamie? Why his precious, amazing, good-hearted Jamie? Why not Adam himself? Jamie didn't deserve this. He deserved to be there when they found a way home, and to go back to the family that loved him and live a proper life. Not this. What was there left, now? How could he possibly continue living when the only person – the very last thing he had that mattered – was gone forever? It wasn't fair. Not when they'd tried so hard, not when they'd given up so much to be together. Jamie had left everything that meant anything behind for this – and now he was gone. His kind, affectionate Jamie was – was dead.
He couldn't see a future; couldn't envision one. Everything seemed to end at this moment, here; surrounded by Jamie but without him, now.
Adam couldn't be sure how long he sat there, but when he realised that he wasn't alone any more, he opened his eyes, blinking at the light from the corridor behind him, and remained as still as he could, hoping that whoever it was would go away. Instead, the door slid shut and he felt a weight shift the mattress as someone sat on the end of the bed. They were silent for a few moments before Bates' voice carefully asked, "Are you okay?"
Adam wanted to say a hundred things and none of them were positive. He wanted to lash out and place the blame at someone's feet and it was Bates who had stopped him getting in the jumper with Jamie. He may as well have blown up the jumper himself. Through all the pain and the anger, it seemed almost deliberate to Adam. Bates had known about them, and hated it. He was probably glad. But Adam didn't dare tell him any of this; not least for the fact that he might start to cry if he tried to speak. So he ignored him.
Bates spoke again. "I'm sorry. I don't know what else to say."
Adam turned his face a little further into shadow and struggled to swallow. He wished that Bates would just leave; he wasn't prepared to deal with people. And this was Jamie's space; what right did he have to just walk in?
There was a faint ripping sound and a dark hand appeared near his shoulder, offering the velcro patches from a uniform jacket; "Here."
Staring at the hand, Adam sniffed and squeezed the t-shirt balled against his stomach a little tighter. He didn't understand the point that was being made.
"I guess you guys didn't do that..." Bates muttered, dropping them into Adam's lap instead. "Back at the SGC, some of the... lesser... teams had a kind of understanding. Teams were like families because you never knew if you were coming home again. If you wanted to offer someone your time, off record – superior, subordinate, NCO, officer, didn't matter – you handed over your tapes if you got to wear any, or your pins, or whatever. Basically meant you put yourself on their level. And I don't have anything to offer except those."
There was a long pause.
"Look, Stack – I didn't know. I thought it was just you guys were getting off – guys do it all the time in the field, I know that – and I thought that you ought to know better. You're a sensible guy. I didn't realise you and Jamie... I didn't think it for a minute. Not until he bitched me out over you. And then... I guess being married to your job blinds you."
"You don't know anything about us," Adam ground out, at last, and he could feel a lump pressing at his throat again.
"I didn't. And then that guy who makes Lt. Ford look like a badass motherfucker with a chip on his shoulder the size of a goddamn B52, kicked me so hard I had a bruise the size of a grapefruit on my arm for a week. Because of you. And in the middle of the rec room, right in front of most of his team, he as good as admitted he was... 'invested' in you. I even took him aside, tried to tell him what he was doing was fucking dangerous for the sake of an occasional screw – "
"It wasn't – "
"Oh, I know!" Bates assured him with a hollow little laugh. "I know, because I heard you in the hangar, yesterday. You're real discreet."
"Were," Adam corrected quietly, closing his eyes. He hated that such a private moment – one of his last intimate moments with Jamie – had been violated by somebody else's presence. But it was their own fault; they were careless.
For a few long moments, Bates was quiet. "Jamie was a nice guy. I don't know how the hell a guy like him made it into the Marines, or why... but for what it's worth, I liked him."
"Yeah. Me too." Bates' words burned in Adam's chest, and he had to turn back toward the shadows to hide the quivering of his lip. "Y'know, nothing that you can say is going to make things better and I don't need you to pity me. I need you to leave me alone."
There was a slow sigh, and then the mattress creaked as Bates stood up. "Fine... but I'm going to need to take your sidearm, your handgun and whatever bladed weapons you carry."
"What?"
"Your weapons, Staff Sergeant." Bates stepped up beside him and held out his hand. "It is my opinion that you are in an unsuitable frame of mind to be carrying lethal weapons. I'd also advise you to take a walk down to Dr. Heightmeyer when you're feeling a little better."
It took a lot of effort to accept what Bates was suggesting, although he understood well enough. He turned further away, blinking frantically, as Bates crouched beside him. He finally seemed to notice that Adam was on the verge of tears, and licked his lips uncomfortably.
"Just for a while," he pressed on, his voice taking an awkwardly gentle inflection that made Adam want to laugh despite it all.
"I can't."
"Adam – "
"They're in my quarters. I was going to take a shower when... I – I just don't have them. I don't have anything."
Bates gazed at him, then rested a hand on his shoulder and squeezed. "I really am sorry."
"Please," Adam choked out desperately, humiliated and nauseous with the empty feeling inside of him, "Leave me alone." He couldn't stand the kindness. Not from Marc, of all people.
