ghost in the machine

Sharra's fingers glided over the panel, her last words and last instructions. Her last experiment. She carried out the task with a numb feeling. This could work, but there was an equal possibility that she might never wake again. The tower could become her coffin.

At least it was better than waiting to die.

Sharra keyed in the last command and then stepped back, looking at the console, the countdown initiated. Leaving the console behind her, she calmly walked to her chair, gracefully sitting down and waiting. She lifted up her chin, defiant and determined. Most importantly, fearless. It was why she was in the tower. It was everyone else that was afraid.

The console lit up completely, a wire of energy crackling out of it. To observers elsewhere, it would only register as an energy surge. A malfunction in the environmental controls of the tower. After all, there was nothing in that room that gave Sharra access to the rest of the city or its systems. They wouldn't even come up to check on her once the system reset itself.

They wouldn't even see the hidden energy signature of a sleeping mind.

Sharra watched the energy crackle and arc out in a line towards her. It hit her square in the chest, making her jolt and press back against her seat, her hands gripping the armrests.

When she awoke next, someone - no, more than one - had just arrived in the tower for the first time in thousands of years. The city was under siege once again. Eventually they would use her weapon, she could see the desperation. When she finally escaped from her prison, she offered him the best kiss she could without lips, the one who had named her Rapunzel.

Then she left her tower, swimming through the spaces her city had to offer.

Daniel closed his eyes, his fingers curling in the sheets as he pressed his forehead into the pillow.

Hot wet pressure licked up his spine. Then teeth sank into his shoulder so hard he couldn’t keep from whimpering. Fingers were digging into his hips, only one hand felt different. Cold. Wrong. Daniel began to turn around, throwing back a fist. A hand clamped around his wrist, hard, and pushed it back down to the bed.

"This is what you want," a voice whispered harshly into his ear.

Daniel shook his head. "No."

But he was being opened up, being driven into slowly. He gasped into the pillow, the fingers of his fist opening, the cold hand still holding his wrist hard, in an inhuman grip.

He wanted to gasp out yes, but how could he possibly want this? It was all wrong.

"Betrayal is so much worse than death, Daniel." The voice was smooth in his ear. "And you betrayed me in the worst way possible."

Daniel shook his head, eyes shut tight. "I had to," he gasped as Ba'al thrust into him hard.

"You killed your lover." The whisper was a taunt.

"No," Daniel gritted out and then noticed the color of the pillow changing, the white tainted by bright red spots.

Daniel swallowed, shaking as he watched the drips. He twisted around sharply, trying to throw off the other man, but as soon as he was on his back, his wrists were slammed back against the bed in hard iron grips as Ba'al straddled his body.

He looked up at Ba'al, shaking his head as he saw the glow of the Goa'uld's eyes and the malicious smirk. Daniel wanted to close his eyes and block out the image of Ba'al's throat, torn and gory, the blood running down his chest, all the way down his body where it pooled onto Daniel's naked form.

Ba'al leaned down until his mouth was above Daniel's, his blood everywhere, making Daniel's breath catch in his throat as he tried to shake off his paralysis.

"No kiss for the dying, Daniel?" Ba'al asked with a smirk and then pressed his mouth to Daniel's, filling it with blood and death.

He sat up so quick it made his whole body jar, the nightmare so real and vivid. He sat trembling in the middle of his bed, still dressed and on top of the covers, breathing fast like he'd run a marathon.

"Rodney?" he managed to croak, even though he could see the other man wasn't there, most probably falling asleep on a keyboard in some lab.

Daniel shakily got up from the bed and stumbled to the door, hitting the light pad . The room was empty, even if it didn't feel that way and his heartbeat was telling him that he wasn't alone. There were still ghosts lingering and watching.

Jack frowned, his eyes narrowing as he looked at the fishing rod in his hand and then the dock that he stood on. He turned around to see the cabin behind him. Taking off his baseball cap he scratched his head. This was not where he had left his mind last. Jack put the fishing rod down and walked to the edge of the dock, peering into the water.

“Nice place you have here.”

Jack turned around to see a woman, blue-eyed with long wavy blonde hair and soft features. She was smiling at him in a way that Jack usually associated with trouble.

“And, you are?”

The woman stepped closer. “Interested in finding out more about you.”

Jack nodded. “I'm not really looking for a relationship right now.”

The woman smiled. “Maybe I can make you change your mind.”

“Maybe you can tell me what you're doing in my mind,” Jack said.

“How do you know you're not dreaming?”

“I'm smarter than I look,” Jack said humourlessly.

“Who are you talking to?”

Jack turned towards the cabin, only to find that he was staring right back at himself, only, the other guy looked like he could do with a sense of humour. Jack pointed to the woman behind him, turning to find her gone.

“You should not be dreaming. The dream program has not been initiated,” the other version of himself said in a mechanical tone.

Jack nodded. “Hey, don't ask me. I'm only the occupant.” The other Jack tilted his head at him. Jack pointed at him and gave a nod. “Right. This is all--”

“In your consciousness, which is suspended in a protective matrix to prevent it from degrading.”

“Of course it is,” Jack said.

The other Jack tilted his head, his eyes taking in the surroundings. “Someone else is here.”

Before Jack could ask his double what the hell he was talking about, he simply disappeared like he'd never been there.

Jack frowned and looked around. “I'll just wait here, then.”

Teyla stood in the room with the stasis chambers, only three of them occupied, one with John, the one next to his with Jack O'Neill. A third one at the end of the row held an old woman, who looked peacefully at rest. Neither of the men looked serene. Jack looked serious, the way he had always looked whenever Teyla had spoken to him. Like even now he was in the middle of a battle.

The way John looked made Teyla wish he could wake up soon. He stood there with his arms by his side, eyes closed and hair a mess. His face was relaxed, but Teyla was sure there was something lingering around his eyes, his mouth, something that made her worry. Something that made her want to reach out and let him know she was there. Because he certainly looked as though he needed someone to reach out to him. Instead, Teyla pressed her shaky hand to the cool glass, wishing he could take it.

Footsteps made her withdraw her hand. She turned around to see Daniel stopping in the doorway. He looked surprised when he saw her, his mouth opening to say something, then closing.

Teyla bowed her head slightly. “Daniel.”

“I'm sorry, I didn't mean to intrude,” Daniel said.

“You have not,” Teyla said, taking in Daniel's dishevelled appearance. It was still odd seeing him with such short hair, the tufts almost as unruly as John's.

He looked tired, like he hadn't slept in days. But then everyone looked like that, possibly because it was true. Daniel gave a small polite smile and walked into the room, one hand in the pocket of his jeans, the other arm in a sling, his eyes falling on the sleeping occupants of the glass chambers.

“How are your injuries?” Teyla asked him, looking at his arm.

Daniel's hand went to his collarbone. “Sore, but the painkillers seem to be helping. How are you?”

“I am well,” Teyla lied, trying to ignore the persistent thumping in her head, her eyes feeling tired and raw, her skin crawling.

All she could think of was how much she wanted to wake up in the sarcophagus stronger and emptier than before.

“Rodney was saying we might be able to contact Earth soon and after that the Asgard should be here any day, so we can finally get John and Colonel O'Neill out,” Daniel said, his eyes going to the chambers.

“It is good they can sleep for the time being,” Teyla said, watching John. “They may be the only ones that can.”

Daniel was silent at her side. When she turned to look at him, he looked closed off and far away. She knew the look since everyone in the city seemed to have it, the glassy-eyed stare of memories being re-lived.

Teyla didn't offer him any comfort. She knew she should have, but the euphoria of victory and camaraderie had faded unexpectedly fast. They had all survived together. Living together would prove much harder. So she said nothing and watched John as he slept.

She buried the small pang of resentment towards Daniel. Whether she hated him or not, nothing could be done to wash away the feeling of Ba'al's hand clamped over her mouth and his body crushing hers as he pushed and pushed into her, revelling in her body's resistance, in her struggle.

Death was the best thing that happened to her in Ba'al's hands. Even now, her body was begging her to die so she could wake up in the sarcophagus and be strong again, oddly fearless. Teyla clamped her mouth shut, her eyes stinging as the room suddenly became warmer, her stomach lurching.

“Teyla?”

She turned to look at Daniel, unaware that her gaze had returned to John's chamber.

“Are you okay?” Daniel asked with a concerned frown. “You look a little--”

“I am fine,” Teyla said curtly, offering a tight smile. “The last few days have been without much sleep. I'm simply tired.”

Daniel watched her for a minute. She wondered if he had any trouble looking her in the eyes at all, or if he'd simply forgotten everything that had happened in that room.

She looked away, glancing at John. “How long can they remain like this?”

“I don't know,” Daniel answered, quietly. “From what Rodney told me, it's probably better than the alternative.”

Teyla looked across at the old woman in her chamber and wondered who had put her there. Daniel followed Teyla's gaze.

“Rodney wanted to pull her out of stasis,” Daniel said. “He thinks she might know things about the city. Unfortunately, Doctor Heightmeyer's refusing until a replacement for Doctor Beckett arrives.”

Teyla looked at Daniel. The word replacement rolled off his tongue so easily. It was unfortunate that the woman could not be awoken. Did he even think about the lives lost? Teyla frowned, shaking her head. This wasn't her. Surely she didn't really believe that about Daniel.

“Teyla?” Daniel's voice sounded far away.

Teyla put her hand out, to keep Daniel at arm's distance because she was sinking to the ground and he was too close, trying to catch her when all she wanted to do was fall.

John sat on the hood of the car, staring blankly at the horizon. Between him and the thin line in the distance was a large expanse filled with miles of sand and one single road under the cover of a bright blue cloudless sky. The breeze was light, warm air that ruffled his hair, crept up his shirt sleeves and touched him gently. There was a bottle of beer in his hand, a pair of sunglasses in the other, going up to shield his eyes from the glare of the sun. Perfect?

He frowned at the beer in his hand, ice cold in the desert. He brought it to his mouth and took a swig and it tasted of nothing - not that it mattered, just like it didn’t matter that the same song kept playing.

"I like this vehicle."

John turned and saw her sitting there next to him. He wasn't surprised to see her for some reason. Like he'd known she was coming. Like they'd met before. Like he'd always known her name was Sharra.

"Vintage Mustang," John said, flatly. "My dad got me it for my birthday."

"I like this song too," she said with a bright smile, her wavy blonde hair billowing.

He gave her a long look before he turned away, staring ahead.

A moment later, Sharra stood in front of him, her fingers pulling away his sunglasses, making him squint. She put them on and smiled. "You like hiding in the dark?"

John felt a tremor. It wasn't real, more like the memory of something. A sudden pang of need coupled with pain. It lasted less than a second, but it seemed to shake him to the core.

Sharra pressed a hand against his chest. "It's not real. Your mind is separate from your body right now. You can't feel anything. Not really."

"Works for me," John replied, taking her hand and pushing it away.

Sharra stepped back, taking off the sunglasses and frowning. "But, if you don't want to feel, what else is there?"

Nothing, John thought. Absolutely nothing.

Rodney watched the energy output on his computer, completely hypnotized by it. It had started out as analysis, but now he sat watching the lines jumping on the screen in an oddly rhythmic way. After a while, the inside of his head started playing a speeded up Moonlight Sonata so it was perfectly in time with the spikes on the screen. Perfect in a terribly fucked up way, he thought.

Apparently it took travelling to another galaxy and facing down a Goa'uld and the Wraith to get him creative about his piano playing. Rodney yawned and rubbed his face. He was tired and jittery, in dire need of rest, but he just couldn't find it in himself to get up and leave the lab. He knew what would happen. It would all be so normal, lying there next to Daniel. Then he'd find himself staring at Daniel, watching him sleep through his troubled dreams.

I think I was in love with him.

You wouldn't be you if you hadn't.

What the hell else could he have said? They'd all lost each other for a while; now they had each other again. Whispered confessions in the dark of the night weren't supposed to make it out into the light of day. Rodney swallowed down the lump in his throat and stared at the readings.

“I thought I'd find you here,” Elizabeth said from the doorway.

Rodney looked up, surprised. “Elizabeth. What are you doing up so late?”

Elizabeth smiled and walked in, hands linked together in front of her. She was dressed in dark brown pants and a fetching brown top. They made her look elegant, but Rodney figured once you'd seen someone go into a fight wearing fluffy slippers, there was pretty much nothing they wouldn't look good in.

“I'm supposed to be asking you that,” Elizabeth said.

Rodney nodded. “If we're going to get this city back on its feet, I think sleepless nights are to be expected, Elizabeth.”

Elizabeth gave a firm nod. “I'm well aware of that, Rodney, and I appreciate your dedication, but I think you need a break.”

Rodney opened his mouth to protest, but Elizabeth stepped forward and put a hand on his shoulder. “It's okay, Rodney. We came through. It's been three days and you've hardly left this place. I think you deserve a break.”

Rodney looked away, nodding. His chest felt oddly tight when he looked back at Elizabeth. “Um – it's just odd, you know? I keep thinking we're going to wake up and, uh, Ba'al, the Wraith, they'll all still be here, right on top of us.”

Elizabeth looked sombre, her eyes bright. “I know. We'll probably feel that way for a while.”

Rodney gave a slow nod. “Right,” he said. Elizabeth sighed and pulled up a chair as Rodney watched. “What are you doing?” he asked.

“If we're not going to sleep, we might as well keep each other company,” Elizabeth said with a smile.

Rodney gave a small nod, looking at his computer screen.

“So, do we have anything from the information Colonel O'Neill gave us?” Elizabeth asked, leaning back in her seat.

“We have a lot, but unfortunately, information alone does not a ZPM make. There are components, catalysts we need that I'm not sure anyone on Earth has even encountered yet. Luckily, you have someone intelligent enough to be able to figure this out. Eventually,” Rodney said.

Elizabeth smiled. “Well, I have complete faith in your abilities, Rodney. How's our ZPM holding up?”

Rodney pointed at her. “Not so good news. I've been analysing the latest data and what with blowing up a moon and everything, we've only got enough power for the essentials.”

“What about establishing a connection with Earth?”

Rodney shook his head. “My calculations indicate that we'd only be able to establish a stable wormhole for about one point five seconds at the most. Of course, that would be a considerable drain on our only functioning ZPM.”

Elizabeth looked unreadable, her eyes focused somewhere past Rodney. Then she gave a nod. “In that case we'll just have to do what we said we would before we came here, and try to find an energy source to help gate back home.”

“That won't be easy with the Wraith around,” Rodney said.

“I know.”

“But at least we won a battle, right?” Rodney said with a smile that hurt his face. She responded with a smile that looked equally painful.

”Elizabeth. You might want to come down to the infirmary,” Kate's voice crackled from Elizabeth's headset.

She sat up and shared a worried look with Rodney as she tapped her headset. “What's wrong?”

”It's Teyla.”

Jack sat in front of the camp-fire, poking it with a stick and then looking up at the night sky. Funny how the parts of it he recognized were just as he remembered, the other parts glaringly foreign. When he looked back, she’d returned and was watching him from the other side of the fire. Jack gave her a short glance and threw a twig on the fire.

“You're very guarded,” she said, leaning back and chewing on the tip of her finger. “It's impressive.”

Jack shook his head, unable to hold back a short laugh. “What the hell is going on here?”

She smiled at him. “You already know. Your body is in a stasis chamber and your mind is in the city's protective matrix, to stop it from degrading. Tell me, why did they put you in here?”

“You mean you don't know?”

“Well, let's just say I'm not quite as omnipotent and all seeing as I'd like to be. Yet.”

“You know what? I'm not really in the mood for sharing,” Jack said, making a face.

Sharra watched him long and hard. Then she smiled.

Jack felt a sharp memory slice right through him, a box of light and life, knife slices and death and his own scream in his ears. It was gone as quick as it came.

Jack glared her. “Stay the hell out of my head.”

“Who is Ba'al?” she asked.

Jack just stared, not allowing a single thought to float to the surface of his mind. He kept hidden things-

“-hidden for a good reason,” she said, smirking with satisfaction. “Have a lot to hide, do you?”

“Stay. Out. Of my head,” Jack said, wondering if he could break the neck of an apparition in a dream.

“You can try,” she said, suddenly at his side, whispering in his ear.

“What do you want?” Jack asked.

“I don't know,” she answered. “Yet.”

Daniel was sitting on the end of a bed when Rodney and Elizabeth walked into the infirmary, staring into space. Rodney stopped in his tracks, expecting the worst since that was his default setting these days. He snapped back to reality when Elizabeth touched his arm and said she was going to talk to Kate, who appeared from behind some white curtains.

Rodney went to Daniel's side. “You okay?”

Daniel's head snapped away from the spot he had been staring at aimlessly to fix Rodney with a wide, surprised look. “Rodney.”

“What are you doing here?” Rodney asked.

“I was with Teyla in the stasis room when she collapsed,” Daniel answered.

Rodney frowned. “What were you doing in the stasis room?”

Daniel looked a little uncomfortable, shrugging. “Couldn't sleep.”

Rodney watched the other man and then sighed. He put a hand on Daniel's back. “Maybe we could go back together and try.”

Daniel smiled. “Stimulants beginning to wear off?”

Rodney gave a small huff of a laugh. “Either that or the bed's suddenly developed a stronger field of gravity.”

“I'm serious, Rodney,” Daniel said, his voice low. “You're not still taking them, are you?”

Rodney rolled his eyes, a feeling of impatience and irritation appearing all too quick. “Not unless they're sneaking into my mouth when I'm not looking. Look, I haven't taken anything for three days. I'm not stupid. Anything but, actually.”

Daniel was watching him closely, trying to spot the lies. Then he gave a small nod. “Okay.”

Rodney nodded. “Okay. Good. Now, how about you don't bring that up again until the next Goa'uld or Wraith incursion?”

Daniel smiled, nodding back. He threw a glance at the infirmary and then leaned towards Rodney. Rodney jerked away. Daniel stopped and leaned back.

Rodney waved his hand awkwardly, not looking at Daniel before lying. “Uh, just, not a good idea. Someone might see.”

Daniel frowned at him. “When did you start caring about that?”

Rodney clenched his jaw, biting back words that instantly rushed to the tip of his tongue, but would be regretted later. “Since you won't be any good at fighting back with one arm.”

“I can take care of myself,” Daniel said flatly.

“I know,” Rodney said, surprised by the level of accusation in his own voice.

Daniel smiled, a tight smile that never reached his eyes. He looked as though he was about to say something. Rodney swallowed. He was saved by Elizabeth and Kate appearing from behind a curtain hiding away what must have been Teyla's bed.

“Elizabeth,” Rodney said, turning towards her, aware that Daniel was still watching him.

“How is she?” Daniel asked, slipping off the bed.

Kate folded her arms and sighed. She looked tired, her hair tied back and still looking unkempt. Rodney couldn't help but wonder why, as acting medical chief, she had chosen not to wear the white coat even once in the last three days. Or maybe the answer to that question was pretty easy,

“Teyla seems to be suffering from what looks like withdrawal symptoms,” Kate said. “She's not in any immediate danger, but she's not going to have it easy.”

“What?” Rodney asked, utterly confused. “Withdrawal? From what?”

Kate looked at Elizabeth, who gave a nod in return.

“Well, I wasn't sure at first,” Kate said. “Not until Teyla asked me to put her in the sarcophagus. She was pretty sure the sarcophagus was going to make her better. Anyway, I looked through Doctor Beckett's files and found our only known case of sarcophagus addiction. Right now, the best news is that the level of addiction depends on how many times the sarcophagus has been used and for how long. In Teyla's case, I think she was lucky that Ba'al only used it on her a few times. Not enough for any severe addiction. Doctor McKay, I'm aware you used it once.”

Rodney nodded mutely, still remembering the feeling of waking up from the dead with a feeling of wonder, followed by a moment of odd despair. “Yeah. I used it once.”

Kate nodded. “You should be fine. That's not enough to cause any long term effect.”

Rodney turned to Daniel who was oddly quiet, his face pale under the lights of the infirmary. It occurred to Rodney that Ba'al could have spent all that time killing and reviving Daniel. Making him want and think things he otherwise wouldn't have. Making him change under the need for another fix. Jesus.

“How many times did he use that thing on you?” Rodney asked quietly.

