the last walk home

The radio fritzed out after they passed through Cotopaxi in a burst of static that made Rodney snort and mumble in his sleep, but it was almost two in the morning, they were in the mountains, and John didn't think much of it. He just switched it off and concentrated on not missing a curve in the road or running the rental car into a deer or a rock slide.

The trees were black on black silhouettes against the night sky, visible against the dim glow he thought was probably from Colorado Springs, but might have been from Denver. A half moon reflected light off the rear view mirrors, almost like someone was following them. John was tempted to pull off the road somewhere, stop and get out, just to stare up at the familiar stars, but he wanted to get back to the apartment more. Stargazing just made him homesick for Pegasus anyway.

The two-lane highway clung to the curve of a mountain shoulder, the slope falling away on the other side to a snow-fed river. Chevrons of fluorescent red and white reflectors lined the railing along the edge and flashed in the headlights.

Rodney grumbled something and John risked a look to the side, his hands still sure on the steering wheel. Rodney was wedged to the side, head resting against the seatbelt shoulder strap that cut into the soft flesh under his chin. He needed a shave; his beard looked dark against pale skin illuminated by moonlight and the green glow from the dash.

He let his foot up on the gas, not wanting to sling Rodney around, and that saved them, because he was looking away and Rodney's eyes were closed when the sky burned white. The trees and the boulders and Rodney's paisley-patterned shirt were all suddenly too clear as the flash seared away all their color.

John got his arm up to shield his eyes, but the light was already gone as Rodney jerked awake. "Whu–?"

The car's engine died and the steering wheel went stiff and unresponsive under John's hand. Dashlights and headlights were off.  Only the moon remained, shining serenely, glinting off a mirror and a curve of chrome. The hushed noise of tires on pavement sounded for a breath.

"What?" Rodney demanded. He grabbed muzzily at the door. "What just happened?"

John had both hands back on the steering wheel, trying to wrestle it over, but they were drifting remorselessly rightward, faster than he could steer left with the power steering gone, toward the aluminum railing and the drop beyond it.

"Why's the car–"

"Not now, Rodney," John breathed. "Brace yourself!"

With a long screech of metal on metal the car drifted side ways into the railing, through it with a series of protesting snap-thunks as the posts holding it tore loose, and over the edge.  The airbags exploded at the same time.

"Oh, shit!" Rodney cursed as they tumbled down the embankment and John agreed with the sentiment.

The car nosed first into a boulder the size of a VW Bug, cartwheeled over with a tearing crunch and continued its slide downwards. John felt his seat belt bite painfully into his chest and thanked God he was hitting it and not the steering wheel.

The car rocked over one more time and he heard a splash. They were in the water. At least they were right side up. He struggled free of his seatbelt, half smothered in the damn airbags.

"Rodney!" he yelled. "Rodney!"

The bags were deflating slowly. They were still in the way, blocking out even the moonlight, but John could feel the car sinking down, though he couldn't see anything..

"Rodney!"

"What?" Rodney shouted. "I'm here."

John squirmed his hand into his back pocket and pulled out his Swiss Army knife. He used it to tear the airbag in front of him open, then reached over and did the same to the one that had Rodney half-trapped.

"Are you okay?"

"Oh, other than just having the wits scared out of me, sure," Rodney snapped. "I just have bruises in places I'd forgotten could get bruised."

"Good, because we have to get out of here."

"Why don't I like the sound of that?"

"Because the car's sinking, the windows are electric, and we're going to have to swim."

"Yes, that would be exactly it," Rodney said.  John couldn't see him, but he heard him snap his belt loose and twist around, fumbling for something in the back seat.

"What the hell are you doing?"

"Trying to get my laptop and your briefcase!"

"We don't have time for that!"

"Don't yell, it doesn't help!"

"What would help is if we had something to bust out a window or the windshield. We've got to equalize the pressure so we can get the doors open."

"I'm a physicist, John, I understand the theory," Rodney replied. "Why don't you use your feet?"