With another deep sigh, Bates stood up, hesitating for a moment before walking out of the room and leaving Adam to his grief again.
When he was sure Bates was gone, Adam tugged his legs beneath him and knelt up, pulling the top drawer of the chest beside the bed fully from its rack. Reaching into the empty space, he tugged out the bundle of things Jamie had made sure he knew he'd hidden there, behind an awkward ledge at the back. It was his photos, mostly, but there was a picture Lucy had drawn for him, and a goodbye letter from his mom, too. Adam had never read the letter, even though Jamie had said he could; but sometimes, when Jamie had been reading over it, he'd crawl into Adam's bed and demand to be cuddled until he fell asleep.
All the separate items were tied together in an old t-shirt from his high school football days, and Adam unwrapped them reverentially, feeling almost as though he was betraying Jamie's trust to do so. But Jamie wouldn't have made as much effort to ensure he knew where they were if he hadn't wanted to find them, if... when...
Adam took a stuttering gulp of air and bit his lip, trying not to start crying. Instead, he reached for the lamp on top of the chest of drawers and pressed the surface to turn it on. There was a rattling clink as he drew his arm away, and there, puddled on the floor, were Jamie's tags. They seemed so cold when he picked them up – almost frosted – and he couldn't believe that it had been less than a day since he had accidentally snapped the chain as his fingers caught in it in the heat of the moment.
His mouth seemed torn between a shaking bottom lip and a small, sad smile. It reminded him of being in Seattle – the night Jamie had told him he couldn't be a marine all the time. Jamie had been kneeling over him, all kisses and fingers and heavy breaths, and he'd studied Adam's tags as if he'd never seen them before. 'Take them off,' he'd ordered, pulling Adam's hand up to close around them, 'Show me you believe what I said.'
But Adam hadn't; believed him or taken the tags off. He'd refused, telling him it was stupid, and that he wasn't in the mood for playing games, and Jamie had stared at him – his eyes looked translucent green in the glow of the street light through the window, Adam could never forget that – and carefully, he had twined his fingers in the ball-chain and yanked it so it snapped. 'I'm not sharing you with Uncle Sam right now, Adam,' Jamie had said, leaning over and dropping them to the floor. He'd sounded so sincere.
When it started to get light, while Jamie was still asleep, he'd scrambled around for them on the parquet and fixed the chain. The next day, Jamie pretended not to notice.
In the silence of Jamie's quarters, Adam unhooked the smaller loop of chain, and reattached it around his own tags, then carefully placed the rest on the t-shirt. His hand moved to the thin stack of photographs – Jamie's mother, his sisters, the kids... a snap of he and Adam in arctic gear against a snowy backdrop, from McMurdo, Jamie squinting against the sun while Adam's eyes were shielded by snowglasses; one – to Adam's alarm – of Adam himself against pale blue cotton pillows, sucking his knuckles in his sleep, and for a moment he thought, 'I'll kill him!'.
It felt like a punch to the stomach.
Pushing the pictures away, unable to bring himself to look at them any more, he discovered a sheet of paper, folded in quarters, with his name printed on it in large capital letters. It was Jamie's handwriting; he'd have known that, even if there had been a chance that someone would leave him a note tucked away at the back of Jamie's furniture.
His hands were shaking, he realised, as he tried to unfold the sheet and make sense of the awkward scrawl upon it. The lump formed in his throat again as soon as he realised what Jamie had done. It was a farewell letter; a letter Jamie had written weeks – months – ago, the same night he had appeared in the corridor, dishevelled and shaken and begged Adam to come to his room and comfort him.
I guess this time I was the one who didn't make it... I'm sorry... should never have let me fly... just tell them I loved them, and that I'm sorry... I don't regret coming... I forgive you... you hate it when I get sappy on you... carry on... I love you like crazy... we don't go far from the people we care about... stop by and visit my momma's place... get in touch with your sister... you need your own family... love always... J.xx
It was too much to take in all at once. Jamie's pleas for him to get in touch his family – horrified at the idea that Adam might be alone – the very idea of... of ever finding anyone who could replace Jamie made Adam feel sick. How could he think for a second that Adam could ever be happy with someone who wasn't Jamie? It just didn't seem possible. It wasn't possible.
It was so painfully clear that this letter – these few peculiar possessions – were all he had of Jamie. He wished and wished for the picture of them on the porch steps, desperate for something convince him that he hadn't dreamed how happy they had been. But that must have been in Jamie's pocket, and he stood as much chance of seeing that again as he did of ever seeing Jamie.
He stayed there for hours, although it felt longer. It felt like an eternity. He was huddled in the corner between the bed and the chest of drawers when the alarm on his watch bleeped six o'clock. He should be up. He had duty. They were off-world, today.
It was almost as if he was on autopilot, scooping up Jamie's treasured bundle and wrapping it up to take with him. He paused at the door to give the room one last glance before closing it and making his way down to his quarters. Not many people were up at that time of morning, so the only person he passed was Biro, who squinted from behind her glasses and looked as though she was about to say something awkward. He ducked into his room without acknowledging her.
