Bereft

By Ellen H.

Author's Note: No, I don't own them, though I would like a long term lease on Shep. Just so you know I do not do relationship fics. If I can't have him, ain't no space bimbo, ascended or not, having him either. Now whumping…that I will do, especially psychological whumping. There are many things I do not know about, and you will find them liberally spread throughout this fic. Please put mistakes down to general ignorance. Also, I currently have no beta, so any spelling or grammer issues are my own. To the whumpmobile, Robin!

Chapter 1-

Lt Colonel John Sheppard made his way down the corridor of Atlantis his eyes locked on the file he was reading on his PDA, one hand clutching a bagel he had grabbed in the commissary moments ago. It had been the fastest and most portable of the morning offerings, and he had decided on expediency rather than wasting the time to get something better. There was a staff meeting in less than thirty minutes, and he had three more reports that he was supposed to have read before hand. It hadn't been so bad going through the 'hard' science department reports. He understood the math, and even a good portion of the rest of the science behind them. But when he had hit the life and social sciences reports his progress had dropped to nil. Even Beckett's report had been filled with medical jargon that made his head hurt. Most of it seemed to come down to a depressingly long list of those that they hadn't been able to save, and what they needed to do to make sure that they didn't lose any more people to the same thing in the future. Of course there was the regular speculation about what new horrors that could be coming, but how can you prepare for the unexpected? That question had everyone walking on eggshells, not wanting to be the one department that wasn't ready for anything the Pegasus galaxy could throw at them.

Sheppard absently took a bit of his bagel, and almost had to spit the bite back out as he went to chew it. It wasn't that it tasted bad in fact it seemed to taste pretty good. No, it was the fact that his left cheekbone and his upper jaw suddenly felt like they had been hit by a sledge hammer. It was a feeling that he had hoped would not make a reappearance. He had felt it about an hour earlier in the training room, where he had been taking part in the regular morning sparring session with the marines.

As military commander he felt it was his responsibility to make sure that his men knew what he could do in a given situation, just as he needed to know how they worked. He was an unknown factor to them, a trained aviator from a different branch of the armed forces. All kidding between the services aside, his basic training had not been as rigorous as the Marines' had been, and he knew that they knew it. Of course they didn't know about the additional training he had, he didn't think anyone here did, even Elizabeth who he knew had read his file, or Rodney who he suspected had hacked it early in their mission here. As civilians, even ones that worked closely with the military, they would not understand the military-speak in his file that covered his more…advanced training. But as he worked out with the marines they would be watching, and they would know; they would see the moves, see the style of fighting. This was something he could give them, an assurance that they didn't need to treat their commanding officer like some civilian, didn't need to sacrifice themselves protecting HIM. Their attention needed to be on protecting the scientists.

Of course things in the Pegasus galaxy didn't always go to plan. He had gone to the gym straight from his run with Ronan. He had been breathing easily by the time he had arrived, but he was still sweaty and though he would never admit it, just a little tired. The ex-runner had chosen this morning to step up the pace of their usual run, and Sheppard had been hard put to keep up. He had managed to do so, though he had been puffing hard at the end much to the big Satedan's amusement. Upon arriving at the gym he was happy to see that Lorne had let the captains know that he wanted to be included just like the rest of the men, and he had been assigned a sparring partner with no fanfare. They had sparred, the marine slowly coming to realize that the Lt colonel was not expecting or giving any quarter. He had felt the eyes of the others on him, and was glad that he was at least holding his own. He noticed when Ronan slipped into the room, pairing up with a marine sergeant who had to be at least six foot six and built like a tank.

It wasn't long after that when things went to hell, or at least as far as his plan went. His sparring partner twisted the wrong way on a throw, and ended up with a broken wrist. He had offered to keep going, but Sheppard had simply shook his head and sent him to Beckett. He had no doubt that the marine WOULD go on, and would probably wipe the floor with his commanding officer if his previous performance was any indication, but he wasn't going to have his men training wounded. They would probably have to defend this city when they were one step from dead, and he wanted them to be in as good a shape as possible. That left him without a partner, and one of the non-comms had dropped out to allow him a new one. He knew that there was no way that it could have been planned, after all, the first marine certainly hadn't meant to break his wrist, but if the Marines had wanted to make him look bad, they could not have chosen a better person to team him with than Lt Martin Rodman.

Rodman was the proof that being dumb didn't have to hold you back in life, at least not if your father was on the Armed Services Committee. Unable to attend Annapolis, even with his father's pull, the young man had been sent through OTC and had come out a shiny new lieutenant, with, if possible, less of a clue what to do with his newly confirmed status than the regular newly minted officer. Daddy had continued to drive his son's career, making sure that he had gotten on that most likely fast track to quick promotion, and the no doubt the reflected glory of, the stargate program. He had been bounced from gate team to gate team, clinging like lint to the program despite continued complaints from his commanding officers. Unfortunately for daddy's plans, the young man's basic dumbness had done in the work of nearly five years when he had signed up for the trip to the Pegasus Galaxy. He had volunteered, and since his father had been on a junket to Afghanistan when the departure time had rolled around, here he was, the bane of Atlantis' marine contingent. Sheppard had wondered if the man's record had simply been whitewashed to a point that Weir had simply not seen what she was getting, or if the officers of the SGC had simply taken the opportunity to remove the thorn from their own side and place it as far away as possible. In any event, Sheppard now found himself paired with Rodman for team combat, and as fate would have it, their opponents were Ronan and the big sergeant.

Rodman, who had an impressive amount of muscles, if not brains, had sneered at the ex-runner and the older sergeant, snorting in derision. Sheppard had looked at him in amazement, and had resigned himself to getting his ass handed to him in a sack. What he hadn't counted on was having it handed to him by his own teammate. They had started out well enough. He had sparred with Ronan enough to be familiar with his moves, and while he wasn't in Ronan's league, he could at least make a good showing of it, but this was team sparring. You couldn't just be concerned with your own ass you had to watch your teammate's, too. The Lt had started out strong, sure of his superiority, and had quickly gotten in trouble. The sergeant was pushing him hard, playing with him in an obvious way, and Sheppard, who had been watching out of the corner of his eye as he evaded Ronan's blows, knew he would have to make a move if he was going to have a partner much longer. Rodman seemed to operate on the explosive anger form of attack with no strategy, and that was going to get him "killed". Rules of the game went that once you were taken down to the mat and pinned you were considered 'dead" and you could not help your partner. The sergeant was moving in for the kill, one blow at a time, and the Lt didn't see it coming. Once Rodman went down, the two big men would pound Sheppard into jello.

He saw that Ronan was getting ready to charge, and he used an evasive move that he had been keeping in reserve for the next sparring session with the big man, Ronan over shot, plowing into the mat. Sheppard spun and came up behind the big sergeant. He kicked out, taking the sergeant's legs out from under him. He swiftly moved to "pin" his shoulders, effectively killing the man. He started to roll to his feet, getting ready to meet what he suspected would be a new charge from Ronan, trying to plan how he would use Rodman's bulk for something when he had been hit with what felt like a freight train on the left side of his face. His head had snapped around, and he never felt himself hit the mat beside the sergeant.

Later he figured that he had been out for only one or two minutes, but it seemed like a long time before he had swum up out of that darkness. He first realization was that he was being held against something solid that moved. It took him a few moments to figure out that it was Ronan, and he was being lifted and laid on a hard flat surface, a nearby bench it turned out. The second was that someone was tearing a strip off of someone else, and using language that was truly impressive in its variety, volume, and descriptiveness. Wanting to know who the verbal master was, and who it was aimed at drove him to struggle to open his eyes. He managed do so, and turned his head toward the sounds. He was peripherally aware of Ronan, crouched at his side, a feral look of anger on his face, and of the rest of the men in the gym, standing around in a loose circle, watching.

The sergeant, Billings, Sheppard thought his name was, had Rodman jacked up against the wall, one arm across the younger man's throat. His face was inches from the younger man's, and he was describing Rodman's lineage in terms that Sheppard had not heard before, despite postings on every continent on Earth. Now that was impressive. He would have liked to listen further, but the effort of moving his head had started a pounding that quickly demanded attention. He had been unable to stifle his groan completely, and Ronan's eyes snapped down to him, a smile replacing the concern in his eyes as he saw Sheppard awake and evidently alert.

"How do you feel?" he asked. Sheppard grimaced and raised a hand up to his face. He ran his tongue over his upper back teeth to be sure that they were all still there. With a groan he rolled up to a sitting position, grateful for Ronan's steadying hand at his elbow. As he sat up, ignoring the whirling sensation in his head, he cautiously turned his head toward the two men against the wall.

"Sergeant, my head is pounding, and your yelling is not helping. Can it." He ordered in a growl. The sergeant immediately dropped his arm, coming to attention.

"Sir, yes sir." He barked correctly. Rodman, his face an unattractive shade of purple, slid part way down the wall, gasping for breath.

"It seems that the lieutenant has had a training accident. I suggest that someone help him return to his quarters so that he can recover." Sheppard continued. Rodman gave a strangled gasp of protest.

"Training accident?" he growled, staggering to his feet. He swayed slightly, but then pulled himself up and marched over to stand in front of Sheppard. He seemed oblivious to the growl that came from Ronan. The man really was dense. "That man assaulted me, a superior officer. I demand…" he started only to stop as Sheppard surged to his feet and got in his face.

"You don't get to 'demand' Lieutenant!" He snapped. His mind was slowly putting together what must have happened. When he had taken out the sergeant, Rodman had been all wound up in his attack. He had just enough brains to know that the sergeant had been toying with him, and he had let his rage take him over. When Sheppard had made his move, Rodman had simply struck out at the nearest target. The sergeant had ably expressed his opinion regarding that, and Sheppard didn't feel the need to cover that ground again. He also wasn't going to let Rodman make a complaint against Billings. "You had a training accident, not unlike the one I just had. Since there is no need for these 'accidents' to be noted in anyone's files, or for formal charges to be made regarding certain actions, I say we drop it right now. Do I make myself clear?"

He could practically hear the wheels turning in Rodman's head. Dumb the kid might be, but he knew that he had been way out of line with the blow he had struck against Sheppard. He also knew that having a mark like that in his file could be a stumbling block in his hope for promotion, as could formal charges for assaulting a superior officer. Finally the gears seemed to spit out the response that Sheppard had wanted. With a resentful look at the men standing around, Rodman drew himself to attention and saluted.

"Sir, yes sir." he growled and left the room. One of the other lieutenants slid out behind him, probably to be sure that the man made it back to his quarters, as ordered. Captain Lewis, who had been participating in the training, appeared at Sheppard's side.

"Sir, do you need to go to the infirmary? You took a pretty good hit. You were out for almost three minutes." He asked. The sergeants were getting the men back into their training, and the crowd around them thinned out. Sheppard put a hand up to his face again, wincing at the soreness he found. He had to remind himself not to shake his head.

"No, I don't need to go to the infirmary." He started toward the door aware that Ronan and the captain were trailing him. "I'm going to hit the showers and get an ice pack. I have too much to do to listen to Beckett tell me to be more careful and give me a Tylenol." There wasn't any damage beyond what he was sure was going to be a spectacular bruise, and his pride, and he really did have things to do. He heard Ronan mutter something, and the captain gave a suspicious cough as Sheppard turned to look at the ex-runner. "Something you want to share with the class?" he asked with a glare. Ronan gave a shake of the head and a smirk. Pulling what dignity he could about him, Sheppard headed toward the showers.

He managed to chew the bite of bagel and swallowed. As he did he caught sight of himself in a mirror that someone had hung in a small alcove. There was a large bruise forming on his left cheekbone, just now darkening to black. He knew that as it progressed he would probably have a lovely collection of blues and greens also. He grimaced at his reflection. He was not looking forward to showing his face at the meeting. He was sure to get a verbal whipping from Beckett for not coming into the infirmary, from Weir for allowing himself to be hurt, and not going to the infirmary, and from Rodney simply because he was Rodney. He sighed and shrugged to his reflection, and continued down the corridor. He was almost to his office when he heard his name over the radio. He acknowledged the call.

"This is Cadman, sir," the lieutenant reported. "I'm in the holding area. Could you come down here for a moment?" He remembered that Cadman and her team were scheduled to do a complete evaluation of the holding facilities, making sure that all shields were in working order, and that the cells would be available for use should the need arise. He glanced at his watch; he had twenty minutes.

"I'll be right there." He turned off his PDA, not too disappointed to be missing out on the details of biology's need for additional petri dishes. He reversed his course and headed for the nearest transporter.

Minutes later he was entering the holding area where they had kept Bob, the first wraith that they had captured. The wraith he had shot to death, one bullet at a time. He didn't regret what he had done, but he didn't want to think too much about it either. Just one more of those things that he kept locked inside his head, taking it out for contemplation only in the darkest hours of the night in his dreams. Cadman and her team were huddled to the side of the room where a small table had been set up with two chairs. They came to attention as he entered and he waived it off. Cadman stepped forward.

"We were working the rooms sir, as ordered. We had just finished checking the shield, and Bobby here was checking the walls. We were all talking as we worked, about the ancients, and what they used the cells for, and why we hadn't found anything like a prison, you know for long-term prisoners. We were speculating on what they might have done about criminals, among their own kind, and Bobby said something about wondering if they didn't do some weird mind thing like on Star Trek, and he was touching the wall. A panel opened under his hand and this was in the alcove." She stepped to the side and Sheppard could see a cylinder lying on the table, a very familiar looking cylinder. It was obviously an ancient device, with the look of many of the ones they had found before. Sheppard stepped closer and bent down to look at it. He tentatively reached out with his mind toward it. It was not on. He looked at Cadman and then Bobby Usher, who stood at her side, looking nervous.

"You have the gene, sergeant?" he asked. Usher nodded. "Did you touch this?"

"No sir. The Lt said to leave it alone. She took it out sir, and made sure that I stayed away from it."

"Good job, Cadman. You too, Usher. We'll need to get this down to McKay's lab." He looked at his watch. "We have a senior staff meeting in ten minutes. Rodney's planning on being there early to take the high ground. If you take your time you should be able to miss McKay and hand this off to one of the others in his lab." He knew that things were…difficult between Cadman and Rodney right now, and he saw no need to make things uncomfortable for anyone. Cadman nodded, with a small grateful smile, and motioned to another of her teammates.

"Joe you carry that down to Dr. McKay's lab. We'll continue the survey and you can catch up to us in the next holding cell." Joe Nelson nodded and picked up the device. He looked at Sheppard.

"After you sir." He said with a deep southern drawl. Sheppard nodded at Cadman and lead the way out of the room. They headed toward the transporter, Nelson cradling the device like a baby. They were almost to the transporter when it happened, a figure barreled out of the cross corridor, and plowed into the marine. Sheppard saw the device fly into the air, as Nelson and the other person headed for the floor, and without thinking about it reached out his hand to catch it.

In the moment before it started to glow he had just enough time to think, "Oh Crap." Then there was nothing.

Chapter Two-

Dr Rodney McKay was juggling his laptop, a manila file, a PDA, and a cup of coffee as he rushed toward the conference room where the staff meeting was being held. He was five minutes early. A state that was as unusual for him as finding a charged, available ZPM in the Pegasus Galaxy. He had made an effort to be on time today so that he could gain the advantage on his adversaries. They would be late, and he would be in place, arguments at ready, technology at hand to crush them like…well the bugs that they studied. His enemies for the day were the life sciences people, and he used that description under protest. The very idea that biology and sociology were sciences was ludicrous. Biology was a bunch of oversized children collecting frogs and bugs with their little butterfly nets, and sociology…well who knew what they did. He was not prepared to allow the limited funds that had been allocated to the Atlantis project squandered on useless pursuits when his division needed certain things to keep the whole city going. Hello, if it weren't for the hard sciences none of the others would be here at all.

He reached the conference room and went to a chair directly across from Elizabeth's, so that he could make eye contact as he made his arguments. He pushed his laptop in front of the chair to his left, where Zelenka would be when he managed to show up. He flipped up the top and brought up the charts he had been creating since last week. Without thinking about it he slid his PDA to his right, reserving that chair as well. If anyone should ask, he would waffle and say he had simply slid the PDA aside to make room for his file, rather than admit the real reason he had done it.

He had never quite figured out when he had let a certain scruffy haired, snarky, military man become a fixture in his life. Sometime between the time that said military man had sat himself in the control chair in Antarctica and now, LTC John Sheppard had become something incredibly rare in Rodney McKay's existence, a friend. In fact he was possibly the best friend that McKay had ever had. Despite some ups-saving Atlantis multiple time- and downs-can you say Duranda or Chaya-they still seemed to be friends, and McKay had come to value that more than he wanted to admit. Sometime in that interval he had gotten to the point where things did not seem to be right unless Sheppard was there at his side, snarky comments and all. He tried not to think too much about it. He tended to overthink things sometimes, okay, most times, and it seemed that in interpersonal relationships, unlike hard science, overthinking was not a good thing. So, he simply ordered his life so that things ran smoothly, and if that meant saving a chair for Sheppard at his side, then so be it.

The rest of the room was slowly filling up. Zelenka slid into the seat next to Rodney, pushing the laptop aside as he opened his own. He was muttering in his native tongue, and using words that needed no translation. McKay heard a few references to a certain long-haired pain in the ass, and knew that Zelenka had ran into Kavanaugh on the way to the meeting. The two men were like fire and gasoline. He was reasonably sure that some day they would find Kavanaugh's body somewhere, or more likely would not find him at all. Zelenka was a wily son of a bitch. He really should do something to lessen the tension there, but then, he wasn't responsible for his people's interpersonal issues. Let the best man win.

He looked around. All the chairs were filled, except for the one on his right. He looked at his watch. It was five minutes after the scheduled start time. He saw Elizabeth look at her own watch and then glance at the empty chair. She raised an eyebrow at Rodney who shrugged. How should he know where Sheppard was? It wasn't his day to watch him. Weir started to raise a hand to her earpiece when a voice came over the general channel.

"Emergency! Medical team to section E 17 near the transporter." Before the message could finish Beckett was on his feet and moving toward the door.

"This is Beckett, what is the emergency?" he asked as he started out. The answer made him stop in his tracks and look back at Weir and Rodney, before running toward the nearest transporter.

"It's LTC Sheppard. He came in contact with an ancient device and he's….he's unconscious, and he stopped breathing…uh…we really need some help here."

Rodney was on his feet and heading out the door as Elizabeth was rising from her chair. He heard her start to speak as he ran, but the words didn't have any meaning. He was in the transporter, frantically searching for section E 17 before he realized that he knew where it was, and hit the area on the map. There was the usual quick feeling of disorientation then the doors were opening on a scene of chaos.

Beckett and the medical team were huddled around an unmoving form on the floor. Rodney moved closer, trying to see. He absently noted the small crowd of people who had formed on the outskirts of the chaos. Cadman and three other marines stood against the wall. One of them was clutching what had to be the "ancient device" that whoever had been on the radio had mentioned. It was cylindrical, and made out of the same material as most of the devices and it didn't seem to be activated at this time as the person holding it showed no sign of being effected by it, at least he seemed to be breathing which was more than could be said for the too still form on the floor, who was now being "bagged", having air forced into his lungs. Rodney filed the information away in his mind for later consideration, and turned his attention back to the chaos.

The medical team was lifting Sheppard onto the gurney and was headed toward the transporter, Beckett still snapping orders as they went, and the bagging continuing. That wasn't a good sign. As they all shoved into the small alcove Beckett locked eyes with Rodney.