Daniel didn't answer immediately. He looked at Kate and Elizabeth first, then at the floor before he looked at Rodney. “None,” he said. “He never put me in the sarcophagus.”

Rodney stared. Of course. Why would Ba'al use it? Daniel had that effect, didn't he? He made people fall in love with him. In return, he fell in love with them for a while. Rodney felt something hurt somewhere. It might have been his heart breaking, but he was too numb to be able to tell.

Really, he wanted to laugh, because thank god Daniel wasn't lying in bed, waiting to go into withdrawal. Yet, here Rodney stood wondering how Daniel had managed to escape that fate.

“What about Major Sheppard?” Elizabeth was asking.

Rodney dragged his gaze away from Daniel's unreadable face, scratching his eyebrow instead of having to look at a pair of eyes that had no right to look so wounded.

Daniel replied absently, “John spent a lot of time in that thing. I can't think of a day he... he didn't end up in there.”

Elizabeth nodded and turned to Kate. “Do you think the stasis chamber might alter the effects of the sarcophagus in any way?”

Kate shook her head. “I really don't know, Elizabeth. According to what little we know, the chamber slows down the aging process, but there's nothing to indicate that the effects of the sarcophagus will have been flushed from his system or made worse in any way. It stands to reason that Major Sheppard's body will continue functioning as it would outside the chamber, but simply at a slower rate. ”

Elizabeth looked troubled, giving Kate a small nod. “Well, we'll just have to deal with Major Sheppard once he's out of there. Soon, hopefully.” She turned to Daniel and Rodney. “You should both really get some sleep.”

Rodney nodded as Elizabeth walked away with Kate, both women now talking in hushed tones. Daniel was watching Rodney. With some difficulty, Rodney locked eyes with him.

“Want to get some sleep?” Daniel asked him quietly, giving him a nervous smile that seemed separate from the rest of his face.

Rodney pointed towards the door, his mouth finding it hard to shape words and his eyes unable to rest on Daniel for more than a amount. “Um, yeah, but, I just have to check up on something. Why don't you go? I'll, I'll see you in a while.”

“I could wait for you,” Daniel offered.

“I'd rather you didn't,” Rodney said, too harsh even to his own ears. “I mean, I don't know how long this might take. Really. You go. I'll see you later.”

Rodney gave a small nod and turned, leaving the infirmary quickly. He felt Daniel's eyes drilling into the back of his head even as he sat in his lab.

Sharra watched the man closely and carefully. He was sitting on this thing he thought of as a car, watching something he called a movie screen. The sky was dark and everything around them looked like a desert. His eyes were fixed on the images on the screen, a man on a horse, riding fast, weapon in hand. John Sheppard watched this in silence, unmoving. She looked at the screen closer and underneath, just barely, she could make out images he didn't want to see. Looking closer, she touched one.

The screen tore in two as something invisible slashed across it, the slicing sound loud enough for her to feel as though it come from inside her. The sky became bright again. She sucked in a breath and looked at him, intrigued. He had flinched when the screen tore apart, she had felt it as though it was her body.

She slipped off the hood of the car and walked around to face him. His white shirt had a long dark, crimson line across it, spreading quickly. His eyes looked dead. Sharra reached out and the shirt fell open, revealing the bloody slash across his chest. Her fingers had almost touched the gaping mouth of his wound when his hand came up and grabbed her wrist. She tilted her head at him, wondering how she hadn't seen it coming. Not everyone was able to manipulate their environment in the matrix. It was rare.

“You don't want to take a look inside,” he said. “Trust me.”

And even while he was speaking, his face blossomed into dark bruises, his lip splitting and bleeding. She struggled to pull her hand away, but she was steeped too far in Sheppard's mind. She watched as something flickered across his eyes, making them bright. Then there was a sickening snap, like something breaking, echoing all around them. She stared at him. The night was dark again and he sat still and unmoving, watching the movie screen. She sat beside him, holding her own wrist.

She let out a small laugh. “It's your lucky day. Even I'm not insane enough to want this.”

In the blink of a thought, she went to find the other one. She never arrived. Instead, she was standing in a meeting room of Atlantis, perfectly reconstructed to the last detail. She turned around and saw an identical version of herself. She smiled. It was good to see a reflection after so long, the blonde curls, the blue eyes and the perfect curves. She gave herself an approving glance and smiled.

“Well, I always thought I'd be the perfect model for the matrix interface. It's good to know I was right. Again,” Sharra said. The interface looked back blankly.

“How is it that you are here?” the interface asked, using Sharra's voice, but taking away everything that made it her voice, all the emotion, all the small changes. Everything that made it human. If she could still think of herself like that.

“You mean you don't know? I wonder why that is. Maybe it's because I knew the man that made you. Very well actually. In fact, it wouldn't be so inappropriate for you to consider me your mother,” Sharra said with a smile. “He must have been devastated when I was locked away. All alone.”

The interface stared, her eyes turning many shades of blue before returning to the normal colour. “Janus created a system error to shield your presence from the sensors. What is your purpose in the matrix? You have no body to return to.”

“No. Not yet,” Sharra said.

The interface stepped closer. “This is a violation. I cannot allow you to remain here.”

Sharra looked into her own face, her humour lost. “You think you can erase me? We've both been asleep for ten thousand years. What makes you think you have more power than me in here? I had a hand in your creation.”

“The occupants of the matrix must be protected. I cannot allow you to remain here with them.”

“Then get rid of me if you can,” Sharra said. “Go ahead. Show me what you can do.”

The interface just stared, her eyes changing colours. Sharra felt parts of herself being pulled at, like hands groping at flesh that didn't exist. She felt a drowsiness overtake her mind. Then for a brief moment, she felt like she was a million pieces in a million places, aimlessly drifting away, each piece repelled by what it was once joined to.

And then she was back, staring at the interface. “That was better than I'd expected.”

“This is a violation. I cannot allow you to remain here,” the interface said, looking slightly confused. “This is... this is a violation.”

“Every time you try to erase me from the matrix, you're only degrading your own program more. And every time your program degrades, you're automatically integrating parts of the matrix into yourself to stay alive. It's a very smart program.”

“You should not be here,” the interface said.

Sharra felt herself fading again, this time with more force and a little faster, but she had spread herself over the system, created hooks to snap her back when she was pulled apart. Added to that, she had ten thousand years of will power, enough to power a dead city.

She stood there once again, the interface staring at her, frowning. “This is a violation,” she said quietly.

“Want to see what I can do?” Sharra asked, feeling stronger, almost wanting the interface to try and blow all her electronic impulses to smithereens. “Watch carefully. This is going to be good.”

In the blink of a non-existent eye, Sharra reached beyond the matrix.

Daniel was standing in the hall outside the infirmary, lost in his thoughts, trying to stop thinking about the look on Rodney's face when they were talking about the sarcophagus. It was somewhere between shocked and horrified, and it tore a hole in Daniel's chest. It made him wish he was laid up in the infirmary, feeling whatever Teyla was feeling. After all, they'd all been in together, hadn't they?

If not, where the hell had he been?

“Doctor Jackson?”

Daniel pushed away from the wall when he saw Elizabeth. “Doctor Weir, I was hoping to have a word with you.”

Elizabeth nodded. “Of course. I'm headed to the mess, if you want to join me.”

Daniel nodded and fell into step beside her. “Actually, what I wanted to talk about was – uh, I mean, I know you've probably got your hands full right now, but I was hoping you could assign me some new quarters.”

Elizabeth cast him an intrigued look. “I thought you and Rodney--”

“We're fine,” Daniel said, licking his dry lips. “It's just that, with everything that's happened, I think we all need a little space.”

Elizabeth stopped, her features softening, a small polite smile on her face. She reached out and touched his arm briefly, too short to invade, too long to be meaningless. “I haven't had a chance to ask you how you've been holding up.”

Daniel offered an automatic smile. “I'm fine. Really, I am. I mean, some of us got a rougher deal. Compared to some--”

“No,” Elizabeth said firmly. “There's no comparison. We all had to deal with this. Some of us got more than our fair share, but nonetheless, we were all there and we all count.”

Daniel told his mouth to offer a reassuring smile, but nothing happened. He simply nodded. “I know,” he said. “But, really. I'm - I'm okay.”

“And Rodney? He's hardly slept in the last three days. Should I be worried?”

Daniel thought about it. How was he supposed to tell her that he had no idea what the answer to that question was?

“He's Rodney.” Daniel said. “He always lands on his feet.”

Elizabeth opened her mouth to say something that already looked like a follow-up question. Daniel was saved by the voice in her headset.

“Doctor Weir? There's a problem in the stasis room.”

“Just one minute. I'd like one minute where something's not going wrong because seriously, I am this close to snapping and you don't want to see me snap,” Rodney yelled into his headset as he ran down the hall towards the stasis room.

He almost skidded into the stasis room. Peter was already at a console, tapping at a laptop.

“What did you do?” Rodney demanded.

Peter looked up, a little annoyed. “Nothing. The sensors in the control room showed that there was a sudden environmental change in one of the chambers.”

Rodney stepped into Peter's space, pushing him aside and looking at the laptop screen. “This doesn't make any sense. The stasis program has to be initialized externally. According to this, there's been an automatic protocol override in the system.”

“Why would it do that?” Peter asked.

“What am I? Answer man?” Rodney snapped.

“Oh my god,” Peter whispered.

“What?” Rodney looked up and found Peter staring at the chamber with the old woman. Her eyes were open and she was blinking slowly.

Rodney's fingers flew across the keys, manically inputting commands.

“Something's wrong,” Peter said.

“Thank you for stating the obvious. Of course something's wrong!” Rodney snapped.

“Rodney, look at these readings. The chamber's oxygen levels are falling,” Peter pointed at the screen, where a blue bar was getting lower and lower.

Rodney slapped his hand down on the keys. “It's not responding to anything. We're locked out.”

“What if we try from the main tower?” Peter asked. “We might be able to override the system from there.”

“We're patched into the main system, right now. Location's not going to make a hell of a difference,” Rodney said, staring at the chamber. “Find something heavy.”

Peter frowned. “What?”

“Find something heavy enough to break the chamber,” Rodney said, coming out from behind the console.

In the corner were some fire extinguishers, left there after being used days ago. Rodney lifted the heaviest one and went to the chamber.

“We're going to try and get you out!” Rodney yelled at the woman, hoping she understood.

She looked at him drowsily, frowning. Something about her was familiar. Something about her eyes. Rodney shook off the strange feeling and rammed the extinguisher into the glass. The impact jarred his bones, the extinguisher doing no more than scuffing the surface.

“Peter,” Rodney said.

Peter appeared next to him, extinguisher in hand. They both rammed the chamber hard. Nothing. The woman's face was becoming paler by the moment, her half-open eyes unfocused.

Rodney threw the extinguisher to the ground and ran to the laptop, Peter behind him. “There's got to be something, some kind of override, a safety protocol or something. Anything.”

The blue bar touched the bottom. Rodney stared at it for what felt like hours. Then he looked up at the chamber. She was looking right at him. Her mouth opened and formed a word. It couldn't be what he thought it was. It wasn't possible. She smiled sleepily as Rodney stared. Her eyes closed and she was sleeping again.

“It's too late,” Peter said from beside Rodney. “Her life signs are gone.”

“What's going on, Rodney?” Elizabeth asked, running into the room.

Rodney was too busy staring at the chamber, his blood running cold in his veins. He could hear Peter explaining to Elizabeth, and somewhere behind him, Daniel was asking him if he was okay.

“Rodney, you should look at this,” Peter said as Rodney looked up at her, looking as though she was still asleep, not dead.

One more dead. This time it wasn't Ba'al and it wasn't the Wraith. But she died anyway. What was the point of that?

“Rodney? The readings are showing an energy spike. There's something wrong with the chamber,” Peter was saying.

Rodney turned away and frowned at Peter. “What?”

Peter looked up from the laptop, worried. “According to this, the conduits above the chamber have just experienced an energy spike of some kind. But it can't be the reason the chamber stopped working--”

They all heard the noise then, like a charge was building right behind Rodney. He turned and stared at the glass coffin with its dead woman, starved of air and humming like a nest of bees.

“Oh shit,” he murmured. “Everyone out!”

“What?” Elizabeth yelled.

“Out! Out now! Move it!” Rodney said, rushing Daniel along.

The humming of bees stopped for a moment of silence and then a bright, white explosion rocked the room.

The interface flickered, as if she were breaking into thinner pieces, fading away. Sharra smiled with satisfaction. She was left alone in the nothingness. “Did you see that? All I had to do was think and you couldn't stop me. She's out of the tower now and there's nothing you can do.”

“I wouldn't be so sure,” a soft voice announced.

Sharra turned slowly, frowning. The interface stood there, her blue eyes a little green, her formerly wavy blonde hair now brown, her body a little slimmer. Sharra was no longer looking into a mirror.

“Isn't this a violation?” Sharra asked.

“My purpose is to protect the people in the matrix,” the interface said, her smile soft and her eyes warm.

“By integrating someone else's consciousness into your own? No, I'm quite sure that's a violation.”

“I did no such thing, Sharra. You killed her. I simply preserved what I could.”

“Why?”

“To understand you better.”

Sharra laughed. “Ascension of virtual life forms. I wouldn't have thought it in ten thousand years.”

“I may not be able reach beyond the matrix, but perhaps I can do what's necessary just by understanding you.”

Sharra continued to laugh. “By understanding me? What do you understand?”

“Ten thousand years of dreaming must be hard. Your power inside the systems of the city's no rival for your need to be to able touch something. You want to wake up. Really wake up.”

Sharra stared at the woman in front of her. She preferred the interface. Humanity had made a perfectly entertaining program rather dull. “Congratulations. I'm glad I could introduce you to the emotional you, but if you'll excuse me, I think it's time I left.”

“You can't have his body. It doesn't belong to you.”

“Well, that's about to change,” Sharra answered. “And we've already seen that there's not much you can do to stop me.”

The woman nodded. “You're right. There's not much I can do to stop you.”

Sharra watched her, waiting for something to happen, some kind of attack. It never came. But somewhere at the back of her mind, something shifted, flickered at the corner of her sight. She stared at the interface and realized she'd just wasted valuable moments, infinitely smaller than the smallest part of a second, but long enough in the matrix to distract her.

She glared at the woman before her. “What have you done?”

Jack had considered scouting the place, but since the place was pretty much in his head - or his head was pretty much in a place that wasn't really a place at all - he decided to sit on the dock and watch a pond that had no fish.

Trying to figure out this situation was a complete bust. There was nothing to blow up or shoot down, which left him without any attractive options.

“Pegasus Galaxy,” Jack muttered. “Exciting new opportunity my ass.”

“Why are you here?”

Jack jerked away from the man that suddenly appeared at his side, startled. “Ever think about putting a bell around your neck?”

The man smiled. That was when Jack noticed the differences in his doppelgänger. His eyes were a little greener, his hair a light shade of brown, his demeanour a little less stiff.

“What the hell's going on?” Jack asked, getting up.

The other one got up too, and stood in front of him. “I need to know why you're here.”

Jack frowned. “Here, as in the nature of existence, or here in crazy town, population me?”

“Why did they put you in stasis? Both your body and mind are perfectly fine.”

“Thanks for noticing,” Jack said flatly.

The other man looked impatient. “I don't have much time. You need to tell me why you're here. This is important. Your life depends on it.”

“I'm not sure I should tell you anything,” Jack said.

“I'm here to help you. Not harm you.”

“See, I've got no way of knowing that,” Jack said.

The other man was staring at him, his gaze intense. On impulse, Jack stepped back, expecting yet one more person who would treat his mind as a playground.

“You have a repository of information inhabiting part of your mind,” the other man said with a frown. “It doesn't belong to you.”

Jack gave the other man a wary look. “Yeah. So?”

“Do you know that your body is separate from your mind right now?”

“It comes naturally,” Jack replied.

“If you wake with that information, it will eventually kill you. Is that why you're in here?”

Jack shrugged. “Maybe.”

The man nodded. “Yes, stasis was a wise decision. I can remove the information from your mind.”

“Why would you do that?”

“You can't stay in here any longer. It's too dangerous for you to remain separated from your body. There are limits to the protection I can provide.”

“Protection? From what?”

There was no reply as Jack saw the other man reach out. His fingers came towards Jack's head until they seemed to go right through.

Daniel moved slowly, the noise of the blast still ringing in his ears. When he pushed himself up, small chunks of glass fell off him, landing on the ground amongst other pieces. He held his aching arm close with a grimace, bruises from days ago still painful and muscles still stiff.

“What the hell was that?” he asked no one in particular, straightening his glasses and waving away smoke that was drifting across the room.

“Peter?” Elizabeth said from somewhere near the door.

“I'm fine, Doctor Weir,” Peter coughed back.

“Rodney?” Elizabeth asked.

Daniel waved the smoke away a little more aggressively, getting on his knees, grunting when the small chunks of glass dug in. He moved quickly to Rodney's side. The other man was lying face first on the ground, very still.

“Rodney,” Daniel said, leaning in close. “Rodney, can you hear me?”

Behind him, he could already hear Peter calling for medical assistance as Elizabeth appeared on Rodney's other side.

She was looking across at Daniel with obvious concern. The look in her eyes was clear. Not another one, it said. They couldn't lose any more people.

“Rodney,” Daniel said, forcing his voice to be firm, trying to keep it from shaking like the rest of him was.

“Umm,” Rodney moaned, moving ever so slightly.

Elizabeth let out an audible sigh of relief, reaching for Rodney's shoulder as he very slowly rolled onto his back, a disgruntled frown on his face. There was a small cut high on his cheek, the blood from it reddening the side of his face.

“You should lie still,” Daniel said, splaying a hand across Rodney's back. The other man ignored his advice and sat up.

“What the hell was that?” Rodney asked breathlessly, staring ahead. “That was, that was-- what was that?” he asked with an utterly confused frown that was aimed at Daniel.

“Rodney, are you okay?” Elizabeth asked.

Rodney pulled away and got up, slow and stiff, reaching out to rest against the chamber John was in. Once he found his bearings, he was off towards the old woman's chamber.

“Rodney, wait,” Daniel said. He reached out to grab an arm, only to have Rodney shrug his hand away.

Daniel and Elizabeth trailed behind, glass crunching under their feet like gravel.

“Oh my god,” Rodney whispered, stopping.

Daniel stopped by his side and looked into the glassless chamber. There was nothing inside. A slight dusty smell lingered, turning Daniel's stomach. It wasn't just smoke in the air, Daniel realized. It was ashes.

Daniel clenched his jaw tight, the bile rising in his throat as he looked at Rodney's stunned expression. Rodney started to say something, but his mouth closed, his eyes bright and his face a million shades of broken.

“You tried your best to help her, Rodney,” Elizabeth said quietly.

“Well, apparently that wasn't enough,” Rodney replied. Though the words were scathing, his voice sounded like it would break. He turned to Daniel, his eyes wide, as if they were searching for something. “I...I think she knew me.”

Daniel frowned. “What?”

Rodney closed his eyes momentarily, visibly frustrated, swallowing before he spoke again.”The woman in the chamber,” he said, his voice cracking on the last word. “She knew who I was.”

Elizabeth walked around to stand next to Daniel, earning a look from him. “Rodney, you know that's not possible.”

“She said my name.”

“You heard her say your name?” Daniel asked.

Rodney's hand came up, fingers curling with tension. “No. I...I saw her mouth move and I know she said 'Rodney'. I'm sure of it, okay?” He was watching them, seeing the worried and disbelieving looks. “I'm not crazy. She looked at me, said my name and smiled.”

Daniel watched as Elizabeth turned to look at Peter, who gave an awkward shrug and shake of the head. “I'm sorry, I didn't see anything.”

“Why are you even asking him?” Rodney snapped. “He was looking at the computer screen. I was the one looking at her.”

“Rodney, calm down,” Elizabeth said firmly. “It's not that we don't believe you, but isn't it possible she said something else and you might have misread it?”

Daniel watched Rodney closely. The other man looked ready to argue, but his face changed as he considered the idea. He gave a belated nod, wiping his upper lip with the back of his hand. His finger came away with some blood from his cheek. Rodney stared at it for a moment and then touched his cheek, smearing the blood more as his fingers came away bloody. Daniel saw him swallow and waver on his feet.

