Team Ryan: If You Love Something, Let it Go [6/6]
Cradle of Civilization





The boys had maybe had a little too much fun dressing the Earth team up, but even so they could barely be told apart once it was done. Especially when everyone's hoods were pulled up and lighter hair, eyes and complexions were hidden. Brendon had argued for as long as he dared but Ryan and Skaara had both shot his attempts down without remorse until he caved and agreed to stay behind with Nafretiri and two boys whom Skaara had assigned the duty of watching over his brother and niece. Spencer and Ryan, who would both have preferred to stay behind, were both needed – one for language skills and one for medical skills as well as having more combat training and experience than the boys – to come along and were given no choice in the matter by Walker.

"Remember," Walker told the team as they trudged through the desert. "We can't know for sure if this is all just some elaborate trap, but it might be the only chance we're going to get. So we go in, no hesitation, but I want you to keep your eyes open and your fingers on the triggers."

When the chorus of 'yes, sir' was over, Ryan quickly translated, and all the boys nodded, grinning. Elation and excitement was clear in their eyes. None of them showed even a hint of fear, and somehow it made Ryan sad. Didn't they see that the chances all of them were still alive tonight were close to null? But perhaps they did. Skaara, at least, was intelligent enough to. The thought of their people being free after ten thousand years of slavery maybe just outweighed it. After all, they still thought of themselves as parts of a group rather than the individualists humans on Earth had evolved into.

Finally one of the boys signaled them, and they joined him on the top of a dune, staying low to remain out of sight. And yes, that would've been quite hard to miss. Rather than a small group carrying the load of rocks as Ryan would've expected, at least a hundred people formed a caravan, walking in a tight ring around what he could only assume was the load. They were probably there to be cannon fodder, or to be used as hostages in the eventuality of an attack. The thought made him sick to his stomach.

After they'd spotted the group it was a question of hurrying across the desert, unseen, until they were close enough to blend in with the rear end of the caravan and start slowly working their way towards the center. It took the better part of an hour to do so surreptitiously, but at long last they were only feet behind the merely two guards. Out of the corners of his eyes, Ryan watched as Walker and Marlowe, under the cover of their sand-colored cloaks, aimed their guns.

There was no fight, just the sounds of two guns being fired at the exact same fraction of a second, and then the two guards lying on the ground. People were screaming around him, frightened and shocked, and everything was turning into chaos. Then, fearless as always, Skaara pushed his hood back, and people slowly calmed - at least a little - at the sight of him. Ryan could suddenly see that it was more than the family he had been born into that would one day make Skaara the leader of these people, possibly of the whole planet, provided Ra was taken out of the equation.

A moment later someone else had thrown his hood back and the rage and fear and disappointment stood out starkly on Kasuf's weathered features as he looked at his second-born. "My son," he stated, sadness and disappointment heavy in the tone of his voice. "You will bring ruin to us all."

"Father," Skaara yelled back, hope and anger prominent in his eyes. "We will not live as slaves anymore!" And as though to show their support, the rest of the boys pulled back their hoods, staring defiantly at the men that were the family and neighbors and friends they had grown up with. Ryan slowly followed, as well as the other members of the Earth team.

Kasuf flashed Ryan an utterly disappointed look before dropping to his knees, bowing his head and starting to pray.

Impotent fury grew more and more clear on Skaara's face, going as far as to bring tears to his eyes. "What do you get out of humiliating yourself to the monsters who have imprisoned us for longer than anyone remembers?" he screamed, wiping angrily at his face. "Father, why?" He seemed to suck in a deep breath, steadying himself. "You are a grandfather, Kasuf. Would you have your son's daughter grow up a slave too, someone for them to toss around and control and work until she is bone-weary and old long before her time, like you are?"

Biting his lip, Ryan decided it was time for interference of some kind. Skaara might be making a good point, but Kasuf's fear still had the best of him. He walked up to one of the guards and crouched down. "Kasuf!" he yelled. "Take a look at your Gods." Then he reached in and pushed down the button, watching as the headgear retracted, leaving behind a bare, entirely human face. Sure, Ryan knew the man wasn't exactly human, but Kasuf only knew what he saw. "Take a good, long look."

Kasuf gaped, as did everyone else who wasn't a part of their group, and after a moment the tribe leader rose back on his feet, his eyes wide and his face a little wild. He stared for so long that Ryan was scared he was going to cry sacrilege, but a moment later the old man walked up close, and spat on the corpse. It was a fight to keep that shit-eating grin off his face in that moment. Then the leader turned his gaze back to Ryan. "What do you need, my son?" he asked, and Ryan looked over and caught Skaara's grin, finally giving in and returning it with one of his own.



Their spy and one of his allies had met up with them closer to the ship, pretending to be the original, dead, guards, and now they were fast approaching, hoods over their heads again. Kasuf and a few of his men had left them a while ago, going back to the City and sending messengers to the villages. The Gods were only human, and the slaves would no longer be slaves. Hopefully they could expect a regular peasant army within an hour or two at the most.

"He will have sent the weapon down to the Gate in preparation of receiving the last load," their spy, clad as Horus to match one of the dead guards this time, stated softly into Ryan's ear. "This is your one chance to intercept it."