"Find out what the bloody hell that thing is, Rodney." He said just before the doors closed. Rodney wanted to go after them, but he had been given his marching orders. He spun around, one hand coming up to point at the man holding the device.

"You, to my lab, now." He looked around at the small crowd. "Who saw what happened?" the man holding the device and a slim woman who seemed to be wearing roller skates raised their hands. Rodney pointed at her. "Fine, you come too. Does anyone know who found the device?" Cadman stepped forward.

"My team and I found it in one of the holding areas. It was in an alcove in the wall. Bobby here opened it, but he didn't touch it."

"Wonderful!" Rodney snapped. "So of course instead of calling the Chief Science Officer who is in charge of finding out what these devices do, you called the one person in the city who was most likely to set the thing off! I say again, wonderful!" Cadman scowled at him.

"I reported the find to my superior officer, which is SOP per LTC Sheppard standing orders. The device was not touched by anyone with the gene once it was found, and it came into contact with the colonel by accident. It was being brought to your lab for evaluation when the accident occurred. Procedure was followed to the letter."

"Oh well, that makes it all right then. The fact that Sheppard is currently breathing via glorified turkey baster is all SOP. I'm so relieved." Cadman's face started to redden, and he was sure she was about to blast him back when another voice spoke from behind him.

"Rodney." It was Elizabeth, and she was using that logical, calm voice that she always used when she wanted him to shut up and do something. He really hated that voice. He looked away from the hostile glare that Cadman was sending him, and started for the Transporter. "Well?" he snapped at the two people he had order to come to his lab. He had to save the day again, had to save Sheppard again, and he might as well get to it. He just wished that he could figure out how to be in two places at once.

Chapter 3-

Teyla Emagan, leader of the Athosian people brought her left fighting sticks around and met the anticipated resistance. She flipped her wrist, causing her opponent to shift his guard to counter the move, and then brought the right stick around to land with a slight sting on the back of Ronan Dex's neck. She heard his frustrated growl as he lowered his own sticks, acknowledging his defeat. She was well aware that the ex-runner was not used to being bested when it came to any type of fighting, and it gave her a perverse pleasure to be the one that could do it. Dex had been an eager pupil to her tutelage in the Athosian form of stick fighting, and had rapidly progressed to the point where few of the other Athosians could beat him, but she had several more tricks up her sleeve that would keep him humble. She thought that perhaps that was a good thing, given the man's usual attitude, one she was well familiar with given the team she worked with.

Her three teammates on Atlantis' number one gate team were a study in contrasts and similarities. For all the differences in backgrounds, training, physical type, and general personalities, the three men were strangely alike. They were each highly intelligent in their own way, stubborn, self-confident, set in their ways, loyal, dedicated to their cause and the people that they valued. Each would gladly, though in Rodney McKay's case it would not be quietly, give their lives for another, especially for a teammate. She sometimes found dealing with them to be not unlike babysitting a group of children, but she would not trade them for anything.

She allowed a small smile of satisfaction to curl her lips, and saw Ronan grimace at her, as they moved to pack up the sticks, their session ended. The man needn't think that he was the only warrior in the room. As powerful as the Lanteans had proven themselves to be with their weapons, she and Dex were of another galaxy, another mindset. Here, they had found that you could not depend on machines to do your killing for you, you had yourself and your companions, and if you could not defend yourself, you died, your people died. She was aware that in contrast to the women of Earth she was quite different, harder, more…primitive. There were women in the Lantean's military, women who could hold their own with the men, but they were warriors of the Earth galaxy, they had never known the terror of heaving their own planet harvested by the wraith, they had not been forced to train as Teyla had trained, as the other women of her people had trained, learning to use every advantage to survive. She was as much a warrior as Dex was, but with more subtly she hoped.

She was about to ask Ronan if he wanted to join her for lunch later when they heard the call for a medical team to one of the lower levels. She noted the area, as she was sure Ronan did as well, but it did not concern her beyond simple curiosity. There were many people here, and accidents occurred. But moments later both of them stiffened as they heard who the victim was. They shared startled glances and with no words started for the door. It would do little good to go to Section E, the medical team would certainly not stay there long if the colonel was as bad as stated. They were headed instead to the infirmary. With no conversation they quickly headed to the stairways that would take them to the correct level. Teyla noted that he, like she, tended to use the stairs instead of the convenient transporters. It was better not to depend on the machines to know how best to get around Atlantis should the need arise, and given what had happened since they had come to this place of the ancestors, it had served her well.

As they climbed the stairs she allowed herself to wonder what trouble had found its way to John Sheppard this time. In the time she had known the military commander, she had come to understand McKay's reference about him being a 'trouble magnet'. It seemed if anything was going to happen, it was going to happen when Sheppard was present, and if possible, TO Sheppard. It wasn't that the man looked for trouble, though it was part of his 'job description' as he put it, but that did not lessen the impact on himself or those around him. Teyla's father had once told her the gods only gave one the burden that one could bear, and she had watched as Sheppard had survived things that would have killed another man, or sent him mad. She knew of no other man who could have done so much, and she valued him all the more.

They arrived at the infirmary as the gurney was coming down the hallway from the transporter. As the stretcher came by they could see Sheppard only for a moment, and it was not an encouraging sight. He was completely limp and pale, and he was having breath forced into his lungs from a bag. They followed the gurney through the door, only to find themselves stopped at one end of the room as Beckett gestured to one of the nurses. From that distance they could only watch as the medical personnel began the odd dance that was their own form of battle, battle for a life. They saw Beckett insert a breathing tube into Sheppard's throat, and hook it to a machine.

"He hates that." Ronan said, grimly, his eyes not leaving the activity. Teyla nodded in understanding, and frowned as she got a clear view of Sheppard's face for the first time. There was a livid bruise across his left cheek.

"It looks as if he has been hit. Could something like that cause such damage?" She could not connect such a wound to not breathing, but things were often not what they appeared here in the Pegasus Galaxy, as her friends called it.

"That happened earlier." Dex said. She looked at him with a raised eyebrow. "Training with the marines. His sparring partner was an idiot." Teyla heard the words that were not said, and suspected that the 'idiot' had been made to understand the depth of his error. As sealed off as Dex might appear to others, she knew that he felt deeply for those that had helped him, and Sheppard was the foremost of that group. Anyone who hurt Sheppard was going to know Ronan's wrath. She looked around as the doors opened behind them, and smiled gently at Elizabeth Weir who came to stand with them, her eyes locked on the other end of the room.

"Any news?" she asked. Teyla shook her head.

"No. They have intubated him, and the doctor has continued to work. Do you know what happened?"

"There was evidently an ancient device found in one of the holding cells. Lt Cadman called the Colonel down to look at it, and he was having them take it down to the labs. There was some sort of accident, and the colonel accidentally came in contact with it and it activated." Elizabeth cast a look back at the still figure on the gurney. How often had she seen John Sheppard here, lifeless, as the doctors fought to save him? When would it be the last time? "Evidently he quit breathing almost immediately. The marine who had been carrying the device started CPR and had someone call in the alert." As she finished speaking Beckett started toward them. "Carson?" The Scots doctor was frowning as he stopped in front of them.

"I have no good news for you, Elizabeth." He said grimly. "Whatever that bloody thing did to him it's nothing obvious. We're getting him ready for a full scan on the Ancient scanner and a full CAT scan as well. We've had to take full intervention on his breathing as you could see, and his heart rate is slowing down. Unless something shows on the scanner, which I have a feeling is not going to happen, there's nothing we're going to be able to do beyond keep him mechanically alive until whatever it is can be reversed." Beckett had a love-hate relationship with the ancient devices they had found. The medical machines he loved, and everything else he hated with a passion. He would fly the jumpers if necessary, but he would not touch any other device, even if badgered by Rodney McKay.

"I know you'll do everything you can, Carson. Rodney is working on the device now. I'm sure that he'll be able to get you some answers, and you'll be able to help John. Please keep me informed." She gave Beckett's arm a squeeze and nodded to Teyla and Ronan before leaving. The doctor turned his attention to the two people he knew would difficult if not impossible to remove from his infirmary, at least until a certain military commander was once again well.

"It's going to be about an hour before the tests are done. I know you don't want him to be alone, and he won't be, you have my promise on that, but you might as well go and do something with yourselves for that time. Once he's out of the tests one of you can sit with him. I'll call you when he's ready." The two Pegasus natives exchanged glances. They did not doubt the doctor's sincerity, or his promise, but neither did they want to leave their friend. However they were both sweaty and needed to shower, and if this was going to take some time, they would need to eat. In the way of their team, they reached an agreement silently and nodded to the doctor, heading out the door. They would return when it was time.

Chapter 4-

John Sheppard was walking down the corridor of Atlantis, one hand resting on his holstered weapon as had become his habit. The lighting was in nighttime mode, and a quick glance at his watch showed him it was after 2100 hours. He stopped suddenly as he realized that he didn't know where he was going. He looked around. He was in one of the areas that had been designated for personnel quarters, B section he thought, somewhere near recreation and the commissary. He cast his mind around, trying to come up with the reason he was here. He was off duty, he knew that, but he couldn't quite recall what he had been doing before he had started out to…wherever he was going. He rubbed his forehead and gave a bitter laugh. Great, along with life sucking aliens, hostile fellow humans, and enigmatic Atlantean machinery, he was developing Alzheimer's.

Finally deciding that standing in the corridor was not going to help him remember what he had been doing, he started forward again. He turned the corner and almost got ran over by a chair. Only his fast reflexes and good balance enabled him to stay mostly on his feet as the evidently vicious, and levitating, chair tried to insert itself under his sternum. He grunted as his back hit the wall, and the chair suddenly dropped to the floor to reveal Dr Midori Hatamoshi, one of the microbiologists on Beckett's staff. Dr Hatamoshi was all of five feet in her heels, and was one of the most delicate looking women that Sheppard had ever met. At direct odds with that impression was the fact that pound for pound she was also one of the best at hand to hand combat, being a black belt in several martial arts. He had had the pleasure of watching her tear down one of the Marine Special-Forces guys about two weeks ago, and had a lot of respect for the fifty-ish Japanese scientist. Taking in her startled look, and the relatively large executive style office chair that she had been toting, he gave her a small smile as he straightened away from the wall.

"Taken to late night looting, Doctor?" he quipped. A smile bloomed across her face, and she raised a hand to hide a giggle in that particularly Japanese habit that he had always found charmingly old fashioned. "Should we start doing inspections on your quarters for purloined office furniture?"

"Very funny, Colonel." She said in slightly accented English. She had been a full professor at a college on the west coast for almost twenty years before she had been tapped for work with first the SGC and then the Atlantis expedition, and had lost most, but not all, of her accent some time ago, though sometimes her wording was subtly different from a native speaker's. "I will have you know that I have hidden my bootie much more cleverly than that. You will have to search hard to find my 'stash' of ill-gotten goods." He laughed with her as she grinned at him.

"Where are you off to at this hour that requires an office chair?" he asked as he bent to lift the chair himself. It wasn't particularly heavy, and he knew she was more than strong enough to carry it, but he was after all a gentleman, or at least the Academy had done it's best to make that impression on him.

"They are playing 'From Dusk to Dawn' tonight. If I am going to watch George Clooney killing vampires, I want to be comfortable. There is talk that someone even has the sequel as well." She said enthusiastically, referring to the usual movie night in the Rec room. The rather eclectic mix of movies ran the gamut from old Hollywood musicals to most of the latest release slasher films.

"No Clooney in the second one, Doc. You'll have to get off on that other guy." Sheppard teased as he started toward the Rec room. She moved smoothly along beside him, easily keeping up with his longer stride.

"I will persevere. Always there is the hero to cheer for, even if he is NOT my George." She said. Rumor had it that she had a life-size poster of the suave star in her quarters. In fact the aforementioned ass- whooping of the marine had been due to a badly timed taunt regarding said performer's masculinity during a required civilian training session.

"You know one of the guys would have been happy to tote this for you. I can assign you a 'native bearer' if you'd like." He cast a sly glance in her direction. "I hear that Captain Hartwick is looking for a new hobby." Rumor also had it that a certain couple had been sighted walking on the East pier. Hartwick had claimed that he was only asking her about her martial arts training, but since they had been holding hands, that excuse had been swiftly discarded. A more unlikely pair would be hard to imagine. Hartwick was brawny, blond, all-American, and about six foot two. The possibility of a pairing was quite the hot gossip for now. At the low growl from the woman at his side he stepped further away with a grin.

"I am perfectly capable of carrying my own chair, colonel, thank you. Anyway, everyone was settled already. As to asking one of my collegues in the lab…well let's just say I am in better shape than most of them, and I wanted to get here in time for the start of the movie. I thank you for taking time to help. Will you be staying for the movie" Sheppard shook his head.

"Saw both of them before, and George Clooney doesn't do all that much for me." She laughed.

They reached the already crowed Rec room. A quick glance over the crowd had shown him that several of his officers were present, including Lorne, and many of the senior non-comms along with a good turn out of enlisted and scientists. Hatamoshi indicated a place in the back, and few people noticed their entrance as most of the crowd was busy berating the man who was trying to start the movie, and obviously having a bad time of it. Sheppard was about to leave when he heard a familiar voice from the sofa where Lorne was sitting with two captains and the Senior Master Chief. Due to a lull in the conversation and general ribbing, he was obviously hearing a conversation already in progress.

"…. I see it sir, there's only one problem around here. We got a commanding officer that don't know his ass from his elbow when it comes to running a base, and if we keep letting him play solider it's gonna get our men and the civilians killed, and probably let the wraith get to Earth. No offense to you Major but the colonel ain't much more than a pretty flyboy who slept his way into a promotion. Everybody knows that he and Dr Weir are doing the naughty when no one's looking. Hell, if you and the other senior officers weren't already running the place, we'd probably be as dead as Colonel Sumner or looking like Colonel Everett. You want my opinion, I say let him posture all he wants, and you and the captains make the real decisions. We can all live with that. Won't take the brass long to figure out what's what and get us someone that knows what's he's doing. A real commanding officer that can kick the Wraith's butt back to wherever they come from, and really make this place work."

There was a general stirring of agreement from the officers and men around the sofa, and nods from the two captains. In the rear of the room, Sheppard felt as if his blood had suddenly ran cold. In his peripheral vision he saw Hatamoshi giving him a sympathetic look, which he ignored. Lorne, sitting on the opposite end of the sofa from the Senior Master Chief, leaned forward and waved a hand.

"No offense taken, Senior Master Chief. I'd like to think that I know my job, and I also would like to think that I know enough about what I DON'T know to seek out the advice of those that do when I need it. The colonel and I may be in the same service, but I want to assure you that his style of command is not what we were taught at the Academy, and is not how we run a base. No offense to the Marines, but a GOOD Air Force commanding officer could whip this place into shape in no time. As to the rest it's an honor for me to know that I have your support and cooperation in making sure that all of our people survive this mission. That's a damn fine idea you have there. The colonel doesn't have a clue about how things really get done around here. He's too busy showboating on these little field trips of his to pay attention to what goes on, and if we do this right, there's no need for that to change."

"Hell, you do all the real work anyway Major, all the colonel does is sign off on anything you put in front of him. Shouldn't be too hard to slip whatever we need past him." That came from Captain Lewis, who was lounging in one of the larger chairs. More murmurs of agreement could be heard, but they were drowned out as the DVD finally started, with a flourish of orchestra music and a cheer from the crowd. Sheppard took the opportunity of the distraction to slip out o f the room, ignoring Hatamoshi's increasingly concerned looks. Without a glance at her he was out the door and into the corridor. Any concern about what he might have been doing before he had stopped to help the doctor slipped from his mind. He absently headed toward his quarters, his thoughts chaotic.

He knew that when he had first come here he had been the odd man out. An officer, one who had to be respected and obeyed, but beyond that he had been simply Weir's little toy soldier, good for turning on the city, and little else, a zoomie among the grunts. Then after he had been forced to kill Sumner, he had seen the side-long glances, heard the speculation. He had thought that his performance since then had spoken for itself, had earned the respect of the men, but evidently he had been fooling himself. Yes, since they had gotten reinforcements from the SGC and the number of military personnel had increased he had been counting on Lorne and the other officers more and more for the day to day administration that was required, but he hadn't simply become a figurehead while they did all the work. Had he?

He had lost people, both military and civilian, in the little over a year they had been here. Even if they weren't directly under his command he still felt the loss. Sumner, Gall, Grodin, Anders, Belson, Ford…God how he felt the loss of Ford. There had been nothing he could have done to stop what had happened to the young Lieutenant with the wraith, but what happened afterwards, that had been all him. He could have handled it better, could have reached out to the younger man. Could have gotten him home. And then on that other planet, Px3-whatever, when they had found him again, still he had fumbled the ball. Ford had chosen to go to the wraith rather than trust Sheppard. That had to be the biggest and most blatant vote of no confidence that a man could get. For the first time Sheppard considered that maybe Ford had known what his new officers seemed to know. That Sheppard wasn't the man that he pretended to be. Wasn't the man who should be in command here. Had he been lucky keeping the rest alive this long? How long before that luck ran out, and others paid for his inexperience with their lives?

He reached his quarters and sat down on the bunk. He leaned forward, elbows on his knees and put his head in his hands. He had been through this before, this loss of confidence in his ability to do his job and not be a liability to everyone around him. It was one of the reasons he had not been all that sorry about his posting to McMurdo and what amounted to taxi driving. He had plenty of time there to contemplate his choices, and he had come to the conclusion that despite what anyone else might think he had done the only thing he COULD do and still live with himself. It had been the right thing. So, wrapped in that certainty, he had armored himself against the whispered comments behind his back, the looks of disdain from brother officers, the not so subtle pulling aside in the mess, and the looks of distrust from his subordinates. But he had let that armor fall here. Had thought that he had earned the respect of his officers and men through his actions. How could he have been that wrong? Back in Mcmurdo there had been no one else to feel the consequences of his…hubris. Here, there were too many, and the consequences were too terrible to contemplate, not just for those here, but for Earth as well.

He had dealt with clueless officers in his time, even incompetent ones, the Air Force was no different than a huge corporation with it's highly paid but generally useless executives, in that way. There were those content to let their subordinates run the day-to-day business and simply play the game to get promotions. There were others who built their reputations on the work, courage, and even the lives of others, taking credit where not due, and reaping the benefits. He had held nothing but contempt for those men. But he had seen himself as different. He had thought that he had done well enough in the year since Sumner had died, leaving him in control. He had not wanted command but it had become part of what he WAS now and he had wanted to keep it after they had been contacted by Earth. Had he let his desire to remain on Atlantis, his over confidence in his own abilities, his…yes, there it was again…hubris, lead him into taking a position that he could not fill, at the expense of those around him?

He heard the Senior Master Chief's words again, "We got a commanding officer that don't know his ass from his elbow when it comes to running a base, and if we keep letting him play solider it's gonna get our men and the civilians killed, and probably let the wraith get to Earth." THAT was the crux of the matter. His officers and the non-comms were good men. He trusted their brains and their experience. If they thought that he was a useless figurehead, put in place due to political maneuvering by Elizabeth, and oh and wasn't he looking forward to sharing THAT piece of rumor with her-not, then he was in the wrong place. The question was what was he going to do about it? He lay back on the bed, one arm thrown over his eyes. He had to figure out how to make this right.