He felt numb and hollow, but he could still sense that someone had been there before him. The absence of his P90 and his Berretta confirmed it. Bates had taken them, just as he said he would.
Sighing, Adam peeled off his clothes and hauled himself into the shower, dazed by the sudden hot water on his stiff limbs. He hadn't moved for such a long time they had almost seized up. For a few minutes he just stood, staring at the white tiles as water trickled over his head and dripped from his eyelashes, trying to attach some sense, something more than numbness, to the knowledge that when he walked back on world that evening, there would be no one waiting for him. No one to tell him what a jerk Bates had been, or hound him to go to Weir and Sheppard and explain what was going on between them. There would be no one to sneak into his room in the middle of the night or petulantly demand affection for the sake of it. No one who would miss him or be particularly concerned if they were held up on the mission and didn't make it back on schedule.
Adam wondered what he would achieve by attempting anything other than to just sit and wait for his turn. As he raised his hands to push the wet hair back from his forehead and found himself gazing at the soft skin on the inside of his wrists.
I need you to promise me – cause Ill be watching, I swear – that you won't do nothing stupid... you've got to hold it together. Please.
He took a deep, sharp breath and turned off the water. He'd be late, if he wasn't careful.
Walking into the mess hall almost made his hackles rise. There were people there. Dieter Fauske almost jumped out of his seat to speak to him, and half of the room seemed to turn and stare at him. Swallowing the panic that rose in his chest as he realised they all knew, trying not to feel their eyes burning into his back, he made his way to the counter to collect his tray. He gazed at the spread and realised that there was nothing there he thought he could eat without throwing it back up straight away. It seemed strange – inappropriate – to carry on like this, to go about the usual things like sitting down for breakfast with the rest of the team, when Jamie never would again.
Slowly, he turned to gaze at them all, just as Fauske reached out to rest a hand on his shoulder.
"Come and sit with the guys."
Adam stared at him, not quite sure what the other marine had just said, for a moment. "No... no, I'm not hungry."
"Hey – Toto and Smitty were our guys, too. We already lost Parker – there's only three of us left from McMurdo, now. We need stick together, Stack."
All Adam could do was look down at the empty tray in his hands. Andy hadn't even crossed his mind.
"Listen: we all get it, okay? You and Jamie – you're... good friends. Very good friends. You liked him better than you like the rest of us. You go way back. Sure. Just don't go cutting yourself up over this, because when they call in your ticket, it's time to go. None of us could have changed what happened."
"You weren't there."
"I was there a couple of weeks ago when he chewed out the Master for being an asshole to you. Close: sure. You saw them get taken down: sure. But I know you've seen your guys bite it before, Stack – c'mon. Suck it up – get your ass to that table. Now."
"Fauz, you're my subordinate – "
"No, shit for brains, I'm your friend. Now go." Fauske pulled the tray out of his hands and tossed a couple of pieces of toast and some juice on to it, then pushed him towards the table where the others were sitting.
Adam slipped onto the end of the bench beside Williams and nodded stiffly at the others as they mumbled greetings and covert sympathies. Here, amongst so many of the others, Jamie was even more conspicuous by his absence. He'd grown to be Adam's security blanket in social situations, and now Adam had lost the knack of dealing with them by himself.
He was drawn out of his contemplation by a loud crackle of static that had most of the room clamping their hands over their ears. For a moment there was a snap of Czech, a little more static, and then the noise stopped again abruptly.
"They're working on the radio systems," Cooper complained, "every few minutes they fuck up and one room or other gets blasted over the tanoy. I can't escape it – it's driving me nuts."
"You won't be saying that when the fucking Wraith come knocking and you're crying for help," Benson noted, to a round of laughter that stopped abruptly when Fauske pointedly cleared his throat.
There was another short burst of static that made them all wince.
"So, um... Stack, are we going to be seeing a little more of you, now?"
Adam turned his gaze from the toast idly rotating in his hand, to the red-headed Texan beside him.
"I mean, now you don't have no one to run off and play favourites with: you going to join the squad again?"
Adam's heart pounded in his chest, assuming that Bates had told them what he knew. He waited for a moment for the taunts, for the callous comments about 'God' having his way, but they didn't come. Instead, Williams elaborated, "Markham never stopped being one of us. We've been starting to forget what you look like, though, Stack. I know the guy was pretty, but d'you really get sick of the sight of the rest of us so easily?"
One or two of the others chuckled and someone's boot collided with Adam's shin on it's way to Williams'.
"What?!" Williams asked indignantly. "I was kidding! I wasn't actually calling him a que –"
"Quit digging, Billy," Fauzzy warned, patting at his arm and giving him a significant look. Adam was already half out of his seat, though.
"Stack – I'm sorry, buddy, I didn't mean to piss you off –"
"C'mon, Stacks – "
Adam abandoned his tray and headed for the door, ignoring their calls. There was a sudden deafening crackle of static and Dr. Weir's voice boomed over the room for a moment.
"- ragic circumstances."