Ryan nodded, sucking in a deep breath as he covertly made his way back to Walker and repeated the message in English, to which the colonel only nodded and grinned widely – perhaps the most animated Ryan had ever seen him. "Ready for this?" Ryan asked a moment later, before chuckling and shaking his head with a small eye-roll. "I forgot," he muttered. "You're always ready for something that might get you killed."

To his great surprise, Walker actually chuckled along. "You're not so bad, Ryan Ross," he stated after a while. "Educated or not." Then he took a deep breath, pausing for a moment as he shifted his grip on one of the carrying beams of wood under the load of rocks. "If this doesn't turn out the way we want it to, Ryan," he started, his face looking a whole lot more serious all of a sudden. "It was a pleasure to get to know you."

Ryan swallowed down a sudden lump in his throat, looking down for a moment. "Likewise," he finally said, looking up. "Jon." He smiled grimly. "And don't be in too much of a hurry to die. We both know I'm not worth anything in a fight, and if I kick the bucket someone has to look after my daughter." He winked, pushing down the sudden fear that he really might never see Nafretiri again.

Walker – Jon? – laughed, shaking his head. "Is this where you ask me to be her Godfather even though the whole world knows that Spencer is your closest friend here, and maybe ever?"

Shrugging slightly, Ryan looked back down on his aching, bare feet. "Spencer hasn't had kids," he stated softly. "And Spencer lives for helping anybody. If I die and have given you responsibility for my daughter, I know you'd put her before anything."

Jon was silent for a while before nodding, almost gravely. "In that case, I'm honored, Ryan."

Ryan smiled softly before nodding at the colonel and taking a deep breath, looking up at the pyramid that was looming in front of them. "Let's do this, then," he finally stated.

The colonel nodded and gave a brisk, fake smile. "Let's," he agreed. And with that they ascended the stairs up to the pyramid. As they came under the scrutiny of new guards, everyone kept their heads low, making sure their hoods covered everything. Still, the guard seemed almost overly suspicious, especially seeing as how they hadn't dared enter the pyramid proper for months.

The first person to get his hood pulled violently back was, luckily, one of the boys who managed to look just confused enough, but the guard didn't stop there. He moved on, and got Skaara, who was also not recognized as anyone special. It took three more boys for him to reach Jon and pull his hood back.

The colonel, though, merely smirked and pulled the safety off his gun. Then he rose it and took aim. "Hey, how y'all doing, eh?" he asked, and Ryan almost groaned at how far he'd come from succeeding to convince the man that getting himself killed wasn't a good idea. A moment later, though, a shot was heard, and the guard was on the floor, entirely dead.

Ryan immediately lifted his own gun and fired at the second guard, several times in quick succession, until he watched the masked alien fall, almost as though through a black-white filter, the blood on his chest supplying the only bits of color. The disbelief that he'd actually hit stayed with him for longer than he would've liked.

The spy turned to Ryan, muscles tensed even though his expression was hidden under his mask. "This is as far as we can take you," he stated, deep voice rumbling. "You are now on your own." A moment later both he and his ally were gone and Ryan felt a moment's anger before he let it go. At least they were inside.

Moments later another number of guards showed up, and suddenly the air was filled with shots. Ryan was firing in confusion, trying desperately to get his aim right and stay out of the course of the opponents' rays at the same time. He watched in horror as one, then two, then three of the boys fell to the ground in midst of the chaos, their fall seeming to happen in slow-motion, and the thuds when they hit the ground resounding even over the noise of the fight. And Ryan never stopped firing, even when it was just empty clicks making their way to his ears.

Suddenly, just as Ryan regained the presence of mind to actually change the clip in his gun and get back into the fight, ducking out of the way of yet another ray, he heard a low rumble behind him and cast a brief glance over his shoulder. The exit was being closed, sealed off, leaving the rest of their group and the people from the caravan stuck out in the open, unable to help the small group that had gone in first, and unable to help themselves.

Ryan heard a voice, distinctly Marlowe's, yell from outside, and knew that everyone was rushing to get inside in time, but when he saw one of the guards take aim at the entrance and send a blast that way, causing a resounding explosion, he knew they weren't going to make it in. Moments later the gate fell shut with a thunk, and his suspicions were confirmed. Their reinforcements locked out and they'd have no choice but to attempt to do this on their own.

Jon, a look of cold fury on his face, raised the beam weapon he had picked up somewhere, probably when his clip ran empty, and an angry Jon Walker was one scary son of a bitch. Ryan felt himself recoil even though he was on the same side as the man. Seconds later four guards were lying dead on the floor, smoking holes through their chests or heads, and the remaining ones were falling back a little.

Almost simultaneously they could hear a blast outside and the floor shook with the force of it. Ryan bit down on his lip hard enough to taste blood. It had to be one of those 'deathgliders' the boys had told them about. Airborne weapons manned by a single guard, perfectly maneuverable and deadly in its precision. Squeezing his eyes shut for a moment, Ryan could do nothing but to hope and pray that the people outside figured out some way to survive it. Then Jon gripped Ryan's shoulder, fingers digging in. "Come on, let's roll," he muttered, and when Ryan looked around he felt bile rise in his throat. Of all the people who had entered the pyramid, only Jon, Skaara, Spencer and Ryan were still capable of standing. Jon sent off another series of blasts, almost absentmindedly, and two more guards fell, the remaining ones retreating entirely.