Chapter 5-

Rodney McKay had few illusions about his genius. It was there, and he saw no reason to cover his light with a bushel so to speak. He also did not feel that it was necessary to put up with substandard work from those around him simply because they were not as smart as he was. He was currently hovering over Radek Zalenka's shoulder as he was pulling up schematics on his laptop. He wagged one finger at the screen.

"For god's sake, Zalenka, what are you doing, listening to your MP3s? Can you do your experiments in sound engineering later? Abba can wait, Colonel Sheppard can't." He moved back over to where the device sat on a small table, hooked up to a number of scanning devices and laptops. Three other scientists were hunched over their computers, trying to find some indication of what the device had done, or was meant to do. In another corner two more scientist were scrolling through the massive Ancient database, looking for any mention of the device. Rodney had been helping them until moments before when he had paused to harass the help. He firmly believed that active supervision was the only way to get the answers they needed. The fact that it irritated his people was beside the point.

"Is not Abba. This is energy signature of the device. It does not look like anything we have seen before. It looks familiar, but I cannot find a match in our database. Is not simple sine wave, is not repetitive. Whatever it is must have something to do with what it did to the Colonel. Maybe if we can figure out what it is, can figure out what it has done, yes?" Zalenka said calmly. He was the hardest to ruffle of the scientists, putting up with more of Rodney's temper than anyone else. Rodney leaned closer, studying the waves displayed on the screen. Zalenka was right, it did look familiar, but he could not say why. He reached over and punched a few buttons. Zalenka shook his head.

"No, I tried that…" he broke off as the energy signature suddenly dropped to almost zero. They both looked toward the device, which looked no different than it had. Rodney cast a nasty look at the three other scientists who were staring at the device also.

"Which of you did that?" he demanded. If someone had found a way to turn it off, then maybe…but the three were shaking their heads. That meant that the device had shut itself down, or at least nearly down. It had a slight energy reading. But what effect had that shut down had on Sheppard? McKay keyed his radio.

"Carson, the machine has shut itself off, or at least turned itself down. How's Sheppard?" he asked. There was a long pause, and he was about to ask again when another voice came over the radio.

"Dr Beckett is busy right now Dr McKay. He cannot answer you. I believe that you should come here to the infirmary if your work permits." It was Teyla who answered him. Rodney nodded, not thinking that she could not see him. He looked from one to the other of his minions, seeing the looks that they returned, and his fear started to grow. The machine had turned itself off, and Carson was too busy to answer his radio. Everyone in the room was a scientist. They took happening A plus happening B and drew conclusion C. The machine was off, Carson was busy, therefore, Sheppard had 'turned off' too.

"Go Rodney." It was barely a whisper from Zalenka, but it was enough to shake him out of whatever had settled over him. He was running by the time he hit the door, and he was glad that the city reacted quickly or he would have been like a bug on a windshield.

He ran the last leg from the transporter to the infirmary, and flew through the doors. He had expected chaos, not unlike that which he had found in the corridor earlier, but instead it was quiet, deathly quiet. He looked wildly around. There was no one. Not in any of the beds, not in Carson's office, nowhere.

"No, no, no, no….I hurried…I was fast…. I.." he didn't know what to do. He was too late. Sheppard was gone, and he had been too late to say goodbye. If he had only ran faster, had not frozen in the lab. If he had only tried harder, had pushed his scientists harder. He was well on his way to self-flagellation when Teyla stepped out of one of the isolation rooms and looked at him strangely.

"Doctor McKay, Dr Beckett says that we may sit with the colonel now. He has put him in an isolation room so that more than one of us can be with him at a time without disrupting the infirmary in case there is another emergency." Rodney almost fainted from the relief that came when her words finally made sense. Sheppard was still alive.

"What the hell happened? You said I should get down here ASAP. I thought…." He saw the realization go across her face, and knew he didn't have to say what he had thought. She stepped forward and wrapped her arms around him, leaning her forehead against his. She held him for a moment then stepped back.

"For a moment the colonel's heart rate accelerated excessively, but Dr. Beckett was able to get it regulated. John is still unconscious, and still on the respirator, but he is alive." She assured him. She took his hand and led him into the room. Ronan was leaning against the wall just inside the door and Teyla paused there with Rodney as he looked toward the bed where Beckett and one of his nurses were working with one of the machines that were attached to Sheppard.

He was not prepared for what he saw there. You would think that he would become used to seeing his friend here, as many times as he had been here in the past, but each time it was different. Sheppard lay in the bed, chest and shoulders bare, sheet pulled back to reveal the numerous pads connecting him to the EKG machine. He was intubated, as Teyla had said, but still it seemed a horrible invasion, and he knew how much Sheppard hated the machine. The colonel was pale, almost the color of the sheets, except for a livid, darkening bruise that stood out on his left cheek. His dark lashes stood out in relief against his cheeks, and he looked years younger than Rodney knew him to be. His dark hair, always doing it's own thing on the best of days, was more mussed than usual, with more leads going to an EEG machine, which seemed to be what Carson was fussing with. The steady sounds of the EKG machine were a comfort to McKay as he moved to sag against the wall next to Dex. He ran a shaking hand over his face and tried to hear what Beckett and the nurse were saying.

"…there can't be a problem with it. I ran a baseline test on that unit myself not three days ago. It was working perfectly then, and we haven't used it since."

"Well then how do you explain this?" Beckett demanded, picking up the tape that was printing out of the machine and gesturing to the graphs on it. The nurse shrugged.

"I don't know. As I said it was working perfectly. Do you want me to get another machine?"

"I know it's a pain to do it, luv, but switch out the machine and the pads. There might be some kind of problem in one or the other that dinna show when you were testin' it. These readings are useless." He tore off the paper, and holding it in his hands, he came toward the three people near the door. He gave them a small smile. "He seems to be settled now. Of course we're no closer to knowing what's going on with him, but I think we have him stabilized. If he wasn't in the shape that he is, we could have had some serious effects, as it is we're ready in case there's another incident, but we're prayin' that there isn't. Have you had any success figurin' out that bloody machine, Rodney?" He frowned when Rodney shook his head.

"We haven't been able to find anything in the database about it, and it isn't giving us any clues. Zalenka found a weird energy signature, but it cut off suddenly about five minutes ago," he cast a glance toward Sheppard, "in fact it cut off at almost exactly the time he started…whatever it was." Beckett ran a hand through his hair.

"Bloody hell. Can you keep it from turnin' back on again? You're not letting anyone touch it are you?"

"Oh of course that was our first plan of action, Carson. We have every one with the ATA gene lining up in the lab to touch the thing. I came down here to get you to join the line up." Rodney said caustically. Beckett rolled his eyes, knowing the sarcasm for the defense mechanism it was. "No really, we have no idea why the damn thing turned off, much less what it did to the colonel, at this point your guess is as good as mine…well, not as good as mine of course, genius here, but still…We got nothing." He nervously began pacing, throwing quick glances at Sheppard as he turned.

"Well, we know there is a strong mental component to the ATA devices. If the device is connected to the colonel, is there some way we can shield him from that connection? Lock the bloody thing up or throw it in the ocean, or just destroy it all together." Beckett suggested with a flourish of his hands made all the more pointed by the fluttering of the printout. Ronan fingered his weapon.

"I'll get rid." He promised. Rodney shot him an angry look.

"Aside from the loss of a potential weapon against the wraith, which I am sure that you agree is somewhat important to us all, we have no way of knowing what the effect might be on Sheppard if we destroy the device. As it is we can't say with any certainty that there is any connection between them in the first place. It could have been a coincidence that his heart decided to go into overdrive when the machine shut down, in the corridor you said it was slowing, it could have just been the natural progression of whatever happened."

"If that machine is causin' this, what bloody use can it be against the wraith? Something that renders the user completely incapacitated is not going to be much of a weapon is it?" Beckett argued. Rodney, who had stopped his pacing to argue the point, reached out and grabbed the paper strip from Beckett's hands, finding the doctor's fiddling with it to be distracting.

"We don't know what it is supposed to do. It may be that whatever it is didn't have the same effect on the ancients, they after all had full control of the all the technology. This could be some kind of…" What ever he was about to say was cut off by Radek Zalenka's voice coming over the radio, and the alarm from the EKG machine at Sheppard's bedside. Beckett ran for the bedside, yelling for his nurses, Rodney stared after him, mouth still open, watching as Beckett snatched the pillows out from behind Sheppard , laying him out flat on the bed. A nurse handed him the paddles of the defibrillator, and at the doctor's orders started the current building. As Beckett brought the paddles down on Sheppard's chest Rodney had to look away. He raised an unsteady hand up to his comm. Unit, and cut into Zalenka's babbling.

"What in hell are you rattling on about man, speak English!" he demanded of the scientist who had slipped into his native tongue.

"Why did you not answer? We have important news." Zalenka said in English. Rodney chanced a look over his shoulder, and winced as the slim form on the bed arched in response to the electric charge being discharged into his body. He looked determinedly away.

"It wouldn't by chance be that the device has turned itself back on would it?" he asked sharply. There was a silence from the radio. "Zalenka?"

"Yes, how did you know? It has begun producing the anomalous energy readings again."

"Sheppard just went into full arrest." He reported flatly, still hearing the flatline alarm of the EKG. Then there was a beep, then another, and another. Rodney spun about and looked at the screen. A slow but steady beat made its way across the screen. Beckett stepped back from the bed, handing the paddles to the nurse and wiping sweat from his brow. He reached out and laid a hand on Sheppard's arm and bowed his head for a moment then he started snapping orders at the nurses, and doing a check on his patient's status. Rodney looked over his shoulder at Ronan and Teyla.

They had not moved from their positions against the wall, but Ronan was now slumping back to his usual waiting stance, his hand unclenching from the handle of his pistol, as if he had been prepared to fight off Death himself if he had come for Sheppard, or maybe go down and destroy the device despite Rodney's warning. Teyla had wrapped her arms about her waist, her face pale as she had watched the battle for her friend's life. She now closed her eyes and bowed her head, murmuring a quick prayer of thanks. Her dark eyes met Rodney's and he could see her worry, and her faith that they…that he…would find an answer. No pressure there.

Not wanting to see that faith, he looked down at the crumpled paper in his hands, not even remembering what it was. He smoothed it out, and looked blindly at the graph that wended its way the length of the paper. He blinked at it several times, finally remembering what it was and started to crumple it up when his brain suddenly made the connection. The graph on the paper was the same as the graph that had been on Zalenka's laptop, the energy readout from the device. He spun around to the bed.

"Carson, that EEG machine. Hook it up again, now!" he ordered. Beckett looked at him as if he was mad.

"It's malfunctioning, Rodney! We're bringing in a new one. Right now I'm more concerned with making sure that John stays alive rather than his brain activity. If I canna keep his heart beating then the other won't matter."

"And if he doesn't have a brain it won't matter if you can't keep his heart beating. He isn't Kanvenaugh or one of the marines, capable of functioning without one." Rodney snapped back. "I don't think it's the machine that's malfunctioning, I think it's Sheppard." At Beckett's puzzled look he waved a hand. And held up the graph.

"This pattern, the one on here, it is the same pattern that the device is putting out. That can't be a coincidence."

"What do these lines mean?" Teyla asked, stepping forward to look at the lines on the paper. Dex also craned his head to look. She had seen the machines before, but was not familiar with exactly what it did. Beckett, with one last look at Sheppard, stepped over and took the paper from Rodney. He ran a finger along the line.

"Everyone's brain puts out an electrical charge which changes depending on the emotional and physical state the person is in. This records that charge, and by looking at the form of the graph, we can tell what is going on to some degree. It isn't an exact science, but it is indicative of a general condition. But this…it's all turned around."

"Turned around how?" Rodney asked. He understood the mechanics of EEG graphing, but he had no experience in the interpretation of the output of the machines. As far as he was concerned the studying of the entrails of a recently killed chicken could yield as much concrete information about a person's state of mind, however he was prepared to suspend disbelief in this case, if it would help Sheppard. Beckett unrolled the strip further, pointing at several different areas.

"It's all turned around. Look here." He pointed to a point near the start of the tape. "This is when we first hooked the colonel up to the machine. It shows him as being not only conscious, but has all the characteristics of a person going about the normal process of living. This is the EEG of a healthy, conscious and active person, not the EEG of a person in full respiratory arrest laying on a gurney, unconscious." He moved further down the strip. "And here. This is just after the first episode with his heart. It suddenly becomes the EEG of a person that is in a deep sleep, below REM sleep," He saw the puzzled looks on Teyla and Ronan's faces and explained.

"REM, rapid eye movement, sleep is when we are dreamin'. This is much deeper. There are no dreams at this level. But still it isn't what should be there. At this stage his EEG is almost at coma level, very little activity. With what was goin' on with his heart, and the drugs we were using to control it, there should have been more brain activity in response to the chemical imbalances we were producing. That's why I assumed the machine was malfunctioning." He looked at Rodney. "Are you saying that the bloody machine is somehow effectin' his brain waves?"

Rodney was back to pacing, but now his brain was moving as fast as his feet. He started snapping his fingers in tune to the ideas emerging in his head. He tapped his radio. "Zalenka, it's a brain wave. The energy output is matching Sheppard's brainwaves, or vice versa. You need to look in the database for something about artificial environments." There was a silence from the other end as Zalenka and the others took in the implications.

"You think that the colonel is in some sort of artificial environment?" the Czech asked finally. "To what purpose?"

"Well maybe if we knew that, then maybe we could figure out a way to get him OUT of it." Rodney snapped. "Perhaps someone there can come up with that answer. I can't do everything. Well, I can, but there must be some reason you people are there, so get to work." He cut off the radio and looked at Beckett. "We're going to need to hook the EEG into a laptop so we can monitor his brain activity. If we can't disrupt the device, maybe we can disrupt HIM enough to take them out of sync." Beckett gave a reluctant nod.

"I'm gonna have to consult with Dr. Heightmeyer about this before we make any move to affect the colonel's brain chemistry intentionally. It won't do him any good to be free of that thing only to have him develop schizophrenia or some other mental illness." He was about to continue when Zalenka came back on the comm. again.

"Rodney you must come to the lab immediately! We have had breakthrough. Dr Alan has made the device open an access hatch. We can see several controls and what looks like some type of interface port." He reported. Rodney started for the door, then stopped and looked back at Sheppard. He stared for several moments then turned and looked at Teyla and Dex. The two gave him slight nods, and he started forward again, hand to his radio.

'Don't touch anything, I'll be there in…" his voice cut off as he went out the infirmary door. Beckett looked from Teyla to Ronan and gestured out into the general ward.

"Get yourselves some chairs, I don't see any reason you canna stay with him now." He went out to find his nurse and have her set up the computer feed for the EEG machine. He wished he could say that he felt confident that an answer had been found, but past experience had shown him that nothing was ever that simple here. He had a feeling they were in for a long haul.

Chapter 6-

Sheppard was woken the next morning by a sharp knife of light finding his eyes through the windows of his room. It was one of the reason's he had selected this room. The morning light filled the room with gold, but he wasn't in the mood to enjoy it now. He rolled to his feet, and looked down at his rumpled uniform. He had not slept until almost four, his mind working over the problem. He glanced at his watch. It was just after 0700. Once he showered and shaved he should be able to catch Elizabeth in her office before she started her day. He really didn't have any appetite for breakfast. Once he had made himself presentable he headed for the control room, and was happy to see Elizabeth, her head bent over her laptop already, behind the desk in her office. He sauntered up to the door, and leaned in.

"Got a moment?" he asked. She glanced up from her laptop and smiled at him, gesturing him to enter. He did so and thought the door closed. He saw the surprise in her eyes as she looked from the door to him, and she reached up to close her laptop as if she sensed his urgency. And he was sure that she did.

He had a great deal of respect for Elizabeth Weir, respect that grew almost daily, and with every crisis that they faced. She was a strong woman, sure in her decisions, firm in her convictions, and tolerant of blacklisted Air Force pilots, and their quirks. Her confidence in him and her support had meant a lot to him. He had not had someone stand up for him as she had in more years than he cared to remember, perhaps since his mother had died. It bothered him on a level that he had not previously considered that she might have used her power as leader of the expedition to get him promoted, only to have him be the wrong man. If his inadequacies reflected badly on her, he wasn't sure that he could stand it. He met her eyes and tried to think of how to start this.

"Um…I have a...concern that I think we need to discuss." He started.

"A concern about Atlantis?" He nodded and looked away, his eyes touring her office. His hands ached for something to play with; a distraction from the subject, but there was nothing so he met her eyes again.

"Yeah. Uh…this isn't easy…I guess I oughta just spit it out." She raised an eyebrow, a slightly amused look on her face.

"Yes, I think that would be good. I've never seen you this nervous, John. What's wrong?"

"I think that we…you…I…I made a mistake. I am not the right man for this job. You need to let them put someone here that knows what they are doing, before I get more people killed." He had decided to come right out with it, but it sounded so damn pathetic now that he had. He just wanted to slink off somewhere and lick his wounds. He looked up again to see her studying him thoughtfully. She pursed her lips.

"And you reached this conclusion how?"

"It has come to my attention that my…that the officers and men do not trust my judgment. They feel that I was given this position for…reasons other than my being able to do the job, and they don't trust me to get them out of this alive, to keep all of you alive." He could see the doubt in her eyes. And he sat forward.

"Elizabeth, these are good men, men who know what they are doing. Some of them have been in the Marines since before I was out of high school, and have fought against a range of enemies. They are experts in their fields, and that's why they are here. As important as it is for me to trust the men under my command, it is just as important that the men trust me. If they doubt the orders that I give they may hesitate in a moment when there is no time for hesitation. People could, people will, die. I value their opinions, so how can I ignore this?" He looked away again, unable to maintain the contact.

"I thought, I really thought, that I could do it. I thought that I hadn't done too badly over the last year, that I had learned enough about the wraith, about the Genii, about all the other damned people who are always trying to knock us off, or take what we have, or kill us just for being here, but I…I might have been wrong. Maybe all I am good for is my gene. Maybe the Air Force was all right, after all." He wound to a stop, unable to add anymore. It hadn't been the clear, concise, summation of his issues that he had hoped to present, but he had found that he couldn't keep it separate from those doubts that had been with him since he had first taken command, hell since he had first been sent to Antarctica. He wondered briefly at why he had this sudden urge to spill all of this out, why everything seem so sharp, but his attention was drawn back to her as she rose from her seat and came around the desk. She waved a hand toward the sofa.

"Come over here and sit with me, John." She sat on one end, and patted the space next to her. He rose from the chair and went to sit beside her. He raised an eyebrow at her.

"This isn't the part where you give me the talk about how I don't have enough self-confidence and if I really apply myself and study hard I can make it all the way to the nationals and win the spelling bee, is it?" he asked. A small smile crossed her face and she shook her head.

"I'm afraid not." Her face became serious. "I must tell you John, that I had thought that the time for this conversation had passed. I really expected to be having it either sooner or not at all. I guess I should have known that you would be different in this as you are in most other things." He blinked at her in confusion.

"You EXPECTED to have this conversation?" He was now even more confused than he had been before. How could she have expected that he would find out that his men didn't trust him? Unless…his eyes met hers again and she must have seen the realization in his eyes, she shrugged.

"Really John, I may be isolated to some degree, but a good leader always knows what is going on with her people." He blinked at what he could only assume was a not so veiled insult about his obliviousness. Before he could say anything she was continuing "I heard the rumors before we had even left the SGC, as to the rest it's become somewhat obvious over the last few months." She said it calmly, as if it was of no concern. He stared at her dumbly for a moment before he spoke.