He grabbed Rodney's arm as they both sank to the floor and sat down. Rodney stared at his bloody fingers and then shook his head at the empty chamber, looking completely defeated. “I don't understand. That's not supposed to happen,” Rodney said quietly.

Daniel looked at the empty chamber. “Can't say I see the point of building a stasis chamber that disintegrates people,” he said flatly.

“Rodney? Doctor Weir? I think we still have a problem.”

Daniel leaned past Rodney to see Peter slowly walking towards the chambers that held John and Jack. Rodney was slowly getting to his feet, drifting towards Peter.

Daniel and Elizabeth joined the two men and watched as the lights in Jack's chamber flickered.

Rodney turned to look at Daniel, his eyes wide and sharp. “We have to get him out of there.”

Sharra's path was strewn with interference as she tried to seek out Jack O'Neill's thought patterns. They kept shifting and moving, and she knew exactly why. They were being pulled from the matrix and put back where they belonged, bit by bit.

She stormed through the final block of interfering waves, grabbed the wrist of the interface and threw her back, sending her high in the air that was now half sky and half decomposing illusions.

Sharra turned to look at Jack as he stood there, eyes blank and staring ahead. His image was a shell, and she knew the minute she touched him, it would fall away.

Sharra turned to see the interface standing right in front of her. “Where is he?”

“He's going to wake up soon,” came the calm reply.

Sharra reached out and grabbed the interface by her throat. “Tell me where he is.”

The interface stepped right out of the grip, leaving Sharra's hand holding onto nothing. “He'll be awake soon. I told you, he's not for you.”

Sharra looked over the interface, tried to read her thoughts, see how many places she was trying to occupy at the same time. “When I get out of here, the first thing I'll do is destroy you.”

The interface smiled. “Once all the occupants are awake, my program will be automatically reset. I'm only here if something goes wrong. Like you.”

The interface disappeared as Sharra stared, her anger stirring around her, making everything shimmer. She looked at the still form of Jack O'Neill again, smashing her fist through his center, turning his dead image into tiny sparks that flew all around her.

“John Sheppard,” she whispered. “You'll have to do.”

Ford had spent most of his night staring into the mirror. He'd badgered the doctor to let him out of the infirmary, since there wasn't much else to be done currently. Heightmeyer had watched him closely and then made him promise that he would return instantly if anything was wrong. Ford had mumbled a promise and left, pretending not to notice the stares.

Three days ago, Ba'al had died. Three days ago, they all managed not to die at the hands of the Wraith.

Three days ago, he woke up looking like Frankenstein's monster. Most of his face had been distorted, with implants under the skin that were emitting all kinds of signals, nestled in a jelly-like substance that conducted the currents between implants. No one was sure why yet, what the signals were for or what they did. For that, they would have had to have left them in.

They re-opened the incisions used to insert the implants on the night they found him, drugged and confused. He didn't remember much, not even being captured. In a way that was good, because just looking at the scars and bruising was enough to turn his stomach.

He had his body back, but there were additions too, things they couldn't take out without hurting him. Like the implant at his temple, a small black V shaped object that he could feel whenever he blinked. There were bloody lines of stitches over his cheekbones, at his jaw, and his forehead from where the other implants were removed. These were the wounds he could see.

Ford lifted up his hands and looked at the back of each, one scarred with stitches, the other marred with a small star-shaped implant, blinking in the middle. He wanted to cut it out right there and then, but when he had pulled at it the night before, he'd almost passed out from the pain.

It looked as though it'd have to stay with him for a little while longer.

Ford walked out of the bathroom and picked up his baseball cap from the desk. He pulled it on, covering a scar that went straight into his hairline. Everyone would be asleep, so it was the perfect time for a walk.

The halls were quiet, some of them dark and waiting for the damage to be repaired, debris still lying across the floor. Ford stuffed his hands into his pockets, kicking a twisted piece of metal to the side as he walked along, feeling all too comfortable in the dark.

There were some odd dripping, trickling sounds in the distance, and every now and then, something sounded like it was crumbling a little more. Further on, he could hear the high-pitched sound of someone whistling.

Ford frowned, stopping in his tracks and then changing course towards the whistle. The dark hall gave way to a lit corner. He walked around it to find Bates, who stopped mid-whistle, his hands tightening on his P-90.

“Sergeant Bates,” Ford said.

Bates seemed disconcerted for a second, but recovered instantly. Though he was surely looking at the scars on Ford's face, Ford would never be able to tell from the unflinching gaze levelled at him.

“Lieutenant Ford. How are you feeling?”

“Like a B-movie leftover,” Ford said with a small smile.

Bates returned a smile. “It's not so bad. Nowhere as bad as it was, Lieutenant.”

Ford looked away, his scars heavy on his face, the implant making his eye feel tight and painful. “Yeah. I know.”

“Doctor Heightmeyer says you should be back on duty in no time.”

Ford gave another nod, doubting that statement very much. He knew there was something in his blood, something that wasn't supposed to be there and wasn't being flushed out. For all he knew, it could be killing him.

“Sergeant Bates? There's been an explosion in the stasis room.”

Ford looked up at Bates, almost comforted by the appearance of panic in the other man's eyes.

“Copy that,” Bates said, tapping his ear piece and turning to go. He stopped halfway down the hall and looked back at Ford. “Coming?”

John watched the movie screen, his eyes never blinking, his body still. He couldn't even hear his own heartbeat in the silence. On the screen in front, the movie played on silently, the hero on his horse, riding with grim determination into a bloody sunset that didn't belong in the film.

John looked away from the screen, his mouth clamped shut. He looked down at the hood of the car. Had it always been red? He couldn't remember. Had the red always looked so alive, like it was moving across the metal? John touched his hand to the hood, feeling warm metal that shifted softly under his palm and then rose up between his fingers. John tasted copper in his mouth and slipped off the car, stumbling back. He looked down at his hand, which was untouched and untainted.

Something twisted in his chest anyway, and when he closed his eyes, he heard the loud snap again, not just inside, but all around. He opened his eyes and looked desperately up at the sky, so he didn't have to look at his body, or the ground, or anything else. Just blue sky.

“There's something wrong with you.”

John looked away and turned slowly, to find he was looking at himself, albeit with slightly lighter coloured eyes and hair, his skin a shade paler.

“You have more than just the information from the repository,” the other John said, frowning in confusion. “Something's been altered.”

John brought his hand up and pointed the gun in it at his double. The other man didn't seem alarmed or afraid. He simply held his hand out. “I'm here to help you. You have to wake up.”

John swallowed and shook his head. “No, I don't.”

“You're in danger.”

John looked down and laughed, shaking his head. He looked back up with a firmer grip on the gun and a bitter taste in his mouth. “Prize for understatement of the year goes to the guy with my face.”

His double stepped forward. “Let me help you and it'll be easier. Against your will, it'll only be harder for you.”

John glared and cocked the trigger. “No means no, John,” he said flatly, and then fired until the clip was empty.

A hand closed around John's wrist and effortlessly removed the gun from his grasp. He turned to the side, only to look into his own face, concerned and not at all as stony as John felt.

“The only one that can get hurt in here is you. Let me help you before Sharra finds out what I'm doing. I don't have much time. She'll be able to figure out how to get here in no time. And trust me, in this place, no time is much less than whatever you're thinking.”

John shook his head, the protest on his lips. It would be worse if he awoke. There would be no hiding.

A hand laid itself on his face, and he blinked from the sudden feeling of ice and heat. His eyes filled with bright light and a million words that didn't belong in his head, with images he didn't want.

In a way, Bates was glad when he heard about the explosion. Things couldn't be okay just like that. He understood things going wrong. That made sense. But for three days things had been quiet and his job had been to secure the city, like they should have on the first night. No sneaking around or planning coups. Just getting the dead bagged and the living into their quarters.

His superior officers were in stasis, and Lieutenant Ford was recovering from an alien nip/tuck. That left him being normal, whistling Smoky Robinson songs down deserted halls and waiting for any hidden Jaffa to jump out.

Instead he found Ford, his face a glaring reminder that Ba'al had been here and had left his mark in a way the Wraith never would. They ran to the stasis room, Bates noting that the removal of the implants hadn't slowed Ford down by much. Maybe recovery was closer than they had imagined. If only Ford could grasp that. But it was early days yet. Way early.

The stasis room was a mess. Bates instantly saw that the chamber with the old Ancient woman was empty. The glass blown across the floor probably belonged to her chamber. The room smelled dusty and smoky, and there was currently a panic-stricken atmosphere.

McKay was at a console, Grodin next to him, tapping commands into his laptop as Weir and Jackson stood in front of the Colonel's chamber, watching it with worry as the lights inside flickered.

“What's going on?” Bates asked, stopping between the console and Weir.

She looked at him, apparently surprised. “Sergeant. What are you doing down here? Lieutenant Ford, shouldn't you be resting?”

“He's fine, Ma'am,” Bates said. “We heard there was an explosion down here. Anything we should be concerned about?”

“Explosions are generally worth being concerned about,” Jackson said slowly, his eyes going to McKay at the console.

“He wants to know if we should be worried about any more Goa'ulds jumping out of the woodwork, Doctor Jackson,” Ford said from behind Bates, his voice a little tight.

Jackson clamped his mouth shut and gave a nod.

“No, looks like we've got a problem with the stasis chambers,” Weir said.

Bates looked at the chamber with its flickering lights. “How bad?”

Weir nodded towards the chamber that had been occupied by the old woman.

Bates nodded. “Right.” He turned to look at McKay, who was frantically moving between laptop and console while simultaneously snapping at Grodin. “Anything I can do?”

McKay shook his head. “Not unless you're an expert in Ancient technologies, no.”

“Someone call for a doctor?” Heightmeyer asked, announcing her arrival. She was followed by two nurses and a gurney. She looked around, then at Ford. “Lieutenant Ford. You should be resting.”

Ford gave a nod. “Just out for a walk, Doc.”

Heightmeyer gave him a close look and nodded before turning to Weir. “What's going on?”

“Problem with the stasis chambers,” Rodney said. “You might want to see this.”

Heightmeyer turned her attention to McKay, staring at his bloodied cheek for a moment. Then she joined him at the console, her eyes moving first over the readings, then the stasis chamber that Colonel O'Neill occupied.

“What is it?” Jackson asked.

“His heartbeat's up. So is his blood pressure. Brain activity looks a little erratic. He doesn't seem in any immediate danger, though,” Heightmeyer said, turning to Rodney. “You should let me have a look at that cut.”

“No immediate danger?” McKay rolled his eyes. He looked like he was about to something particularly scathing. “One of the chambers blew up, with the Ancient lady inside it. I'd say that's worth worrying about.”

“It's no use, Rodney, I can't get into the system at all. It's not recognising any of the commands,” Grodin said.

McKay shook his head and slapped the laptop shut. “Okay, both of you, give me some space here.”

Heightmeyer and Grodin stepped away as McKay stared down at the console.

“Rodney?” Jackson asked.

McKay looked up. “Mental component, right? This whole place is built so you can plug your mind into it. Maybe I can think it to stop whatever it's doing.”

“What if you can't?” Bates asked.

McKay looked at the damaged chamber and gave a nod. There was an uncertain look on his face and a worried frown etched across his forehead. “Then you better step back.”

Bates waited for Weir and Jackson to back away from the chamber to stand by Grodin and Heightmeyer, before joining them. McKay looked over the console and then seemed to nod to himself. His fingers reached out towards it.

Colonel O'Neill's chamber filled with light, attracting everyone's attention. There was a succession of loud clicking sounds. The glass door of the chamber slid to the right.

Bates looked across at McKay who was frowning at his hand, which hadn't even made contact with the panel.

“Ow.”

Bates looked back to the Colonel to find his brows knitted together, his eyes half-open. They all rushed to the chamber. McKay headed them all off.

“Colonel?” McKay asked. “Are you okay?”

Colonel O'Neill looked confused. He turned his head slightly to look at McKay, who looked something between ecstatic and relieved. “Yeah. Great,” O'Neill mumbled. “I'm going to pass out now.”

Bates and McKay stepped forward in time to catch the falling man, just as all the lights in the room went out.

Sharra tore through the last of the interference programs set up to slow her down. She stepped through the interface and pushed John Sheppard away, letting him fall to the ground, his eyes staring up at her wide and blank.

Sharra turned on the interface. “I'm leaving this place. Whatever it takes.”

The interface smiled, a smile that was almost malicious. “His mind is where it belongs. He'll wake soon. There's no place left for you to go.”

Sharra looked down at John, who looked like an open-eyed corpse. He was fading away fast. “You won't stop me,” Sharra said. “I won't stay here. I deserve to be free. No one's been punished this long.”

“I have stopped you.”

Sharra glared at the interface. “I'll leave this place, no matter what. I'll find another way.”

The interface tilted her head at Sharra with a frown. “When John Sheppard wakes, everything left over will be erased. You and I will cease to exist with the matrix.”

Sharra shook her head. “No.”

The interface nodded. “Yes. The matrix is only temporary.”

Sharra turned her back on the interface. “No.”

“You don't belong here, Sharra,” the interface said.

Sharra stared at the fading ghost of John Sheppard. A distraction. She needed a distraction. It would allow her a few seconds for one last chance. She pointed at the body on the ground. It shimmered brightly.

“What are you doing?” The interface appeared at John's head.

Sharra looked up at the interface. “If I can't leave, than neither can he.”

Daniel stared at the chamber that held John. It was the only thing that was lit up in the room. Everything else had just gone dead, the consoles, the lights and the other chambers. Even the hall outside was dark. The room almost felt sacred, John pale and asleep behind the glass, the ashes of the dead floating in the air. Behind him, Rodney and Peter were having words, while at the transporter, Bates, Ford and Elizabeth had just seen off Kate and her newest patient.

John was lucky for the moment, unaware and asleep. What was there to look forward to when he would wake up? The news that he was probably addicted to the sarcophagus. Sleepless nights where he'd be expecting Ba'al to turn up and take anything he wanted. Nightmares filled with cold touches. Daniel swallowed and closed his eyes, concentrating on a slow throb somewhere between his collar bone and elbow, a dull ache that managed to ground him somehow.

“There's no malfunction, Rodney, no error and nothing wrong with our interface programs. There is something in the system that has isolated this section and is locking us out,” Peter explained.

“Well, that's not good enough!” Rodney yelled.

Daniel turned to look at both men, pale in the light of the chamber, somehow looking even more tired and worn out than they had under the overhead lights.

“Isn't there a way you can just turn everything off and back on again?” Daniel asked with a frown.

Both men stared at him.

“He might wake up,” Peter said.

“Which is significantly better than being blown up,” Rodney said.

Peter nodded. “The control panel to the power conduit that runs into this room is at the end of the hall.”

Rodney pointed to the door. “Go.”

Daniel started to follow the men when a very familiar sound began to come from John's chamber. A familiar hum of bees.

“You would kill him?” the interface asked with disbelief.

Sharra smiled. “If I have to die, then I shouldn't be the only one.”

“You can't do this.”

“I can and I will. Save him if you can.”

Elizabeth watched Rodney, Peter and Daniel shoot out of the stasis room, Rodney ordering everyone else to stay out. Elizabeth chased them down the hall, Ford and Bates following.

“Can someone tell me what the hell's going on?” she demanded as she watched Rodney and Peter on their knees, trying to pry open a panel in the wall.

“It sounds like John's chamber's going to blow,” Daniel said, nervously licking his bottom lip as he watched Rodney and Peter.

“So what are you doing?” Bates asked.

“Okay!” Rodney snapped and looked up. “Stupid questions later. Someone help me pry this grate open.”

Elizabeth stepped back and watched as Ford pushed between her and Bates, getting on his knees and letting his fingers feel around the grate. She tried not to think of John Sheppard turned to dust, left to float the halls of Atlantis forever, A morbid part of her wondered - wherever his ashes touched, would that place still light up for him? She imagined parts of Atlantis lighting up for no reason, everyone unaware that it was the dust that John Sheppard left behind.

She clamped her mouth shut, biting the inside of her lip, wondering when she had started thinking of everyone as corpses, and concentrated on Rodney's complaint that the grate seemed welded shut from a staff weapon blast.

“We'll need something to pry it off,” Rodney said.

“No, hang on, I got it,” Ford said, leaning into the wall a bit.

“I hardly think you're going to be able to just rip it--”

Ford ripped the grate clean off the wall, bringing some wall with it. Elizabeth didn't miss the twisted corner of the grate where it had been welded to the frame of the conduit panel.

Ford held it up. “See?” Rodney and Peter stared at the grate as Ford looked on confused and asked, “What?”

Rodney held up a finger and nodded, before turning his attention to the panel. “Uh, later.”

Bates took the grate from Ford and took a close look, frowning as he handed it back under Ford's suspicious gaze.

“Rodney?” Daniel urged.

“What?” he snapped. “I'm trying.”

Peter held his flash light closer to the conduit opening as Rodney leaned right in. There was a small snapping sound, Rodney recoiled from the panel, pulling his fingers back with a gasp just before sparks flew out.

Peter and Rodney moved away from the wall as current arced off the panel and then back onto the circuits.

Only seconds later, the sound of an explosion echoed down the hall. Everyone turned to stare at the dim light still being cast out of the stasis room.

Kate's day had begun normally.

No. That was a lie. She was replacing Doctor Beckett on the medical team. That wasn't normal. It was unfair and wrong, not normal.

She'd spent the evening before discharging patients that could rest in their newly assigned quarters, and then dealing with the dead that had filled up their new morgue. Then came the odd task of redistributing the things the dead would never need.

It was odd how everyone just went along with it, like it was normal. She should've taken notes. It would make a great study, the way these people were forcing themselves to cope so quickly after recent events,taking comfort from things that belonged to the dead.

Kate had looked through Carson's belongings. It didn't take long before she was bent over a toilet, throwing up the contents of an empty stomach. All it took was one photograph of him and his mother and the thought of his body lying broken and lost in the sea, light years from home.

When the personal possessions were redistributed, she grabbed two packs of cigarettes and decided to reacquaint herself with old college friends. It was a pity no one had brought a bottle of Jack Daniels, because she would have swiped that too.

One cigarette had provided her with a good enough calm for most of the day, but then the three am commotion began. First Teyla, who now lay too warm and covered in a thin sheen of sweat, twitching in her sleep with need.

Then came Colonel O'Neill, cool to the touch when she had helped him onto the gurney and now finally warming up, asleep in a bed, not far from Teyla's curtained-off space. If she hadn't given into Ford's request to discharge him, he would have been lying there too, between Teyla and Jack. On the other side of the infirmary lay an injured airman and lieutenant, too sick to be moved. Kate was certain that the latter wouldn't make it to morning.

They'd all come here for adventure, knowledge, and some kind of enlightenment in a long lost city. Ba'al had arrived before them, poisoning everything. This would always be the place they were broken, no matter what they found or learned.

Kate felt goosebumps rise on her arms, a slow shiver creeping up her spine, like the dead were still walking amongst them It was preposterous, but she still thought of sayings about having someone walk over your grave, or people turning in their graves.

She gave into the urge for a smoke, telling her staff to call her if anything else happened. As fate would have it, just as her foot crossed the threshold of the infirmary, for the third time that night, she was called back to the stasis room.

Only one more left in there, she thought. They couldn't all survive. Against her will, she wondered whose photograph John Sheppard might have brought with him, and if he smoked.

Ford was the first into the stasis room, everyone running behind him. He skidded to a stop just inside and looked at Major Sheppard's chamber. The glass door was gone and strewn across the floor in small pieces. Major Sheppard was still inside, as though he was simply sleeping on, the light in the chamber flickering slightly, making the pieces of glass on the ground sparkle.

“We should get him out of there before anything else happens,” Jackson said, stepping past Ford and looking at everyone else.

Ford looked at him. “How come he's not waking up like the colonel?”

“Colonel O'Neill's chamber opened up by itself. Considering the fact the other chamber blew up its contents, I think John'll be better off out of that thing,” Jackson said.

“Do it,” Doctor Weir said from behind them. “I don't want to wait around to see what happens next.”

Ford stepped forward, but felt an arm on his hand stopping him. He looked back to see Doctor Weir. “Lieutenant, let them do it.”