"I'm going to stay here," Spencer stated stubbornly. "I brought some of the paste. Someone has to take care of the wounded." For a moment Jon looked like he might argue, but then he exhaled heavily and kept a firm grip on Ryan's shoulder, motioning for Skaara to follow as he started leading the way towards the chamber that housed the Gate.



They entered the darkened chamber at a jog, all three coming to an abrupt halt at the sight of the bomb and blocks of filtered, refined mineral right in front of the large ring, seemingly entirely ready to be sent off. It was unguarded, and Ryan felt incredible fear go through him at the sight, somehow greater than if they'd walked straight into a blazing firefight.

"Ryan," Walker said, swallowing slightly although he kept his voice brisk and unyielding. "You need to figure out a point of origin right now. Obviously something went wrong, and we're sure as hell not going to be able to steal the bomb now." He crouched down in front of the bomb, starting to assemble it.

"I can't!" Ryan protested. Then his eyes widened. "What the fuck are you doing?"

"Completing this mission," the colonel answered through gritted teeth, his hands still working automatically to put the weapon together.

Ryan swallowed, his fear growing until it was a coiling, rearing, agonizing beast in his chest. "I thought we agreed that it would be better to dismantle the Gate on the other side," he stated.

"And you will," Walker agreed. "That's your job now. I'm going to stay here, make sure this damn thing goes off."

Clenching his hands into fists, Ryan closed his eyes for a moment and silently counted to ten. He wanted to go back, yes. More than anything. Wanted to prove the damn bastards back on Earth wrong. But he still didn't have a fucking point of origin! Jon didn't seem to care, though, and Ryan could only watch in horror as he set the timer and stepped back. "You're crazy," he whispered.

The colonel either didn't hear or chose to ignore the statement. "You have seven minutes," he stated. "What are you waiting for?"

"Ryan!" Skaara suddenly yelled, fear thickening his accent, and Ryan and Jon both spun quickly to see the boy raise his rifle, aiming at the guard who was entering. He was a second too late, though, and less than a second later the beam shot through the room, ending in Skaara's gut. "Ryan!" he screamed again, and Ryan reacted on auto-pilot, pulling his gun back out of his belt. He didn't even aim before he shot and shot and shot until the clip was empty once more and the guard was lying dead on the floor. Then he rushed over and bent down next to Brendon's little brother, reaching out with shaking fingers to check for a pulse. There was none.

Jon had walked over and looked down, meeting Ryan's gaze sadly. Ryan felt sorrow and rage rush through him. Over the last month s he'd come to care for the boy almost like his own brother. And there was Brendon to think about, Brendon who had just lost his little brother and didn't even know. Ryan's heart clenched and he fought down the urge to scream and throw a fit and tell everyone who would listen that it just wasn't fucking fair at all.

Suddenly the hovering rings started to descend from the ceiling, and Ryan gritted his teeth, lifting up the slight boy with strength he didn't even know he possessed, and started carrying him to the rings.

"Where are you going?" Jon screamed, an almost wild look in his eyes. "Ross?!"

Ryan stepped silently into the transportation circle, just as the rings reached the height of his head, and now they were slowly surrounding the scientist and the dead boy. He looked out, meeting Jon's gaze again. "Wait for me," he pleaded, and then he was pulled apart and put back together in the space ship.

He took a deep breath, looking around to get his bearings. Utterly relieved that there was no one in sight he set off towards the sarcophagus chamber at a quick trot, still having no clue how the hell he was managing to actually carry another person. Finally he entered the right room, recognizing the device, and he placed Skaara down on it and stepped back, watching as it closed automatically.

It seemed like an eternity passed before the sarcophagus re-opened, and Ryan let out a breath he hadn't even noticed he was holding. Skaara was still unconscious, but Ryan could do nothing more than hope that would pass soon. Swallowing, he leaned in and picked the boy back up, staggering a little under the weight now. He was completely aware that he was functioning and managing these things on nothing more than adrenaline, and he was eager for it to, some way or another, be over before he ran out. He turned around and hurried back towards the rings.

Apparently, though, his luck, at the very least, seemed to run out right at that moment, because suddenly a too-familiar figure stood in his path, an expression of pure rage that was all too human on the doll-like young/ancient face. "I am no longer amused," Ra declared in his gravelly, electrical-sounding voice, eyes moving back and forth between Ryan and Skaara, whom the scientist had carefully deposited on the floor once some careful backing up and slow movements had brought them to the transportation circle.

The wrath in Ra's eyes seemed to grow stronger when he realized where they were, and then he was reaching out and Ryan suddenly noticed a golden, bejeweled device on his hand, which was humming and sending out sparks of pure energy. Then the hand was right there, fingers digging into the flesh o f Ryan's face, and that was when he felt it. Agony like he had never known could exist, almost as though his brain was spasming and maybe starting to melt and it was beyond frightening.