Dr. Beckett's voice followed, echoing so loudly it hurt, "Aye... aye. That poor lad was so completely smitten – worshipped the ground Adam walked on. I'd hate to think where we'd be if things had been the other way around."
The other way around? Worse than hearing Jamie's secrets blurted over the city so unceremoniously, they thought Adam didn't care?
"I hardly think the situation would be any better if roles were switched," Bates' voice replied coldly. "It is my opinion that, in actual fact, we are looking at the worst outcome that this situation could have brought. We could be looking at - "
There was a long moment of static and Adam kept walking. There was a deathly silence in the mess hall behind him.
"- leader of one of our teams as well as two well-liked members of our community."
"Oh no, son – that wasn't what I meant. I know for a fact that the affection was quite mutu – "
"Dr. Weir! Carson!" Zelenka's voice intruded, blasting over the tanoy in a panic. "Please be aware that we are experiencing small problem. You are presently speaking to whole of Atlantis."
For one dreadful second, the entire base fell silent. Adam turned and headed for the briefing room. Its occupants were just as quiet as the rest of the city, when he arrived, walking in without announcement but observing the courtesy of standing at attention until such time as he was told otherwise.
"Ma'am," he began before anyone could say anything, "I believe that I should be party to this discussion." It seemed the tanoy system was still on.
"Sergeant," Weir replied, her sympathetic smile a little too textbook for Adam's liking. "Perhaps now is not the best time to continue this conversation. I'd like to ensure a certain level of confidentiality that isn't going to be achieved while the radio system is malfunctioning."
"With all due respect, Ma'am, I don't seem to have a lot left to hide."
"Well," Sheppard interjected, grimacing, "I think that right now the last thing everyone needs is even more bad news. Why don't you head back down to your quarters – take a break – we'll give you a buzz when things are figured out up here."
Adam felt his jaw tighten, "Sir – "
"Perhaps we should move to your office, Elizabeth," Beckett suggested quietly.
"My office has glass walls, I'm not sure that it would be any more appropriate than where we are." She turned to Adam and addressed him directly again. "Sgt. Stackhouse, did you sleep at all, last night? You seem exhausted."
"I'm fine, ma'am."
"I'm not quite sure I agree. Maybe Maj. Sheppard's advice is the wisest for the time being. We can discuss this when you're feeling better."
"Ma'am," he began, swallowing his pride along with a helpless sob, "I don't see such a time arising. Everybody seems to be aware that I lost more than a close friend, yesterday, and right now I will take any excuse I can to get away from the city and keep occupied."
The looks of pity on their faces were accompanied by a final burst of static and Zelenka's grim voice announcing, "Dr. Weir, the problem is temporarily resolved. We will continue to address this issue later." And then there was silence once more.
"Ma'am – Sir – I do not want to withdraw from normal duties, especially not at a time like this. The first things I would assume we need to do – to secure the alphasite, for example – those are responsibilities which usually fall to my team. I can not let them, or the city down."
"Adam, nobody is questioning your ability to lead your team – "
"With all due respect, Dr. Weir, ma'am," Adam cut in, not looking at Bates, "If that was the case, my weapons would not have been confiscated."
"Standard procedure," Bates muttered, not meeting anyone's eye as his scowled at the table top.
"If I'd wanted to do that, I have plenty of bootlaces, sheets, shaving materials, a utility knife and access to kitchen utensils which would have sufficed. Not to mention access to the armoury, and potentially, the weapons of other members of the expedition, Gunnery Sergeant."
"Sounds like you've thought it through."
"I have been a marine for over a decade, I didn't have to think about it."
"Adam, son," Beckett began, folding his hands on the table and giving him one of his painfully sympathetic looks, "Maybe a chat with Dr. Heightmeyer would assuage everybody's concerns. You have suffered a rather significant loss; it'd be understandable if you were feeling slight off kilter for a wee while."
"I'd say a long while," Sheppard added, one eyebrow arched as he nodded slowly, turning a pen over in his fingers, "Given what I seem to be learning, here."
"Maj. Sheppard, sir, I understand your obligations in light of this information, but I am prepared to serve as usual while we stand to be attacked by the Wraith. I wish to. We know they're coming, sir – I'm sure we'll need all hands on deck – but I am..." Adam trailed off, realising that if this happened, he was losing literally everything he had in the space of twenty-four hours. Regardless, he cleared his throat and continued, "I am prepared to accept discharge – honourable or otherwise – for my behaviour, as is customary or deemed fit in the circumstances. Although I understand that I don't have much choice, either way, sir."
"Finicky rules aren't exactly what concerns me, right now," Sheppard informed him, slowly. "I just think you should get checked out, get some rest, and let command decide what we need to do."
Adam gave a small sigh and nodded, "Yes, sir." Nobody seemed to be taking him seriously.
The entire control room was watching him when he left. No one said a word, but the weight of the atmosphere was suffocating. The corridors were mostly empty and no one stopped to talk to him; he was almost back to his quarters when Fauske's voice called his name. He didn't stop, just kept on walking without even breaking pace. There were lead weights in the pit of his stomach, certain that the support the other marine had offered that morning would be retracted. When Fauske's hand closed over his shoulder, Adam didn't even bother raising his hands in self-defence. He couldn't care less if they broke his nose or put him in the infirmary, and it wasn't as if he had his own gun to paint any more.