"And you didn't feel the need to mention this to me why?"

She laughed, a genuine burst of amusement, then stopped as he looked at her with a frown. She pressed her lips together to hide the smile that he could still see in her eyes. Why was this going so much worse, or so much weirder, than he had thought it would?

"I'm sorry John, but I never thought that you would be this obtuse, or that you had been so oblivious. I really thought that you understood how these things were done. I guess you were in more over your head than I thought. I may have underestimated your naiveté."

"What?!"

"Don't get upset." She soothed as his question echoed through her office. She put a hand on his knee and leaned toward him. Her whole body language screamed that she thought he was about to lose it. He stood, and moved away from the sofa, turning to face her, arms crossed. Somehow he knew that he really didn't want to ask the next question, but it seemed to force itself out his mouth.

"You thought that I was in over my head, but you still pushed me down the throats of the powers that be as military commander? In spite of my 'Naiveté'?" She stood to face him, her body language changing to the familiar one she wore as the leader of Atlantis. Obviously she wasn't thrilled with his tone.

"Do I need to remind you to whom you are speaking, Lieutenant Colonel? In fact do I need to remind you why you have that rank, a rank that you would not have reached without my influence? If it hadn't been for me you would still be playing taxi driver in the Antarctic if they hadn't found someplace worse to send you." Sheppard pulled himself to his full height, coming nearly to attention, not overly thrilled with her tone either.

"No, you don't have to remind me. But what you do have to do is explain what you mean by me being over my head, obtuse and oblivious, and let's throw naïve in there too, just to get everything out in the open."

"What do you think would have happened if I had allowed the military to put a commander of their choice here on Atlantis? How long do think it would have taken for them to declare martial law and take over the whole city, given what has happened here? This is a scientific mission, MY mission. I could not allow the military to take it over. I have worked too long and too hard to get here. " She said sharply, her head coming up in that look he was well familiar with. Then her stance softened. "John, we're both adults here. Let's not let emotions make us say things that we can't take back. We have a good working relationship; let's not ruin that. There's no reason that anything has to change."

"No reason…?" he couldn't believe what he was hearing. "If I am understanding you, and admittedly I am obviously just about as oblivious and obtuse as you say, I am evidently a figurehead, some kind of puppet that you put into place so that you could pull the strings and have me dance to whatever tune you see fit. And to top it all off, I am evidently the only one who hasn't figured that out. What exactly did you expect of me Elizabeth? Let's lay it out so that the puppet can understand the master plan." Her head went up again at his sarcasm, and her eyes narrowed.

"Don't make me regret my choice, Colonel. I have given you an opportunity here, and all you have to do is go along with the flow. As you say your officers are experienced, they will take care of the administration and the security of Atlantis and the SGC is kept happy. They know to run everything by me first. All you have to do is let it happen. We'll pretend that this conversation never happened. There's no need for all this." She was speaking in that reasonable tone that he had heard her use with Rodney when he was at his most difficult. He didn't like being handled, and he liked even less the idea of being…kept. But that was what he was evidently.

She was telling him that he was as incompetent and useless as his men viewed him, and to make it all the more perfect, that was evidently why she had chosen him for the position. It wasn't that she had had confidence in HIM. She hadn't trusted him to keep them safe. Hadn't thought that he could do the job. She had just needed a stooge to keep the SGC out of her way. He felt something inside him shrivel, as if a wraith had sucked every bit of life out of him, and left him an empty husk. How could he have misread the situation so badly, been so blind? Was he really that stupid?

Almost by itself his hand went to his collar where his gold oak leaves were pinned. He had been so damn proud when Landry had pinned them on, only a determination not to cry like a girl had kept his eyes dry, though he had been forced to blink quickly a few times. Up until it actually happened he had put the thought of promotion out of his mind, knowing that it was out of reach. He had fully expected to be second in command again, if that even. He just wanted to go back, more than he had wanted anything since he had first wanted to fly. The fact that he had been going back as the military commander had been the icing on the cake. And now…and now… With a quick jerk he pulled first one then the other insignia off his uniform and offered them to Elizabeth who stared at them as if he had tried to hand her a live grenade.

"What are you doing, John?" She asked, not taking the offered pins. He threw them instead on the nearby desk with a careless toss, not caring as one shot off the other side. They meant nothing, not anymore.

"What has to be done." He turned on his heels and left the room.

Chapter 6-

Rodney entered the lab and instantly went to look at the device. The formally smooth cylinder now had a control panel that boasted two dials, a port for an interface, and what appeared to be some sort of indicator. The indicator was all green, and Rodney suspected the ancients had used a green means 'go' thing much like their modern descendants. He looked over at Zalenka.

"Anything in the data base?" he snapped, spinning one of the closest laptops around to look at what was being worked on. After reading a few lines he flipped it back around and glared at the scientist who had been working with it. "I'm sure that the colonel will be incredibly happy that you have managed to locate a ten thousand year old recipe for Kim Chee, should he manage to survive the effects of the deadly device that the rest of us are trying to figure out. Good work, continue along." He stomped over to where a small dark haired woman was working on another laptop. "Dare one hope that you at least are working on the problem?" he demanded. She responded by spinning her laptop around.

"I think I have found a way to interface with the device. I believe that it is outputting a video signal, and if you are correct about it being a virtual environment, then we might be able to see whatever is going on, though we will not be able to experience it as Colonel Sheppard is doing. Also, if you look at this," she brought up a series of graphs. "I think this thing is recording whatever is happening. Look at this indicator here. It is echoing this one here. This interval is the exact same timeline as when Colonel Sheppard seemed to be out of it's influence." She said quickly. Rodney scrolled rapidly through what she had on the screen. He could find no fault with her calculations or her inferences. He spun the laptop back around.

"Do it." He pointed at two of the other scientists. "You two, help her set up the interface. Zalenka, we're going to need to reconfigure the display in the infirmary to take the feed through our laptops, I want this recorded. The rest of you, keep looking for something in the database. We need to know how to turn the damn thing off." He scooped up Zalenka's laptop and a power bar that was sitting nearby and headed toward the door. Juggling the laptop he hit his comm.

"Elizabeth, can you meet me in the infirmary, I think we may have something on what's happening to Sheppard." he said. Seconds later he was in the transporter with Zalenka, going over what needed to be done.

By the time he entered the infirmary he had eaten the power bar, and had sneered at two of Zalenka's idea's regarding the purpose of the device. While they were no closer to knowing exactly what the ancient's had intended it to do, he felt that being able to see what was going on should give them a clue as to why it was happening. Elizabeth was already in the infirmary, standing at Sheppard's bedside, one hand on his arm. She moved away as Rodney and Zelenka entered and put their equipment on one of the tables at the side of the room. Rodney noticed that Major Lorne had also come in, probably with Elizabeth. He was standing out of the way, slightly separated from the others as if not sure he should be there at all.

"What do you have Rodney?" She asked. He could see the concern in her eyes, concern for Sheppard. He knew that she valued every person on Atlantis, but that there were those who she counted on, worried about, more than the others. Colonel John Sheppard was one of those people, and not just because of his military knowledge. She, like Rodney, had come to see the person beneath the cocky flyboy image that the man projected. Had seen the leader, the hero, the dreamer, the optimist, the kid, the complicated highly intelligent man that he was. She would not give up on him, and neither would Rodney.

"We've found an access port that will let us see what is going on in the virtual environment, call it a window into what is going on in Sheppard's new little world. We won't be able to interact with it like we could on the Aurora, but we're hoping that if we can see what is going on, then we might have some clue as to what the device is doing and why. One of my people found a hatch." he snapped his fingers at Zalenka without looking at him. The Czech rolled his eyes but brought up a picture of the device on one of the two laptops. Rodney waved at the two dials. "While we can't guess yet exactly what these do, it seems likely that they are for making some sort of settings, perhaps some sort of timer, or perhaps a choice of environments. Until we can find some schematics on this we don't dare make any changes in the settings. This indicator," he waved at the green bars of light that spanned the small display, "seems to indicate that device is in operation. During this last cycle it went to one bar when Sheppard went through the accelerated heart rate, then just a while ago it went all green." He picked up the EEG tape that he had been carrying around and snapped at Zalenka again who was ready for him with the energy graph. Rodney held the paper next to the screen. Everyone could see that they the same.

"So this device is projecting a scene to him and he doesn't know that it's not real? One minute he's walking down a corridor with a marine carrying an ancient device and the next he's not. Wouldn't that be something of a clue?" Elizabeth asked.

"Possibly, depending on what the virtual environment is. For all we know he could be wondering around Atlantis seeing all of us while the device is vacuuming his mind for any intelligence that he might have. Codes, combinations, manpower." Rodney threw a glance at the still form on the bed. "Given the physical effects as he transitions from one state to the other, there's probably little chance of him noticing the dissonance." He was about to keep talking when Zalenka started swearing in Czech. Rodney spun to take him to task for interrupting and saw what was causing the swearing. The green bars were less numerous on the indicator. The cycle was coming to an end.

"Carson!" He bellowed toward the infirmary. "Light the sacred fires and start dancing, the cycle is ending again!" the indicator dropped two more bars. "Carson!" Rodney was about to have Ronan or Lorne go and haul Beckett's ass into the room when the doctor came in followed by two nurses. He went instantly to Sheppard's side. He glanced at the EKG machine and back at Rodney.

"What are ya blatherin' about then, Rodney?" He asked with a scowl. Rodney was about to snarl back at him when the even cadence of Sheppard's heartbeat suddenly accelerated, the beeps of the machine blending to sound almost like the alarm. Beckett spun and snapped orders at the nurses who started handing him hypodermics. Everyone froze, as once again Beckett battled to bring Sheppard's heart rate down. It seemed to take forever before the rhythm once again settled down to an even beat. Beckett sagged against the bed with a lowered head and looked over at Rodney.

"He canna take much more of this without damagin' his heart. If that bloody thing keeps doing this one of these times I won't be able to control it. He'll infarct or have an aneurysm. Even someone as healthy as he is can't take this kind of strain on his system."

"Rodney is doing all he can, Carson." Elizabeth soothed, putting a hand on Rodney's arm. She could feel the tremble in the scientist's muscles, and saw that he was staring at Sheppard with an almost forlorn expression. Like a kid who had been told that his dog was going to have to be put to sleep. She had never known exactly what it was that drew the two men together, but after over a year, she had come to understand that some things simply defied explanation, and were meant to be. She could not imagine Atlantis with out the two, bickering and fighting. She squeezed the arm and Rodney's gaze moved to her and he seemed to read her thoughts. He nodded and turned back to the laptops.

"We think that this thing is recording whatever is happening. We know that there have been two…episodes. We have the device hooked into the laptops in the lab, and we should be able to initiate a playback of…" He broke off as a scene flickered into being on the large display screen that hung from the ceiling of the room. They all recognized a corridor in Atlantis, and the slim form that was walking down it. All of them looked from the screen to the bed, and back again, the contrast was heartbreaking. They watched as a seemingly healthy Sheppard paused, a frown on his face before continuing down the corridor.

As they watched, amazed at the detail and perfection of the artificial environment, they saw Sheppard run into Midori Hatamoshi. They listened as he gently kidded her about the chair and a certain captain. His friends smiled at each other as they saw the playful side of John Sheppard coming out. Whatever the purpose of this virtual environment, it seemed innocuous enough. But the smiles quickly faded away as they watched Sheppard enter the Rec room, and heard the words from the officers, saw the agreement from the others there.

Elizabeth had to bite her lip to keep from crying out as she watched John's face as he stood listening. A growl from behind her told her that she wasn't the only one who had seen it, had seen the pain in Sheppard's expressive eyes. She threw a glance at Lorne who had stepped away from the wall and was watching the screen with a horrified look on his face. She saw that his hands were fisted, the knuckles white with the strain. She wanted to comfort him, but didn't know what to say. She turned her attention back to the screen.

She knew how dedicated Sheppard was to his men, how he valued their confidence and the respect that he had fought so hard to for, that he so very much deserved. She knew that each word would have driven a knife into his heart, but not a hint of it showed beyond his eyes. He stood, his usual lazy posture abandoned for stiff attention, chin high, lips compressed. As the conversation waned he turned and left the room silently. He stalked back to his quarters and almost ran through the doors. As they closed he walked slowly to the bed and sat down, leaning forward to cradle his head in his hands. He sat that way for the longest time, alone in the darkness, unmoving, and then he lay down on the bed and flung an arm over his eyes. As he did so the picture faded from the screen.

There was silence after it faded, and none of the people in the room looked at anyone else. Each one felt as if they had been witness to something very private, had spied on their friend. The silence was broken as Ronan pushed away from the wall with a curse and started toward Lorne. Teyla glanced at the others and grabbed his arm before he could take more than two steps. He turned to her with a growl, jerking his arm away.

"Ronan!" She snapped. "Where are you doing?" He looked across the room at the still figure on the bed.

"They can't talk about him that way." She shook her head.

"It is not real. That did not happen, except for in his mind. Those men did not speak of him in that way, you would be punishing them for something they did not do. You know that they WOULD not speak of him in this manner." Ronan looked from her back to the bed again.

"Evidently HE doesn't know that. Doesn't that mean that he must think that they could, that they will?" She took his arm again, gently drawing him back to their place against the wall.

"John does not have the confidence in his abilities that we have. He hides it well, but the opinion of others is important to him. He, like all of us, wants to be respected by those he commands. He wants them to follow his orders because they know that he understands what he is doing and will not throw their lives away needlessly or in some vain attempt to make himself look good, not just because he has a higher rank." She looked around at the others who had been watching the scene unfold. "I do not understand why this device would want to hurt him in such a way. What could be the purpose?"

"It certainly is like the artificial environment on the Aurora." Elizabeth agreed. She looked at Rodney. "It looks like you were right about him not noticing that he was in it. You were able to actually enter the environment on the ship and tell them it wasn't real, why is this different?"

Rodney was still running the implications of what they had seen through his head. Even knowing that it was all a mental construct, he had found himself just as angry as Ronan as they had watch and listened to the men talk about Sheppard. McKay was in no way one of those touchy-feely kind of people, but by the time Sheppard had returned to his quarters he had just about wanted to go to his friend and give him a hug. Either that or go over and knock Lorne on his ass, which would of course have led to his getting his ass handed to him on a platter, but it would have at least been something.

Rodney was well aware that his genius had more often than not alienated him from others. He told himself that he no longer cared about the opinions of others, and that the only validation that he needed was his own, because after all, if anyone knew how brilliant he was it was him. But that changed when he had come here. He had slowly found himself caring very much what others thought of him, how they viewed him. He wasn't sure how he would react if he had heard such a lack of confidence in his abilities. Even a high self-confidence level could only take you so far when those whose opinion you respected tore you down. As Elizabeth's words soaked in he blinked several times and shook his head. He leaned over the laptop, fingers flying over the keys.

"It uh…this device isn't as sophisticated as the machines on the Aurora. Those allowed for input as well as output, you could affect the program itself if you knew what you were doing. This device has no interface for anyone outside the environment to make changes, at least not in any way that I've found so far." His frustration was evident in his voice. He and Zelenka went back to comparing notes on what they could see.

Elizabeth looked at the one person that had so far not said anything or moved. Lorne still stood where he had been, he had not so much as flinched when Ronan had started for him, not something that many could have done. His eyes were locked on the floor, and he was seemed to be breathing deeply. His hands had not unclenched. She walked over and placed a hand on his shoulder. She could feel the tension in the muscles there.

"Major, are you all right?" She asked. He raised his eyes to hers, and she could see a myriad of emotions roiling in his dark eyes.

"No ma'am, I really wouldn't say that. I just watched myself not only bad mouth a superior officer in public and in front of subordinates, but I did it in front of that officer; an officer that I respect and fully support. To think that he might have believed that…bullshit to be true makes me sick to my stomach."

"I understand Major. Whatever that device is doing, for whatever reason, it is obviously playing on the insecurities that the colonel has about his position. He was thrust into it, and he sometimes forgets what he has accomplished here. We just need to keep reminding him of that. I know that he counts on you. That he values your opinion. Knowing John, once he knows that it was all a sham and that you saw it, he'll be apologizing to you for having any doubts about your loyalty." A small smile quirked Lorne's lips, though his eyes did not lose the look of anger and hurt.

"You're probably right, Doctor. If you don't mind, I have some things to take care of. The Colonel had office hours this morning, and…he's pretty insistent that the men have access to voice any problems. He would want me to cover that." At her nod he started out the door, then turned back to her, his eyes once more sweeping over Sheppard before meeting hers. "I've already had a bunch of inquiries about the colonel ma'am. What should I say?"

"For now I think it would be best to simply say that the colonel has been affected by an ancient device and we are working to determine what is going on. Let everyone know that we'll update them as we have some definitive information." She decided. The major nodded and started out, only to stop again as he passed by Ronan. The big Satedan glowered at him, but Lorne met his eyes without quailing.

"I feel the same way, Dex." He said and then left. The silence returned to the room.

"I have the second cycle ready to go." Zalenka announced reluctantly. He felt like a voyeur, looking in on a person's life and thoughts without his permission. Intellectually he knew that what they had seen was not real, but he also knew that to John Sheppard it had been very real, and he had seen the look on Sheppard's face as he stood in the Rec room and listened to the cruel words. He had also glimpsed the pain in Rodney McKay's eyes as he had turned away from his friend. A year ago he would have said it was impossible for McKay to feel anything for anyone but himself, but he had since come to understand that McKay did feel, he just didn't know how to express it. He had come closest to openly expressing his feelings with John Sheppard. The two bickered like children, and no one could put McKay in his place easier than the Air Force pilot. Zalenka often silently cheered as Sheppard refused to be cowed, browbeaten, or in any way affected by McKay's sarcasm or claims of advanced intelligence. He too, considered John Sheppard a friend, and he did not like to see him hurting.

"Go ahead." Elizabeth said and looked back at the screen. She had to mentally brace herself against whatever might appear there. She was horrified when it was herself that John encountered next. It was odd, seeing oneself doing something that you had never done. She found herself wondering if that was how she really looked, or if that was just how John saw her since this was a construct of his mind.

She watched as Sheppard entered her office, and could see the almost painful confusion and sadness in his eyes even though his kept his face blank. As the conversation went on she felt her heart shrinking in on itself and she wanted to reach out and shake the other her, to demand that she shut up and listen to the pain that John was in, and finally as her other pushed another knife into an already wounded heart she just shut her eyes and ordered herself not to cry. She was not particularly successful. She was hoping against hope that the floor would suddenly open up and swallow her when Zalenka spoke.

"That is the end of the second cycle." He said quietly. There was silence, broken only by the constant beep of the EKG. Finally Elizabeth felt a hand on her arm and opened her eyes to meet Teyla's brown eyes. She saw the echo of her own tears there, and a sob worked its way past her lips. Strong arms wrapped around her, and a hand guided her head down to a slim shoulder. She let the tears come, forgetting the others there, forgetting that she was the leader of the expedition. Teyla whispered soothing sounds to her, and she was just starting to get herself back together when she heard Rodney.

"No, no, no, no, no, no! Carson the cycle is starting again! Damn it! Zalenka, get on with those idiots in the lab and tell them we need results now!" He was pounding away at his laptop, the sound like a machine gun, but as he spoke the EKG alarm began as once again Sheppard's heart stopped. Beckett swore and swung into action, his team moving like the well oiled machine it was. The others stood and watched as twice the paddles were charged and used. After the second shock the steady beat began again, and there was a simultaneous release of breath. At the same time the screen flickered, and they looked at it with concern.