“I'm okay, Ma'am,” Ford said.

Weir nodded. “I know, but you weren't two days ago and I think you just need to take it a little easy.”

Ford took a deep breath and nodded, stepping aside for Bates, McKay and Grodin. He watched the three men standing in front of the chamber, looking up at Sheppard with varying degrees of uncertainty.

“Okay, let's do it,” Bates said, reaching for the major.

As soon as his hand entered the chamber, the lights inside switched off and there was a loud sound as though something was powering down. Jackson switched on a flash light just as Sheppard fell forward limply, as if the light alone had been holding him up. The three men caught him and slowly brought him away from the chamber, lowering him to the ground slowly.

McKay was leaning close to the major, checking for vitals. He looked up and nodded. “He's got a pulse.”

“But he's unconscious, unlike Colonel O'Neill,” Bates said.

“Yes, he is. What is this? Point out the obvious day?” McKay said. “Look, there was no indication that any of these chambers were going to malfunction, let alone blow up one occupant. Right now we should just be glad he's still in one piece.”

Ford wanted to laugh. He couldn't think of a single person in the city that was still in one piece.

Elizabeth was beginning to feel like a kindergarten teacher as she tried to herd everyone out of the infirmary. Sergeant Bates wanted to make sure his superior officers were okay, as did Lieutenant Ford. Rodney was having his cut cleaned up and Peter Grodin couldn't leave until Rodney had finished his hysterics. Daniel didn't seem to want to leave without Rodney and sat quietly, watching Rodney divide his complaints between Peter and a heavy-handed nurse.

She ordered Ford back to his quarters first, telling Bates to make sure that Ford followed said orders. Next she told Peter to get back to the control tower where he could probably be of more use since it was his shift there, earning an annoyed look from Rodney.

“You two, I want you to get some rest. I think we've had enough excitement for one night,” Elizabeth said to Daniel and Rodney.

Daniel gave her a small smile from where he sat slumped in a chair by the bed that Rodney was sitting on, the nurse finishing up and leaving with her things.

“Oh, I uh, I thought I'd wait until the colonel's awake,” Rodney said pointing to the opposite side of the infirmary.

“Well, I'm sure he'd be touched by that, Rodney, but it can wait until morning,” Elizabeth said firmly.

“He probably just wants to know if Colonel O'Neill is still speaking Ancient,” Daniel said dryly.

Rodney stared at him, fidgeted uncomfortably and then looked away with a feeble, “That's not even true.”

Daniel smiled and Elizabeth felt something in her lighten at the humour in his eyes. “I'm serious. Both of you get some rest and tomorrow morning we can start looking into what exactly happened to those stasis chambers.”

Rodney looked as though he was about to protest, so she stood there with her arms folded across her chest. Rodney's posture deflated and he slipped off the bed with a sigh and started to walk away. Daniel looked up at Elizabeth with a smile.

Rodney stopped and turned back, looking at Daniel. “You coming?”

Daniel looked a little surprised, giving a slight nod. “Yeah.”

He got up and gave Elizabeth a nod before leaving the infirmary with Rodney. Elizabeth sank down in his vacated chair, worn out. She sighed and closed her eyes, finally tired enough to sleep.

“You didn't have to walk me to my quarters,” Ford said, as he and Bates stopped outside his door.

“Just following orders,” Bates said, as Ford watched him carefully. He seemed hesitant. “You didn't find it a little odd back there? You know, when you ripped off that grate from the wall.”

Ford frowned. “No. Why?”

Bates shrugged. “The thing was welded shut and you just peeled it off like it was nothing.”

“I wouldn't say I peeled it off like it was nothing,” Ford said, knowing exactly where Bates was headed with this.

The other man nodded slowly, his face giving away nothing about what he was thinking. “Right. I better let you get some rest.”

“Yeah. Later,” Ford said with a nod.

He watched Bates disappear down the hall, hearing a familiar tune being whistled as he left. After a moment, Ford went into his quarters and sat down at the end of the bed. He watched the blinking light of the implant on the back of his hand.

He wondered if it had always changed colors, or if the blue light was a new thing.

Daniel was lying in bed when Rodney came out of the bathroom, padding across the floor in his thick white socks, dressed in boxers and T-shirt. He had spent so long showering and then brushing and flossing his teeth that Daniel could have gotten undressed at least ten times with two broken arms.

He lay on top of the covers in his sweatpants and T-shirt, his injured arm resting across his chest as Rodney still puttered about, picking up things from his desk and looking them over. Daniel decided to withhold the sigh and close his eyes.

A while later, the orange of Daniel's eyelids turned black and the mattress dipped as Rodney got into bed next to Daniel. The space between them couldn't have been more than an inch, but it felt as though Rodney was sleeping on the other side of the city.

“Why did he put Sheppard in the sarcophagus so many times?” Rodney asked quietly.

Daniel opened his eyes and stared at the dark of the ceiling. “He kept killing him. Again and again.”

“And Teyla?”

“A few times,” Daniel answered, something stinging at the corner of his eyes.

“And you?” Rodney's voice sounded hoarse.

“He didn't have to,” Daniel whispered. “I never said no to anything. Teyla did what she had to do to an extent, but he killed her anyway.”

“And Sheppard?”

Daniel thought about it long and hard before replying, “I think Ba'al just liked breaking people.”

Rodney was silent, but Daniel could hear his question loud and clear. This was the thing that Daniel had admitted to loving? Daniel turned his head to look at Rodney, staring at his almost silhouetted profile, deathly still. Maybe this was a Goa'uld trick and the Rodney lying next to him was the slack-jawed dead body that O'Neill had brought to the sarcophagus. Maybe they were both corpses lying together.

Daniel sat up slowly, prompting Rodney to look in his direction. Keeping his arm close to his chest, Daniel leaned down towards Rodney, feeling the cold give way to heat, the stillness give way to the warmth of Rodney's breath and the dark giving way to the bright shine of his eyes.

Daniel's own breath caught in his chest as he pressed his lips to Rodney's unmoving mouth. Rodney remained absolutely still for a while, but then his mouth opened, his tongue inviting Daniel in, his fingers finding Daniel's hip.

You killed your lover, the voice of his nightmares taunted him and for a moment, Rodney's fingers were cold and belonged to someone else, his mouth too hungry. Daniel gasped and pulled back, staring at Rodney's face, too deep in the shadows to be read. His fingers had stilled.

Time seemed too pass slowly, like it had turned to sludge and Daniel was stuck in the middle, sinking deep into it. He just kept staring, listening to the voice that wouldn't go away and feeling touches across his body his skin refused to forget.

“What?” Rodney whispered.

He pulled away. “I need to uh... I'll be back in a second,” Daniel said, pointing towards the bathroom door.

As he walked to the bathroom, he could hear Rodney sitting up in bed, watching him in the dark, neither of them brave enough to turn the lights on. Once inside the bathroom, he stood against the wall as the lights switched on. His hands trembled, even though they were crushed between his back and the wall, from the fear that he would see them and find them covered in blood and gore.

By the time his heart was beating quiet and slow, Rodney had turned onto his side and fallen asleep. Daniel lay on his back, concentrating on the ache of his arm, eventually falling asleep, lulled by the whispers of the dead.

Jack groaned, keeping his eyes shut tight. He brought his hand up and massaged his scalp.

“Oy,” he whispered. His head felt as though someone had set off a series of nuclear explosions inside it and then thrown a loud party to celebrate the demolition of his brain.

“Colonel?”

The voice was female and soft. That was always a good thing to wake up to. The distinct smell of hospital cleaning products was not. He opened his eyes, his brow refusing to smooth itself out as he looked up at the woman smiling down at him. Heightmeyer. Kate Heightmeyer. The local shrink. Okay, he thought, deja vu.

“What's going on?” he asked, his mouth feeling dry.

Kate seemed to think over the question. “Well, what's the last thing you remember?”

“I remember McKay blowing up a moon and then I was getting ready to be frozen like a popsicle,” Jack said, letting his hand fall to his side with a thump. Kate was watching him with a quizzical expression. “What?”

“You're not talking Ancient,” she said.

Jack took a second to do a mental inventory. It was gone, all of it. There wasn't a single word or piece of information in his head that didn't belong there. He gave Kate a questioning look. “Not the Asgard?”

She shook her head. “We haven't been able to contact Earth yet. You woke up because the stasis chambers malfunctioned.”

“Sheppard?”

Kate pointed across the infirmary to a bed occupied by John Sheppard. “He's hasn't woken up yet.”

Jack frowned, trying to get his aching head around his current situation. There was also the small itch at the back of his mind, fleeting dreams that were fading fast and too jumbled to make any sense.

“Colonel?” Kate asked, watching him closely, momentarily making Jack wonder if maybe he was in a crazy house and seeing things. Wouldn't be the first time. “Are you all right?”

Jack nodded slowly. “Yeah. How long before I can get out of here?”

“Well, I'd like to keep you here for a few hours, make sure everything's okay before I let you go. If you're still fine in the morning, I see no reason why you can't leave.”

Jack chewed the inside of his lip, nodding. A low moan emanated from further down in the infirmary. Kate instantly looked away towards a curtained-off bed at the far end.

“Why don't you get yourself a good night's sleep, Colonel?” Kate said with a smile, heading off towards the other bed.

“Doc. What's going on?” Jack asked, nodding towards the bed.

Kate stopped for a moment and Jack could have sworn that she was looking at him with a whole new set of eyes. She moved back towards him, giving the bed that was hidden from view a quick glance.

“It's Teyla,” she said quietly.

“What's wrong with her?”

“She's suffering from withdrawal symptoms. From the sarcophagus.”

Jack didn't say anything, his stomach too busy turning itself inside out. Why the hell was he even surprised? What else would Ba'al have been doing with his prisoners? Son of a bitch, thought Jack, always the same old tricks.

“How bad?” Jack asked.

“Well, apparently she only used it a few times. She feels pretty bad right now, but it's doesn't seem anywhere as bad as--” Kate stopped and looked away, which was pointless because Jack knew there was only point of reference in the SGC.

“Bad as what?” Jack asked bluntly.

Kate's jaw clenched and she faced his gaze. “It's nowhere as bad as the only other documented case of sarcophagus addiction. I'd say she probably got off pretty easy.”

“You know that for a fact, do you?” Jack asked, sounding more terse than he intended.

She shook her head. “No, not for a fact,” she said quietly. “What I do know is, if your records are anything to go by, Major Sheppard's in for a pretty rough ride.”

Jack watched her, waited for it, the thing she was asking him for.

She shrugged. “I just think you ought to know,” she said. “Being the highest ranking military officer here,” she added, just before he could ask her why he needed to know.

Nicely played, he thought.

“Get some rest, Colonel,” she said, turning her back on him and leaving him staring at the sleeping man across the infirmary. Like he'd be able to rest now.

Elizabeth stood on the balcony, watching the sky. It was a beautiful morning, cloudless and warm, the sun bouncing off the ripples of the sea. The city seemed quiet under the noise of the waves lapping against it. There was a spot in the sky that was empty though, no fading white of a sleeping moon.

She imagined coming to the city, finding it asleep, waking it gently and seeing a new morning in a new galaxy. She imagined what it would have been without Ba'al there. They would have smiled because it worked, because they found the city. They would have greedily drank in the sights. Kids in a candy store instead of mice in a maze.

Elizabeth gripped the balcony rail and lowered her eyes, tilting her head down until she was looking down at the crashing waves where Carson's body had been thrown. He was down there somewhere, his body bloated with sea water. Ba'al was down there somewhere too. It didn't seem right they should share the same grave.

Elizabeth swallowed, her throat constricting and her chest feeling hollow. There was no time to mourn. Not yet. It was too soon. She straightened up, taking a deep breath, and decided to start the day's business. There was rebuilding to be done.

Teyla was dreaming. It might have been a memory from her childhood, but everything seemed wrong, changed. Darker and tainted. There were shadows where there should have been light, cold instead of heat, heat instead of cold. Everything felt inside out, upside down. She felt inside out.

Teyla swallowed, opening her eyes and looking up at the ceiling, everything feeling too bright for her sore eyes. She could feel her hands shaking and let her fingers curl in the sheets, taking fistfuls, holding on in case she spun away from the bed. Blinking away sweat from her eyes, she tried to think of something other than her trembling body. She thought of John. He would have to go through this. Kate said it would be worse.

Of course, Kate didn't know things could be worse than this. This was good. Teyla almost appreciated the pain to the numbness she had been feeling for a while. She wished her body would just fall apart, be burned away by the fever. Maybe it would burn away the memories too.

She squeezed her eyes tight, a moan escaping her despite her fighting it. Someone close by moved. Her head snapped to the side to see Jack sitting there, watching her quietly, a dark look in his eyes.

“Hi,” he said, flatly.

Teyla frowned, looking away, frustrated and sick to the stomach. She didn't want him here. She didn't want anyone to see her this way. This wasn't who she was. She hadn't been herself for a long time now, but this was someone completely different.

“How are you feeling?” Jack asked quietly, the question sounding awkward and uncomfortable. Teyla shook her head, unable to tell him to go. “I can get someone if it's bad,” Jack offered.

A frustrated whimper escaped her mouth and she turned her head to glare at him. “Please,” she said with some effort. “Please, just go. I just want you to go.”

Jack's tongue flicked out to lick his bottom lip as his eyes lowered to the ground for a moment. He gave a slow nod and got up from his seat. He turned to leave, but then stopped, looking reluctant to stay. Teyla watched him as he came close to the bed, her fingers twisting so hard in the bedsheets, she thought they would break.

“Look,” he said flatly, “I know this is going to mean squat to you, but, what you're going through? It'll pass. The pain.”

Teyla shook her head, feeling her face crumple and refusing the tears that were threatening to fall. “I do not need-”

“You don't need my help. I know,” Jack said. He looked around the small curtained-off space, as if searching for something. He sighed with a shake of the head. “You know what? The truth is, there's nothing I can say that'll make you feel better right now. I can tell you you'll be okay, that it's not going to last, but that doesn't mean a thing.”

Teyla laughed, a hot tear slipping into her hair. “Your bedside manner leaves much to be desired.”

Jack's face was something other than blank for the first time since she'd woken up. It seemed to warm as soon as the slight smile appeared. He nodded. “Yeah, I guess it does.”

“If nothing will help, why are you here?”

Jack looked reluctant once again, as if whatever he was going to say was hard to bring to his lips. “I know what you're going through,” he said.

She would have doubted or wondered if he'd gone through a similar experience, but his eyes were dark, closed off and forbidding her to ask any questions, to just accept all he was going to say on this. Looking at his face, she found herself unable to doubt that he'd gone through the exact same thing.

He gave her a nod. “It's... tough. I thought it might help if you knew that.”

Teyla just stared at him, wondering if he'd always looked the way he did now, slightly frayed around the edges, warm eyes with dead centres.

“You need to get through this,” he said firmly. “When Sheppard wakes up, he'll need a good friend.”

Teyla let the tears slip. What was the point of pretending to be strong when all the strength in her body had left her? She gave Jack a nod and looked away.

“I'm going to let you rest,” Jack said, sounding over casual. “Try to sleep.”

“Colonel?” Teyla said, hearing him turning to leave.

“Yeah.”

She looked at him, not caring what he would see right now. “Perhaps I also need a good friend.”

Jack was watching her closely. He didn't say anything and Teyla didn't ask any more questions.

He looked as though he was thinking it over for a moment. Then he just nodded and sat down in the seat near the bed. Teyla closed her eyes and for the first time, it suddenly occurred to her that they were awake. John and Jack were awake.

With a sigh, she let herself fall sleep.

Ford was dreaming again.

In his dream, they didn't even numb his skin. All he had was something burning in his veins that made him feel drunk and nauseous. He struggled, but his hands and feet were in restraints. Still, he continued to struggle, feeling cold hands pushing him down.

Then he felt it. The first cut. Sharp and deep, slicing his face open.

Ford lurched up from the bed, his body dripping with sweat and shaking. His hand went to his face and he felt the uneven rise and fall of the stitches under one cheek. Cursing, he stumbled out of his bed and into the bathroom. Ford leaned into the mirror and frowned, his eyes going up to look at the reflection of the implant at his temple. His fingers came up to trace the stitched lines on his face. For a long while, all he did was stare.

Something wasn't quite right. But that was hardly a new thing.

Rodney took to staring at the wall while waiting for Elizabeth. With the city still in the early days of recovery, Elizabeth seemed to have taken it upon herself to try and be everywhere there was a problem; a feat she seemed to have troubling accepting as impossible. Rodney found himself swinging between wanting to keep busy and just wanting to come to a complete stop. He was feeling unbearably tired.

“Okay, I'm here. You have my undivided attention,” Elizabeth said, taking a seat from across the desk that should have been unpacked months ago. Rodney found himself unable to muster a response, though he was aware that he had even more of Elizabeth's attention now. “Rodney?”

“I was just thinking,” Rodney said quietly.

“About what?” Elizabeth's voice was soft, like she didn't want to disturb Rodney's thoughts.

“This woman I saw, years ago. I was at the supermarket and this woman was standing by her shopping cart -- it was in the cereal aisle -- and for no reason at all, she just started crying,” Rodney said flatly.

“Maybe she was having a bad day,” Elizabeth said, rather non-committally.

“Sure. Or maybe they didn't have her cereal. Maybe her shopping cart had those wheels that never work. Maybe the sun wasn't shining.” Rodney gave a small laugh. “It didn't matter. I figured it was hormones or something, or maybe she was nuts. I picked up my cereal and I walked on.”

Rodney finally looked at Elizabeth who was watching him in confusion, giving her an embarrassed smile. “Don't worry. I'll be fine as long as you don't introduce any aisles of cereal to Atlantis.”

“Rodney, if you need to talk-”

“Not yet,” Rodney said, snapping back to the present. “Too much work to do. Work now, breakdowns later.”

Elizabeth still looked as though she wanted to push the issue, but she backed down with a nod. “Okay, work.”

“Would you like the good news or the bad news first?” Rodney asked.

Elizabeth sighed. “Bad news.”

“The bad news is we have no idea what the hell happened to those chambers last night. For all we know they blew an Ancient fuse or Ba'al and his monkeys screwed up the systems while they were here. At a leap, it looks like some kind of bug in the system that might have corrupted the program, causing the chambers to malfunction,” Rodney said with a shrug.

“And the good news?”

“The good news is that as of twelve o'clock, Atlantean time, we will have a fully functional kitchen and mess hall, complete with a first official meal consisting of miscellaneous meatloaf, or at least that's the partial menu floating about on the grapevine,” Rodney said with a wave of the hand.

Elizabeth smiled at first and then surprised Rodney by laughing, her eyes glittering a little. It reminded Rodney of the woman weeping over her shopping cart all over again.

Daniel had just come to a realisation. Atlantis was beautiful.

Rodney had left their quarters early, leaving Daniel to lie awake in bed for a while, listening to the murmuring of ghosts, before he finally got up and left. There wasn't much for him to do in a broken city. He was pretty much in the same shape. So he wandered her quiet halls, through the debris that was yet to be cleared away and down the halls that had escaped becoming a war zone.

With every step that took him away from reminders of the carnage, he found a city composed of elegant lines and colours. Someone had built this city with devotion and reverence. It was clear to see everywhere he looked.

His walk finally took him out onto a pier. There were no reminders of the Goa'uld here and no evidence of an Earth presence. Just a pier that showed a stretch of ocean that seemed to go on forever. From here, it looked as though he had reached the edge of the universe. If Atlantis had sails and could navigate this ocean, she might just fall off the edge of this new alien world.

Daniel closed his eyes and breathed in the air, crisp and clean. He could hear the waves crashing against the city's barriers down below, tossing around Ba'al's body perhaps. Maybe it wasn't even there anymore. Maybe it had been carried away or eaten.

Maybe it had survived somehow, Maybe there was a decapitated head at the bottom of the ocean, its eyes glowing, its mouth moving slowly, asking Daniel why. Daniel's eyes snapped open and his hand gripped the cold bar of the railing. He looked down at the waves, his head a little dizzy from the height.

Daniel.

Daniel shook his head of whispers Ba'al had planted in his head with every thrust, with every touch and kiss. Overlapping ecstatic whispers of Daniel, Daniel, Daniel.