"I'm going to use them to kick your ass once we're out of here," John snapped back, pissed and scared in equal measure. Rodney didn't know how bad things might be; he hadn't seen the flash. He slid over the seat and into Rodney's arms, inadvertently elbowing him in the stomach.

"Unh. Damn it, John."

"Yeah, sorry."

John twisted around, trying to brace his feet against the driver's window. Rodney got the idea and wrapped his arms around John's shoulders, his knees bent and pressed close around John's hips, bracing them again the other door. John began kicking. He couldn't see anything in the all-pervading darkness, but the car felt like it was still sinking. Dying in your lover's arms might sound romantic, but he had no intention of letting a cold Colorado river and a rental car become their tomb. He kicked with everything in his body and felt the glass give and crack under his heels finally.

The instant the window gave way, icy water poured onto John's feet, making him yelp. "Jesus!"

"What?" Rodney yelled, tightened his arms around John. "What? What is it?"

"Cold," John said. His mind was already moving forward. "We'll have to get out of the water as fast as possible."

"Right. Of course." Rodney loosened his hold. "Then what?"

"Can we figure that out later?"

"Excuse me for trying to think ahead." Then he yelped, too. "Oh, God, that's cold."

"Melt water."

"Yes, yes, whatever."

"It's just going to get colder. We have to wait for the car to fill before I can get the door open."

Rodney pulled him tighter and John didn't fight him. At least he knew where Rodney was as long as they were in contact. Once they were out in the river, the current that was pushing the car along might very likely separate them.

The water rose steadily around them. One or both of them began to shake. Rodney leaned closer within the confines of the car, his lips brushing John's ear, breath sleep-sour and bitter with coffee. "You know I lo–"

John interrupted him. "Let's not do the last words thing yet, Rodney. We're getting out of here. We'll both just end up embarrassed."

"Bastard."

"Much better."

"And I don't, anyway," Rodney added.

"Yeah, neither do I."

The water was at their necks, the cold flooding into John through his clothes.

"Deep breath, Rodney."

"Got it."

John filled his lungs and levered the door open against the current, cursing every second it took. Rodney's hand was wrapped around his collar, threatening to strangle him. He got it open and they kicked their way out of the car in a slither of legs and flailing arms.

For one instant, John couldn't find up or down in the dark, freezing water, but the current was pushing relentlessly down, so he kicked against it again, rising for the surface. Rodney's hand left his collar, but slid and thrashed through the water, hitting John's face once. The water pulled them apart. John tried to catch Rodney's hand, but lost it. His lungs were burning. Rodney's foot kicked against his hip, then he was gone. John struggled upward himself, hoping Rodney hadn't panicked or been swept too far away.

They surfaced with a splash and gasp. Rodney flailed at the water wildly. Starlight glinted off the river's unruly surface. John tried to orient himself, seeing only the darker shadows of trees and mountains and then the silver half coin of the moon. It had been behind them on the road. With that in mind, he knew which way to swim.

"Rodney, pull it together!" he shouted over the rush of the water.

"I'm drowning!"

"You're not drowning, you idiot! Drowning people can't annoy me with their yelling!"

"I am too drowning!" Rodney yelped, his head going under in the next instant, then popping up with a gurgle and much spitting. His face was a pale blur.

John shoved himself forward through the water and grabbed the back of Rodney's jacket. His fingers were already going numb. He figured they didn't have much more time in the water before they were cold enough for hypothermia to set in. He struck out for the roadside shore. Rodney cursed him viciously for a second, then twisted and began swimming along with him.

"I knew you could do it," John said as they scrambled out of the water. Sharp, nearly frozen stones cut through the knees of their pants and into their palms.

"That's just great," Rodney griped. "I'm touched by your confidence." He reached over and grabbed John's shoulders, fingers biting into flesh hard enough to bruise. "You know, I really didn't miss this shit. Why did you drive us over a cliff? You've always been suicidal, but you never tried to take anyone with you before."

John shut his eyes, reliving the flash. "That's not exactly the way it happened," he said. "Don't act so upset."