"It's showing the current cycle. We're seeing it as he experiences it." Rodney said, and turned his eyes to the screen. Beckett meanwhile looked at his nurses.

"We can't count on them finding a way to stop this. We need to take additional steps to regulate his heart rate. I want the external pacemaker set up in here. Bring in the scanner and get me a surgical tray and a local. We'll do the contacts here in a sterile field. If this cycle is the same we have less than ten minutes, so move it!" There was a flurry of movement, but the others weren't watching it, their eyes were glued on the screen.

Chapter 7-

Sheppard left the control center behind, wanting to do nothing more than go to his quarters and lock himself in, or go to the farthest pier of Atlantis and scream his lungs out. Instead he did neither. He had to do something first. It was only a matter of time until this was all over the base. Nothing traveled faster than news, except bad news. If he stopped for a cup of coffee the only people who didn't know he had just effectively quit his life would be the off world teams and maybe an Athosian hunter or two on the mainland. He owed it to his team to tell them personally. To explain why he had thrown away the best thing he had ever had.

He had resigned his command. That meant that there would soon be another military commander. Lorne would fill in until the Daedalus arrived, then Caldwell would be in command. No doubt there would be a flurry of communications with the SGC, and a decision would be made. The way he figured it they had two ways of viewing the situation. One: Sheppard is a liability to the moral of the troops and the confidence of the civilians. Therefore he should be recalled to Earth immediately for disciplinary hearings and possible, read probable, dishonorable discharge from the service. Or Two: Sheppard is an incompetent officer who could not handle the position, but he had the strongest Ancient gene that had yet been found. He would be allowed to stay on Atlantis but would be replaced by a full colonel, to be named at a later date, and effectively moved out of the chain of command into a purely advisory position. Of the two he almost hoped for the first.

As much as this had become his home, as much as these people had become his family, he wasn't sure if he could stay here after this. There was no hope that the whole story would not come out. Everyone would know why he had been pushed aside. He had once seen a TV show where a Japanese woman had been discarded by her family after she had done something they considered dishonorable. On the show she had described herself as a 'living ghost', alive but invisible to her family. If they allowed him to stay that is what it would be like for him and the military members of the expedition. He would be a pariah, and he doubted if he would be allowed to go through the stargate for anything more interesting than pack mule duty, and probably not even that. They would take away his team. He had gone through this before, in Afghanistan, in McMurdo, and he had survived, but he could not do it again.

As it was early morning, he figured he stood a better than good chance of finding Teyla and Ronan already up and sparring, and he wanted to be able to explain to them what was going on. He couldn't expect them to understand all the implications of the political maneuverings, but he could at least explain his part in this...farce. He found that he was near Teyla's quarters, and decided to check to be sure she wasn't there. He hit he doorbell and waited a few minutes. He was just turning to go try the gym when the door slid open. Teyla stood in the doorway, a surprised look on her face.

"Colonel Sheppard, I was not expecting you, but I was going to call and see if you were free." she said. He started to ask her if he could come in when he looked behind her. Instead of the comfortable nest of natural fibers and subdued colors that characterized her room it was starkly barren, and there was a small pile of bundles behind her. He also noticed that she was not dressed for the gym, but was instead in her Athosian clothing, something she rarely dressed in these days unless she was visiting the mainland.

"Goin' somewhere?" he asked, wondering if she were moving to other quarters. There had been some speculation regarding her and Ronan, but he was pretty sure that it had not come down to moving in together. Of course if he was so oblivious to other things, why not this too?

She looked uncomfortable, something he was not accustomed to. He had seen her in circumstances that would have made a hardened Marine break down and sob for his mother, standing straight and tall, defiant and calm. Whatever made her uncomfortable he really didn't want to know about. She motioned him to enter and with a gesture asked him to sit on the unmade bed. He did so, his eyes sweeping over the bundles again. Yep, all of her things were packed. She turned to him, her face serious, and he felt his heart twist again. God he was getting tired of that.

"I have spoken with Dr. Weir about this, and I had thought that it would be easier to tell you just before I left." Teyla started. Sheppard, who had been bracing himself for he didn't know what sprang to his feet and started pacing. He didn't like the word 'left'. He noticed a small pile of things in the corner of the room, and easily identified them as the uniform and pack that Teyla had been issued. From their position so far away from the other items he had no trouble drawing a conclusion. Why had his life gone to hell like this? What vindictive god had he pissed off this time?

"Easier…yeah I'm getting a lot of that the last couple of days. Everyone trying to make my life easier." He snapped. "Just spit it out Teyla." He knew he sounded angry, but he was starting not to care. She raised an eyebrow at his tone, but continued evenly.

"I have been…having a lot of difficulty lately justifying my continued absence from my people."

"And the fact that you're out here fighting the wraith, looking for ways to protect Atlantis AND your people isn't justification enough I suppose?" he asked, not pausing in his pacing. He could feel his hand clenching and unclenching at his sides, but he couldn't stop them, or the pacing. He REALLY didn't want to have this conversation. Not today, not any day. His professional career was circling the drain. He had hoped his personal life wouldn't go the same way. The eyebrow rose a bit higher, and Teyla rose to her feet and stepped into his path. He pulled up to avoid bumping into her and stood facing her. He knew that she could read his anger and tension in his face, she knew him too well not to, but once again he found himself not caring.

" I know that I do not need to tell you about the guilt that I carry for circumstances that led to our coming here, to my people being displaced from their homes. The wraith have haunted my people for as long as we can remember and we have lost uncounted lives to them, but never before were we driven from our planet, from all that we were. If the cullings had gone on as they regularly did, the wraith might have come to our world, or they may have passed it by. Instead, my actions caused them to come again, to destroy everything we had known." As she spoke he felt the guilt, never far away, building in him. He looked away from her as he spoke.

"Don't you mean our actions…MY actions? You were just the one that showed me some ruins. If I hadn't activated the necklace the wraith wouldn't have come to Athos. If they hadn't come, you and our men wouldn't have been culled, and we wouldn't have made our oh-so-heroic effort to save you all. The wraith might not have learned about Earth, about Atlantis, wouldn't have wakened early, wouldn't have gone on a killing spree across the galaxy. Isn't that what you mean?" He couldn't keep the bitterness out of his voice. He had thrown the same accusations at himself over and over. He looked up from the floor into her eyes, and saw it there…blame. It hit him like a brick between the eyes. Oh God, she did blame him!

"Teyla…" he reached out, but she evaded his hand, moving to stand near her things, arms crossed.

"I had not meant to say it in such a way, but yes you are at fault, as am I for aiding you. Through your rash actions, the actions of your people, we have lost everything. Our whole way of life has changed. We cannot even trade with the other worlds on our own terms because you control the stargate access. It as if we live at your pleasure, you give us what you will, but it is always given with the knowledge that it can be taken away just as easily. We must return to our roots. Dr. Weir has agreed that we may use the stargate to return to Athos."

"We have never…" She ignored his protest and continued.

"I am not saying that you consciously do so, but it is always there. Should it come down to a choice between the people of your expedition, of your Earth, and the people from my world, who would you save?" He stared at her, unable to speak for a moment.

"That's not a fair question." He protested. "We have done everything possible in the past to protect your people just the same as anyone from our expedition. If we were as self-centered as you paint us, we would have left you on that wraith hive ship, or on Athos for the next one that came by looking for a little snack. During the siege we took the time to evacuate your people from the mainland when we could have been using that time to shore up our own defenses. We have never left you hanging, and I resent the fact that you would even suggest that we, I, would."

"Why should you resent it? Are you not descendents of the ancestors who left us here to the wraith and fled to your world? How are we to know that you will not do the same should it come to the point you cannot defend the stargate? I know that you have plans to destroy Atlantis should the wraith win through the defenses. Where does that leave my people but stranded on a strange planet with no access to a stargate, and no hope of protecting ourselves from the wraith?" He gaped at her. Where the hell was this coming from?

"If that ever happens, you can be sure that we will make every effort to evacuate your people to some other world before hand if we have time. You can also be sure that a damn good portion of MY people will be dead, possibly all of us, before we destroy Atlantis, and it will be a last resort to save 7 billion people on Earth, and uncounted others throughout an entirely different galaxy. So you'll forgive us if we thought that you might understand how that was something that we could not allow to happen." Despite his argument he could see no change in her attitude.

Teyla had been a friend almost from the time that they had arrived here in a galaxy where friendly aliens was practically an oxymoron. He had fought at her side through numerous battles, had lost mutual friends, had consoled and been consoled by her. They had talked of many things. He would willingly walk through fire for her, and up until a few minutes ago, he had known that she would do the same for him. He watched as she leaned down to pick up one of the bags. She faced him again, her chin raised in that determined attitude that he was so familiar with, that he had come to count on. She had made up her mind.

"We are going now. My people have been coming over on the jumpers. I must meet them for a prayer before we embark. I am sorry that we must part in this way. I know that you have done was not with malicious intent. You meant no harm, but that does not change the fact that it DID happen. Nothing I do now can change that, and I must stop trying to make up for it by separating myself from my people." She met his eyes, and he tried to keep the hurt he felt inside from showing. If this was going to happen, he was at least going to get through it with some dignity intact. "You were coming to see me for something before…this all." she waved at her possessions. "What did you want?"

He stared at her for a moment, completely at a loss for why he had been there. What he had heard over the last few minutes had pushed thoughts of anything else out of his mind, but now it flooded back. When it rained it poured. He had never really understood that saying before, but then it seemed when the universe wanted to rain on John Sheppard it always gave it all there was anyway, why should this be different? He shook his head, turning his eyes away from hers.

"It isn't important anymore." He had to get out of here, now. He headed toward the door, thinking it open as he approached, and almost ran full steam into Ronan. He was about to dodge around the tall Satedan, and keep going but something made him stop. "Did you know about this?" he said with a jerk of his chin over his shoulder.

He met Ronan's eyes and saw the answer there. He was about to say something that no doubt would come out incredibly caustic regarding team communications when he saw it. Ronan was carrying a bag, one not unlike that which Teyla had picked up, one that Sheppard had seen in Ronan's quarters. It had held the ex-runner's few possessions. He had suggested unpacking, but Ronan had simply shook his head and said that he wasn't used to staying in one place, that he was used to being ready to leave at any time. He hadn't trusted the promise of Atlantis then, and Sheppard realized that evidently he still didn't.

"Never mind." He said and pushed by the silent man, only to be brought to a stop as Ronan's large hand closed on his arm. He looked down at the hand and then up at Ronan. "What? You need my blessing for the trip?" He had just got done having his heart pulled out of his chest by Teyla; he wasn't going to subject himself to this again. Let them go, let them all go. It wasn't like there was going to be a team any more anyway. Gee, there was a silver lining to the dark cloud that had become his life, now he didn't have to tell his friends how he had found out just how useless he was. Of course it seemed that they had already known. The USS Sheppard was going down, and the rats were leaving at an alarming rate.

"You know what I want Sheppard. I've made no secret about it. The wraith need to be eliminated, and your people aren't going to do it." The runner said intensely. "I've been watching. You react fine when they attack, couldn't ask for more, but you won't follow through. You won't take the war to them. Your people don't want to kill them, you want to mutate them into humans and save them, or just chase them off." He sneered

"Your compassion makes you weak. They need to die, all of them. Their home planet needs to be treated like they treated Sateda, like Athos, like a hundred, a thousand, others. There are many others that think like I do out there, people like Ford was, willing to do whatever is necessary to end the threat. I'm going to find them. Once Teyla is settled, I'm going hunting on my own. This time they'll run." Sheppard didn't even bother to make an argument. He looked from Ronan to Teyla.

"And you decided to support him in this?" he asked her incredulously Ronan let go of his arm with a growl, and Teyla nodded.

"It is his choice. We have offered him a home with us, but his path leads him another way. We cannot make him stay."

"So you let him go off alone? He's been alone for seven freakin' years." He turned back to Ronan forgetting his determination to not argue the point. "You may not like our methods, and I agree that some of our ideas have been ill advised, but we're kinda new at this. Our wars have been a bit different, but I think that you have to admit we're stayin' ahead of the curve here. I have watched one man that I considered a friend turn into something that is little better than the Wraith he hunts. You might not be running from them, but you will still be running. And no matter who you find out there, if they are doing the same thing, they are not going to be concerned about YOU, and you deserve to have someone who gives a crap if you come home or not. Everyone does. You have that here, don't throw it away." He met Ronan's eyes. The ex-runner shook his head and with typical succinctness, answered briefly not even bothering to refute any of Sheppard's arguments.

"Made up my mind."

Sheppard started to argue further, then realized that even if Ronan should stay, he would certainly not be on Sheppard's team. Remembered that there would be no more "Sheppard's team". If the Satedan stayed he would end up with another off world team. Would he get along as well as he had on SGA-1? It seemed he had no problem tossing it all aside to go of on his witch hunt with his new gung ho friends, so he probably would.

He felt a flare of jealousy at the thought of his teammate going out with some other team, of Teyla having her people around her, supporting her, wanting her there, but pushed it back down. That wasn't what was important here. HE wasn't what was important here, not anymore. He offered his hand to Ronan, who shook it. He then turned and did the same to Teyla, who with another quirked eyebrow shook his hand then pulled him into an Athosian forehead touching.

He looked from one to the other, trying to burn the impression of them into his mind, knowing that it was possible that this would be the last time that he would ever see them again. He tried not think about all the other people in his life who had left him behind to go on with their lives, lives that did not include him, or worse, people who had died, leaving him with no closure. Not for him gentle partings of the way. It seemed he was destined to have those he cared about torn away from him in the most painful of manners. Teyla and Ronan exchanged glances, and Sheppard became aware that he was simply staring at them now, and they were planning on leaving. He started backing down the corridor, no real destination on mind, just determined to be elsewhere. He waved a hand, a false smile on his face.

"Won't tell you to write. Not real good at that myself. Maybe we'll uh…bump into each other out there. It's a small galaxy you know. Have a good trip. Good luck and all that." He was relieved when he managed to back up to a point where he could turn the corner. "Goodbye." He darted down the corridor, moving quickly as if he was being chased. In moments he was in a transporter. He chose a place as far from the occupied section as possible, and pressed the panel. Moments later he was out on a pier in the east section. Soon after he was on the very end of the pier, sitting with legs dangling off the edge, twenty feet above the water, feeling the spray from the breaking waves on his face, trying to tell himself that the wetness on his face was from that, not from the hot tears that had gathered in his eyes. Damn but he was having a bad day.

Chapter 8-

The screen went blank again, and the sound of the EKG alarm sounded. Once again Beckett and his team began their dance. This time an external pace maker/defibrillator had been applied, and Beckett triggered the appliance to restart Sheppard's heart. With the direct current going to the hastily implanted leads, the heart responded on the first charge, and Beckett almost sagged with relief. The others all stood, staring, trying not to look at each other, and trying not to think about what they had seen.

Teyla had moved to the wall beside Ronan as she had watched the scene play out on the screen, and as it had come to an end she had slid down the wall to sit with knees drawn up and head bowed on crossed arms. Her shoulders were moving slightly, but no sound came from her. Ronan had crouched beside her, hand on one slim shoulder, and his eyes had deadly look in them that had been gone since he had come to call Atlantis home. It was an empty look, a look of loss and pain. The hand on Teyla's shoulder trembled slightly, but no one said anything. Elizabeth sniffed, wiping a tear from her cheek.

"He looked so depressed, so alone." She whispered. Her heart felt like it was breaking. She jumped when a voice came from the doorway into the isolation room.

"You're right, he is, at least clinically speaking." Everyone turned to see Kate Heightmeyer, the base psychiatrist, standing just inside the doorway. She was holding a PDA, and was looking from one to the other of the people in the room with that clinical look of appraisal that most of the personnel regarded with trepidation.

"What do you mean, aside from the obvious?" Elizabeth asked, unconsciously pulling herself back into her leadership persona. She didn't want to look like she was falling apart to this woman, as much as she valued her skills as a therapist. Kate raised the PDA.

"Carson sent me the results of the colonel's blood tests, and after witnessing this last sequence I think that I can draw some conclusions. I assume the prior sequences were along a similar vein?" After a glance around at the others Elizabeth realized that no one else was prepared to talk about it. Rodney and Zalenka were bent over their laptops, fingers flying and speaking to each other in partial sentences that the other would finish. Becket was busying himself around John, as were the nurses. Teyla and Ronan were still on the floor, and knowing how the scene before had affected her, she could not ask them to explain. Trying to push as much of her own emotions aside as she could she rapidly described the previous sequences. Kate nodded.

"Speaking purely from a physiological angle, the colonel's brain chemistry is almost a textbook example of sever clinical depression, which as you may know is a chemical imbalance in the brain. If he was conscious, I would have him on a rather heavy course of antidepressants, and quite possibly would have recommended confinement."

"John would never hurt anyone." Elizabeth knew that it was a moot point since Sheppard was unconscious, but she felt the need to defend the man. Kate gave her a look that she could only categorize as indulgent.

"Perhaps not, but he might hurt himself." She said. At Elizabeth's surprised look she continued. "This level of imbalance is severe, especially since it has been brought on so quickly. Usually an imbalance of this nature takes a year to develop. To see something like this in the course of only a few hours is unheard of without direct pharmacological causes." She cast a look at the blank screen. "Then there's the psychological input he is receiving. After what I have just seen, and after hearing what you describe from before, it seems that John has taken some severe psychological blows."

"In the course of the process so far, he has lost several of the things that he values most. The respect of his men, the security of his position, his confidence in his leader," She glanced over at the two on the floor, who were now speaking in low tones to each other. "This time he lost two people that he thought of as friends and teammates. And in the process was faced with a guilt that I believe he has carried for quite some time. It is one thing to blame yourself for something, we often find a way to live with that, but when someone close to you blames you for something, it has more impact. The colonel is a very private man, a very strong man, with very well developed coping mechanisms, but this is like being in the ring with a professional boxer when you have no way to protect yourself. You might survive one hit, but the blows would just keep coming until you are knocked out. Even the most stable individual would be rocked by the losses, to have them happening at the same time as the chemical imbalances…In my professional opinion he would be a prime candidate for a suicide watch." There was silence as she finished speaking. Elizabeth turned and stared at Sheppard as he lay in the bed, so still and pale. She turned back to Rodney and Zalenka.

"Rodney.." she started to say only to be interrupted by a voice shouting over the comms.

"We got it! We got it! We're sending it through on your laptops now. We found the device in the archive!" Almost as soon as the voice stopped speaking Rodney and Zalenka had ancient text scrolling across their screens.

"Elizabeth, come help us with this. You can translate faster than I can." It was a sign of just how upset Rodney was that he was admitting that anyone was better than anything than he was, but no one called him on it. Soon all three were engrossed in reading, arguing about translation.

"This seems to be saying something about justice. And this here looks like the ancient equivalent of an 'eye for an eye'." Elizabeth read. "If I am reading this correctly, this device is some kind of punitive punishment for criminals. Instead of incarceration they were subjected to this device."

"An eye for an eye?" Teyla questioned. She had managed to overcome her pain at what she had seen on the screen, and was listening with some hope.

"It's a reference to the bible, a religious book from Earth. It means that if you blind someone you should be blinded too, a sort of fair trade of crime and punishment." Elizabeth explained.