Ra's eyes seemed lit up from the inside, blinding and absolutely inhuman. When Ryan squinted he even thought he could see a completely alien skull through the 'God's' bronze skin, but that could just be the pain playing tricks on his mind. "You will die together," Ra continued, and Ryan thought he had never been so fucking scared in his life.

Then, suddenly, Ra recoiled, eyes widening almost comically for a moment before his gaze narrowed and his lips pulled back in an almost animalistic snarl. It only took a moment for Ryan to catch onto what was happening, a single glance down and he could see the rings start to activate, and hope started to bloom inside his chest. He whacked Ra's hand away, the pain diminishing now that the alien's concentration had been broken. Then he noticed a familiar glint of gold around Ra's neck, and reached out himself, pulling the pendant off. "I believe that belongs to a friend of mine," he hissed. He pulled his arm back, close to his body as the rings rose higher. "See you later, King Tut."

Once again there was the by-now familiar feeling of being torn apart and reassembled like a jigsaw puzzle, and then Ryan and Skaara were back in the Gate chamber. At the sight that greeted him, Ryan had to forcefully stop himself from vomiting. A guard, whom he could only assume had come down as Ryan had taken Skaara up, was lying on the ground just outside the transportation circle. Only, his head was missing and his neck was a gaping hole where everything was visible, spine, muscles, sinews, wind-tubes, absolutely everything and so much more than Ryan had ever wanted to see in his whole life. He forced his gaze away, turning his head to look at Jon who was gasping with exhaustion, sweat dripping down his face, which was already swelling from the impact of several punches. There were gashes, a lot of them deep-looking, on his shoulder, across stomach and arms and legs, and it looked like Jon had only narrowly won the fight, and quite possibly not because of superior physique.

Without warning, Ryan's legs started feeling weak and only seconds later they gave into his weight, and he found himself lying on the floor next to Skaara. Apparently this was when the adrenaline did run out. He felt bone-weary, quite possibly on the verge of passing out. Skaara was stirring beside him, but Ryan hadn't the energy to help the boy or even check up on him. All he could seem to muster up the spirit for was watching Jon jog towards the bomb, where the timer read 00:01:53, and flick the off switch.

The countdown didn't stop, and even from his position on the dusty floor Ryan could see the slight widening of the colonel's eyes, the way his shoulders tensed up under the torn shirt. Jon sucked in an audible breath and pulled the timing device off the bomb, but even disconnected, it kept counting down, passing 00:01:33. Movements desperate now, the colonel started pulling at the bomb, trying to get, Ryan assumed, the radioactive core away from whatever was actually supposed to start the explosion.

A sudden tremble went through the entire pyramid and the roar of foreign engines could be heard overhead, and Ryan had a feeling that the reinforcements Kasuf had gone for must've arrived and somehow won enough of a battle that Ra felt so threatened that he'd chosen to leave, at least for a time. That didn't exactly help their situation, though, since the whole place, and possibly the entire planet given the loads of mineral and everything, would be nothing but a smoking crater of nuclear waste in 57 seconds.

Ryan's fatigue was washing out of his system, fear taking over once more and he managed to push himself to his feet, staggering over to where Jon was still wrestling with the bomb. "How much time do we have?" he asked softly.

"About forty-five seconds," came the gruff answer, and Ryan felt chilled to his core. Even if he had known the point of origin, he wouldn't have been able to open the Gate in such a short amount of time.

"Well, he's leaving!" Ryan found himself shouting. "Turn the damn thing off!" He breathed in deeply and closed his eyes for a moment. "Sorry," he finally muttered. "What's going on with it?"

"I think they must've rigged it," Jon answered helplessly. "I can't turn it off." With a sigh he sat back on his heels, stopping his futile attempts to force the bomb. Together, they watched silently as it reached 00:00:35.

Suddenly there was a shriek behind them and they both turned to look as Skaara awaked fully to the sight of the beheaded guard, trembling and hyper-ventilating as he backed away on all fours. And a light went off in Ryan's mind. He turned back to Jon, a wide grin on his face, only to be met by the exact same expression. "I've got an idea," he stated, and somehow he wasn't even surprised to hear the words in stereo.



The three of them had raced out of the pyramid as soon as they had finished moving the bomb and activating the device, and when they joined the throngs of celebrating people outside, it was to the view of a glowing fireball in the sky that seemed to shine even stronger than the sun for another few minutes before it went out.

Then Skaara turned around to face Jon, a smile on his face as he raised his hand to his forehead in a military salute, and just moments later the other remaining boys ran up to join them, mimicking the gesture. Spencer, Marlowe and Spungen, the only survivors from the Earth team other than Ryan and Jon, followed, amused smiles on their faces, and Jon let out a short chuckle as he returned it, some of the demons in his face seeming to have dimmed.



The city was stuffed full to the point of bursting with visitors from the villages, all loud and joyous in their celebrations. The Earth team had arrived later than everyone else on account of having to go back to the abandoned mine to fetch Brendon and Nafretiri and the two boys who'd remained behind to watch over them on Skaara's orders.

Now they were trying to make their way through the city where the festivities had already started, all of them dead tired, wounded and more fit for beds than parties. Brendon, Nafretiri cradled securely in his arms, made sure to stay close to Ryan the whole time, and Ryan had obligingly wrapped an arm around the boy's thin shoulders, holding his small family close.