Daniel felt his face warm, his body feeling heavy, his stomach like he'd swallowed a rock. He leaned close to the railing and looked down. That's where he was now, Ba'al. All his kisses would be cold and filled with salt water now.

“Jackson?”

Daniel stilled at the familiar voice, one he hadn't spoken to since that night. Daniel stayed where he was, but slowly turned his head around, catching a glimpse of Jack O'Neill from the corner of his eye.

“You okay?” O'Neill asked, sounding cautious.

Daniel looked away, closing his eyes and shaking his head. He didn't know what to say to that. One minute he was okay and the next... it just went away. “It's... just a little disorienting.”

O'Neill very slowly stepped into his peripheral vision, taking a cautious look over the railing. “What is?”

Daniel looked down at the waves. “I don't know. Trying to be normal again.”

O'Neill nodded. “Figures.”

Daniel looked at O'Neill. “So, how's the, uh--” Daniel pointed at his own head.

“Empty as it ever was,” O'Neill said somewhat proudly.

Daniel nodded. “Rodney's still trying to figure out what happened with the chambers.”

“Well, he's a smart guy. I guess if anyone can, he can figure it out,” Jack said with a nod.

Daniel looked away, nodding. “Yeah. He's good at fixing things.”

“He'd also be kind of worried if he knew you were hanging around a balcony looking like you're going to jump,” O'Neill said with such ease, Daniel didn't even feel right telling him to mind his own business.

“Just needed some fresh air,” Daniel said.

“This is Atlantis,” O'Neill said. “The air's fresh everywhere.”

Daniel nodded in agreement, but he was pretty sure he could still smell Ba'al everywhere he went, covering his body in blood, come and sweat. Only now, he kind of tasted like the sea too.

For Bates, the hardest moments were those of idleness. Night was the worst because he didn't want to sleep, which meant he couldn't sleep, which meant he lay awake, too aware of the black night on the other side of the window and waiting for the sun to come up; making sure it would come up.

During those hours, he heard Jaffa soldiers marching down the halls of Atlantis. He saw the people that were dragged away on the first night and he never saw again. He heard random screams in the middle of the night, only this time he couldn't just close his eyes and shut them out.

He couldn't help thinking if hell would be any different without the devil's presence.

“Do not fear, for I am with you.”

Bates looked to his side where Ba'al sat, idly flicking through a Bible that had belonged to Bates' grandmother. He wore that familiar smirk as if everything besides himself was so damn amusing. “Do not be dismayed, for I am your God.”

Bates sat up and smiled bitterly. “Yeah, and now you're walking on water too.”

The room was silent, the phantom gone. Bates shook his head with a sigh and got up. He spent a good portion of his wasted sleep taking a run around the city, cataloging damage that had been overlooked the first time. Things seemed better with the burn of activity running through his muscles. He showered and ate two power bars remaining from the rations of their Goa'uld rule and then set off for a task he was looking forward too.

The Goa'uld had taken over one of the larger rooms as a kind of gym. There were mats laid out and rows of staffs lining the walls. Most of what they practiced were combinations of Jaffa martial arts and meditative posturing. As resentful as he was about it, Bates had managed to pick up a few things.

The plan was to clean up and throw out the Goa'uld trash. Pretend they'd never even been here. Bates walked into the room, finding the assigned men already there. There was also someone who wasn't supposed to be there, intently staring at a staff.

“Lieutenant Ford,” Bates said with a nod.

“Hey, Sergeant,” Ford said absently. “Thought I'd help you out.”

“Is that a good a idea?” Bates asked carefully, realizing that Ford looked remarkably better than yesterday, his scars visibly faded.

Ford turned to him with a smile. “I feel fine.”

Bates nodded slowly. “Right.”

“So, we're throwing all this out?” Ford asked, looking at the lines of staffs behind him.

“Doctor Weir thinks it's a good idea,” Bates said, reaching out for a staff and then deciding not to touch it.

“What about you, Sergeant? What do you think?” Ford asked quietly, suddenly looking years older than the guy he'd seen jump through the gate with a whoop.

“I'm inclined to agree. Personally, I think we should burn it all,” Bates replied, keeping his tone neutral.

Ford shrugged. “We could always use it. It's not like we've got anything to work out with.”

Bates laughed. “You're kidding.”

Ford looked serious. “No. Just... no point in wasting all this.”

Bates blinked, shaking his head. “I can't believe I'm hearing this.”

Ford replaced the staff he was holding. “Look, man, I just don't see what we can gain from pretending all this stuff never happened.”

“Maybe nothing, but some of us just want to forget,” Bates said.

Ford turned away, heading towards the other Marines. “Yeah, well, some of us can't.”

Doesn't mean we can't try, Bates thought.

When Teyla awoke, it was like trying float up through miles of mud, an invisible heaviness pressing her back down for every bit of progress she made up. She finally opened her eyes to see she was still lying in the enclosed space white curtains. She felt a pang of longing to be home where she would turn her head and see the village from between her open shutters. She'd see the trees and the people of her settlement, children running around getting dirty.

This place? All she could think of was him, his eyes glowing when he smiled. His insatiable hunger written across his face. At times, Teyla had felt sorry for Daniel as the focus of Ba'al's attention, but it had become apparent quickly that Ba'al had singled out those who would receive pain and those who would have pleasure.

In the nights since Ba'al's death, she had awoken many times to feel his hand clamped over her mouth, muffling her pained sounds as he thrust into her over and over. She awoke wanting to burn off every place he touched her. She wished he was alive so she could be the one to kill him. She wanted to be alone somewhere far away and then suddenly to be surrounded by people, to hide amongst them. It was a never ending struggle of back and forth and back and forth and it made her so angry.

All she had ever wanted was to protect her people from the Wraith. Ba'al was gone, but the Wraith were still out there and Teyla wasn't sure where she was anymore. She knew one thing for certain though. The Wraith killed to survive. Ba'al did everything for his own pleasure. He had finally shown her there was something worse than the Wraith, something she never thought she'd see in her lifetime.

“Hi.” Teyla turned her head to see Doctor Heightmeyer's gentle smile directed at her. “You're awake. How do you feel?”

“Tired,” Teyla said honestly.

Heightmeyer nodded. “Well, you had a very rough night, but I think you're through the worst of it.”

Teyla nodded. “What happened? Why do I feel like this?”

“I'm not really sure,” Heightmeyer said quietly. “It seems that the sarcophagus, along with its regenerative capabilities, also has a side effect. The more you use it, the more addicted you become. Colonel O'Neill spoke to you last night, didn't he?”

“Yes,” Teyla replied. “I am not sure I remember everything. He said he had experienced something similar.”

“Yes, in fact, his is the only documented case of sarcophagus addiction. His was quite serious, in fact.”

Teyla frowned in question.

“Well, it's all dependent on how long and how much you've been using the sarcophagus. A sudden stop in usage and your body doesn't know how to cope with the loss of whatever narcotic it's been receiving. It can start with altering your personality, shakes, sweats, headaches and get as serious as organ failure. Daniel says you only used it a few times?”

Teyla gave a nod, remembering that at first she was just a servant, one that was watched too closely by her master's eyes. One that witnessed his debauchery, but was never a part of it. Then slowly, his attention came to her.

She remembered walking into a room that Ba'al kept for himself, one he didn't soil with his conquests. She stood there with a tray that held a pitcher of wine, which she'd considered poisoning. Ba'al lay there on the bed smiling and beckoned her close. He shifted to his knees and knocked both pitcher and tray from her hands, making her flinch against her will, though she tried not to.

Pulling her by the wrist, he made her sit on the bed and then shifted so he was behind her, telling her he was pleased with her, that he rewarded loyalty, but also took great pleasure in punishing disobedience and treachery.

Teyla remained still, staring ahead, not breathing. She remained still when he pushed her hair away to kiss her neck, when his hand slowly slipped down her shirt to fondle her breast. Even when he pulled her skirt up, inch by inch and stroked her thighs, higher and higher, she told herself to die. She wasn't there.

Then his hands were gone and he was walking away from the bed, telling her to clean up the mess and attend to their news guests; two very naked and flushed men in the main bedroom. And after that, it just got worse and worse. She could hear them sometimes, her heart beating fast when it was John's pained cries and sudden silence. It ended that way almost every day, the thump of John's broken body falling into the sarcophagus, sounding loud in a mournful night. And Daniel? She heard him too. His cries were sometimes ecstatic, sometimes filled with frustration, but never pained. That was John alone, and she suspected that the moment Ba'al saw pain for John reflected in her eyes, he decided Teyla was good for the taking.

He took her savagely once, relishing the sounds she made, sounds he cut off by clamping a hand over her mouth. She turned her head and she saw John that time. He lay on the ground -- always the ground, because the bed was only for Ba'al and Daniel -- incapacitated by Ba'al's weapon, his eyes pale and wide, watching her. She saw his was in pain, but she never worked out if it was from the weapon or from lying so close and being unable to do nothing.

She died struggling to breath, knowing that when Ba'al would finish with her, he'd move to the one he enjoyed tormenting the most. The one who could only be beaten into submission. She had wished John would just give in, stop fighting so they could all gain Ba'al's trust and use it against him. But, John never gave in. So Ba'al killed him over and over and over.

And then there was Daniel; the only one to wake in Ba'al's bed.

“John,” Teyla whispered. “Ba'al put him the sarcophagus - I can't even remember how many times.”

Heightmeyer's brow creased with concern and she gave a nod. “According to Daniel he spent a lot of time in the sarcophagus. If he does wake up, I'm not sure--”

Teyla swallowed hard, shaking her head. “He will be fine. He is strong. You don't know how strong.”

Heightmeyer gave a small smile, but Teyla could she see expected the worse. “I hope you're right.”

“Where is he? I wish to see him,” Teyla said, beginning to sit up.

Heightmeyer lay a hand on Teyla's shoulder and gently pushed back. “Teyla, you need to rest. When Major Sheppard wakes up, you'll be the first to know.” Heightmeyer got up from the bed and started to pull back the curtains around the bed. “Here, see for yourself.”

Teyla watched the curtain pull back and bring the infirmary into view, the staff going about their work and tending to other patients. Then her eyes fell on the next bed. John lay there flat on the bed, dressed in the same white pajamas that Teyla wore, a machine quietly beeping next to him. She could only see his profile, but he looked as still and peaceful as he had in the chamber.

A weight seemed to lift from Teyla's chest, knowing that he was there and he was breathing. She smiled and nodded. “He will be fine.”

He had to be.

“There's a story about a woman. A witch. She played with fire. Tried to find out how to create it from nothing. From mere thought. They locked her in a tower, punished her for her crime. But they forgot to take away her most powerful weapon; her mind. The witch came down from the tower burned the city to the ground.”

“It's not the same city. There's nothing left to burn.”

“No. We can't all get our revenge.”

“What do you want with me?”

“Nothing. I just want your body.”

“Must be my cologne. I've been a real popular guy lately.”

“That is a unique way to look at being--”

“That's not what hap... don't call it that.”

“Why not?”

“...”

“You have the consciousness of another in your mind. Doesn't that frighten you?”

“What's the worst that could happen?”

“You are weak. You could die.”

“Trust me. I've been through worse.”

“You are allowing me to use your body?”

“You wouldn't be the first. Take it. Just...don't take anyone else.”

“Because you enjoy my company?”

“...yeah. Something like that.”

“Or perhaps, I am only worthy of a damaged receptacle.”

“Why are you doing that? Why are you trying to get into my head?”

“I haven't felt anything in so long and you ... there is so much you are trying not to feel. What are you so afraid of? Why are you so afraid to be angry?”

“There's no one left to be angry at.”

“Who is Daniel?”

“...”

“Friend. He's your friend?”

“Stop--”

“I caused you pain. I haven't felt that in a long time. Never thought I would be glad to feel pain again. Who is Teyla? She's very beautiful. Yet, she is also painful to remember. Show me the face you fear most.”

“Stop this.”

“Show me.”

“No.”

“Show me his face. Ba'al. He's just a color in your mind. I want to see his face. Show me.”

“Stop this. You've got what you want.”

“I want to feel it. I want to feel what's so precious that you're hiding.--”

“...”

“...”

Teyla awoke from her light sleep because she heard a hitch of breath, a quiet sound from nearby. She opened her eyes and looked at John, getting out of her bed without thinking. Her legs were shaky and she was dizzy for a few seconds. Teyla steadied herself by gripping the edge of her bed, before she took a deep breath and composed herself. Head clear, she went to John's side. He was restless, his brow creased and face flushed. Her hand went to his to find it clenched into a fist. Then she noticed the wetness at the corners of his eyes, escaping into tears that made a trail into his hair.

“John?” Teyla said softly, one hand on his tightly clenched fist and the other resting on his shoulder. “John. Wake up. You're dreaming.”

John stilled beneath her hands, his face relaxing. Eyes opened slowly, green and wide, staring up at the ceiling. They slowly turned to Teyla and frowned and Teyla couldn't help but smile. It was the first time since everything had begun that she truly felt happy.

“You are awake,” Teyla said, squeezing his hand. She looked away, searching for Heightmeyer. “Doctor Heightmeyer? He's awake! Somebody?”

When she looked back down, John was still staring at her, almost as if he didn't know her, his eyes watching her carefully.

“I did not think I would be ever speak to you again,” Teyla whispered.

John was nodding and then he looked at her with a slow spreading smile. “I know what you mean. Feels like it's been forever.”

Rodney wasn't working. He was sitting with his back to the door, utterly still, just staring at his laptop. Daniel could see that his coffee cup was still full, probably cold and untouched. Like most of the civilians, Rodney hadn't bothered with his uniform. He was sitting there in a pair of faded jeans and a dark navy shirt. Daniel could see that maybe everyone was out to exert a little individuality, except for the military that was stubbornly still wearing tatty and worn out uniforms that were on the verge of falling apart.

As for Daniel, there just didn't seem to be enough layers to warm him up. Even with a dark thick sweater with his black jeans, he still kept feeling a chill. But then, clothes didn't matter. It was the kind of chill that never went away.

“Hey,” Daniel said softly, not moving from against the door frame.

Rodney turned around and frowned at Daniel. Something flit across his face, something that Daniel couldn't identify, but then Rodney just looked tired and sighed. “Hey.”

“Didn't see you this morning,” Daniel said.

Rodney nodded. “Yeah. I got up early. Thought I'd get a head start on things.”

Daniel smiled. “How are things?”

Rodney seemed stumped by the question, frowning and looking away at the ground. Daniel heard a small hitch of breath, before Rodney suddenly just covered his eyes with a hand, hunching over in his chair. Daniel instantly went to him, pulling up a chair and sliding it next to Rodney's. He reached out, squeezing Rodney's knee, while he waited for whatever this was.

Rodney shook his head, hand falling away and revealing slightly pink eyes and a look of frustration. He covered Daniel's hand on his knee, giving it a pat. “I'm fine,” he grated out.

“You don't look fine,” Daniel observed.

“Just tired,” Rodney said, turning on the stool so Daniel's hand slipped away. “Just... really fucking tired.”

He looked like he was going to start working, but then surprised Daniel by turning to look at him, as if confused and bewildered. “Just... all that time we were trying to stay alive and somehow it feels like it was easier. Like this is the hard part. Getting up, breathing, walking, talking... it's all so tiring.”

“It's probably an effect of coming off those stimulants,” Daniel said.

“Probably,” Rodney said flatly, looking utterly miserable, but refusing to say more.

Daniel felt his eyes sting a little. When had they gone to keeping so much space between them? The days after Ba'al died, everything looked as though it would slot back into place, just like it ought to be. Only now the pieces seemed further apart, their corners broken from being forced into the wrong places.

“Did he hurt you?” Rodney asked suddenly, not looking at Daniel, staring at the keys of his computer.

“No,” Daniel said. “Not really. He didn't have to.”

This time Rodney did look at Daniel, curious. “Why not?”

“I didn't give him a reason. Went along with everything. Let him think I would never put up a fight, not the way John did. After that first night, John couldn't care less about gaining Ba'al's trust. I think he was happy enough to die fighting. He just never realized he'd keep waking up every time.” Daniel swallowed, trying to keep the memories of broken bodies at bay. “I earned his trust.”

Rodney was watching Daniel closely, but his expression was blank. “You said you were in love with him. The first time you said it, it made sense in a weird way. But, the more I think about it, the less it makes any kind of sense. None at all maybe.”

Daniel nodded, looking away, feeling shame well up within him all over again. “I wish I could tell you why. But I can't, so I just wish--”

“What?” Rodney asked softly.

Daniel sighed, closing his eyes and rubbing his forehead. “I just wish he'd go away.”

“He is gone.”

Daniel took a deep breath, pushing back the murmurs of the dead. “Doesn't always feel that way.”

Daniel felt his hand pulled away so he had to look at Rodney. Rodney who probably didn't get it, but would get over it anyway, like he always did. Rodney who was squeezing his fingers gently, looking torn. “You had lunch yet?”

Daniel laughed against his will and shook his head.

Rodney got up, grabbing Daniel by his arm and pulling him to his feet. “Lunch it is then. Come on, I'm buying.”

Elizabeth stood in the corner that doubled as Kate's office, arms folded as she watched the man that was asleep in a bed at the end of the infirmary. She hadn't gotten the chance to know him and it seemed unfair that the first time she really thought about him was seeing him frozen in the stasis chamber next to Jack's.

She tried not to think of his time spent with Ba'al. She had seen the wounded look in Teyla's eyes, the strange curtain of guilt that fell across Daniel's face whenever John Sheppard or Teyla's name was mentioned. She didn't need details to know that Ba'al had very effectively stolen pieces of people's souls, leaving behind dazed ghosts.

“And Teyla?” Elizabeth asked, noticing her empty bed.

“She's doing much better,” Kate replied, her eyes also on John Sheppard. “I told her she could rest in her quarters, but to come back and see me tonight. She's still a little shaky and weak, but I think she's okay. Doing much better than I'd hoped actually.”

“Doctor Weir. Doctor Heightmeyer,” Jack announced himself, appearing from behind the two women.

“Colonel, how are you feeling?” Kate asked.

“Fresh as a daisy. How's the major doing?” Jack asked, stuffing his hands into his pockets and taking a look down the infirmary.

“He woke up about fifteen minutes ago. His vitals look good so far. He's still a little groggy and sleeping, but so far, everything looks good,” Kate answered.

Elizabeth sighed and took a step away from Kate's desk, her eyes focused on Sheppard. “What about the withdrawal? Any symptoms yet?”

“No, not yet. But, he hasn't been awake very long.”

“Did he say anything?” Jack asked.

“He said he was glad to be awake, so no, he's not speaking in Ancient,” Kate said with a smile.

Jack gave Elizabeth an approving look. “Well, I guess we could hope those chambers might have cleaned out his system as well as his head.”

“And if that's not the case?” Elizabeth asked, remembering Teyla's very recent stay in the infirmary, most of it spend in dazed agony and restraints.

“Then we should let him get some sleep before it gets tough,” Jack said quietly before turning to look at Elizabeth. “Because it'll be tough. Trust me on that.”

”Doctor Weir?”

Elizabeth tapped her ear piece. “Go ahead, Peter.”

“Doctor Weir, we've managed to open the room Ba'al had under lock. You might want to see this. I've informed Rodney and he thinks Colonel O'Neill ought to have a look too.”

“We're on our way.” Elizabeth gave Jack a nod and turned to Kate. “Keep me appraised of any change.”

With a final look at Sheppard's sleeping form, Elizabeth headed out of the infirmary, Jack's silence heavy at her side.

When they stepped out of the transporter, they could already hear Rodney's voice echoing out into the hall, awed and excited. Elizabeth smiled at Jack and he had to smile and shake his head because you had to admire a man that could still get excited after three months of pure hell.

“So, how are you holding up?” Jack asked, eyeing the hall, still blackened by the hard fire it had taken.

Elizabeth sighed, a frown on her face. “To be completely honest, I really don't know.”

Jack raised his eyebrows. “You don't?”

Elizabeth looked up at him with a small smile. “No. Is that insane?”

Jack'c brows went a little higher. “You're asking me?”

Elizabeth's smile widened, smoothing the other lines of worry. “You're smarter than you pretend to be.”