"That would explain why it was in the holding cells." Zelenka murmured. "But does it say how to turn it off?" Rodney was still reading, scrolling through the ancient text.

"It may not have an off switch." He theorized as he kept scrolling. "Yes, 'an eye for an eye' seems to be pretty much it. It seems they weren't in too much of a mood to 'pamper' criminals. Once you were sentenced to be hooked up to this thing you went the full course, no parole. It looks like there are settings, one corresponding to the type of crime that you committed and the other for the intensity. So if you stole because you were hungry you wouldn't get the same intensity as if you had stole for profit. There's are pretty strict codes set forth in here about what setting is for what crime, and what settings are to be used in each instance. It looks like the worst crimes were murder and treason. Those are the two that have the two highest settings. I guess we can all guess what the trade off is for those."

"And what are the settings on now?" Ronan asked, cutting to the bottom line. He really didn't care what the ancestors had done with their criminals. He only cared about Sheppard. He knew it hadn't been him on the screen, but Sheppard didn't know that, and the Ronan on the screen had hurt him, badly, and not physically. As Sheppard had said he had been alone for seven long years, pursued by the wraith, feared by those who the wraith wanted him to betray, a pariah to all who knew what he was. Now he had found a place where he no longer had to run, where they wanted him to stay, valued him, and not just for his fighting prowess. He had a team, a…family. Sometimes he did disagree with the Lantean's methods, but then sometimes Sheppard did too, even as he carried out his orders. That was what being a soldier meant. But he knew that to become like Ford or the Genii, where the only goal was the destruction of the wraith at any cost, was a path to the destruction of his spirit. Something that the wraith had never managed, and something he would not allow to happen now. Another thing he would never do was hurt the man that had brought him here, who had offered him the chance at a new life, a new purpose, a new home. Whatever had to be done to stop this thing, he was prepared to do it.

In answer to the question Zalenka pulled up the live feed of the device from the lab, and zoomed in on the control panel. He looked closely at the picture and then started swearing in Czech. Rodney jerked his laptop around and looked at the picture, his face went almost as pale as Sheppard's.

"Rodney?" Elizabeth asked. He looked at her with haunted eyes.

"It's set on the maximum settings, both for type of crime and intensity."

"But what does this mean for Colonel Sheppard?" Teyla asked. "If it is not real then how can it take this 'eye for an eye'?" It was Kate Heightmeyer that answered.

"If I am understand how virtual environments work, and you must understand that we have no technology like this of our own, what is happening to Colonel Sheppard in that environment is completely real to him. If he is hurt while inside it, his physical body will feel the pain, even if it doesn't manifest the injury. If he were lucid, he would probably be able to overcome it by being able to see that there is no wound, and hence no reason for the pain. He would be able to separate reality from virtual reality. On the same track, if he were to receive a mortal wound while in the virtual environment, his mind will expect to die, and there is every possibility that his body will follow its lead. The mind-body connection is not something we completely understand, but the connection is there."

"Aye, I've dealt with patients that have lost their will to live. Sometimes you can heal the body but if the mind is not willing, they will die in spite of anything you do for them. It's heartbreakin' to see it." Beckett said in agreement. He looked at Rodney. "If we can't turn it off, is there no way to alter the program? Can we just turn the bloody thing down?" Rodney was shaking his head before Beckett finished.

"It doesn't work that way. Once the program starts it's locked until the sequence ends, and that end is determined by the person it is acting upon." He could see that the others didn't understand him. "To put it in the form of a cliché, 'one man's feast is another man's famine'. What is punishment to one person might just be mildly uncomfortable to another person. So instead of the punishment fits the crime, they made the punishment fit the criminal. We know that the ancients had superior mental abilities. The device was designed to basically read the person's mind and create the environment that would be the most miserable for that person.

"Is there any way of telling what the setting was for? I mean would it keep the setting from the last person that was…sentenced, or is the colonel simply getting a generic environment with certain set parameters?" Heightmeyer asked.

"As far as I can tell from these records the last person that this was used on was accused, and evidently convicted of, murder and treason. He betrayed an outpost to the wraith in order to save himself. Of the two they seem to have taken the betrayal as the worst crime." Zalenka replied. He had been scanning through the data and had found a log of sorts.

"Betrayal, treason against a person or group, is supposedly the sin that lands you in the lowest circle of hell. In some societies it is thought it is more preferable to kill someone outright rather than betray them. Perhaps that particular idea came from the ancients. What we just saw, and what you have described in the previous sequences leads me to think that it is still set for the previous…I'm not sure what to call him or her, 'victim' or 'criminal'."

"Oh, I think we can go with 'criminal'. You have to remember these people didn't have to worry about things like forensic data, or circumstantial evidence. They had proof from the mind of the criminal himself that he had committed the crime therefore in their eyes the punishment was just. The problem is, I don't think that they believed in the death penalty." Rodney was scrolling quickly through the logs as he spoke, stopping every now and then, then moving on. He abandoned it suddenly and spun around. "I've been scanning through the usage logs. They didn't have a lot of crime, after all, they were supposedly an advanced society well on the way to ascending, but in any population there are going to be deviants, and they were no different. There are twenty Earth years of logs here, and I have had it compile a listing of the crimes where the full settings were used, for murder or treason. It has some pretty comprehensive descriptions of the effects, but not once does it mention that any of the criminals died."

"We aren't that different physiologically from the ancients, they couldn't have interbred if we were. If they were using this device as you describe they must have had similar effects on the body. If no one died, did they have some from of treatment to counteract the stress on the heart? Perhaps the stasis pods like on the Aurora." Beckett asked. They had the pods down below, like the one the other Weir had been found in. He didn't favor using it, but if they had to do it to save Sheppard, he would do it. But once again McKay was shaking his head.

"They might have been physiologically similar Carson, but psychologically they were vastly different. As Kate was saying as the mind goes so does the body, but they were used to using their minds for so much more than we do. For all we know they used virtual environments to vacation in or did daily exercise on a virtual track or sat in virtual school rooms every day. They were used to it. The transition was probably comfortable and familiar, their bodies wouldn't have reacted. It wouldn't affect them the same way it is affecting Sheppard. Because he isn't an ancient it isn't working in the same way, but the device doesn't know that he's different, it only knows that he had the gene necessary to activate it." He stopped, and looked thoughtful, then dove at the keyboard, typing furiously. Zalenka leaned over his shoulder reading the screen for a moment then with another Czech swear word started typing on his own laptop. Sensing that they might be on to something, and that they would find out about it when the time came, Elizabeth turned back to Kate.

"John looks to be pretty miserable now, how much more of this do you think he can take? What can possibly be next?" Elizabeth asked. Before Kate could answer Rodney stopped typing and spun around.

"That would be me." He said forcefully. Elizabeth frowned at him.

"What?"

"It's only logical." He waved a hand to encompass all of them. "You all have had your shots at tearing his heart out. Who do you suppose gets to go last? The one that's going to hurt the most, that's who. The one that's supposed to be his best friend." He looked over at Sheppard with a look so close to despair that Elizabeth's heart ached for him. "The one that's supposed to be saving his skinny ass and is too busy talking to get to it, damn it!" He spun back around to the laptop and went back to his typing, only Radek could see how he had to blink quickly to keep the tears that seemed to be trying to force themselves out of his eyes from falling. He didn't have time to break down now. He'd save that for later. Another thing to add to his 'To Do' list, he'd put it right under the line about keeping Sheppard out of trouble. He was only vaguely aware of the conversation going on behind him. He knew that the next sequence would start soon, and if what he was thinking of was going to work, he needed to work fast.

"I think Rodney is right. It is logical to assume that the ultimate betrayal is going to be by that person that the colonel is closest too, and that would be Rodney. They are teammates, and very close friends. In fact I would say, given the colonel's history, that you all are the family he didn't have before coming here. No betrayal hurts us as much as that of a loved one. If the purpose of this machine is to punish the person for a particular crime by making them the victim of that crime, then it all makes perfect sense."

"And what happens to John when that betrayal comes? He's already so…depressed; I guess is the best word. Anyone else would have lost it by now, I know I would have."

"He breaks." Heightmeyer said simply. "A complete mental breakdown, and given the building chemical imbalance in his physical body, self destruction. We have to remember, as much as his mental experiences are affecting his physical body, it works both ways. It is possible that the ancients had a way of dealing with the results of this kind of ordeal. When you get right down to it this is really little more than a form of psychological torture. Perhaps their advanced mental abilities kept them from having the complete break down. They may have been able to go through this and gain the empathy with their victim and come out of it with little more than a headache and some false memories. It would make sense that the machine would have some kind of built in criteria so that it knew when enough was enough and stopped. Perhaps it gave the person a clue that they were in a virtual environment and they could then remove themselves from it. It may be that because of the differences between us and ancients it is relying on a false set of criteria that has no application in this instance."

"So Sheppard is screwed." Ronan translated. He fingered his weapon again, considering a trip down to the labs. No one refuted his words, instead they all looked at McKay and Zalenka, who were consulting over something with someone on the comm. Before Elizabeth could ask about what they were doing, the alarm on the EKG machine started sounding again. Beckett and his people jumped into action. McKay and Zalenka swore and Rodney began a litany of denial.

"No, no, no, no, no! Not yet Sheppard, damn it. Just wait another minute to initialize!" He was typing frantically now, as was Zalenka. Elizabeth had no idea how they could be inputting data correctly at that speed, she had trouble sometimes when she did the hunt and peck method. The screen flickered to life moments later, accompanied by swearing in two languages. All eyes turned to the scene.

Chapter 9-

Sheppard was still sitting on the pier as the sun was setting on the horizon. He didn't really recall the passage of time. Just as well, he didn't think that his thoughts were worth much review. He had thought that he had been brought pretty low after Afghanistan, but this was something different all together. That hadn't been so…personal. Then it had been the Air Force slapping his wrist and sending him to the farthest reaches of the world in shame. For those of his contemporaries that knew the full story, his actions had been commendable if ill advised. Those who didn't know it, or him, had looked at him in condemnation, had been less than friendly, but then they weren't his friends, and their opinions, while mildly hurtful, hadn't really impacted him that much. He had simply drawn his usual mask of light-hearted laziness about him, and moved on. But this…He had never felt like this, then.

He got to his feet and picked up the comm. unit that he had discarded earlier. He hadn't wanted to talk to anyone, and after all, he wasn't in charge of anything anymore, not even his own future, so why should he worry. He wondered slowly back to the transporter, running a hand absently along the walls as he went. He was going to miss the city if they sent him back. Not just because of its beauty, but because of its presence. Atlantis was always there, in the back of his mind. She sang in his dreams, and danced in his waking thoughts. It had bothered him at first, the connection to what was supposed to be an inanimate collection of buildings, but that had rapidly given way to the comfort of her being there always.

She had moods, just like any other woman, and she was female-only something female could be as…nurturing as she was to him. When they had first arrived she had been so happy, turning on things that they didn't even need because she wanted them to stay. She had been lonely all those millennia. Then she had become the satisfied homemaker, he had sometimes envisioned her as a June Allyson type mom in a housedress and pearls, with dinner on the table precisely at six and everything spotless. Then during the storm he had felt her anger at the intruders and her fierceness had fueled his own. She had helped him against the Genii, making it easy for him to move around, answering his mental commands with more alacrity than ever. Her relief when the shield had come up to protect them against the giant wave had been almost palpable to him.

He had subtly asked around among the other natural gene carriers, and some of the ones that had taken the therapy, but no one else had such an impression of her. Even Carson, the next strongest of the gene carriers didn't feel it, though he would admit to feeling strangely at home here. Sheppard sometime thought that Carson would have felt more if he wasn't so uptight about what he could do with the ancient technology. He was afraid of breaking something so he never let go enough for Atlantis to make contact. Sheppard almost felt guilty about not cluing Carson in on it, but then this was HIS, no one could feel her the way he did, and he didn't want to share. The idea of losing it made him sick to his stomach.

He had made his way to the transporter as he mused, and he went inside and considered his options. He wasn't hungry, and the mere thought of going into the mess hall with all those people who by now surely must know what was going on with him made his stomach queasy. He didn't think he could stand the stares and the inevitable questions that would be asked. There would be sympathy, and some satisfaction-he hadn't fooled himself into thinking that everyone had liked or even tolerated him, though he had evidently been doing pretty well in the self-delusion stakes, and he wasn't sure which would be worse. He instead touched the panel for the transporter nearest his quarters. Packing might be a good idea. He knew that he needed to go one other place, but he just couldn't face it now. Couldn't face him now.

He was almost all the way to his quarters, with only a few curious glances shot his way, when he saw it. He pulled up short and stared. There on the corridor wall in perfect graffiti lettering was the word 'Aurora'. It had been spray painted in a variety of colors, and had obviously taken a great deal of time to do. The question was why? He was prepared to believe that somewhere among the expedition was a frustrated graffiti artist, but why now, and why here, and why only the one word? It didn't make any sense. He started to consider how they could find out who the culprit was, but then realized that it wasn't his concern anymore. Let someone else track down the 'lone stranger'.

He entered his quarters and just stood looking around for several moments. It wasn't luxury, though in comparison to some of his billets in the past it was practically the Hilton, but it had been enough, it had been home. He went to the corner and picked up the empty storage container he had kept to use as a footlocker of sorts, but had never quite gotten around to it. It would take a good portion of his stuff, and the rest he could give away or pack into his duffle bag. It probably said something about him that his life could be packed up so quickly, but he didn't have the heart to even consider that right now. He put the container on his bed, and was turning to reach for the first item to be placed in it when he saw that there was a tag on the box. He tilted his head to look at it and blinked in surprise. There, stenciled on the white tag wired to the container was the word 'Aurora'.

He could only stare at it for a moment, the coincidence making him frown. Then the only possible explanation hit him. There must be an expedition member with the name Aurora. He knew all of the original members, but there had been a flood of newbies lately, and he hadn't had time to meet them all. It could even be a nickname of sorts, and that might explain the graffiti. He shook it off and started his packing; still not his problem. He had made some headway when the door suddenly opened and Rodney McKay, resident genius, came into the room.

"Ever hear of knocking, McKay?" he drawled, dreading the conversation to come. He was sure that Rodney had heard the rumors by now, or had heard directly from Elizabeth, he was after all the head of the Science department, and deserved to be updated on major changes, and obviously he was not happy. And when Rodney wasn't happy, wasn't nobody gonna be happy.

"Yes. I have heard of the concept, but that only applies in polite society. Polite society indicates some degree of intelligent design, and there is no evidence of intelligence here, hence, no knocking. Now, that subject being done, let me phrase my question in language that you can grasp. What the hell were you thinking?"

Sheppard turned away from Rodney's angry face and put the folded blanket he had been holding into the container. It was one of the hand woven ones that Teyla had given him, in muted blues and golds, Air Force colors. He almost took it out of the container, not wanting the memory that was woven into the fabric as deeply as the yarn, but he couldn't bear to part with it. It was all he had left of her now, except the memories, and even those were now hidden behind the sound of her voice, agreeing that he was to blame for the wraith awakening. He turned back to face McKay who was now standing with arms crossed. All he needed was a tapping foot to be the picture of cartoon impatience.

"What did Elizabeth tell you?" he asked, guessing that even if Rodney had heard the rumors first, he would have gone to her to get the full story.

"What do you think she told me? She said you came barging into her office babbling something about how your grunts didn't like you and so there was some sort of problem, and then you quit and went off and pouted somewhere for the day. And I would like to know how you managed to stay off the sensors all day long by the way. Have you found a blacked out area of the city? Isn't that some kind of security problem? Oh wait, you wouldn't care about that now, would you, because you QUIT!" McKay practically yelled the last word.

"McKay…" Sheppard started, but the scientist wasn't done.

"What was it? Was it the rank? Did you expect them to make you a full colonel? Do you think that would make the grunts respect you then?" Sheppard turned away and went to look out the window at the darkness. They had stopped lighting the towers at night, not wanting to give away their position to any curious wraith darts that may slip past the sensors. But instead of the dark he expected, there were lights dancing in the sky, waves of color weaving and twisting. Since when had there been an aurora here? Something niggled at the back of his mind, but he had to reply to Rodney's question.

"It doesn't have anything to do with the rank, Rodney. It wouldn't have mattered if they made me a general. My…The officers and non-comms don't trust me, that means the men don't trust me. It's only a matter of time before someone hesitates in the heat of battle because they don't trust whatever order I've given and it gets someone killed, maybe you, maybe some of your geeks, or Carson, or Elizabeth. We've been damn lucky so far. I can't allow that to continue, Rodney. If I did, then I would be just as incompetent as they already think I am."

"Oh well, it's all okay then. You received a vote of no confidence from your party, and so you're out and Caldwell is in. Lovely, the parliamentary system in action. Forget how inconvenient this is for everyone else."

"Rodney, I don't want to quit, but I would be pretty damn selfish if I stay here and pretend that I can lead these men and then get them and all of you killed. I got a lot of ego, but I'm not that bad."

"Since when?" McKay snorted. "You were happy enough to come along on this little jaunt with no more qualification than the fact that your genetic code shared a few strands with the ancients. Taking the place of a qualified scientist, or heaven forbid an officer that might have had a clue what to do in any given situation. And I didn't exactly hear you complaining about having to take over after Sumner died." Sheppard stared at him in amazement.

"I'm really feeling the love here McKay, thanks. I came because I could be useful here. All I was doing was flying a taxi back and forth in Antarctica. I wasn't supposed to have to kill my own commanding officer. I wasn't supposed to lead anyone. I wasn't supposed to get anyone killed. I wasn't supposed to wake the wraith and have THEM kill thousands, maybe millions, who would have lived if they had just stayed in hibernation. None of it was supposed to happen."

"Well newsflash, colonel, it has happened, and nothing you can do will change that, so you need to suck it up and get back to work. You've had your time to sulk. So the other kiddies don't like you, deal with it. You don't see me whining about it."

"Are you listening to a word I say, McKay? The men are going around behind my back because they don't trust me to do something as simple as draw up a duty roster." Sheppard growled at him, moving to stand in front of him. "Did you listen to Elizabeth? Did she tell you why she went to bat to for me against the general and Caldwell? Because she figured that I was too stupid and too incompetent to put up much of a challenge to her authority. She had me trained already, and she couldn't count on that with anyone else they put in place. Hell, he or she might just know what the hell they were doing, and Elizabeth couldn't have that. They would have simply declared martial law and took over, and the SGC would have backed them up. But she had me instead, and she had Lorne and the others reporting to her behind my back, and they all think that I'm sleeping with her and this job is just a bone that she threw me to keep me happy. You know what that makes me? A freakin' whore! Hell I've out-Kirked Kirk. You should be happy as hell, McKay, you were right again." He turned away, unable to meet Rodney's eyes in shame.

"Of course I was right, genius here. As to Elizabeth's plan, she didn't have to tell me about it; who do you think came up with it?" he said with a self-satisfied smirk. Sheppard spun around and gaped at him. "Oh that's an attractive look on you. That should convince everyone that you know what you are doing."

With a wave of his hand Rodney started talking in that calm, logical tone which said that since he was obviously right, you might as well do what he says now, and save time. "You've been faking it this long, there's no reason that you shouldn't just keep going. That way everyone gets what they want. You get to stay in command of your little toy soldiers, your grunts get to complain about their commanding officer and feel justified doing it, Elizabeth stays in control and we stay a scientific mission instead of a military SNAFU waiting to happen. Your gene is available for me to use when necessary, and everyone is happy. Simple. I'm glad I thought of it. Let's go tell Elizabeth that you take it all back and go get some dinner."