Finally their small group had made its way to the center where tables were set out and filled with all the food that had seemed so odd when they'd last been here, but actually did look like a feast now. Kasuf stood to greet them, and Ryan let go of Brendon, anticipating a race for his father's arms or something like that. It didn't happen, though. Ryan could feel the twitch go through the boy's body and easily see the wistful, almost longing look on his face, but instead of going towards his father, Brendon looked up at Ryan with inquisitive eyes. Ryan swallowed down a lump and nodded, and the boy walked forward with composed, slow footsteps and bowed his head in a gesture that was that of a subject to his leader rather than son to father. "Kasuf, please meet my daughter," he muttered, voice even more formal and unsure than it usually was with Ryan. "Her name is Nafretiri." A bit of pride shone through his voice, and finally he looked up at Kasuf with an open, hopeful face.

The old man's eyes softened, and a smile took over his face. "She is beautiful," he stated, eyes glowing as they fixed on her tiny little face. "I am glad to find you of good health," he added. Then he looked up and met Ryan's eyes. "May I hold my granddaughter?" he asked, and it was clear that he was asking Ryan, not Brendon. It made Ryan feel guilty, although he didn't even know what he could possibly do to erase the sudden distance between Brendon and Kasuf. All he managed to do was nod and sit down tiredly, reaching up a hand in an attempt to rub away the headache that resided behind his forehead.



Most people had looked well into the mead jugs, and the mood was even higher than it had been a couple of hours ago when Ryan and the others had arrived back to the city. Everyone was pleasantly full, and song and conversation was in full throttle when Skaara rose, staggering a little bit under the weight of weariness and one jug too many. Then he made a great show of pushing his plate and utensils aside and took his knife out of his belt before leaning down and starting to carve something into the table.

Ryan, curious, and maybe a little bedraggled himself, cocked an eyebrow. "What are you drawing?" he asked, leaning in a little to get a better view, although the boy had gotten no further than a few disjointed lines.

Skaara glanced up for a second, a triumphant grin on his face. "Our victory," he answered, and carved on.

A few moments later Ryan could actually make out a picture, and what he saw shocked him. He didn't really take in the motif at all. The backdrop, though, struck him immediately. "A pyramid," he whispered. "With the three moons forming the corners of a triangle missing a side above it." And in his brain the connection was made. He knew the point of origin.



The moment he realized that he'd found the way home his mind almost started spinning with thoughts he hadn't dared think before because of how impossible everything seemed without the missing glyph. He really could go home and shove his findings into the faces of the collective scientific world. He would be the best in his field, not just the whacko who could've been good if he'd just kept to the traditional ideas.

Even more so, though, than the idea of his own potential greatness, there was Brendon to think about. Brendon, who was still so young and so timid and so repressed, and suddenly distanced from the family he had grown up with. The last thing Ryan wanted was to trap a boy he cared about deeply in a marriage to someone he couldn't love.

Caught in his thoughts, he'd wandered off from the main group and was now standing on the edge of the city center, biting his lip softly in contemplation. That was until he, probably due to his somewhat inebriated mind, decided to ask someone for information. He grabbed the shoulder of the nearest man and pulled him off to the side a little. "How are widows treated around here?" he asked, keeping his voice soft and low.

The man looked confused for a moment, but then the alcohol in him seemed to make him shrug it off as nothing out of the ordinary. "It depends on their family," he answered. "If their family is of good standing and their late husband respected, they are respected as well. There is a mourning period of one year where the widow and her children will stay with some family of the husband's if possible, and otherwise go back to her own father or brothers if they can afford it. When the year is over she is free to marry again, but unless the family is in financial ruin there is no rush." He shrugged, physically this time, eyes a little unfocused. "It all depends on her family and who her husband was," he repeated before staggering off.

Ryan was left with a clear plan in his mind, one that allowed for Brendon to have a future with a man of his own choice, someone he could love fully and who would be everything the boy had hoped for. The scientist wasn't concerned for what kind of standing Brendon would have in society anymore. After all, Kasuf was the tribe leader and Skaara the next in line. Ryan wasn't sure how the locals viewed him, but they had to know that he was partially responsible for offing Ra, which should count as a plus for Brendon as well.

He felt a sting in his chest at the thought of leaving Nafretiri behind. His baby girl, whom he'd looked forward to watching grow up and teaching everything she would ever need to know and loads more. But taking her with him wasn't an option. It would break Brendon's heart. And Ryan couldn't be sure she wouldn't be put through all sorts of horrible medical examinations if he brought her to Earth with him. At least she was too young to miss him.

Taking a deep breath and blinking back tears he hadn't even realized had come into his eyes, Ryan set off again, back towards the room he had been given the last time he was there. He needed to make absolutely sure he was doing the right thing before he actually carried anything out.



Ryan watched in silence as Brendon finished feeding the baby before tucking her into the small cot Brendon's aunt had supplied them with. The boy leaned down and pressed a small peck against their daughter's forehead, and Ryan felt a wistful smile appear on his own face as he waited for Brendon to join him on the bed.