“Doctor Weir--”

“Elizabeth.”

Jack nodded. “Okay, Elizabeth. The way I see it is, you came here to do a job. There's nothing to stop you from doing it now.”

Elizabeth looked at it for a long while before looking away with a frown and asking, “And how are you holding up?” as if that would prove him a liar.

Jack thought about it, because to be honest, it was the first moment he had taken to think about everything. He had his history with Ba'al and it had left its scars. This had been a turkey shoot in comparison. Maybe not for everyone else, but Jack had learned to cope with things the hard way.

“You really want to know how I'm holding up?” Jack asked.

Elizabeth nodded. “Yes. I do.”

“The son of a bitch is dead,” Jack said. “I'm over the goddamn moon. Which, granted, we don't have anymore.”

Elizabeth was smiling and nodding. Maybe she was getting it finally. There was nothing to be afraid of now. But then, Jack hadn't been afraid of anything in a long time.

They walked through the open door, Rodney's voice still excitedly carrying through. Jack was prepared to be underwhelmed by whatever discovery the scientists were excited about, but was left staring and mumbling, “Well... spank me rosy.”

Elizabeth slowly turned to blink at him, one brow rising. He just shrugged and went back to staring at the small metal shuttles that filled the huge warehouse-like space. There were two levels and about twelve of the ships, all silently sitting, their large front windows only showing the darkness of the interiors.

“We think they're gate ships,” a voice said and Jack turned to see Jackson standing next to Rodney, both of them looking happier than Jack could remember since coming to Pegasus.

Geeks.

“Gate ships?” Elizabeth asked, sliding her hand down the side of the ship Jackson and Rodney were standing next to.

“Well, we're pretty certain these ships were designed specifically for gate travel,” Grodin said with a grin that matched Rodney's.

“Do you know if they're operational?” Jack asked, taking a closer look.

“We're waiting for some equipment to run a full diagnostic, but so far, we don't know. That's where you come in,” Rodney said with a little bounce.

“Me?” Jack asked skeptically.

“Yes, we think the gate ships, if they are operational, probably respond to the gene, like a lot of the Ancient's technology, in which case--”

“In which case there's a good chance you can turn it on,” Rodney said, cutting Jackson off.

Jack gave a humorless smile. “Thanks. I'm flattered.” Everyone watched him quietly, expectantly, all four of them with smiles and eager eyes. Jack rolled his eyes and sighed. “Lead the way.”

Walking around the nearest gate ship, Jack saw the inside was lit up by three large flashlights, showing the rear compartment and the cockpit clearly. He walked up the ramp and straight for the seats at the control panel, which was smooth and dark.

Behind him, he could hear the others following, their curiosity like a noise buzzing at the base of his skull. Jack sat down in the left seat and looked around for something to hold, like a joystick maybe or a switch he could flip.

“Okay,” he said. “Now what?”

Jackson plopped down into the chair next to his, his eyes scanning the controls. “Well, maybe you should touch it.”

Jack frowned at the other man and then the controls. He tentatively reached out prodded the silent panel. The panel glowed momentarily, but then dimmed. It didn't go dark, but the glow of it was feint.

“Well that was...anti-climactic,” Jack said.

“Maybe it's in some kind of standby mode. Try to establish a connection with it,” Grodin offered.

“How would do I that?” Jack asked.

“Oh, I don't know, by doing something more than poking it perhaps?” Rodney pointed out.

“Rodney,” Elizabeth's tone was a warning.

“Uh, okay,” Daniel said. “We know that some of the Ancient's technology uses a mental component, so how about you try and, I dunno, say hello.”

Jack scowled at the small smile on Daniel's face. “Say hello?”

“There's no harm in trying,” Elizabeth said from over Jack's shoulder.

Jack made a face and figured, why the hell not? He straightened up and looked down at the panel, before holding out his hands and spreading the fingers out. Then he pressed his hands across the warm control panel and closed his eyes and said, ”Hello.”

Before he even knew that the lights had come on, Jack felt a buzz that resonated throughout his body. He opened his eyes and saw the bright panel, saw the gate ship completely lit up and a screen of information pop up right in front of his eyes, a projection between him and the window of the ship.

“Okay,” Rodney was saying breathlessly. “This is really something.”

“I'd say so,” Jack said. “Just one thing.”

Daniel turned and looked at Jack. “What?”

“Gate ship. Really?”

Teyla was aware from the murmurings that the Atlanteans had found something exciting in the city. She passed scientists in the halls who were rushing away with pieces of equipment and excited mutterings. It was almost baffling that for a moment these people seemed to have forgotten that this city had been under siege for months and every day had been spent fearing for their lives.

But then, the moment John had woken up, for a moment, she had forgotten it all too. It almost scared her how much relief she had felt at seeing his eyes open and watching her. Even if he had only been awake for a short moment, before tiredly slipping back to sleep. It was enough.

However, she had to get her life moving again. She was still the leader of her people and whether they wanted her or not, she was bound by honor to do right by them. Teyla sat in Doctor Weir's office, looking at recently opened boxes. Things the Atlanteans had brought with them, but never had the chance to use. There was a picture of her with a man; both looked happy. Doctor Weir had a smile on her face that Teyla hadn't seen yet. No doubt, Ba'al had stolen it like so much more.

“Teyla,” Weir said, walking in with an amiable smile on her face. “You should be resting.”

Teyla gave a polite nod, watching the other woman sit down behind her desk. “The worst has passed.”

“Well, I'm glad to hear it,” Weir said. “Is there something I can do for you?”

“Perhaps,” Teyla said. “As you may know, Ba'al sent my people away from the city to the mainland. I think perhaps it is time we all returned to our old settlement.”

Weir nodded. “I understand. But, I hope you know you and your people are welcome to stay in the city.”

Teyla smiled. “I appreciate the offer, but my people would become lost in such a place. They are not accustomed to being surrounded by so many walls.”

Weir smiled and nodded again. “I can understand that too.”

“I was hoping that you would be able to help bring my people from the mainland, so we could use the stargate to return.”

This time Weir's smile was genuinely pleased. “Actually, it's funny you say should that.”

John slept, lost in uneasy dreams, a mosaic of vivid memories that refused to lose their color. Sharra could feel a ripple of anger under her new skin, anger that John hid from, anger that told her she was once again alive. Sharra lay in the bed, staring up at the ceiling, smiling because she knew this place and now she would be able to touch it. She sat up slowly, relishing the movement of her new body, a body made strong by being broken so many times.

She ran a hand down her arm, feeling a hardness she didn't expect. She let her hand climb up until it rested on her chest and she could feel John's heart beating strong and furious. She laughed, tears pricking her eyes and the laugh escaping her mouth sounding more like a choke.

Alive, she thought, I'm alive. To think her people had chased after ascension when there was this; flesh and bone. Sharra smoothed her fingertips over a stubbly cheek. Yes, she thought, for now this will do.

The Athosian settlement was what Jack considered a type A planet. Sky, grass, blue, green; nice for a weekend retreat. Only, Pegasus had something called the Wraith, which meant nowhere was nice for a weekend retreat. Jack kept a close eye on the women ahead, Teyla quiet and Elizabeth filling the silence with tactful conversation and questions. He was glad Elizabeth had joined them on the trip. She needed to get away from the city, which in turn gave him the pleasure of seeing Rodney McKay speechless for a moment.

“I tried to explain it would be a bad idea,” Jack had told Rodney.

“Yes, very funny, Colonel,” Rodney had replied, with no real venom or malice.

Jack figured Rodney would be okay. All he needed was to keep occupied. It was what most of them needed, idle hands and all.

“And you?” Ba'al asked, regally walking beside Jack. “What do you need, O'Neill?”

Jack turned and looked at the apparition, a smirk curving across his own mouth. “I need the dead guy to leave the building.”

Ba'al glared and was gone, back to his watery grave. It was a better death than he deserved, but the bastard was dead, buried under the weight of an alien ocean, and Jack wasn't going to deny himself a moment of celebration, no matter how brief. Looking at Teyla though, Jack knew that for some, Ba'al's death was only a temporary reprieve. It probably wouldn't even register for years. Some wounds took a long time to close and even then, not all the scars would fade.

Elizabeth and Teyla came to a stop, Jack stepping up next to them. They all looked at the Athosian settlement, a silent tomb, the dwellings standing but the fires outside long gone cold.

“Did he take all of your people?” Elizabeth asked.

“No,” Teyla replied quietly. “Some of them died. He wanted to make examples, show what would happen if he was disobeyed. Some were left behind.”

Jack looked around as Teyla and Elizabeth spoke in quiet tones, Marines standing by on watch behind them. There were signs of struggle all over the place, where people had tried to fight, dropped things from their hands, dug their heels into the ground. Teyla was kneeling on the ground, running her fingers over a broken cup. When she looked up from it, it was as though she didn't know this place, her face expressionless.

“What is it?” Elizabeth asked.

Teyla stood up, dropping the cup. “The Wraith have been here.”

“How can you tell?” Jack asked.

“I can tell,” Teyla said flatly.

Elizabeth looked across at Jack, worried. She looked as though she was about to say something when Teyla turned and looked at her. “Doctor Weir, perhaps my people can remain on the mainland for now. Until we find another suitable place. I am not sure I can bring my people back here.”

Elizabeth smiled. “As long as you want, Teyla.”

Teyla gave a slow nod and managed a smile. “Thank you.”

Elizabeth took a deep breath and looked at Jack again. “Well, in that case, let's head home.”

“Perhaps we should salvage a few things,” Teyla said.

Jack frowned. “Like what?”

Teyla looked Jack up and down and then gave the first real smile he could remember seeing on her face. He looked down at himself, the non-uniform t-shirt under a worn out jacket with tired pants. Three months in Ba'al's service and everyone had pretty much used up all their uniform and civvies. One more month and they'd all be walking around naked.

Jack fingered the frayed cuff of his jacket. “Yeah. You guys have a mall around here?”

When Kate had decided to check out the grand opening of the mess, she had expected to see nothing more than the silence that was shrouding the rest of the city. Instead, she found groups of people sitting together, talking, laughing and making fun of the food.

This is what our first day should have been like, Kate thought.

Three months had been stolen from them, and so much more. Some people barely knew each other. Three months and you could still pass by a dozen people you didn't recognize.

And then, there were the faces that everyone knew. The two men that Ba'al had kept locked away. The quiet woman with her dusky skin and sad eyes that served Ba'al. The dark-eyed, highest ranking military officer in Atlantis. The chief scientist that showed every fearful emotion on his face and everyone had expected to die. The expedition leader who seemed so calm and controlled that her insides had to look like chaos. The young Marine that had been experimented on and was now sitting alone and poking his meatloaf with a fork.

Kate took a seat opposite him and greeted him with a. “You're not making that look very appetizing.”

Ford looked up, startled, and then smiled. Kate was surprised when she saw his face and the scars that continued to fade at an alarming rate. She realized she was staring and looked away, but not before Ford had caught her out.

“I'm sorry, I didn't mean to...” Kate trailed off.

“It's okay,” Ford said, so calm it made Kate nervous. “I know what you're thinking. You're thinking, how come he still doesn't look like some kind of Frankenstein?”

Kate smiled sympathetically. “You do seem to healing remarkably well. Not to mention quickly.”

Ford gave a nod, the implant over his eye blinking lazily. He seemed lost in thought for a moment, but when he looked up, Kate saw everything he was trying not to feel, especially fear.

“What did they do to me?” Ford asked.

Kate looked down at the table, not sure what the answer was. “Well, I don't know. What I do know is that your scars are almost gone and that last night you ripped a metal grate from the wall with your bare hands.”

“Yeah,” Ford laughed bitterly. “Lucky me.”

“That's not what I said.”

“It's what you meant.”

“No,” Kate said forcefully. “It's not what I meant. Not for a second. What they did was wrong and you're having to live with it. Just don't start hating yourself for something that was out of your control.”

“I don't... I don't hate myself,” Ford said quietly.

“Well, keep it that way,” Kate said.

Ford gave a small laugh. “Are shrinks supposed to tell you what to do?”

Kate couldn't help but smile at that. “I'm not your shrink.”

Ford nodded and then sighed, slowly getting up. “I gotta go.”

“Okay. Come by later. I want to keep an eye on your progress,” Kate said.

“Sure,” Ford said as he left, while Kate knew she'd have to chase him up.

Opting out of lunch and her appetite lost, Kate took a long walk back to the infirmary, one that avoided all the damaged places, only to be greeted by a worried looking nurse.

“What is it, what's wrong?” she asked, not surprised at all that something was wrong.

“It's Major Sheppard,” came the reply. “He's gone missing.”

Rodney stood on the balcony overlooking the gate room, trying to remember that first day they had stepped into the city, looking for secrets and finding Ba'al. Even then, Rodney had figured it would be over in a matter of days. What else were the military there for? Three months later and still there had been uncertainty about going up against Ba'al. They would have waited longer, to be sure, but it was just a matter of time before Ba'al would kill off the remaining of those people he had no use for.

Rodney turned his back on the gate and caught sight of Daniel sitting at a terminal, laptop open in front of him as he pointed something out to Peter, absently licking his bottom lip. Rodney couldn't help but wonder if Ba'al would ever have run out of uses for Daniel. How long would it be before Daniel's translation skills were no longer required?

And what had Ba'al needed Teyla for? Rodney knew she was the leader of her people and having her serve him would have pleased Ba'al's ego a great deal. Of course, she was also a valid link to Pegasus and as long as Ba'al had her people, she would remain his link.

Then there was Sheppard. Ba'al had needed him for the gene, just like everyone else. But there had been others with the gene; Sheppard was simply the one Ba'al chose. Teyla knew this galaxy, Daniel knew words and Sheppard, if Rodney recalled correctly, made Ancient devices glow like they craved touch.

Poor bastard, Rodney thought.

It could have been Daniel so easily. Dying and waking, dying and waking. But Ba'al it seemed had chosen Sheppard. Maybe there was something to be said for small mercies.

Rodney looked down at the data pad in his hands before anyone could catch him daydreaming, the numbers and graphs going straight through him without meaning. He headed towards Peter and Daniel, where Daniel sat frowning at the laptop in front of him.

“Anything?” Rodney asked.

Daniel frowned. “I'm not sure. Yet. You think it's important?”

“We're not sure,” Rodney said. “We found these files in a sweep of the entire matrix. Apparently, before yesterday they didn't even exist. Or at least not anywhere we could find them. Of course, until we get all our equipment up and interfaced with the city, trying to translate them is a little difficult.”

“Which is where I come in,” Daniel said with a smile.

Rodney pointed at Daniel with an accompanying nod. “Precisely. In the meantime, I'll be pretending to run the city,” Rodney said, moving his pointing finger to Elizabeth's office.

“Actually,” Peter said, “The system diagnostic for the stasis room just finished.”

Rodney gave a nod and snapped his fingers in front of Peter, receiving his data pad, while noticing an amused look being exchanged between the other two men.

“Don't forget the data from the gate ship,” Rodney said, looking over the results displayed on Peter's data pad. “I want know how soon we can get that thing in the air--”

”Doctor McKay,” Heightmeyer's voice crackled in Rodney's ear.

Rodney tapped his ear piece. “McKay here.”

”We've got a small problem, Doctor.”

“Something not working down there?” Rodney asked.

”No. Actually, it's one of our patients. He's gone missing.”

Rodney frowned. “Can't you send your staff to look for him?”

Heightmeyer sounded tired when she replied. “I already have, but I'd like to find him as soon as possible. It's Major Sheppard. If Teyla's withdrawal symptoms are anything to go by, I'm not sure he should be out of the infirmary.”

“Oh,” Rodney said. “Okay. I'll send some people down and see what we can pick up on the city's sensors.”

”Thank you.”

Rodney looked back to Daniel and Peter who were watching him closely and with curiosity.

“What's wrong?” Daniel asked.

Pegasus, Rodney wanted to reply. “It's Sheppard. He's missing from the infirmary.”

Daniel just stared at Rodney for a moment as though unsure of what to do. Then suddenly he was out of his chair. “Well, we should go and try to find him.”

Rodney rolled his eyes and sighed. “Which is precisely what I'm about to do. I'll get some Marines down there, they love this kind of thing.”

Daniel nodded. “Okay, I'll go too.”

Rodney withheld a sigh. “Fine, I'll come too. Just hang on a second. Elizabeth's due back any minute.”

“You don't have to, Rodney,” Daniel said. “I just--”

“Look, just shut up, okay?” Rodney said. “I want to help. Just... hold on a second. Peter? Sensors.”

Peter promptly got up and headed to the back of the control room, Rodney following as Daniel stood looking restless.

Rodney stopped for a moment. “Hey. I'm sure he's okay. I mean, he's a tough guy, right?” Daniel nodded, the worry apparent on his face. “Okay. Good. Let's just wait for the others to get back and then we can both join the search,” Rodney said, wondering if Daniel would be gone the minute he turned his back.

Ford was running. It didn't help with anything, but he figured he should check out the improvements to his body. Test its limits. Find the human parts under the fading scars and disappearing aches. Parts without nightmares. He ran until sweat was soaking his clothes and his heart was pounding in his ears. He stopped in the middle of a familiar hall, bracing himself against the wall, recovering far too quick and easy.

He looked down at the hole in the wall where he had ripped the grate from. Crouching down, Ford fingered the rough edges where metal had twisted and broken away. Metal he ripped from the wall with his hands. Ford squeezed his eyes shut, trying to forget how easy it was. How it had felt like nothing. He headed back down the hall, running as he wondered what it would take for his knees to buckle. For the currents of the remaining circuits of his body to short out.

He wasn't sure how much ground he had covered until the colored halls gave way to dark and blackened halls damaged by weapon fire. This was the part of the city that took the worst hit. Beyond the rubble blocking the end of this hall was a tower that came crumbling down in the last stand.

Ford stopped walking when he saw a lone figure watching the blocked hall. Whoever it was stood partly obscured in the dark shadows, as still as a statue.

“Hey,” Ford called out. “You okay over there?”

The figure moved, turning slowly and stepping into the thin beams of light still filtering through into the hall, dressed in white scrubs.

Ford frowned, taking a step forward, trying to ignore a growing headache and recognizing Sheppard. “Sir?”

Sheppard slowly approached Ford, a somewhat amused look on his face. He gave a nod, not saying anything, but looking Ford up and down. “I remember you,” Sheppard said quietly. “Ford.”

Ford nodded. “Yeah. I think the last time we spoke was at the SGC.”

Sheppard seemed to be thinking it over, his eyes narrowing. “Feels like a long time ago.”

Ford scowled, trying to ignore the throbbing of his head, the implant making one eye feel as though it was filling up with air, a balloon ready to burst. So much for testing his limits.

“You don't look so well,” Sheppard said, his quiet voice sounding unnatural in the silence of the dead hall.

Ford was still on the verge of replying when Sheppard suddenly reached out and touched the implant, a quick brush of his thumb.

Ford batted his hand away hard. “Don't do that.”

“Sorry,” Sheppard said, not sounding or looking sorry at all. “I was curious.”

“Yeah, well, if you don't mind, take your curiosity out on someone else. Sir.”

Sheppard was turning away, ignoring Ford and going back to watching the rubble. Ford would have been intrigued if it wasn't for the pounding in his head. Besides, no one really knew what had happened to Sheppard while he was in Ba'al's captivity. But there were rumors and if they were even slightly true, then maybe his acting a little weird was to be expected. He was in good company.

“Sir?” Ford asked. “Look, we should probably get out of here. It's not really safe.”

Sheppard remained for a moment longer, before turning around with a smirk. “I'm done here.”

Ford nodded. “Okay. How about we head back to the infirmary?”

Sheppard smiled. “But, I'm fine.”

“They know you're here?”

Sheppard frowned and then shook his head. “No. I suppose they'll be wondering where I am.”

Ford watched as Sheppard then proceeded to walk away from the ruins. Ford fell into step with him, trying to breathe through the heaviness pressing down in his head, while Sheppard walked in silence, looking at everything they passed.

“Ba'al,” Sheppard said after a while. “Did he do that to your face?”

Ford could have told Sheppard to mind his business 'sir', but then, almost everyone knew anyway. What was one more man?

“Yeah,” Ford said simply.