And he wasn't going to deny him, even if by some miracle the entire base wasn't amply clear on the details, there was no way he could bring himself to deny what Jamie meant to him. So he stood and raised his eyes to meet the taller marine's defiantly, and found a sadness he hadn't anticipated.
One hand fisted in the shoulder of Adam's jacket, the other clasped on to the side of his face to make sure he didn't look away. "Chrissakes, Stack!" he huffed frustratedly, patting his cheek briefly and gripping both his shoulders instead, "You sure know how to make your life difficult, man."
Adam just looked at him.
"You know, half the ladies on this base got their hearts broke yesterday – we're going to have them all just jumping off the balconies, now!" Fauske told him with an awkward laugh.
"What?"
"Well, between you, Toto and our blond-and-blue baby Andy you had just about all the girls without an officer fetish clawing each other's eyes out."
"We what?"
"Well, I guess it just means more for everyone else, now they ain't hankering after none of you."
Adam pushed Fauske's hands away and headed for his door, but found himself grasped by the arm, this time.
"Hey, listen: don't go hiding away again because the fact is, you don't have Jamie here to take care of you anymore and most of the guys aren't going to help you unless you help yourself. But mostly, what I'm saying is – it's okay. Far as we're concerned, none of that conversation up there ever happened."
There was a little relief, at first, but instead of accepting, Adam shook his head. "No. No – Jay... He wanted people to know. I promised him. And now he got his wish."
"Adam, Jamie's gone. You're not gonna – "
"I owe it to him, okay? Just leave me alone."
Most of the next eight hours were spent staring at his ceiling. He snatched a few minutes sleep, here and there, always waking to the feel of an invisible, crushing weight across his chest as the truth of what had happened returned to him. He couldn't seem to get warm, even when he kicked off his boots and wrapped himself in his blanket. In the end he stopped trying and dragged the small bundle of possessions he had taken from Jamie's room off of the bedside cabinet and unwrapped them. One by one, he took the pictures out and propped them along the ridge that ran around the walls of the room, a foot above his headboard. Even the one of Jamie's family. The only one he hid was the one of himself sleeping in Jamie's bed at the farm; he kept one of them from McMurdo, sitting on the worn brown couch, and carefully tore away the half which featured Walters, Jonesy and Corby, before slipping it into his breast pocket.
Jamie was laughing in the photograph, arm stretched out down the back of the seats; Adam's chin dipped to his chest, holding something small in his hand out of Jamie's reach. It seemed such a long time ago. It was, he supposed. The red digital numbers burned into the edge of the shot showed that it was more than a year and a half before.
All Adam had had to lose then was a career.
Funny, how things changed.
Standing up, he took the folded piece of paper with his name on, and made for the door. He couldn't stay here, all day.
Walking into Jamie's room felt strange. Nothing had moved since he left, but it felt different. Adam opened the blinds to allow some late afternoon light to filter in through the window and the door to the small balcony Jamie had been lucky enough to have. He stood between the desk and the bed and gazed around at the scattered possessions and dust particles dancing in beams of sunlight. It didn't feel empty. He'd expected the room to feel as hollow and cold as he did, the long hours he'd spent there after they returned to the city the day before, confused and dreamlike. It didn't seem real.
Without really knowing why, he found himself stooping to pick up some of the clothes dumped on the floor the last time they'd been here together. He folded them meticulously and piled them on the corner of the desk, before turning his attention to the still unmade bed. He wondered, distantly, if he should launder the sheets, but that felt too much like washing away what they had, so he neatly made the bed, running his hand wistfully over the pillow. Smoothing away the dip from which Jamie had smiled sleepily and mumbled, 'I love you' maybe thirty-six hours ago.
Jamie grinned like a cat, sunning himself in the rays of late morning Seattle sunshine, "I'm staying right here all day."
"Oh, you are, huh?" Adam asked, turning back the covers and moving to climb out of bed.
"I sure am. And you are, too. I'm your guest, after all."
"And what if I don't want to?"
Jamie crawled over, wrapping warm arms around Adam's shoulders and across his bare chest, dotting kisses to the back of his neck, "Then I'll have to change your mind..."
He hadn't failed. They whiled the day in what Jamie referred to as 'eiderdown sin', giggling like a teenage girl and relishing what he thought made them free. Whatever else they were, they were happy, and that was all that had mattered.
Adam was beginning to feel the energy sapping out of him, again. He sank down onto the bed and tugged the pillow on to his lap, before pulling out the letter from his pocket. This time, he took more time to study it; the spelling mistakes and the childlike happiness over Adam's confession of his feelings. The way how, in his final statement – Love always, Jxx – 'always' was underlined so many times the ink had almost seeped through the paper.
