Blood Ties

Chapter thirty-two

The echoes of gunfire reflecting off stone created a continuous roar in the caverns, while countless muzzle flashes gave the area a strobe effect. John had no idea who was winning and could barely bring himself to care anymore. All he could think was that he'd survived Afghanistan, Iraq, and the Pegasus Galaxy only to bleed out in a damned tourist attraction in the most benign place on Earth.

The first bullet had destroyed his shoulder, shattering bones and rendering his shooting arm useless. As he'd attempted to orient himself through a haze of blinding pain, he'd left himself open to another, more critical strike. It had slammed him against the cave wall, folding his legs underneath him before he could even react.

Staring up at the jagged ceiling, he came to the realization that each breath he pulled in brought more searing agony and progressively less air. He choked on a cough, and the sharp, metallic taste in his mouth confirmed what he already feared. He'd flown enough med-evac missions to recognize a lung shot.

Almost as a formality, he raised a shaky hand to his side, knowing he couldn't get enough pressure to do any good.

Dimly he heard a voice shout his name over the clamor, and suddenly Rebecca was leaning over him with a horrified, conflicted expression. "God," she whispered, ineffectually lifting her hands toward the first wound and then the second.

John wanted to tell her not to waste her time, but all he could force out was "Don't…"

"I can heal this," she said with a determined tone, nevertheless looking utterly overwhelmed. "I–I'm not sure how, but I know I can."

His vision dimming around the edges, he could only lie there as she centered her hand on his chest and closed her eyes.

Abruptly, she was shoved aside, and Anata dropped to her knees beside John. "Not you," the Watcher shouted at Rebecca. "You must live-everything depends on it. Run!"

"I…" Rebecca looked down at John again, and some of the indecision seemed to clear from her face. "This is who I am," she said quietly, to herself as much as to him. "This is what I'm meant to do."

"I know," he managed to say, using what little air he could draw in. "It's okay. Go."

Touching his uninjured shoulder briefly, she rose, and soon she had disappeared from view. John exhaled on a pathetic, rasping groan and let consciousness drift.

He barely felt Anata's hand on his chest. Within moments, though, a flood of adrenaline and endorphins snapped his eyes open. His lungs suddenly clear and whole, he sucked in an unsteady breath. To his dismay, Anata's hair had faded to snow-white in a matter of seconds, and her features began to wither as she channeled her life into him.

She couldn't keep this up; he could sense her weariness. She'd given much of what she had to spare the first time she'd saved him, and this time he was worse off. If she stopped now-if she only healed him most of the way-she might live long enough for one of the others to restore her. But she wasn't stopping.

John couldn't let her make that sacrifice. He gathered every scrap of his renewed strength and pushed her away. The force hardly budged her, but it was enough to break the connection. He rolled onto his side and spat the residual blood that had coated his throat onto the cave floor. Even that small motion took a concerted effort, and he lay back, panting.

Anata shook her head, her ageless gaze making it clear that she knew what he'd been trying to do. "Foolish child," she said, looking at him almost fondly. "Be still."

"Why?" he asked simply, certain she'd understand the question. Out of all the people dying in this place, why save me?

Without answering, she reached for him again. The fire in his shoulder cooled, and he felt almost-

An AK-47 report sounded, close by, and Anata slumped forward over him.

No, damn it!

John scrambled up onto his elbows as an incubus stalked toward him, gun raised.

Just then a lyrical, familiar voice reverberated through the chamber, cutting through the weapons fire.

Teyla?

Strangely enough, the haunting melody seemed to be having an effect on the battle. All around, cambion-followers of Lilith and Ninlil alike-began to collapse. The incubus who had shot Anata reared back, as if someone had buried a knife between his shoulder blades, and dropped to the floor. Scattered screams split the air, quickly dissolving into feeble moans.

After a grisly few moments had passed, Teyla's voice was the sole remaining sound. John pulled himself fully upright, moved Anata's body gently to the floor, and did a quick selfcheck. The Watcher, for whatever inexplicable reason, had done what she'd set out to do; he was fine. He was also-as far as he could tell-the only person still alive in the cavern.