A moment later the younger male was crawling in, settling habitually against Ryan's side and exhaling softly. Ryan wrapped his arms tightly around the slight body, enjoying the body heat the boy let off and closing his eyes for a moment. He couldn't seem to find it in himself to forget about his decision, though. "Do you love me?" he asked after a long while where they had both lain there in silence.

"How could I not?" Brendon returned after only a moment's contemplation. "You are a good man, and I never could have hoped for a better husband. You have done nothing to make me feel negatively towards you."

Ryan internally sighed. He had hoped, even for just a second, that there might be something real there, that Brendon truly did want him, but he should've known better. The kid believed he loved Ryan, for no other reason than the fact that Ryan had treated him right. It was all duty and gratitude, and at the realization Ryan felt something deep within him shatter. He tightened his grip on Brendon, allowing himself the indulgence this one last time, and even when Brendon's breathing evened and calmed and Ryan's headache had gone to unknown heights and his whole body was shaking from exhaustion, he still couldn't find sleep himself.



It was still early in the morning when he managed to find the tiny house the rest of the team had been given to sleep in and burst in without warning. He nearly managed to muster up amusement at how Spencer fell out of the bed and Marlowe grumbled, still half-asleep, in a voice that could've belonged to a heavy metal singer, but his face remained straight as he waited for all four men to wake up.

A few minutes later they were all sitting upright on their cots, maybe somewhat bleary-eyed, with hair sticking up in all directions and stubble shadowing their cheeks, but at least they seemed awake. "What is it, Ryan?" Jon finally asked, cocking an eyebrow.

Ryan took a deep breath. "I've found the seventh symbol," he finally stated, even though he was finding it hard to muster up any kind of excitement to put into his voice. He forced a small smile. "We're going home." He watched as Spungen's face lit up and Marlowe grinned widely.

"I always knew you could do it, Ryan!" Spungen declared, and Ryan steadfastly ignored his memories of their first encounters, making himself keep on smiling.

Spencer and Jon were exchanging looks, and Ryan slowly shifted his attention to them, biting his lip even as Jon cleared his throat. "We're staying here," the colonel finally stated. "Smith and I. We talked about it." He drew in a deep breath. "I need a new start if I want to build my life back up, and what better place to do it than a different planet entirely?"

The medic was nodding slowly, picking one-handedly at a loose nail. "I always wanted to help people," he stated, chuckling nervously. "One thing I wanted to use my education for, when I finally got one, was to work for Doctors Without Borders, go to places where I was really needed and save lives where no one else was around who could." He finally looked up, meeting Ryan's eyes straight on for the first time since the scientist had entered the room. "I don't think I could do more good in any third world country than I can here. I mean... the paste is amazing for open wounds, but it won't help you if you get a fever or anything else and... I just want to help them." He smiled sadly. "Send as much of all kinds of medicine as possible through the Gate before you dismantle it, will you?"

"Yeah," Ryan muttered, leaning back against the wall heavily as he watched Jon and Spencer. He couldn't believe that by sunset he wouldn't even be on the same planet as them. Spencer, over the past few months, had managed to become the best friend he'd missed his whole childhood. And Jon was someone who was there, solid and strong as a pillar and always there. Ryan couldn't believe that after today he might never get to see either one of them again.

Apparently sensing the heavy atmosphere, Marlowe stood. "Well, since I am up now I might as well go look for some breakfast," he stated, sending Spungen a glance. "Coming?" The other marine looked confused for a moment before he caught on and nodded, getting up and following his teammate out of the tiny house.

Ryan sucked in a deep breath as he looked at the remaining two. "You're sure?" he asked softly, trying desperately to keep the sadness away and out of his voice. "I mean, you don't even know the language, or the customs or anything. How are you going to do it?"

Spencer shrugged. "We'll make it up as we go along. And I think I'm starting to understand some of what they say some of the time anyway." He smiled softly. "You learn a language more quickly when it's all you're exposed to, right?" Ryan automatically nodded and looked away to avoid seeing Spencer's smile.

"Are you sure you want to go?" Jon asked after a few moments of loaded silence. "You have a family here, you have friends here." When Ryan didn't respond he sighed and scratched the back of his head. "I'll never understand how anyone could voluntarily give up their child and spouse," he admitted softly.

"Look after them for me?" Ryan asked, his voice small and suddenly scared, and he didn't think he'd ever felt more alone than he did right at that moment.

Jon nodded solemnly and sighed. "Let the Gate remain as it is for two months," he requested, looking down at his hands. "That way we can make sure that we'll have gotten everything we need through to here. Then you need to destroy it." It felt as though there was something the colonel wasn't saying, some, more important, reason he wasn't given, but Ryan shook off the feeling and nodded.

"Tell everyone that I had to go back to get some injuries taken care of that no one noticed yesterday," he instructed, looking up at the ceiling rather than at the other two men in an attempt to keep his emotions in check. "In a week or so, tell them that I didn't make it. Brendon and Nafretiri will be treated better if people believe I died, rather than abandoned them. This way they will get a chance for the life they deserve."

"We will," Spencer promised after another long pause. Then he got up and crossed the small room until he was close enough to wrap his arms around Ryan, pulling his slighter friend close for a moment before letting go with a small smile.