"Then you tell me what did happen," Rodney demanded. "Because I'm cold and bruised and tired and wet. I nearly drowned! I think I have a right to be upset."

John scrunched himself up with his arms around his knees, trying to hold in some warmth. Every muscle in his body was protesting. Freezing water ran out of his hair into his eyes and he kept blinking. He was shaking and it wasn't all cold. He'd been too close too many times and it scared him. He knew what he'd seen. He'd detonated a naquadah reactor twenty miles above Atlantis, he'd flown a Genii A-bomb into a hive ship only to be saved by the Daedalus, he'd been there when Rodney  had set off a nuke in the atmosphere to trick the Wraith; he'd even witnessed a test in South Africa once, along with his father, when he was barely eleven. John knew nukes too damn well for his liking. He knew what he'd seen lighting the sky before the electromagnetic pulse had knocked out the rental car's electronics and sent them into the river.

"EMP."

He couldn't read Rodney's face, but his mouth was moving silently and the whites of his eyes glinted.

"Oh, crap," Rodney whispered. His head turned toward the Springs, as though he could use those blue eyes like lasers to cut through the trees and the mountains and see what had happened. "Crap."

"Yeah."

John struggled to his feet.  He looked at the shadowy, rock strewn embankment leading up to the highway.  They had to get up there.

"John?"

He glanced back at Rodney and held out his hand.

"Come on.  We've got a long walk ahead of us."

Rodney let John pull him up. "What do you think?" he asked. John could hear his teeth chattering between words.

He didn't know if Rodney could see his shrug in the darkness, so he said, "Best case scenario?  Home grown terrorists targeting the Air Force Academy or Peterson." Or NORAD and the SGC hidden deep beneath the Mountain, he didn't add, or mention that terrorists wouldn't have detonated their bomb high in the atmosphere. "Worst case ..."  

Worst case, they could both imagine too easily.

Ships.

They started up the slope together.

Half way up, the sky flared white again. They buried their faces against wet earth and fallen pine needles, the scent of mold and mud and river water filling their lungs. This time they heard the sound of it, so loud the earth quivered under them. John pressed his face against the dirt with his arms over his head until he could hear again.

So much for the best case scenario, not that it had exactly been pleasing. Now he was looking at thinking a war would be better than any of the other things he knew were possible.

They reached the road an eternity later, crawling over a still intact section of railing and sinking down on the pavement. Exertion had warmed him a little, but shudders still ran through John at odd intervals.

He rolled onto his back and stared at the sky.  The moon was sinking slowly, but he could see the great, boiling clouds eating the stars, still far away, but red-lit from below.

Rodney was bent over, his hands braced on his knees, panting for breath. Just another shadow, but alive.

"Tell me you have a plan," he gasped out.

"We head for the Mountain," John said finally. "Even worst case scenario, the Stargate's still there. They've got enough shields and defenses to hold out against almost anything..."

He waited for Rodney to say anything and sat up when he didn't. Neither of them had set foot inside Cheyenne Mountain since the Atlantis Expedition was recalled. Neither of them had wanted any part of what the SGC had turned into after the Ori Wars. John had handed his resignation to the general's secretary and left with Rodney the same day; trying to stay in the Air Force would have taken living more lies than he had wanted to tell at the time. Afterward, he'd quit crashing on Rodney's couch and tried the bedroom instead. Both of them had tried to not look back.

"We have to walk?" Rodney said finally.

"You could flap your arms or use that mighty brain to levitate."

"Yes, very amusing."

John sat up, grimacing at the ache in his chest and waist where the seatbelt had cut into him. "Not quite," he admitted. He made it to his feet, feeling every year and every bruise, every disappointment and old wound. "Let's go."

John concentrated on putting one foot in front of the other, on the blisters forming under wet socks. He kept his head down, trying not to stumble. Rodney walked beside him, shoulder brushing his periodically.

John reached over and laced his fingers between Rodney's as they walked.

Rodney's hand was cold and shook, then tightened painfully on John's.

He looked up.

In the distance, the quicksilver column of a culling beam stabbed down to the earth.