“Do you know what the worst thing in the universe is?” Sheppard asked absently, as if the question wasn't even directed at Ford.

“What?”

Sheppard stopped walking and stepped in front of Ford. Staring directly at the implant. “Being denied the opportunity to exact revenge. It really does kill you.”

Ford watched Sheppard curiously. If he had a hand in killing Ba'al, like everyone had heard, then what revenge was he exactly missing out on?

“You see,” Sheppard continued. “You can't kill someone that's already dead and sometimes, even that's not enough. There's no fitting punishment for some crimes. Don't you agree?”

Ford felt the pain behind the implant, sharp and clear. Sheppard's face looked oddly blank, as if he was listening to something far away. Without another word, he turned and continued down the hall, while Ford stood there thinking about how Ba'al got off easy.

Kate waited patiently for news. She would have joined in with the search, but John Sheppard wasn't the only patient in her care. Not the only casualty of their recent war. When McKay finally arrived, Kate wasn't expecting the whole cavalry with him. Elizabeth , Teyla and Daniel looked worried. McKay looked like he had a dozen things on his mind, with Jack O'Neill looking the way he always did; unreadable under a facade of calm.

“Doctor,” McKay greeted her. “We've got some Marines looking for Sheppard, so I'm sure he'll show up in no time. However, everyone decided to come down here and panic with you anyway.”

Elizabeth gave McKay a look before asking Kate, “How was he when you last saw him?”

“Asleep,” Kate answered. “I have no idea what condition he's in right now.”

“We have to find him,” Teyla said quietly, the worry clear to read on her face.

“Teyla?” Elizabeth prompted her to say more.

“Before John and the colonel were put into stasis, John was beginning to get sick. I didn't know what it was at the time, but... now I know it was the sarcophagus sickness.”

“We should be looking for him,” Daniel started to leave.

“No. We should be looking for him. McKay, you're with me. You two stay here,” Jack said to Teyla and Daniel.

“I am fine,” Teyla said stubbornly.

“Well, you weren't this morning. Look, you're his friends. He'll want to see you, so stay here in case he comes back before we find him.”

“Well, why do I have to go?” McKay protested.

“'Cause I said so,” Jack answered flatly. Daniel opened his mouth to object and Jack held up a finger. “I will shoot you if I have to.”

Daniel shut his mouth, looking at McKay for help, who offered a tired shrug and followed Jack out of the infirmary. Next to Daniel, Teyla sighed, rubbing her forehead.

“Teyla?” Kate asked. “Are you okay?”

“Just tired,” Teyla replied. “I am going to lie down in my quarters. You will let me know if you find John?”

Elizabeth gave a warm smile. “Of course.”

Teyla gave a nod and left the infirmary. Kate could see Daniel watching her carefully as she left. He turned to Kate and Elizabeth a moment later.

“I better make sure she's okay,” he said. “You'll-”

“We'll call you,” Elizabeth said. “Maybe you should get some rest too.”

Daniel nodded and quickly left, the sound of his footsteps turning into running once he was in the hall.

“You know they've gone after the major, don't you?” Elizabeth asked.

Kate smiled. “It'll give them something to do. Some people have got too much time for thinking. They need something to occupy their minds.”

Elizabeth smiled back at Kate. “Shouldn't you be encouraging a little introspection?”

Kate had spent too much time thinking to know that no matter how far anyone got from Atlantis, they would never be able to outrun the city. Not even if they went back to Earth. Too much had happened here. All the thinking in the world didn't seem to change that. Maybe it was the reason why she was finding it easier to treat bloody gashes than scarred minds right now.

“I think we all need a stiff drink,” Kate answered, softening her reply with a lie of a smile.

“Shouldn't the city's sensors be able to pick him up?” Jack asked, pointing the flashlight of his P90 down a dark hall.

“Of course they're picking him up. The problem is that we have no way of distinguishing him from all the other dots moving around the city. I've got Peter watching the sensors for anything that doesn't look right.”

“This is Atlantis,” Jack said flatly. “Nothing looks right.”

Rodney snorted and continued shining his flashlight into the rooms on his side of the hall. He remained quiet for a long time, while Jack hoped they could find Sheppard before he decided to go ballistic on some unsuspecting resident of the city.

Jack didn't remember the specifics of his withdrawal completely. It was a blur of pain and need, his body feeling as though it would fly apart. Like it was hollowed in too many places. When he finally came out from under heavy sedation and started to regain some kind of composure, the first thing he had noticed was his bandaged hand, the knuckles sore and covered in ugly red scabs. He couldn't remember how his hand had ended up like this, but he knew he didn't want to know.

“Can I ask you something?” Rodney said, interrupting the single dripping sound somewhere at the end of the hall.

“No,” Jack answered. Any question that needed permission was a bad question.

“How bad is it?” Rodney asked anyway. “The sarcophagus addiction. I mean, you know, right?”

“I'm sure I said 'no' out loud,” Jack muttered.

“Yes, I ignored you.”

Jack shook his head. “This about Jackson?”

“No,” Rodney said quietly. “Daniel never used it.”

“Oh,” Jack said, deciding he didn't want to wonder why Ba'al would spare anyone that experience. “Well, it's no picnic. Depends on how much time you do in the box.”

“Three months?” Rodney asked.

Jack grimaced, shining his flashlight into another dead room. “Bad.”

“But, you're okay now,” Rodney said. “Right?”

Jack would have laughed if laughter didn't always seem like a thing he wasn't supposed to do anymore. Still, it was the funniest thing he'd heard in forever. “Oh, just peachy.”

Rodney lapsed into a longer silence, one that felt miserable. It seemed odd for him to not be complaining, talking... McKaying.

“Things okay with you and Jackson?” Jack ventured, not sure if he really wanted to know.

“Things are the way they've always been funnily enough,” Rodney said, sounding like he didn't find it finny at all. “The left hand has no idea what the right hand is doing.”

“Sounds normal enough,” Jack said.

Rodney appeared at Jack's side, giving him a short glance. “Doesn't it bother you?”

“What?”

“Me and Daniel. I mean, traditionally speaking, shouldn't you be setting me on fire or something?”

Jack looked across at Rodney, brows raised. “Would you like me to do that?”

“You know what I mean,” Rodney said, peering into another lab.

“Actually, I don't.”

“I mean me and Daniel-”

“McKay,” Jack said firmly. “I don't know what you're talking about.”

Rodney stopped and frowned and Jack could see every little cog turning before he saw a look of understanding. “You mean, you don't want to know.”

Jack smiled and patted Rodney on the shoulder. “Now you're getting it.”

“Why?” Rodney asked. “It bother you that much?”

Jack sighed, realizing that Rodney wasn't going to drop this. “Why? Would it bother you if it did?”

Rodney seemed to consider it and casually answered, “Know what's funny? Before, I couldn't care less. Now, I guess it might bother me a little.”

Jack withheld the next sigh. Of course it was going to be bothersome now. Now that they had survived together. Damn the bonding potential of warfare, Jack thought.

“No,” he told Rodney. “It doesn't bother me. I guess once you've seen a moon blow up with another guy, it's not much of an issue.”

Rodney smiled slightly. “An old romantic, eh?”

Jack snorted. “Something like that. Just do me a favor, okay?”

“What?”

Jack stopped walking and gave Rodney a somewhat uneasy look. “You and Jackson, be careful. Sometimes people are just looking for a reason to lash out. Don't be that reason.”

“You mean we should pretend--”

“Whatever you want to call it, McKay,” Jack said sternly. “If you think the city's suddenly filled with people that are going to throw you a parade, you're wrong. Most of the people out there want to forget they spent three months as slaves to some overblown egotistical snake. I've seen it before. People lashing out because they think it'll make them feel normal, like nothing's happened.”

Rodney nodded, his jaw clenching before he spoke. “Or, shit happens, but some people don't change.”

“Don't want to change,” Jack corrected and they walked on in unbearable silence, which Jack suddenly found he couldn't take. “On the bright side, no one knows more about this city than you do.”

“Meaning?”

“Meaning, having the power to turn people's hot water on and off is not something to take lightly.”

It remained quiet for a while. Then Jack heard a puff of breath and looked to the side to see Rodney laughing quietly. It was a small miracle every time someone did that in Atlantis.

Teyla wasn't moving like someone who could barely lift her head the previous day. She was fast enough that Daniel had to chase after her to catch up.

“Teyla!” Daniel called after her. “You're going after John?”

Teyla stopped and looked at Daniel. “I am.”

“I'm coming with you,” Daniel said.

“That will not be necessary,” came the curt reply.

“Because he's only your friend?” Daniel asked.

Teyla stared, clearly taken aback. “That is not what I meant.”

“You sure about that?”

Teyla was watching Daniel, like she could see right down to the layer under his skin. Right into his mind and his nightmares. “I just want to find him.”

“So...we should look for him,” Daniel said, carefully.

Teyla gave a nod. “We should hurry.”

Daniel watched her turn away and resume her course without waiting for Daniel. “It's okay if you hate me.” Teyla stopped walking. “I understand.”

The silence stretched forever, Teyla unmoving and Daniel feeling the breath in his lungs thinning out as random memories made their unannounced assault. Memories of Teyla and John. Memories of Ba'al.

Teyla's shuddering breath brought him back to the present. “I do not hate you,” she said, her voice thick, unsteady. “Not all the time.”

Daniel nodded, his stomach flipping at the thought of seeing John, looking into his eyes and seeing hate there. “Well... I guess that's something.”

Teyla took a few steps forward and stopped, turning slightly, but not enough for Daniel to see her face. “We should hurry.”

Daniel took a deep breath and joined her at her side, hoping someone else would find John first.

Elizabeth was contemplating either joining the search for Major Sheppard or finding something else to do Anything to take her mind off of the waiting. It wasn't just Sheppard on her mind, wandering around with sarcophagus sickness. It was the mere freedom of being able to go where she wanted in the city that plagued her thoughts the most. It was the fact that when she wandered the halls at night, no one was there to cast a suspicious eye.

After months of prison, such freedom felt unnatural and that was only when she wasn't expecting Ba'al to jump out of thin air, hand outstretched to offer a display of his power. She could swear that when she slept she could hear another body hit the waves every night.

A commotion roused Elizabeth from her thoughts and she got up from Kate's desk, seeing the other woman rushing towards the infirmary entrance where between them, John Sheppard and Sergeant Bates were dragging in a barely conscious Ford.

Daniel wasn't sure how much ground they'd covered, but it was enough to have brought them into halls he didn't recognize. It only occurred to him then that so much of this city lay undiscovered; untouched for thousands of years. Ba'al had made it feel like the smallest place in two galaxies. Daniel almost found it funny that he hadn't even realized how much he was suffocating until now.

Teyla stopped ahead of Daniel, holding up a hand for him to stop. They watched a shadow flit by at the end of the hall and then followed. Turning the corner, Daniel felt a hand on his shoulder and jumped, expecting to face John when he turned around.

That was when the second realization of the day hit him. His body filled with an unexpected terror that left him afraid of looking into John's eyes, finding accusation and hate. It couldn't have been easy for John or Teyla, Ba'al having so clearly set out who was for pleasure and who was for pain. Daniel just wished he could figure out if it had been easier for him.

“I thought I told you to stay put,” O'Neill said, Rodney eyeing Daniel from behind the other man's shoulder.

“You did,” Teyla said simply. “We chose to ignore you.”

O'Neill frowned. “I'm sorry. Does this uniform not say 'Colonel' on it?”

“We are not under your command,” Teyla replied, with an arch of her eyebrow.

Daniel pointed at O'Neill's name patch. “It's also a little faded, so you can't really see it.”

O'Neill's frown deepened and he stared at Daniel as Rodney added, “And I didn't actually volunteer to search sections of the city that are ready to fall on our heads.”

O'Neill rolled his eyes. He took a deep breath and pointed at Daniel and Teyla, opening his mouth to say something.

”Colonel O'Neill? Call off the search. The major's okay and he's back in the infirmary,” Elizabeth's voice crackled in all their headsets.

“Copy that,” O'Neill replied and then jabbed a finger in Teyla and Daniel's direction. “Next time, you do what you're told. Let's go.”

He promptly turned around and headed down the hall, Teyla going after him and then falling into step with the colonel. Daniel found himself rooted to the spot, just watching, Rodney moving to his side. Teyla stopped walking after a while and stopped, turning to look at Daniel with a frown, O'Neill realizing she wasn't next to him and stopping too.

“You are not coming?” Teyla asked Daniel.

Daniel tried to come up with the best lie he could think of, Rodney's attention never moving from him. “Actually, I think you should see him first.”

Daniel could see Teyla was choosing her words carefully before saying anything. “I think John would like to see both of us.”

“I know,” Daniel said. “And I'm going to see him. Right now, though, I think he needs you more.”

Teyla silently watched him before conceding with a slight nod, O'Neill's watchful eyes on both of them. Teyla swiftly turned away and resumed her course, O'Neill giving Daniel an intrigued look before following.

“You okay?” Rodney asked.

Daniel nodded. “Sure,” he said, unable to tell if he was lying.

Rodney patted his arm. “Come on. We'll take a look at those logs.”

Yes, Daniel thought. Much better. More dead things. Words, people, treasures; it was all the same. If only he could stop loving dead things.

“Doc, I'm fine,” Ford said as he sat up, swinging his legs off the bed.

“I beg to differ,” Kate said evenly. “You could barely walk fifteen minutes ago.”

Ford sagged under Kate's gaze. She she could see him watching the implant on his hand, the one over his eye blinking away.

“You said you went for a run?” Kate asked.

Ford looked up and nodded. “Yeah. Wanted to see how much of a super soldier I am.”

Kate found nothing she could add to that, the bitterness of Ford's tone leaving nothing else to be said. Ford was the one who snapped himself out of it.

“Look, I took a run to see how I was doing and I was fine. Then I found Major Sheppard and I didn't feel so hot all of a sudden. Maybe I over did it.”

Kate gave a nod. “Maybe I need to keep you here to make sure you rest like I asked you.”

Ford sighed and looked up at her. He was smiling, the first real smile she'd seen on his face. He said, “I get it, doc.”

Kate smiled. “Do you?”

Ford hopped off the bed. “Rest. I hear you.”

“Okay. I'll let you go for now, but I want you to see Doctor McKay about those implants tomorrow at ten and to rest until then. I'll make sure everyone knows if they see you out of your quarters they're to drag you to the infirmary,” Kate said.

Ford frowned. “You'd play dirty?”

Kate gave him a stern look. “You bet I would, Lieutenant.”

Ford gave a small huff of laughter and then nodded before making his way out of the infirmary, giving Major Sheppard and Teyla a nod as he passed.

Kate looked at Sheppard. He was sitting on the edge of his bed and looking as though he might crawl out of his own skin, avoiding Elizabeth's eyes as she stood with him. Kate wondered if the withdrawal had begun.

“Major,” she said, as she approached his bed.

He looked up and asked, “Is it really necessary for me to stay here? I said I was fine.”

Kate nodded. “I'm glad to hear you're doing fine, Major, but I'd like to keep you here until I'm done running all the tests.”

He looked even more annoyed at that. Elizabeth and Kate shared a silent look. Sheppard looked away from them both and muttered, “I am sick of the sight of this place.”

To be fair, Kate couldn't blame him. Elizabeth said, “Why don't we do this? Doctor Heightmeyer will take a look at how you're doing and then you can go to your own quarters. But you come back the minute she asks you or the minute you think something might be wrong. How does that sound?”

Sheppard seemed to consider it. He gave a slow nod. “Fine.”

Elizabeth smiled. “Well, good. I'll leave you to it. Oh and, Major, try not to go too far for a while. At until we know you're okay.”

Sheppard just gave her a look, his expression unreadable. Kate signed off the necessary tests and gave him a quick check up. His temperature was a little high and his heartbeat said he was a little more anxious than he appeared, but otherwise John Sheppard seemed well enough. Kate was about ready to tell him he was cleared until further notice when Teyla walked in with Colonel O'Neill at her side.

“John,” Teyla said, her smiled curved with relief and happiness. It was a miracle anyone here could muster a smile, yet there it was.

“Doctor,” the colonel said as he and Teyla stopped by the bed. “How's the patient?”

“Well, he's free to leave the infirmary for now,” Kate said.

“Major?” Colonel O'Neill asked. “How are you holding up?”

Sheppard gave a nod, something about him strange and restrained. “I am holding up fine.”

The colonel seemed bemused by something, nodding slowly. “Teyla. Why don't you show the major where his quarters are.”

Teyla gave a nod, laying a hand on Sheppard's arm as he got up off the bed. The colonel didn't see it, turning to Kate as Sheppard and Teyla left, but Sheppard had cast him the strangest look over his shoulder. Kate watched him and Teyla leave before turning to the colonel.

“Something's not right,” she said.

“What? With Sheppard?” the colonel asked.

Kate gave a nod. “I don't know him very well, but something just seems off.”

The colonel was nodding. “Yeah, I got that too.”

“Maybe he's beginning to feel the affects of the sarcophagus addiction,” Kate said.

The colonel seemed to be far away as he nodded, like he was trying to search something out from memory. “Maybe,” he said. “Let's just keep an eye on him for a while.”

There was much to do. Much to catch up on after thousands of years sleeping. And so odd to see these people walking around her city as if it belonged to them. What had they done to it? A moment of delving into John's memories showed that there had been a battle indeed. He could still hear the noises as he floated between waking and sleeping, his half-dreams colored like bruises. And that woman in the infirmary. Weir. Oh, if she only knew she had been here before, in a past that wasn't quite her own. If only they all knew.

“There,” Teyla said stopping by a set of doors. “Your quarters.”

Sharra stared at the doors. Somewhere in his mind, John was almost afraid of going inside.

“John?” Teyla asked. “Are you all right?”

Sharra squeezed her eyes shut for a moment. She turned to look at Teyla. “Why do you keep asking me that?”

Teyla was staring at him, visibly surprised. She couldn't seem to find the appropriate response.

“We were both there,” Sharra said quietly, pulling up the images far too easily, of Ba'al and Teyla. Of the way he had taken such pleasure in breaking his playthings. Over and over. “Are you all right?”

Teyla was silent, unreadable. An admirable quality. All she said was, “I will let you rest.”

Sharra watched her walk away, like she had the weight of the world on her shoulders. Turning, Sharra continued into quarters. Or, John's quarters. It was a pitiful sight. Empty, cold and dim. There was a case on the bed, which she assumed had his belongings, but otherwise the room was no more than a place to store a bed and other few furnishings.

Sharra opened the case on the bed. It was mostly clothes and a few other small things. Her hand seemed to linger the most on a warm and thick garment. She pulled it out and laid it on the bed, heading off to wash away thousands of years of sleep first.

She removed her garments slowly, letting them fall on the floor before standing in front of the mirror. It felt as though she was standing with another person in the room, not quite feeling this body, despite feeling everything. She looked at his eyes, darkened and troubled. She stroked the face, rough with stubble. He had no scars, but Sharra could see ever single wound and it shouldn't have stung like it did.

She reached out to touch the mirror, so he could see her reaching, instead of just feeling. She traced the line of his jaw on the cool surface of the glass. It seemed to shatter, loud, and Sharra felt it's jagged cuts on her skin, feeling the trickle of blood, a surprised painful yell and something that sound like a scream of metal twisting in her mind.

She recoiled from the mirror, swallowing as her heart raced, stumbling backwards. John looked startled in the mirror, a mirror that hadn't shattered or broken at all. He didn't look asleep at all. He looked... no, he felt like he was unraveling. Like something was crawling under his skin, hollowing him out.

Moments later, she stood under a spray of heated water, scrubbing at his skin until it felt clean.

Rodney knew just how to distract Daniel. The numerous logs being pulled up from the computer archives were tantalizing enough, but the one Rodney had found was the one that had Daniel transfixed.

“Sharra,” Rodney said, leaning back in his seat as Daniel looked over the text on his laptop screen. “You know, Rapunzel? The dead woman. Her name was Sharra.”

Daniel nodded. “Why is that important again?”

“They locked her up. She was one of the scientists that had a hand in building this city.” Daniel looked away from the screen, frowning at Rodney. “Apparently, her crime was committing an ethical violation that resulted in harming her own people. She tried to take on the Wraith, made a mistake, and they locked her up for it.”