"Whatever you do when you get back," Jon told him. "Don't tell them about the healing properties of the mineral, at least not until the Gate is destroyed." He swallowed visibly. "I know it's time for your uprising, but no one needs to know this." He paused for a moment, meeting both Ryan and Spencer's inquisitive eyes. "No matter how painful the reality of death is, humans aren't meant to live forever," he finally explained. "And there's no room on Earth for people to live longer and survive more things than they do already. And the people here... everything about them would be destroyed if we started colonizing, or even if we just started mining. It's better if no one knows."

Ryan nodded slowly in understanding, worrying his bottom lip with his teeth. "I promise I won't," he finally stated, breathing in deeply. "So, you'll write shopping lists for me to bring back to the air force?"

The other two chuckled and Ryan felt marginally better.



He hadn't remembered Earth being this way, hadn't expected it to be so cold and wet and dark and dreary. The bed in the hotel room his payment from the Navy had paid for was too cold and too large and too soft and the room itself much too quiet, but he did his best to ignore it and just get through it. He'd get used to it again at some point.

Shaking his head free of these thoughts, he touched his finger to the touch pad of his laptop, bringing forth another one of the photos Spungen had shot with his telephone, showing the room of gathered professors another one of the walls from the cave under the city. "So, as you can see," he said, an ironic smile playing at his lips. "We really do need to change everything we've ever believed about ancient Egypt and about the origins of our civilization."

A hand shot up. "How do we know these images haven't been tampered with?" he asked, outrage in his booming voice. "Nothing you've said or shown us have proven the authenticity of any of this, and I won't be made a fool of by you, boy!"

Ryan rolled his eyes and took a step back, allowing Marlowe to take the desk for a moment. "I'm Major Duncan Marlowe of the US Navy," he stated briskly. "I was second in command on the mission where Doctor Ross gathered the intelligence you're seeing today, and I can assure you that everything he's told and will tell is nothing more than the truth, and that the US Navy supports every claim he makes."

The room was filled with loud chatter and voices that ranged from outraged to thrilled, and Marlowe flashed Ryan a small smile as he stepped off the podium. Ryan returned it half-heartedly, leaning in so he could speak quietly to the man who had actually become somewhat of a friend over the last weeks. "Did the shipment of vaccines and antibiotics get through?" he asked softly, voice barely above a whisper.

"Yes," Marlowe answered. "As did the clothes and blankets and food and the materials for making a primitive water system and everything else on Smith's little shopping list. Things are about ready for the Gate to be destroyed tomorrow morning."

Ryan felt a deep, painful ache in his chest at the knowledge that the Gate was being destroyed so soon. For the last two months he had been at least somewhat comforted by the fact that it was still in working order, still there to be opened on request, still there to let him go through if his feet got too cold. Tomorrow that option wouldn't be there, and he had to swallow back a lump in his throat at the realization.

The conference room had quieted down quite a bit now and Ryan took the podium once more and continued to relay his findings, finally starting to feel at least a bit triumphant at the look of awe on the gathered faces. It felt hollow, though.



Ryan kept both his hands around the mug of coffee to ward off the cold that seemed to be everywhere all the time on Earth. There was a huge snack table on his right, but he felt nowhere near hungry and had as such opted to simply nurse his coffee as various professors came up and asked questions or commented. It was all routine by then. Over the last two months he had practically been touring the country to host seminars for the archaeological world. After he was done he planned to get an apartment, settle down a little, maybe write a book or two, and then find some new, interesting thing to look into.

"Excuse me, Doctor Ross," someone said, clearing their throat in an obvious attempt to get his attention, and Ryan turned his head to see a little, old man with a teddy bear under his arm. "I'm Professor Frederick Hoffman and I was wondering if you'd mind terribly if I used your seminar in a lecture for my college students? I like to think that the best thing for those kids is to know the truth as soon as possible."

Ryan managed a polite smile. "That's a good standpoint," he stated, taking a sip of his coffee. "And the pictures are on my website if you'd like to use those as well." He paused for a moment, taking another sip and letting the taste overwhelm him. One thing he had definitely missed about Earth was the coffee. He still didn't know how he'd survived almost five Earth months without it. "If you don't mind me asking, sir," he started, glancing down at the teddy bear. "What's that for?"

"I'm headed over to visit my daughter afterwards," the elderly man answered with a chuckle. "This is for my granddaughter." He put down his plate of cookies and pulled a wallet out of his pocket from which he extracted a small photo. He held it up proudly. "Isn't she the most beautiful little thing you have ever seen?" he asked with a star struck look on his face.

Ryan could only stand to look down at the photograph for a few seconds. The baby girl looked like she was a few months old, around the age Nafretiri would have to be now, and she was pretty but she had absolutely nothing on Ryan's own daughter, he was sure. "She's lovely," he muttered, mustering up a smile even though someone seemed to have put his chest in a vice grip. He fought to keep Nafretiri off his mind, as he'd managed mostly for the last two months, but this time she refused to leave. "Excuse me," he said softly, fighting to keep his voice under control. "I need to find the men's room." Then he hurried off.

Marlowe caught up with him in the hallway outside the toilets, planting a firm hand on his shoulder. The marine scanned the scientist's face for a moment, concern etching into his features. "You can still go back, Ryan," he stated softly.