Sheppard could only stand there and stare at his friend, the implications of what he was saying running through his mind. Was he going completely insane? Had he somehow got stuck in that Star Trek episode where they ended up in a parallel universe and everyone was the opposite of what they had been? If so, where was Rodney's beard? If Rodney was Spock to his Kirk, then he should have a beard and be trying to kill him to take over his position. Wait, that didn't make any sense. He shook his head. He had to make sure he understood. Rodney couldn't be saying that he thought he was incompetent. Hadn't been part of this whole thing.

"Rodney," he said in a voice that to him sounded a little too much as if he was begging, but he couldn't stop it. "You're going to have to help me out here, buddy, 'cause I am confused. Are you telling me that you think that I am such an egotistical jerk that I would sacrifice the safety of everyone here just to keep my promotion and my position? That you and Elizabeth have just been using me like some kind of…puppet so that this can stay a scientific mission, and that you expect me to just go along with it now that I've finally gotten a clue?" Rodney listened seriously and then nodded.

"Yep." He said cheerfully. "See, I knew you weren't quite as stupid as the rest of them. You were just oblivious enough to make it all possible. And now that you're in on it, it'll be all the easier. We won't have to cover it up so much. We just have to be on the look out for those gung ho types who want to snitch to the brass, like Kavenaugh, or some Marine who wants to get brownie points, and everything goes on like before." He seemed oblivious to Sheppard horrified look as he continued.

"To put it in language that you would understand, think of yourself as Colonel Klink, and I'm your Hogan. You're in good hands. There's no reason to be afraid." He reached out and gave Sheppard a condescending pat on the shoulder. Sheppard moved away from him, and sat down on his bed. Oh, this could NOT be happening. Another thought came to his mind, and he looked back at Rodney.

"Did you know that Teyla and Ronan were leaving, that the Athosians were going back to Athos?" he asked. Rodney nodded again, with a wave of his hand.

"So we lost Conan and Xena and the rest of the tribe, big deal. It's not like we need Teyla anymore to introduce us around, we're pretty well known now. And Ronan, well really what's one more dumb grunt when you have a whole herd of them running wild in the area. If we need one all we have to do is get out the tranquilizer darts and bring one down. Domesticating is somewhat iffy, but as long as it's housebroken who cares."

"What about the team?"

"The team. It's always the team with you guys. What do they do to you in the military? Are you assimilated like the Borg, and you cannot function as an individual anymore? Let's face it, what value did they really bring to the team? Sure they could fight, but you've got that covered. Ronan could carry your ass once you got it shot, but there are other guys who can do that too. Admittedly there aren't any of your grunts that look like Teyla, but then what does that really matter? We're trying to find ZPM's, not win a beauty contest. You'll just have to be the pretty face on the team from now on. I'll be the brains, we'll pick out some brawn, and we'll be set. Any other issues we'll deal with later, because I'm hungry." He started for the door.

"Rodney?" McKay stopped and looked back at Sheppard "They were our friends, hell our family."

"Friends, family?" McKay asked with a puzzled look. "What are you talking about? Have you been drinking? Is that what you've been doing all day, drowning your sorrows in Zalenka's rotgut?" He stomped back to stand in front of Sheppard, raising a hand to his forehead. "Do I need to get Beckett down here with some sort of suppository or tincture?"

"McKay…"

"No, no, you weren't serious were you?" Sheppard glanced away. "You were! Good God Sheppard just how naïve are you? This isn't some sort of summer camp where kids from all over come together, build a canoe out of tree bark, short sheet someone's cot, and become friends for life. Teyla and Ronan are aliens, as in people not from our planet, not even from our galaxy. They may look like us, but we have as much in common with them as with the Neanderthals. Besides that, the whole concept of friendship has been sadly overrated. After all, those you would call your friends are people on the same intellectual level as you with similar interests and experiences, in effect you are 'making friends' with yourself. It's an accepted form of narcissism. I love myself, and since you are like me, I like you too, let's be friends. It's all rubbish. There's no such thing as friends, there are just convenient temporary symbiotic relationships that come and go as it is convenient for the people involved. As to family…I have a sister already, I don't need anymore grief."

"Temporary, symbiotic relationships? What, like a tape worm?" Sheppard said in amazement. "So that's how you look at Carson, Radek, and me? We're just convenient for you right now, so you tolerate us even though we're not on your 'intellectual level?' God, that's big of you, Rodney, putting up with the little people like that. Basically what you're saying is if I hadn't had the gene, or asked you to be on my team so you could go off-world, you wouldn't have bothered to put up with me. I guess I should thank you then, I mean if it wasn't for my convenience to you I wouldn't be where I am now."

"See, there's my point made." Rodney said, obviously missing the sarcasm. "Your genetic make up and gung ho method of meeting the neighbors is convenient for me, and my abilities to get you out of whatever trouble you've gotten yourself into has been convenient for you. No more, no less. Why cloud the issue with words like friendship. Convenience, that is the word of the day. Now, about that dinner?"

Sheppard didn't know what to say. How had he been so wrong about everything? His whole world was a sham, some idyllic fantasy world that he had built up in his own mind. Was he really so pathetic that he had to manufacture friends and family from people that cared so little for him that they could discard him without so much as a bit of concern? Was he really that disposable? Maybe that explained why no one had tried to stop him when he had flown the first jumper into the atmosphere to release the EMP pulse, or when he had taken the second after the hive ship. They hadn't been really concerned about losing him. He was after all, replaceable; he just hadn't realized how easily. Sheppard snapped back to the present to the sound of Rodney's snapping fingers.

"Have you got lost in all the free space up there, Sheppard? I'm starving here. Are you coming to dinner or not?"

"No. I'm not hungry. You go." The words were toneless, but Rodney didn't seem to notice. He left without another word. Sheppard stood staring at the closed door for a long time then he shook himself out of it and looked around the room. It was if he were viewing it all from very far away. Where only minutes ago it had been home, now it just seemed strange to him, as if it was never his, and never would be. He grabbed his Ipod and the small speaker system that went with it. He looked around again and spoke into the empty room. "So long, Rodney."

He had to get out of here, had to escape. There was nothing here anymore. He went out the door, and pulled up short as he saw the wall across the corridor. The graffiti artist had struck again. In the same manner as before there was the word 'Aurora', but this time the word had been repeated again and again across the wall. How had it been done so quickly? Normally he would be trying to find out, but he couldn't find it in himself to care now. He started down the corridor, thankfully nearly empty since most people would be going to the mess hall. At the transporter he selected the transporter that was next to the jumper bay.

There was only one place left for him. The one place that he had found where no one could touch him, where he was safe, in flight. When he was in the air it was just him and the aircraft. Machines didn't turn on you, not like people. You didn't have to make believe with machines. They either worked or they didn't, that was it. He nodded to the man on duty at the doorway to the jumper bay, glad that the rumors had evidently not made their way down here yet.

He moved through the bay until he came to Jumper 6. It wasn't the one he thought of as his, and it was giving the tech boys a ton of trouble as it kept wanting to turn itself off at odd time, usually when flying. It had never given him problems, but it definitely wouldn't be missed anytime soon. He walked around it to the rear hatch, thinking it open. As he waited for the ramp to drop he idly looked over the ship. Everything looked good on the outside. He was turning back to the ramp when his eye was caught by a flash of color. There on the wall of the bay was the graffiti again.

He shook his head in wonder, and started to turn, and caught movement out of the corner of his eyes. He turned to look, and was surprised to see a man dressed in a white uniform walking toward the doors of the jumper bay. He had gray hair, and Sheppard was sure that he knew him, though he couldn't quite place him. He was about to call out when the man turned and looked at him. It was the captain of the Aurora. He smiled slightly at Sheppard and turned and walked through the doors. Sheppard noticed that the guard didn't so much as look at the man. What the hell was going on? Had that even happened or had he imagined it all? He was leaning toward the latter.

He climbed into the jumper, thinking the ramp closed, and went through the start up protocol. As he did he kept glancing out the window, wary of other 'people' he might see. Evidently self-delusion wasn't his only problem. Hallucinations couldn't be a good sign. Wouldn't that just about nail his coffin shut with the SGC? A failure as a commanding officer, clueless about interpersonal relationships, and now hallucinations on top of it all; he'd hit the trifecta of mental instability. He didn't have to worry about being court martialed; he could just look forward to being locked up in a psychiatric facility instead. Joy.

The start up sequence completed, he contacted the control room, letting them know he was going out before he thought the jumper bay doors open. He didn't want to set off an alarm. He got a bored acknowledgement from the tech, and guided the jumper out of the bay, feeling a curious lag in the response, but powering through it to leave the bay and move away from the city. He thought he heard a familiar voice crying out to him in the back of his mind, Atlantis crying out after her favorite son, but he ruthlessly pushed it away. Once he was out about a mile he started climbing, pulling the machine up into an angle that in any earth ship would have been impossible. In moments he had left the atmosphere, and he was heading towards the center of the solar system. His comm. unit activated, but he removed it from his ear and tossed it over his shoulder, not caring where it landed. He turned on his Ipod and put it in the speaker cradle. The low deep tones of Johnny Cash filled the jumper. Now that set the right mood.

He thought about going and hunting up a wraith ship. At least that way he would be going out in a blaze of glory, taking some of them with him, and possibly saving some lives, both on the planets they might cull, and on Atlantis. It would be sort of a going away present. But he squelched that idea. Not only would it make the other wraith curious about where such a ship had come from, which might lead them back to Atlantis, but he had no way of knowing where such a ship might be.

He suddenly realized where his thoughts were going. He had not meant this to be a one-way trip when he left, at least he didn't think so. But somehow, between leaving Atlantis and reaching space he had realized that he didn't want to go back. There was nothing there any more, and everything that had been was a figment of his over active imagination. Best to just…leave.

As he thought about it, the idea became more and more attractive. It was the perfect solution to everyone's trouble. No need for those nasty reports to the SGC. No lawyers would need to get clearance to talk to a client for court martial, no having to live with the knowing looks if he were allowed to stay. No making any more mistakes about who was and who wasn't his friend. Who was and who wasn't family. No more hallucinations…like that one there.

As he gazed out the window at the ship that was pacing him, he could almost feel his grasp on reality slipping. Was this what it was like to go mad? You started seeing ghosts. First the captain down in the jumper bay, and now the Aurora, in all her glory, not the broken and blasted hulk he had last seen her as, was pacing him as he headed toward the star that was the center of this solar system. He stared out the window at her, as she flew along side. She was a marvel of engineering and beauty; making the Daedalus look like some scow.

His attention was brought back to his own ship as the HUD popped up with a warning about his proximity to the star. It projected the result of his current course, showing the destruction of the jumper within twelve minutes. He knew from his experience in the F302 that he would be dead some time before that from the radiation. He hoped it wouldn't hurt much. That high pain threshold had to be good for something. He concentrated and the ship obliged his curiosity and put up a second indicator showing where he would be fatally irradiated. How obliging. He had five minutes.

He looked back out the window at the Aurora, and the niggling thought that had first bothered him in his….back in the room, started bothering him again. He frowned at the great white ship, looking from it back to the HUD. He thought at the small ship, and it cheerfully did what he asked, displaying screen after screen. He kept the one up that showed his course. The small golden dot that was his ship was almost to the danger zone. It wouldn't be long now.

He frowned again and brought up another screen. Now that was weird, and that was saying something in a day like this had turned out to be. Johnny was now segueing into The Folsom Prison Blues. Should be just about the right length to see him out. He looked back at the second screen, his mind working on the evidence before him. An audible alarm started sounding, but he turned it off. Fifty-nine seconds. He sat back in his chair, and stared at the screen.

Chapter 10-

The screen went dark.

"What! You are not cutting us off there, you worthless piece of ancient crap!" McKay yelled, pounding on the laptop.

"Rodney calm down." Beckett said.

"Calm down? You want me to calm down? He had less than a minute left before he was going to be fatally irradiated. I'm sure that during your apprenticeship with the great wizard he might have mentioned a few things about the damage radiation does to the body. Damage that was all to well spelled out to Sheppard and I when we made our little trip into the corona. So he has a complete roadmap of what's going to happen in his mind. He's going to lay there and die of radiation poisoning without so much as getting a suntan, and you are telling me to calm down."

"This isn't helping Rodney. He wasn't dead yet. You gave him all the clues you could, maybe he changed course." Elizabeth said, trying to talk herself into it as much as him.

"Oh yes, flying into a star at full speed, playing Johnny Cash, and all but waving at the Flying Dutchman of the Pegasus Galaxy really is a sign that he was catching on. What part of that was optimistic to you?" Rodney snapped. There was silence in the room, and everyone turned to look at Sheppard who lay just as still as ever, the machine breathing for him.

"When will we know?" Teyla was the first to break the silence.

"The effects of fatal radiation exposure at that level will be quick. Basically his internal organs will shut down. There will be massive internal bleeding and if he lasts long enough, skin lesions. Death will occur within twenty-four hours even with intervention. He almost certainly won't regain consciousness." The doctor reported in as clinical a voice as he could manage. A mutter of Czech drew everyone's attention to Zalenka, who was looking at his laptop.

"The device has shut itself down completely. It does not even have the low level signature that it had in between the sequences. It is finished." He looked over at Rodney who was now staring at his laptop as if it had the answers to the secret of the universe.

"Well at least this time it dinna have any effect on his heart. Dare we take that to mean that he's no longer hooked up to the bloody thing?" Beckett said and went to the bedside, placing a hand on Sheppard wrist to feel his pulse. It was more comforting to feel the warm flesh than listen to the cold mechanical beep from the EKG

"How can we tell?" Elizabeth asked. Beckett started to reply but was interrupted by Rodney's snapping fingers.

"The EEG. Run a strip on the EEG. It should be back to a normal reading." He suggested. Beckett waved to a nurse. After a whispered consultation with Kate Heightmeyer he also had blood drawn for an analysis. Everyone waited as the EEG put out its graph. Finally after five minutes Beckett pulled it off and looked at it, with Heightmeyer looking over his shoulder. The Scot let out a deep sigh and looked at the others.

"If we can take this as any indication, he's clear. It's normal for someone who is deeply unconscious." Beckett started giving his patient a complete check, Heightmeyer looking on, and the others shared concerned looks.

"So now we just wait while he dies?" Ronan growled. His expression left no doubt as to what he thought about that idea.

"Well we don't exactly have a lot of options here, Conan." Rodney snapped. "It's not like we can just plunge into the Sheppard psyche, weird and wonderful place that it is, and tell him that what he experienced was all a fake. If he didn't get the clues that I put in the program, then as far as his brain is concerned he was just fried to a crisp in a star to the tune of the Folsom Prison Blues."

"What if we spoke to him? Dr. Beckett has said in the past that when people are unconscious that they sometimes can hear what is being said to them. If we tell him that it was all a lie, will he believe then?"

"Why should he believe us?" Ronan said with a dark glance at the screen. "If that's his last memory of us. We all abandoned him, or didn't care. I wouldn't listen." Teyla put a hand on his arm, squeezing it in sympathy.

"John is a very forgiving person. He cares deeply for all of us. Had the program asked it, he would still have given his life for any or all of us, even given what we…they had done." She insisted. Ronan looked skeptical. Standing nearby, Elizabeth looked down to find her hands wringing themselves almost painfully. She wanted so much to believe that John had not lost faith in them, in her, but given what they had seen, it was not easy to convince herself. Her musings were interrupted by an alarm going off near the bed. They all turned to find Beckett leaning over Sheppard, one hand on his chest, speaking in a low, comforting tone.

"Colonel lad, if you can hear me you have to stop fightin' the respirator." The alarm continued to sound. Becket tried again to soothe the now restless man, but the alarm kept sounding. The doctor looked over at one of his nurses. "He's not lucid enough to hear me, and he's trying to breath against it. We'll extubate and put him on the mask. Have it ready." She nodded and turned to ready an oxygen mask as Beckett stared pulling at the tape that held the tube in place.

"Colonel, John, if you can hear me, we're takin' out the tube, try to relax and breath out when the tube comes out. I know it's uncomfortable, lad, but you'll be free of it soon, I promise." As he spoke he suited action to words and removed the apparatus. The nurse quickly put the oxygen mask on the now still man. Beckett looked at the others.

"If he needs it we'll reintubate him later. There's no reason he shouldna be comfortable now though. He dearly hates the thing, and he'll be restin' easier without it." His attention was taken by a nurse entering the room with a data pad. He took it from her and scrolled through the information, motioning Heightmeyer over to see it after he had scanned it once. She looked it over and raised an eyebrow at him.

"That's unusual. I've never seen such a sudden shift. That amount of imbalance should have taken weeks if not months to clear, and then only after a substantial amount of pharmaceutical intervention."

"Aye, but then what's been normal about this whole thing?" Beckett agreed.

"Carson, what's going on?" Elizabeth asked.

"His blood chemistry has almost completely rebalanced itself. The problems that Kate was talkin' about before, with his brain chemistry causin' depression and schizophrenia, that shouldnna be a danger anymore. But to have it change so quickly, that's very odd. The chemicals were there, but now they are gone, it's unheard of."

"Something the device did, then?"

"Aye lass. That's the only explanation I can offer. We'll still be watching it however. If he's going to…if his body starts to shut down, we'll see it in his blood tests first." He looked at the others, his keen eyes seeing past the surface to the hurt in all of them. He glanced down at his watch.

"All right then. It's dinner time in the mess, and you all need to go and get some and get a little rest." He held up a hand to forestall the protests he knew were coming. "I need to give the colonel a full check up and I'm goin' to remove the leads for the external pace maker. After that I want him to have some peace and quiet. It's been a harder day on him than it has been on us, and if he's facin' what we think he is he's gonna need that peace. Work out a schedule between you, one at a time, and the first can start in six hours, after you eat and get a little rest." He gave them all the stern eye that told them he meant what he said. There was some grumbling, especially from McKay as he and Zalenka started packing up their laptops and paraphernalia. Teyla went and carefully leaned over and touched foreheads with the unconscious man, and then laid a hand against his face.

"You are not alone, John. You do have family here. Do not leave us. You are wanted and needed." She whispered to him before she left, drawing a reluctant Ronan with her after he had stopped and laid a hand on Sheppard's blanket covered leg. After they had gone Elizabeth also stepped up squeezed Sheppard's hand, running her thumb over the back of it.

"You are needed here John, and not because of any 'plan'. I would never abuse your trust in such a way, and I fully believe that there is no better man for the job here than you. Come back to us." She leaned forward and, after smoothing the unruly dark hair aside, laid a gentle kiss on his forehead. With a smile at Beckett she left, knowing that there would be a lot of work waiting for her since it had been hours since she had so much as checked in. She didn't care, she would not begrudge the hours she had spent here, especially if they were some of the last that John would ever have. In any event she would be back, determined to put in her time at his bedside later. She owed him that at the least.

Chapter 12-

Rodney McKay sat in the uncomfortable infirmary chair and typed on his laptop. He was compiling all the information that they had been able to find on the device. Every few minutes he would pause and look up at the still figure on the bed. The isolation room was dimly lit, as was the rest of the infirmary, it being just after 4:00 AM. Rodney had relieved Teyla an hour earlier for the morning shift. He thought that Ronan was due around 8:00, but he wasn't sure. It didn't matter. Now that he was here, he didn't plan to leave, at least not until it was over. Beckett had said that if Sheppard were to present with the psychosomatic effects of his irradiation and immolation, then it would be no more than 24 hours. It had been just over twelve hours since the last sequence of the device had completed, since the screen had blanked out on Sheppard sitting in the pilot's seat of his doomed jumper, his favorite music playing, and his life in tatters behind him, at least as far as he knew.