"Oh, Jay..." he murmured, surprised when he realised he'd uttered the words out loud. But it felt good. It felt good to speak to him again, even if he wasn't there. So, glancing at the door to make sure no one was listening, he continued, "Jamie... God, Jamie, I'm so sorry. It should have been me. I'd... well, if you're still around, like you always said you would be, then I just want to tell you that I'd give anything – anything at all – to have you back..." He paused, taking a breath and trying to ignore the feeling in his stomach that told him he was cracking up. Talking to his dead boyfriend; only crazy people thought they could speak to the dead.
"I'm going to miss you so much, Jay. You're the best thing that ever happened to me... The only person who ever took the time to think about me instead of what they wanted of me, and I just don't see the – the point in being here if I can't have you with me." He stopped again, taking a breath to clear the lump in his throat. "Y'know, Bates thinks I'm going to shoot myself the first chance I get... Truth be told, it doesn't sound like all that bad an idea. But I know you'd be so pissed if I did and... right now they need every pair of hands they can find, around here.
"You know I never believed we'd get home – looks a whole lot less like it, now the Wraith are coming – but I promise, if I ever get there, I'll tell your mom what really happened. I'll tell her how you tried so hard to protect us – and – and you know it worked, because the dart..."
He stopped again, pressing the back of his hands to his mouth as the sight of smoke and fire, and the sound of tiny pellets of debris rose unbidden to his mind. "Jesus."
There was no time to carry on, as a quiet knock at the door interrupted his thoughts. A moment later, it slid open to reveal Marc, leaning against the wall and gazing at him with carefully measured concern.
"Hey."
"What do you want?"
"Just checking you're okay. Beckett was looking for you."
Adam sighed and stood up, shoving the letter back into his pocket and putting the pillow back in its place. "I'm fine."
"You sure?"
"What did Beckett want?"
"Are you sure, Adam?"
"You mean aside from the fact that Jamie's dead?"
Bates seemed taken aback by the bluntness of the statement, and simply stared at him.
"I promise not to blow my brains out on your watch; that make you feel better?"
Ignoring the obviously facetious comment, Bates moved into the room and picked up the velcro patches from the desk top, where Adam had put them, and simply said, "If you want to take it out on me, that's fine. But you know where to find me when you stop being an asshole.
"Beckett's in the infirmary. You should go see him. I want you on duty for tomorrow."
He was gone before Adam really had a chance to register what had happened.
Beckett seemed miles away, when Adam walked into his office. He sat at his desk, staring pensively into the middle distance, one hand fisted against his mouth; but he still offered him a weary smile when he saw Adam had arrived.
"Bates said you wanted to see me," he said without preamble. Just looking at Beckett reminded him of the attack and the argument and of yesterday and the moment in the jumper bay when Adam had almost been in the same jumper as Jamie.
"Aye, son, I do," Beckett said, standing up and picking up his stethoscope, ushering him back into the infirmary proper. "I just wanted to give you a wee check up and pass you for off-world activity in the morning. They'll be sending you out again, I hear."
Beckett patted the gurney nearest the door and Adam climbed on to it, trying to ignore the fact it was the same one that Jamie had sat on to have his broken arm cast.
"Lucky me."
"Could you just take off your jacket for me, please? Thanks." Beckett paused for a moment, staring at the tags around Adam's neck until Adam remembered he had put Jamie's on there and stuffed them inside his t-shirt. "How are you holding up, son?"
The earnestness in the doctor's blue eyes made him flinch and look away, but he began to understand how Jamie had found himself opening up to him so easily. "Well, I've been better," Adam confessed, trying for a smile and instead giving what he was quite sure was a grimace.
"You know that yeh don't have to just carry on as if nothing's happened, don't you? People understand. You've everyone's sympathy just at the moment."
"I don't want people's sympathy – I want Jamie back."
Beckett concentrated on putting the strap of the blood pressure monitor around Adam's arm, although his hands stilled for a moment when Adam spoke. "Everybody's going to miss the lad; I don't think you realise how popular he was."
"I do. He was like the fucking mascot for this expedition. Everyone loved sweet, baby-faced Sgt. Markham – even the Athosian kids. But he wasn't a mascot to me."
"He used to come and see me quite a lot, for a while. I think he just wanted someone to talk to," Beckett said, his soft Scots voice sounding sad and thoughtful. "You're all he ever spoke about. He mentioned his family, once or twice, but mostly it was just you. He came all the way out here because of you, didn't he?"
"It's my fault..."
"No – not at all, son. I didn't know Jamie as well as you, but I know that's not the way he'd want you to think. You can't blame yourself for this, Adam."
"He was so happy..." It didn't take any effort at all to visualise Jamie's face in the jumper bay when they arrived back from the mainland, glowing with contentment and overflowing with such affection. "He wanted to tell everyone so bad, but I always said no because I was so sure they'd take him away from me. Yesterday... yesterday we were supposed to tell Sheppard and Weir, and then, a soon as we decide to do that, he was taken away from me. It sure feels like my fault, even if it sounds a little crazy."
"Adam, I was there. No one could have prevented that happening the way it did – nobody could even see the dart coming."