Sucking in a deep, calming breath, Ryan shook his head. "They're better off without me," he said, repeating what had almost become a mantra these last weeks. "Brendon gets to marry someone he can actually love. Nafretiri gets a chance to have a father who knows at least a little about how to be a father and how to live in that world. They get to be close to Kasuf and Skaara and that other brother again. It's better this way."

"Brendon gets to be in another arranged marriage, most likely to someone who won't treat him anywhere near as decently as you did. Nafretiri gets the chance to have a stepfather who'll look down on her and treat her like crap because she's not just a girl, but also not even his own daughter to top it off. Then, when she's in her mid-teens he'll wed her off to someone she might not even know and who could easily be at least twice her age, when you could have given her a full childhood and made sure she didn't have to marry someone she doesn't fall in love with. And they get to be close with Brendon's family for a short while until Brendon remarries and will probably be barely allowed contact. I did manage to learn a bit about the culture while we were there, which seems to be more than you did, Mr. Anthropologist." Marlowe sucked in a deep breath, shaking his head sadly. "For a genius you're really fucking stupid, you know that?"

Ryan fell silent, his mouth gaping open as realization finally hit him. He'd been so focused on his own inadequacies that he hadn't even stopped to think about what might happen without him there, or considered that maybe he was the better of two evils. And suddenly he twitched at the realization that he was in Florida and that Colorado was really fucking far away and that he only had around twelve hours before the Gate was destroyed. "How the hell am I supposed to get there on time?"

Marlowe grinned. "Booked the tickets a week ago on Walker's orders," he stated. "I was supposed to hit you unconscious if you didn't see sense." He glanced down at his watch. "You have to be in the airport for check-in in an hour and four minutes. The cab will be here in five."

A sudden grin spread over Ryan's face and he fought down the urge to actually go up and hug the marine. "Thanks, Dunc," he said with a laugh, immediately hurrying off towards his hotel room to gather whatever stuff he might need, or want, to bring.



The feeling of being pulled apart to atoms and put messily back together after infinities had passed was something Ryan was mostly used to by then, but for some reason the sensation still shocked him every time. Then he was lying on the floor, blinking blearily up into the dim torch light. He only just managed to make out Jon and Spencer's faces in the gloom and felt a smile stretch his face even as the former colonel grabbed his hand and pulled him to his feet. "Hey, guys," he muttered, his head still spinning from the trip across the universe.

Jon laughed. "Told you we could trust Marlowe, didn't I?" he asked Spencer with a broad grin as he thumped Ryan enthusiastically in the back, taking his bag away from him.

Spencer merely chuckled, shaking his head happily. "It's good to have you back, Ry," he declared, putting a hand on the scientist's arm. Then he smiled softly. "Someone is outside, waiting for you."

"Did you tell him I was coming back?" Ryan asked breathily, surprised by the way his whole being suddenly seemed to be pulling him out there, the way his arms urged to pull Brendon close and never fucking let go.

"No," Jon answered. "We didn't want to say anything we couldn't be entirely sure of, so we just kind of managed to sign to him that we were expecting one last load tonight and could use some help. Skaara, of course, insisted on coming along as well, and as I've learnt, where Skaara goes the kid brother will follow if he can in any way get away with it. Brendon never goes anywhere without Nafretiri and Kasuf decided he could use a walk, so it's your whole family out there, actually."

Ryan felt his smile grow wider at the revelation and sucked in a deep breath before he started the trek out of the pyramid.

The first thing he saw when he walked out into the desert in the red light of the setting sun was Brendon, clad in yellow robes and a black cloak, which signified sorrow and death. Across his face the hieroglyph for 'widow' was traced in soot and his tangled, black hair had been cut off in a short, messy, boyish style, again to signify mourning. His face looked sad and his mouth and eyes a little too drawn, and Ryan didn't think he had ever seen anything more beautiful.

A moment later Brendon seemed to catch sight of Ryan as well, and his eyes grew to the size of saucers. He stood there, gaping, for so long that Ryan almost believed they'd gotten caught in a stray time-pocket. Finally the scientist, at least, gathered his wits and walked the rest of the way to where the family was standing.

"But you are dead," Skaara whispered, awe and confusion mixing on his strong features.

"So were you," Ryan countered with a small smile, and apparently speaking had been the way to go, because a moment later he had an armful of sobbing boy, and he clutched Brendon close to him, kissing the top of his head even as he squeezed his eyes closed to hold back his own tears.

"I missed you so much," Brendon whispered after a few minutes' heavy silence. His voice was muffled in the material of Ryan's hoodie. "When they told me, I was devastated." He sniffled loudly. "I knew I was never going to love anyone else, and if I had not had your daughter I would have died."

Ryan felt his heart break simultaneously with his reaching the realization that put it back together again. Brendon did love him. Not out of duty or gratefulness, but for reasons of his own, and the first tear made it out of Ryan's eye s even as he glanced over Brendon's shoulder at the infant in Kasuf's arms.

He had been right. Hoffman's granddaughter was nowhere near as beautiful as Nafretiri.

Kasuf smiled approvingly. "Welcome home, my son."

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