Rodney thought back with discomfort about the scene he had witnessed between Sheppard and his virtual self. He didn't need anyone to tell him that he was a pompous ass sometimes. He was after all, a genius. The problem that he had was that people didn't conform to rules. Just when he thought he had someone pegged, they went and did something completely unexpected. One of the people that surprised him the most was John Sheppard. No one was more surprised than he that he had come to enjoy that constant state of chaos, the constant snark, and unending smart ass comments. He had also come to count on Sheppard being there to watch his back. He didn't trust anyone else the way he trusted the colonel.

"I hope that you know that I trust you, Sheppard." He said softly to the sleeping man. When he realized that he had spoken aloud he glanced around to be sure that no one had overheard. Only a few nurses were on duty, since there was only one other patient in the infirmary. Beckett had gone to bed sometime earlier, with orders to be contacted if there was any change. But so far Sheppard had simply slept on, unmoving.

McKay scooted the chair a little closer to the bed, with another glance around. He knew that Elizabeth, who had taken the first shift, and Teyla after her, had both spoken to Sheppard at length, trying to convince him that what he had been through was not reality, that there was a reason to live. Rodney was not particularly comfortable with the idea of pouring out his feelings to Sheppard. Not that he didn't have them, he just didn't feel that they needed to be put out there where everyone could hear them, even if the only one who could possibly hear was currently catatonic. His and Sheppard's relationship had never been one of words, at least not words ABOUT the relationship. Snark? Yes, in large amounts. Feelings, not ever. This being so, he did not think that Sheppard would appreciate him getting all touchy feely now when it came down to what could be the end.

At the thought of his friend dying, Rodney felt almost sick to his stomach. There had been many losses over the last year plus that they had been here in the Pegasus Galaxy. Some of them had been people he had barely known existed. Others, he had seen in the mess hall, or passed in the corridors, still others he had worked with day in and day out, and had known as intimately as anyone he had ever known anyone. But Sheppard, he was one of the few that had MADE this experience for McKay. Almost no memory that he had of Atlantis didn't have Sheppard in it somewhere. The colonel's drawling sarcasm was the soundtrack that accompanied the action movie that had become his life.

Rodney put his laptop down on the floor, and tentatively reached out for the unmoving hand nearest him. Sheppard's hands were large, and callused, no doubt from the training that he put himself through daily. They were strong hands, but Rodney had found that they were capable of gentleness as well as violence. He had seen these hands kill, and had felt them holding his own hand as he had swum up from the depths of unconsciousness in this very infirmary, letting him know he was not alone, not that he had mentioned it later. That was another of those things that they didn't speak of. McKay enfolded the limp hand in both of his and looked up at the peaceful face. Sheppard was pale, his dark hair standing out in stark contrast. So still. This quiet Sheppard was so different from the usual hyperactive, overgrown, kid that practically vibrated with energy. Rodney looked down at their clasped hands. His own pale and soft and Sheppard's tanned and hard, a study in contrasts. That pretty much defined them as a pair, as friends…as family. He almost let go at that thought.

Was Sheppard family? He didn't have a very good concept of what exactly what that meant. His own family was just about as dysfunctional as you could get and not be on some reality show somewhere talking about how your uncle was also your father and you were dating your sister. Now, faced with the possible loss of this man, he had to really consider just what constituted family, and who he included in his. The virtual John had asked him if he didn't consider his team as his family. Obviously Sheppard did, which meant that he thought of McKay as family.

As he thought about that, Rodney's stomach twisted again. That other Rodney, the one in the virtual environment, had tossed aside that question as if it meant nothing to him, had sneered at the idea of friendship and family as if it was something distasteful. He had thrown it back in Sheppard's face, and had stamped the last of his hope into the dust. He had seen the look on his friend's face when virtual Rodney had brushed him off, and that look would haunt his dreams for some time to come, as would those softly whispered words, an echo of not all that long ago, into the empty room. "So long, Rodney." He had braced himself once for those to be the last words he ever heard from his friend…his brother, and he didn't want to do it again. No, this was NOT going to be the end. He attacked.

"What is it with you and the explosive nuclear forces? Are you that freaking determined to go out in an atomic blaze of glory? Do I have to super glue a dosimeter to your ass? Stamp a radiation warning on your forehead? Scrape the radium off your glow in the dark Mickey Mouse watch? Give me a break here Sheppard I have other people's asses to save, I can't spend it all covering yours." He was about to continue when he felt the hand in his flex. He looked up and met a pair of puzzled but amused hazel-green eyes.

"Oh good. It really is you McKay, for a moment I thought it was another virtual environment. I gotta say the hand holding is freaking me out though." Came the whispered voice in that familiar drawl calculated to get his goat. Rodney dropped Sheppard's hand as if it was a hot rock and stood up, turning toward the door.

"Hey! He's awake! Get Beckett in here now!" He turned back to the bed to see Sheppard wincing in pain, raising a hand to his forehead.

"Maybe you could yell a little louder next time, Rodney. I don't think they heard you on EARTH." He said with a resentful glance. Lowering his hand he looked around the room. "Boy, got my own room and everything. How long was I in there, and why exactly was I there?"

Rodney was explaining how he had ended up in the virtual environment when Beckett appeared and threw him out. He didn't have any chance to say anything about them having seen what had gone on, or bring up what his virtual self had said. He took his laptop and retreated into the infirmary. He paced outside the door to the smaller room until Beckett came out almost thirty minutes later, the lights dimming to almost nothing as he exited the room. Rodney scowled as the doctor closed the door to the isolation room, and stood in front of it with arms crossed.

"Go to bed Rodney, and tell the others that I'll let you all know when the Colonel is up for visitors." Rodney shook his head and tried to push past Beckett into the room.

" No, I'm up now, and I'll sit with him. Couldn't sleep now anyway. You said someone could sit with him." Beckett blocked him easily. "Carson, move. I thought it was the Sheep DOG that had the herding instinct." The doctor frowned at him.

"The colonel is asleep. A natural sleep that I want to continue as long as absolutely possible, and that means no tappin' of keys or mutterin'. You know how light he sleeps, he doesn't need you hoverin' over him makin' noise. Like I said I will let you all know when he's awake and up to visitors."

After several more rounds of the same argument Rodney finally admitted defeat and wondered off, though Carson was sure that it wasn't to his bed. He also suspected that there would be something vaguely pornographic and sheep related in his email in the morning. Once he was sure that McKay had left and wasn't hovering outside the door to try again, he stuck his head inside the isolation room.

"I kept my half of the bargain, colonel, now you do the same. I'm expectin' eight hours out of you give or take a few minutes." He said softly.

"Thanks, Carson. I appreciate it. I just can't…" came Sheppard's soft voice from the darkness.

"I understand, lad. But you have to remember that we are all your friends, especially Rodney and your team. It was hell for you, I know, but it was just as bad for them because they couldn't help you, and then it was all up in the air whether you would understand or not when Rodney tried what he did. You've managed to dodge the virtual bullet, colonel, but I fear that the ricochet will not be as easy for any of you to forget."

"I know it wasn't real Carson, but it FELT real. And I would rather…deal with that by myself for a little bit before I have to deal with them. Thanks again."

"If you need someone to talk to, lad…" he let it trail off, knowing that Sheppard would understand his offer.

"I know where you are, Doc." Satisfied, Beckett turned away and went into his office to kip down on the cot there for a few more hours. He figured the first of them would show up early, despite whatever warning Rodney might give, and he wasn't sure that Rodney would not be leading the charge. There were few things as persistent as the astrophysicist in this universe, but the Scot was determined to protect his patient, even if it was from well meaning friends and family.

Chapter 13-

The next day dawned bright and clear, and the dawn brought Ronan Dex to the doors of the infirmary. Beckett was sure that the Satdetan had already done his running, and had breakfast, and was prepared to stay as long as necessary to wear down any resistance he might receive to seeing Sheppard. There might be many people who were wary of the large man, but Beckett was sure of the man's gratitude for the removal of his tracker, and he knew that the lad would never physically hurt him, so he felt no fear facing the man down at the door to the isolation room. He also was sure that few people would have seen the regret that flashed in the dark eyes as he looked toward the room where Sheppard still slept. Beckett knew the depth of respect and friendship that Ronan felt for the colonel, and gently turned the man away, promising to contact him as soon as Sheppard was awake.

The same scene was repeated three times more as first Teyla, then Elizabeth and then Lorne showed up, also seeking entrance. He turned them all away gently, making no mention of anything beyond the fact that Sheppard had seemed to be fine when he awoke earlier, and had understood that he had been inside a virtual environment. When asked, he told them all that yes, Sheppard knew they had seen the sequences as they played out. He had simply shrugged when asked what the response to that news had been. Truthfully he didn't know what the colonel was feeling, and having no such experience of his own, Carson was not sure what he would have felt.

He knew that Sheppard was an intensely private man, not sharing his feelings or thoughts. He projected an appearance of light-hearted disregard of the serious, but Beckett had heard the nightmares that haunted the colonel's dreams, and knew that no one with those sort of night terrors could ever be as untouched as the man would seem by all things that had happened, both here and in his previous life. Beckett was one of the few that had read ALL of Sheppard's records, at least the medical ones, and the story they told was one that would have broken a lesser man. The real memories were bad enough, he hadn't needed the fake ones to make it worse.

It was just after ten in the morning when he saw the change in the EKG that told him that Sheppard was stirring. He went into the room, thinking the lights up slightly, and went to the bedside, watching quietly as Sheppard struggled to lift sleep heavy eyelids. There was a quick moment of disorientation as the colonel looked around at the dim room, but as his eyes met Beckett's the doctor saw the memories, all of them, come back to his patient.

"Guess it wasn't all some dream then, huh?" Sheppard asked, rasping a hand against his stubbly cheek.

"No, I'm afraid not, lad. How are you feeling?" Sheppard's hand dropped from the cheek to his chest, and rubbed lightly.

"Feel like someone's used my chest for a trampoline, and what the heck are these?" The hand had found the small bandages over the incisions they had made for the external pacemaker. Beckett explained what had happened when the device cycled on and off, and the steps they had been forced to take to keep him alive as the sequence progressed.

"This just gets better and better. It messes with your head while it kills you. I guess they were into capitol punishment after all."

"Rodney thinks that because of the physiological differences between us and the ancients that it didn't work like it was supposed to, that they would have had a smoother transition from one state to the other. I just hope that they've locked the bloody thing up somewhere and thrown away the key. I don't need any more patients." Sheppard held up a hand.

"Preaching to the choir here, Doc. If they haven't already I can tell you that's one piece of ancient tech that's going overboard, ASAP. Let the ocean have it. What time is it anyway?"

"It's just after ten. How about I do a quick look over and then we see about getting you a shower and a shave. You have people that would like to talk to you, lad." Sheppard looked down at his hands, and Beckett saw that his lips had thinned. There were wounds he couldn't heal, and he knew that the memories that Sheppard had from the device were some of those type. The question was would those wounds be disabling? The silence went on for a long time, then Sheppard looked back up at him, and Beckett saw the courage that so defined this man assert itself.

"Shower and a shave sounds great, Doc. Got to look good for the fans, I have a rep to keep up." It was false bravado to some degree, but the doctor knew it would carry Sheppard through until the false memories were faded and gone, or at least put aside in that place where Sheppard kept so many other bad memories. He nodded and started his exam.

An hour later Sheppard was settling back into the freshly changed bed, wearing a set of clean scrubs and feeling a lot more human. His beard was gone, or at least as much as it ever was, and he was clean. The doctor had fussed over the bruising on his cheek, but Sheppard had waved him off. After the expected lecture regarding taking care of himself Beckett had arranged for a breakfast tray to be waiting, and he tucked into the reconstituted eggs and mystery breakfast meat with gusto. He felt like he hadn't eaten in days. Upon reflection he realized he really hadn't had anything since the night before last, not counting that one bit of bagel that he vaguely remembered. He was missing a day, though it had been replaced by memories that had never happened. As he ate he wondered idly if he had eaten in the virtual environment would he have been full when he awoke. It was a question he would have to ask Rodney.

He had a lot of trepidation about seeing his friends, and that bothered him a little. It was one thing to know intellectually that everything was a fake, but another to convince his…heart? He wasn't sure what part of him it was that still felt that it had all been real. Not normally one for deep reflection, or at least not that he would admit to, he recognized in himself a capacity for deep feeling. There were few people that made it past his barriers into that place, and the device had used every one of them against him in the environment. 'Hostages to fortune' wasn't that the quote? He had given his heart, and it had been used against him, but not by those he had given it to. He had to remember that, had to convince himself of it.

He was finishing his breakfast when he heard the commotion in the main infirmary, and knew instantly that his time of peace was about to come to an end. No one could disrupt the peacefulness of Beckett's domain like one Rodney McKay on a mission. And Sheppard knew that today he was that mission. He had seen the need in McKay's eyes early that morning when he had awoken, had heard it in Rodney's words as he was waking up, had felt it in the firm grip that had guided him back to consciousness with the knowledge that he wasn't alone, despite what the memories told him. He hadn't been able to deal with it then, and he had taken the coward's way out, using Beckett's fierce protectiveness to gain himself some time. But the time had come to face the music. Even if that music was 'Oh, Canada'.

He listened with amusement as Beckett and McKay crossed swords, sarcasm flying as Rodney attempted to batter his way into the citadel using his primary weapon, his mouth. He could practically hear the Scotsman's blood pressure rising as the battle raged. Finally, he knew that he would have to step in. No more hiding behind Beckett's kilt as it were. He raised his voice and called out into a lull in the fighting.

"You know I'm in a delicate condition in here, and you two are messing my vibe. Could you keep it down?" He drawled. The reaction was almost immediate as he heard Rodney snort, and he could practically see Beckett lowering the drawbridge, knowing that the doctor would take his intervention as tacit agreement to end his isolation. Moments later McKay appeared in the doorway with his ever-present laptop and a cup of coffee. Sheppard had noted the absence of the beverage on his breakfast tray, and had missed his morning caffeine hit, a machination on Beckett's part he was sure. He took advantage of McKay's smug, blustering approach to appropriate the cup out of his hand, and was drinking it before either Rodney, or Beckett who had followed him in, could complain.

"Ahh…that hits the spot." He sighed, leaning back against the pillows and the propped up bed. He smiled innocently at the men who were staring at him in consternation. Beckett, realizing that it was a lost cause, simply rolled his eyes and went out, tapping his comm. as he did so. Sheppard was sure that he would soon have more visitors. Rodney however was not prepared to let it go however.

"That was the last of my real coffee until the Daedalus gets back next week. I have been hiding my stash from Zalenka for the last week."

"And it's very good, Rodney. You're going to make someone a very good wife someday." He drank a little more of the coffee. He frowned as Rodney snorted again and took the cup out of his hand. The astrophysicist plunked himself down into the chair at the bedside and finished off the cup, oblivious to Sheppard's wounded look. There was silence for several minutes, as McKay savored the last of the coffee and Sheppard was content to wait him out. He knew McKay would be the first to break, and he was prepared to allow the natural order of things to assert itself. Normal was not something he usually craved, but he could do with some now.

"So…when exactly did you cop to the fact that it was all a construct? What finally did it? I had everything but a space billboard flashing "It's all a dream" going on in there." The first salvo was fired with the regulation amount of angsty pompousness, as if Sheppard's failure to get the first clue was a personal affront, or said something about his own intelligence level.

"I wasn't exactly firing on all cylinders in there, Rodney." He pointed out in a wounded tone. "If you recall I was trying to fly my puddlejumper into a star. That isn't exactly a balanced mental state suitable for calm reasoning."

"So you were more obviously suicidal than usual. That's no excuse. I could have put a wraith in there, but it seemed a little much, and who would I have replaced? Kavenaugh?"

"Too much typecasting. It would have been too subtle. You have to go against type. No, it was something a lot less subtle than that, in the jumper, right at the end." Sheppard let the last minutes he had lived in that other reality stream through his mind. He could still feel the cold emptiness that had taken over his insides, the absolute certainty that this was the only course that made any sense, the bleak loss of any hope. His remembrance was broken by McKay's impatient question.

"Well what was it?" Sheppard smiled at him.

"The jumper."

"The jumper?" McKay was incredulous. "All that with the graffiti, and the tags, and the captain of the Aurora and it was the damned puddle jumper that convinced you? What, because the damn thing didn't glitch like it normally does? If it had been reality you would have ended up in the ocean." Rodney had been at the controls one time when the machine had decided to cut out, and given his previous experience with crash landing jumpers and water, Sheppard knew that the very idea was worse than flying into a star could ever be.

"No, because it showed the Aurora on the HUD, as if it was really there, pacing me. As soon as I saw that I knew something was wrong. I was prepared to believe that I was seeing things, hell, I was well past the point where that bothered me at all, but THAT was just wrong. I knew that it COULDN'T be there. I had seen it broken and I had seen it destroyed. That made me think about the other things, the graffiti, the tag, the captain. Once I started thinking about what I was seeing, I thought about what it could mean, and I came to the conclusion that you must have figured I would reach, that I was in some virtual environment, like the crew of the Aurora had been. Almost as soon as I realized it everything just…blinked out. Next thing I knew I was waking up to you complaining. It was comforting in a way."

" I wish…I wish I could have thought of it sooner. Maybe then…I…He…wouldn't have…" Sheppard listened to the normally very articulate McKay stutter for a moment, then reached out a hand and laid it on the broad shoulder. The other man would not meet his eyes, pretending fascination with his laptop.

"I know, Rodney. You did what you could, WHEN you could and it wasn't you."

"You thought it was." Came the small voice. Sheppard bit his lip. Yes, he had thought it was, and the words said still hurt him in places he couldn't identify, but he knew that THIS Rodney would never say those words. This Rodney had saved his life, again, and for that he deserved absolution for a crime that he had never committed.

"Yeah. But now I know better…And knowing is half the battle." He waited a moment as what he said sank in, grinning as McKay's head shot up.

"Oh that's right, mock the genuine sentiments I am trying to express by a puerile reference to a violent, pro-American, money grubbing pretext of a cartoon saying, very mature. I am so glad we had this conversation." Behind the bluster Sheppard saw the gratitude in the blue eyes, and knew that Rodney had heard everything he hadn't said, just as he had heard what Rodney hadn't said. He smiled as McKay opened his laptop and began booting it up. As he did so he launched into an explanation of how he had tweaked the device's program to insert the Aurora reference into the basic fabric of the construct, and how it was different from what he had done on the Aurora. Sheppard was lost after the first little bit, but he leaned back against his pillows and nodded at the appropriate places, conveniently supplied by McKay for those too stupid to know when he had made a brilliant leap of logic.

His world was slowly returning to what passed for normal. His other friends would be here soon, and he would talk to them all. He couldn't be something he wasn't. He couldn't talk outright about the feelings that had overwhelmed him, about what had happened inside his mind as he had watched his world crumble. They wouldn't expect it of him. They would expect him to listen as they apologized for something they didn't do, and would gladly accept the absolution he had no right to give. He could be secure in the knowledge that they understood him, and he knew that they too would hear everything he couldn't say. Perhaps that was the true definition of friendship, of family.

The End.