"But – "
"Adam, son: you are not responsible for what happened. Not even a little bit. You meant everything to him, and he would not want you thinking like this. Pull yourself out of it, lad, and do Jamie's memory proud. He died protecting the rest of us, now you do the same and don't let such a young life be wasted."
But the seeds of guilt had already been planted.
It was a few days later, all of which had been spent scouring the alphasite for a suitable spot for a base camp, that Adam returned to Atlantis and was met at the door to his quarters by Bates. Adam walked in without saying anything, stripping off his assault vest and dropping it on the bed before simply asking, "What?"
Bates gave a frustrated sigh but said only, "Lt. Ford's working a project to get messages home. I thought you might want to know."
"Why's that? You, of all people, ought to know I don't have anyone to send a message to."
"I thought Jamie's family might prefer to hear it from you. Weir's recording her own messages, but I know that if it was my son, I'd want to hear it from the person he thought enough of to leave everything behind for."
When Adam turned around to ask what had been important enough for Bates to leave his family for, the other marine was already gone.
Aiden seemed to be finding it hard to meet Adam's eye, when he walked in. He'd barely seen the lieutenant since before it had happened, and they certainly hadn't been shut in a confined space together since Jamie died. Ford just gestured to the seat in front of the camera and began to twist at apertures and the tiny screen as if he wanted to do anything but engage Adam in conversation.
"What do you want me to do?" Adam asked him, taking a deep breath and sitting down.
"Just... all you have to do is say your message when the red light comes on."
He'd been thinking about what he wanted to say for the past hour, but nothing seemed to fit or do Jamie – or his family – the justice they deserved. Sitting there, suddenly challenged with explaining everything, the words disappeared altogether.
"Lynn, Jimmy... everyone," he swallowed and rubbed his thumbs over the folded piece of paper he clutched in his hands. "I'm not the person you probably want to hear from, but I'm afraid... Jamie can't do this himself." The lump in his throat seemed to come out of nowhere. "I'm so, so sorry to have to tell you this – more than you could ever know – but a few days ago, Jamie was... Jammy... was killed trying to defend everyone else here.
"I can't tell you what I would give to trade places with him, or how much I wish I had made him stay – on Ear... Kansas. How much I wish I'd made him stay in Kansas. It's all I've been able to think of since... I just wish so hard that I had never taken him from you. For what it's worth, he didn't suffer. It – it all just happened in a second; he was just gone."
He stopped, taking a moment to compose himself; Aiden looked at him for a second and his eyes seemed wide and damp before he nodded and turned to slip from the room.
"Jammy wanted you to know how much he loved you – especially Lucy. I know he'd have given anything to be back there with you all and that he missed you real bad. I hope... I hope that one day you can forgive me for taking him away from you. I don't think I can.
"Things are looking kind of bleak for us, right now. More and more like none of us will be home again – not that I guess it matters, now. So take care of each other, and God bless."
He was still sitting there when Aiden peeked around the door a few minutes later. "Adam? Are you done?" he asked, his usually excitable voice heavy.
Staring at his hands, Adam started to nod, but realised he still had one thing left to do. "Wait – no. No, I have one more." He cleared his throat and addressed the camera again, "Maggie: it's... well, it's me. I hope you're alright. I just wanted to say I miss you and that I hope you settled into the apartment okay. Things here... well. We lost Jamie. Just about sums it up... I don't have anything else to tell you. Just be safe and be happy and if I never see you again – you were a great little sister. I'm sorry I didn't appreciate you more... Goodbye."
Walking out into the corridor, Adam's insides were coiled in knots. He was so close to tears he ducked his head and prayed that no one would try to talk to him on the way back to his quarters, because he didn't think he could get through a conversation without humiliating himself. He wasn't quick enough.
He has just stepped into the transporter when Marc appeared. He tried to pretend he wasn't there, at first, not returning his greeting, but Bates was having none of it.
"This information does not leave these four falls, Staff Sergeant," Bates said, staring fixedly at the wall ahead of him. "When I was seventeen years old my hero was my brother, Anthony. You remind me of him in certain ways. But you see, Anthony was killed in the Gulf when I was still at school. It's on record as an accident, but no one ever could explain the boot marks. So next time you find yourself thinking of me as a mean son of a bitch who only wanted to make life hard for you – you think about that, okay? Maybe you'll understand a little better and you can stop being so goddamn angry."
A moment later, the doors opened and Bates walked away.
Standing in the infirmary, staring at the tubes and machinery keeping Marc alive, just a couple of days later, it was all Adam could think of.
All too soon, finding the time to think at all became a luxury. Against all odds, Earth made contact and there seemed to be hope. But not for Adam. The messages had been what brought them to Pegasus – his messages to Jamie's family and Maggie, gave him away even if no one in the expedition would. When this was over they'd take him back to Earth and deal with him; throw him out of the USMC and prove what a failure and a let down he had been all along.
But they were losing. The Wraith had arrived and were pouring into the city like a plague; not even Earth could save them from this. There didn't seem to be anything left to save, for Adam.
He tore at Fauzzy's grip, trying to get away, trying to get back and face the monster who had taken everything from him. He didn't stop struggling until the sounds of gunshots rang out down the corridors from the brig, telling them both that it was too late. Sheppard had exacted a revenge of his own.
All he'd wanted was a chance to take revenge for Jamie. For himself. For Marc and Andy. For the families of all those who had lost their children and their loved ones since they had arrived on Atlantis. Until that moment, Adam held it together; he'd made himself carry on until the only thing holding him together was a pain that ran through him like razor wire.
But as Fauzzy released the armlock he held him in, it was as if someone had cut his strings. Sinking to the floor right where he was, he cried like he'd never stop.
They were supposed to be in teams, but Adam had turned a corner and suddenly found himself alone. He turned back, but the corridor was deserted. His heart raced. Every movement he made seemed deafening; the rustle of his uniform, the squeak of his boots on the metal floors... The Wraith were everywhere. They had already seen the corpses of others – brittle husks in marpat, identifiable only by their tapes. Having to step over the shrivelled bodies of his team mates and friends was harder on Adam now than it ever had been. Watching the way they had rallied around him, closing rank and protecting him from the looks of the new marines they had drafted in, he'd realised how wrong he had been and regretted not trusting them as much as he regretted never apologising to Marc before it was too late.
Ahead of him, as he turned into another corridor, he saw a balcony. Maybe six other marines manned artillery there, and he broke into a run, sprinting towards them only to skid to a stop a moment later, crashing backwards and whacking his head on the floor so that he almost blacked out. The balcony was empty. In one sweep the entire squad was gone.
For a minute, he sat where he was, gazing at the deserted guns in front of him. Two seconds later and he would have been snatched with them. Crawling on to his feet, leaning against the wall for support as the city whirled ominously around him, Adam set off back the way he had come. He felt like the nightmare had begun when Jamie was killed, and only now was it reaching its climax. He'd never been this afraid in combat, not once.
It was growing clear that he was concussed, as he stumbled into a stairwell somewhere towards the East of the central complex of spires. He couldn't work out where, exactly, but aside from the distant sound of shellfire, it was quiet. He felt nauseous and his legs kept trying to crumple beneath him, so he sat huddled in a corner for a few minutes, trying to draw some strength together to move on again.
Suddenly, he heard voices echoing down the corridor below – voices that he recognised.
"Billy?" he shouted, reaching for the handrail to pull himself to his feet again, relief at no longer being alone giving him more strength that he'd thought he had. "Williams, is that you?"
"STACK?" It was Fauske's voice that responded, instantly followed by the sound of boots thudding on metal; but a second after that there were two soft shwoomps and the unmistakeable sound of bodies falling limply to the ground.
Adam froze.
Replacing the sounds of his friends' footfalls were the thunderous strides of a Wraith. They were unmistakeable, solid and confident and they even rang with the sound of doom doom doom.
His fingers tightened around his P90 until they hurt, terror creeping up his spine until he was sure his knees would fail and pitch him down the steps. He raised the gun, ready to fire, not even sure how many bullets he had left, and waited for the Wraith to appear. A second later, there it was, hissing at him as it paused at the foot of the stairs. Adam pulled the trigger to open fire – he had the advantage of the higher ground, it was just one Wraith and he held a defensible position – but nothing happened. The firing mechanism was jammed and there was no way this particular weapon would function again until it was replaced.
Panicking, Adam dropped the P90 and scrambled for the Berretta in his thigh holster, wondering, hollowly, if Jamie had felt this fear as he saw the dart ahead of them. He fired and fired but with each shot, the Wraith merely took another step towards him.
"Why do you resist?" it rasped, mockingly. "Do you wish to see your race in ruins when we are finished?"
Adam closed his eyes and just continued shooting until the gun gave the dull, stomach-lurching click of an emptied magazine.
"I smell your fear."
There was another magazine – maybe two – stashed in his vest, but Adam didn't reach for them. It was too late, now, anyway. They were losing – there wasn't a thing left for him to fight for, even if he escaped. So he opened his eyes, and tossed the Berretta away. He would do this on his terms; he could already feel himself growing drowsy, his knees becoming more and more unsteady.
I'm sorry, Jamie.
"I will savour your foolish resistance, Lantian," it told him, reaching the top step, just arm's distance away.
But Adam blacked out before it ever touched him, distantly aware of someone reaching for his hand.
Just a quick note to say that an enormous thank you to everyone who has beta'd this fic - but mostly to
shiny_starlight who has been simply awesome.Thanks, also, to everyone who has taken the time to leave reviews and comments for the fic - I did keep them all when I deleted my Wraithbait account - at risk of sounding cliche: it makes it worth it to know that people are enjoying the fics.
I know this is a very, very dark way to close, but the story of Adam and Jamie isn't quite finished.
shiny_starlight and I have had another project in the pipeline for a few months, now, so watch this space.I'd also really like to thank anyone who nominated Pieces for the Stargate Fan Awards. I'm honoured. Seriously.
AK.x.