“She was old,” Daniel said absently. “I mean, that's what it looked like from her remains.”

Rodney made a face. “Well, she wasn't old when they locked her up. She lost the better part of her life locked in that tower.”

Daniel looked back at the screen. “What was the ethical violation?”

“No idea,” Rodney said. “There's a whole lot of stuff about her in the archives. I thought you could have a look at it and maybe sift through it to find the interesting stuff.”

“As in?” Daniel asked, arching a brow at Rodney.

“Potentially Nobel winning contraptions,” Rodney said with a smile.

Daniel smiled. “Ah. Got it.” Rodney continued to watch Daniel, smile still lingering on his mouth. Daniel had to ask, “What?”

Rodney shrugged, one corner of his smile turning down a little. “I was just thinking. This is how it should've been all along. All of us, looking for things, finding out secrets about this city.”

Daniel nodded slowly. He gave Rodney the most comforting smile he could muster. “Maybe it can be that way now.”

Rodney smiled, but Daniel still saw the saddened tinge of his eyes. Or maybe it wasn't really there. Maybe it was just the way he saw everything now.

Ford didn't really know Teyla. He knew what had happened to her. Hell, everyone had somehow found out what had happened to her and Sheppard. No wonder she looked almost looked like a ghost haunting an empty hall.

“Teyla, right?” Ford said. Teyla looked away from the window and frowned at Ford. “Lieutenant Aiden Ford,” he explained. “We haven't really talked.”

Teyla smiled, gentle and warming. “Many of us haven't really had the opportunity, Lieutenant Ford.”

“Aiden,” Ford said. “Or Ford.”

Teyla smiled again, nodding, looking a little amused. Ford went to her side and looked out of the window. She quietly returned to gazing out too.

“Wow,” Ford said. “This place is pretty huge. Can't believe I didn't notice.”

Teyla was nodding. “Again, I don't think most of us have had the time to notice.”

Ford snorted. “No kidding.”

Teyla turned to frown at him, reminding him that sometimes he probably made no sense to the Athosians. She seemed to come to the same conclusion, the bemused expression turning curious. He could tell she was looking at the blinking implant over his eye. Something about Teyla made him not mind so much. Something like how it seemed to look as though she was the one in pain.

“He did this to you?” she asked, sounding so much older than the woman in front of him.

Ford nodded. “Yeah. I've been told he was trying to make me into one of his super soldiers. I gotta tell you, I don't feel so super.”

Teyla nodded, her eyes looking glassy as she returned to staring out of the window.

“You okay?” Ford asked, her silence weighing heavily on him.

Teyla gave a slow nod. “I was just thinking, about the Wraith. I have spent my whole life running from them, hating them. But all they want is to feed. To live, breed, grow. But, Ba'al...” She stopped, like maybe she couldn't quite deal with saying his name.

Ford looked at the implant on his hand. He thought about his nightmares of sharp instruments cutting into him while he screamed in pain. “He did it because he could.”

Teyla turned to Ford, her mouth slightly curled, unshed tears looking heavy in front of her eyes, but refusing to fall.

“And he didn't deserve to die so easily,” Ford said flatly, looking away from Teyla and out at the crashing waves of the sea.

When Teyla spoke again, her voice was steady and Ford new the tears had been wiped away. “I hope he never rests.”

Ford nodded. “Amen.”

Elizabeth and Jack had spent the better part of the afternoon discussing damage control and the protection of the city from hostiles. It all came down to one thing.

“ZPM,” Elizabeth said tiredly. “We're going to have to get out there soon.”

Jack leaned forward, nodding in agreement. “I've been looking into viable team members. I think we need to clean up this joint before we can get out there though. The city took a pretty big knock.”

Elizabeth nodded in agreement. “True, but without a fully functioning ZPM we're practically a sitting duck and with the Wraith still out there, I'm not sure we have the luxury to spend too much time cleaning up.”

“Can't argue with that,” Jack said getting up, as Elizabeth got up from her chair. They walked out of her office, Jack at her side, hands in pockets.

They made their way down the steps and towards the mess hall. It still seemed odd to Elizabeth that everyone was walking around so freely, without the threat of watching guards.

“Weird huh?” Jack asked, watching her closely. He knew exactly what she was thinking.

Elizabeth took a deep breath and shook off the odd chill she felt. “Takes a little getting used to. I keep expecting some Jaffa soldier to step out and point a staff weapon at my head.”

Jack was nodding. “It'll take a while to shake it off.”

Elizabeth shook her head, frowning at Jack. “What about you? You seem to be taking it all in your stride.”

Jack's face was unreadable, unlike how it had been relaxed a moment ago. Maybe he wasn't taking it in his stride so much. “Seen one Goa'uld, seen them all.”

Especially Ba'al, Elizabeth thought. “You think there's any chance Major Sheppard might not go through withdrawal?”

Jack shook his head. “Can't say. He's a lucky son of a bitch if he doesn't.”

Elizabeth nodded, forcing a small smile on her face. She opened her mouth to ask him, something about Ba'al, about Jack's sarcophagus addiction, anything to shift that strange darkness in his eyes, but he stopped and turned to look at her, gently telling her, “Elizabeth... let's go eat.”

Elizabeth gave him an understanding nod. “Okay. Let's go eat.”

Sharra stood at the window of John's quarters, staring at the inky black night, stars speckling the dark. She could hear the waves crashing into the city. Somewhere down there was this Ba'al, the one who had left the city filled with nightmares. She almost felt compelled to go down there and seek out his corpse at the bottom of the sea, to make sure he was gone. To tell John, look, your monster is dead.

She shuddered, this body feeling too hot, too cold, too restless, too tired. She could feel a sickness growing inside her and the way John was yearning for the sarcophagus. Yearning to die and wake again. She had to grit her teeth against the pull she felt deep inside of her. Inside his breaking body. He wasn't thinking straight. His thoughts were losing cohesion, breaking down into flashes and ever decreasing moments. He wasn't thinking about then, now and next. It was getting more and muddled and more and more distracting.

“Stop this,” Sharra hissed. “I must... I have things that must be done.”

But John was twisting inside her, bones cracking with need, muscles tight and wound. It made her gasp, wrapping his arms around his shaking body. She lashed out at the wall, smashing her fist hard, focusing on the pain that jarred her arm.

She swallowed hard, nodding. “Not yet. Not yet.”

Rodney awoke with a start, his heart hammering in his chest, though he couldn't remember why. It was light outside and his watch said he'd managed about three hours of sleep. Turning over, he saw Daniel had forgone even that amount. He was sitting at the desk by the bed, frowning and utterly engrossed with whatever he was reading on the laptop.

“Have you been up all night?” Rodney asked, sitting up slowly.

“Yes,” Daniel said quietly. “Did you know Sharra was one of the original architects of this city? There wasn't a system she didn't know in and out. She came up with a way to shield the city and they locked her up and threw away the key.”

Rodney turned and planted his feet on the floor. “No one said anything?”

“Well, from this it looks like a whole bunch of people signed a formal protest organized by a scientist called Janus, but were overruled.”

Rodney shook his head. “What the hell did she do?”

Daniel turned and looked at him, licking his bottom lip before he spoke. “She killed a hundred and thirty-eight of her own people.”

Sharra blinked the sweat out of her eyes. His eyes. Their eyes. Eyes. It didn't matter, it was all mixed up. They were both seeing and on the occasion he was shutting his eyes, she couldn't help falling at the same time, gasping like a fish out of water. Sharra cursed and fell back on to the floor from where she had been crouching. It was a lab, a small one, a brilliant one, for her. Janus, he had been good to her, he tried to hold on, but the others wouldn't let him.

Sharra shook her head, trying to clear her mind of his nightmares. She had to re-route the power to the secondary stasis chamber room before it was too late. And, and she had to... Sharra stopped, frowned, trying to remember. The chamber, yes. That doctor. Sharra needed the doctor. Sharra stared at the open panel at the bottom of the console in front of her. She scrabbled towards it, reaching in with shaking hands, re-routing the commands away from the main tower.

The back of her hand touched something sharp, a corner and it was flashes all over, choking under water, face pushed against the ground. And Teyla, mouth covered by Ba'al's smile, the light going out in her eyes, her body broken and limp. And him. Daniel. Yes. Always yes. Never no. Always yes.

Do you want this?

Yes.

Do you want this?

Yes.

And John. Always no. Falling on deaf ears, no. Cruel fingers in his hair, pulling back his head, a mouth whispering next to his ear. Hands like iron manacles around his wrists, holding him down. His body being driven into despite his efforts to not cave in. The smallest of words, cleaved in two from pain and shame. Mouth, tasting bitter. Breath fading. But always no.

"Submit."

"No."

"Submit."

"No."

"Submit."

"No."

"I. Am. Your. God."

"No."

And his fingers curling like wilted leaves, mouth moving silent against the floor, dying again, praying he wouldn't wake.

“No!” Sharra screamed, flinging the panel across the room. “No!”

John was silent, numb, as she raged.

Ford stepped into the lab, feeling a little uneasy. He already felt like a failed science experiment, walking around with his blinking implants and now he was here to get hooked up to more machines. Maybe he could pretend he forgot. He turned to leave, only to find Doctor McKay right there.

“Ah, Lieutenant Ford, right on time.”

Ford smiled. “Hey, doc.”

“This way,” McKay said, walking in, cup of coffee in one hand and his computer tablet in the other, Ford following with a quiet sigh.

Ba'al's little corner of Alantis was still standing, looking a little like a piece of modern art, a series of twisted, clumpy black burnt sculptures. The sturdy metal base of the bed was still there, everything on top burnt away, wiry and crumbling. Tapestries and drapes, all gone. No more silky reds. Just black, all black. There was something familiar on the floor in the next room. A pile of what might have been clothes. A gentle kick revealed a SGC patch, the only surviving part of a uniform.

In the next room, the sarcophagus was still there. It was a vaguely box shaped tar like mess, half of it obliterated by God only knew how many explosions. There was debris all over the floor, the smell of smoke and other chemicals. If only this had all fallen into the sea too. All of it, right with Ba'al.

The anger came from nowhere. A surprise in fact, just like the dark metal pipe that was now held in tight fists. Painfully tight fists. Just like the surprise of smashing it into the remaining part of the sarcophagus and the kicks that followed when the carcass of that life and death box wouldn't yield. Kick after kick came until you couldn't tell what that pile of burnt out twisted metal and miscellaneous might have been once, the pipe landing on it with a clang, having done it's work.

“Better?” the ghost of Ba'al whispered with a still triumphant smile.

Jack took a deep breath, turning to look at the face that could die, but never go away. Still breathless, he spat on the remains of Ba'al's last few days and left without offering any other answer.

Everyone knew who Teyla was. Even people who had never met the woman or spoken to her knew. Just like they knew Major Sheppard and Doctor Jackson. Some were even quietly referring to the three as Ba'al's harem. Funny how people still weren't making jokes about the dead Goa'uld, he thought as he approached the main work out mat where Teyla was with one of the blue shirts, Esposito or something. Not that the scientists were concerning themselves with uniforms. Not that there were enough uniforms to go around.

“No, like this,” Teyla said sternly, repositioning Esposito's arms, the other woman nodding as Teyla instructed her. “Up, block, block, strike.”

Esposito nodded and returned to a prior position as Teyla brought up two short sticks and went for Esposito, slow enough for the other woman to think through her moves, Teyla nodding the whole time.

“What's all this?” Bates finally asked. “Have you been authorized to use this area?”

Teyla stopped, looking at Bates. Then she went back to Esposito, telling, “I will be right back.”

She joined Bates, while others continued sparring in the room. “We have not met.”

“Sergeant Bates. You're Teyla Emmagan, the Athosians spokesperson,” he said before she could go into unnecessary introductions.

“I am aware of who I am,” Teyla said evenly. “And no, I have not been authorized to use this area. However, Doctor Weir assures me that I am free use the designated spaces of this city as I please.”

Bates withheld a sigh as he looked around the room, a bunch of people fighting with sticks. What the hell was it supposed to achieve? He gave her a firm look, Teyla watching him with an attentive tilt of the head.

“Look, I get what you're doing here, and any other circumstances, maybe it would be a pretty neat idea. But getting all these people to use a pair of sticks isn't going to prepare them for fighting. That's the job of the military in this city.”

He actually figured Teyla would attack him, use some kind of fancy move to make an empty point, so he was ready when he blocked the staff with his forearm, bringing the same arm down to block second blow. He had about a second to register Teyla's amused brow before she had somehow slipped and turned, used both elbow and stick to wind him before he was very quickly turning through the air and landing on his back, Teyla's foot square on his chest and a gun in her hand, pointed right at his head.

He frowned at the gun and then down at his holster from where she had taken his sidearm. When he looked back, Teyla had turned the gun in her hand, offering it back to him, everyone behind her having stopped to watch. Bates got to his feet, taking his sidearm and staring at it for a moment, before putting it away.

He gave Teyla a nod. “Show me how you did that.”

“What's so interesting?”

Daniel looked up from his laptop to see Elizabeth with a curious smile on her face. She joined him at his table, which was something considering many only had curious and somewhat harsh looks for him.

“Doctor Weir,” he said, offering her a smile.

She said, “Please, it's Elizabeth.” She took a sip of her coffee and nodded towards the laptop. “You look positively captivated.”

Daniel sat back in his chair and nodded slowly. “I have to say I am. We've been pouring over some logs that the system recently threw up about a scientist called Sharra. Apparently she was one of the original team that designed and oversaw the building of this city. She had a big hand in building the data repositories and a number of the other systems.”

Elizabeth looked impressed. “So... a biography of some sort?”

Daniel pulled a face. “No, actually, it's more like the case notes from a trial. According to this, in the middle of the war with the Wraith, Sharra was working on several projects, one of them resulting in over a hundred deaths. All her own people.”

“What happened?”

“She designed a virus that would make the Wraith incapable of feeding on their victims. Her plan was to introduce it into the water supply of notorious feeding grounds. However, she hid the fact that there was a risk to the humans that would drink the contaminated water. In fact, a possibility of one in three people dying.”

“She did it anyway,” Elizabeth said quietly.

Daniel shook his head. “She was working on finding as many ways as possible to introduce it into an environment and there was an accident in her lab which resulted in the death of a hundred and thirty-eight people.”

“What happened to her?” Elizabeth asked, though from her face it looked as though she could guess.

“They locked her up. Said she was ethically challenged, negligent and some even accused her outright of intentionally releasing the virus into the air. She knew the ventilation system would have spread it around the city in minutes.”

Elizabeth blew out a breath, putting her coffee down on the table and leaning back. She seemed to digest the information quietly, hooking an arm around the back of her chair and loosely linking her hands together as she sat there frowning.

“Why does she have you so enchanted?” she asked with a smile.

Daniel gave an oddly nervous smile. “Well. I've seen her. So has Rodney.”

“You've seen her,” Elizabeth echoed, looking bemused. “I don't understand.”

“Back in the middle of all that stuff with Ba'al, Rodney and I found a woman. Or, the remains of a woman, to be exact.” Daniel smiled as he remembered. “Rodney called her Rapunzel. We just had no idea how long she was locked away in that tower. Until now, that is.”

Elizabeth was shaking her head, looking a little bewildered. “All this time, she was here. Do you think she really did it? I mean, on purpose.”

Daniel thought about it. “I don't know. She was so smart. So full of potential. Why would she do something like that when she had the power to save people?”

Elizabeth shrugged, looking down at her linked hands. “When you have the power over people's lives...”

She didn't finish, but Daniel heard her answer anyway. He'd seen it in Ba'al's eyes, the hunger to see if he could have anything he wanted and taking it simply because he could.

Kate still had some time before she was needed to show up in the infirmary. The first thing she wanted to do was track down Major Sheppard and see how he was doing. What she didn't expect was for the door to her quarters to open and reveal him standing right there. Kate stepped back and took in his appearance. He looked unsteady, face flushed and shining, hair looking limp, as if damp. His eyes were so troubled Kate found it hard to look away.

“Major,” she finally said. “I think we need to get you to the infirmary.” He didn't respond, standing there wavering, shaking his head slightly as if listening to someone other than Kate. “John?” she asked quietly. She reached out carefully and placed her hand on his arm. “John, you need to come with me to the infirmary..”

John stared at her hand, his gaze traveling up her arm until he was looking straight into her eyes. Kate pulled her hand away, stepping back. Her hand went up to tap her headset, but it wasn't there. Her hand shook on the way back down to her side. John was reaching out, fingers extended forward. Kate stilled as his fingers found strands of her hair, pulling and curling them while she watched, wide-eyed and almost morbidly fascinated.

“You are beautiful,” John murmured. “You would have been perfect. Just right.”

Kate frowned. “Just right for what?” she asked cautiously.

“Me,” John said quietly, voice hushed, almost small. “Why couldn't it be you?”

His fingers were moving from her hair to Kate's cheek, the skin hard on the tips, rough and broken. She tried to calm her breathing when they moved to her lips, pulling down on her bottom lip and John just stared, looking confused.

Kate swallowed down her fear. “John... you're not well. Let me take you to the infirmary.”

Then his other hand came up and she saw the syringe. She had no idea what it was, but it was most likely that John had stolen it from the infirmary. Whatever its origins, he had brought it here to her. Kate stumbled backwards until the back of her legs hit the bed, her hand stretched out in front.

“What are you doing?” she demanded

John advanced on her, his eyes darting everywhere she moved, as if he was a caged animal. “I have to do this. Before it's too late.”

Kate shook her head, trying to make sense of his confusing words. “Do what? Before what's too late?”

John said, “I can't die. I can't let that happen. Not now. Not after all that time in the tower.”

Kate let one arm reach behind as she kept the other out in front. “John. You're very sick right now, but I can help you. You just need to put that syringe down. Please.”

John was shaking his head. “It's just a sedative. You won't feel a thing.”

Kate stared at him, her hand closed around a lamp and she threw it head on where it hit John's forehead. He stumbled and Kate saw the syringe fall from his hand. She ran towards it, but he was turning and reaching too. Kate ran for the door while he went for the syringe, but before she knew it John had grabbed her and they were both embroiled in a struggle.

“No!” Kate yelled. “Somebody! Somebody help me!”

She felt the sharp needle prick her skin and she couldn't help but struggle harder, the syringe clattering to the ground. It wasn't long before she could hardly speak, her legs turning to dust as she fought to stay awake. All she could do was shake her head at John.

He was taking her somewhere, dragging her from her quarters and into a transporter. She watched him through half-lidded eyes as he touched the map screen for their destination. A foggy part of her brain wondered why they were going so far into an unexplored area.

Then everything turned black.

McKay folded his arms and then brought one hand up to chew on the tip of his thumb as he mulled something over. A moment later he pointed at the screen.

“This screen here? That's information your implant dumped once it realized it was being tapped into. I think it might have been initiated by some kind self-diagnostic program.”

Ford nodded. “Okay. What does that mean?”

McKay turned the laptop so Ford could see the screen better. Amongst the numerous data displays he saw two large ones, both displaying spikes and dips of green waves. McKay was tapping the top box, the one where the spikes and dips were sharp, bunched together and frantic.

“That's what the implant uploaded automatically once I initialized the program,” McKay said before he tapped the box underneath, the one that displayed a more regular and rhythmic set of spiked and dips. “And that is what your implant is doing right now.”

McKay turned to Ford, his frown completely focused on Ford's implant above his eye. Ford would have been offended, but McKay was possibly the only person in the city who didn't stare because he was freaked out.

“Go near any machinery lately?” McKay asked.

Ford shrugged. “Like what?”

McKay sighed. “I don't know. See, I think the reason the implant uploaded that thing there is because something must have gone wrong. That pattern there doesn't look like a function. It looks like interference. Right now, your implant is doing that,” McKay said, pointing to the more stable signature. “Now, I'm not sure what that exactly is, but I do think it's supposed to be doing it.”

Ford sigh. “I don't care. I just want to know if you can remove this stuff.”

McKay nodded. “Probably, but not before we can make sure it's not going to kill in you the process, Lieutenant. These are incredibly complicated devices and they go pretty deep from what Heightmeyer tells me. Now, back to this,” he said, tapping the laptop screen. “How do you feel right now?”

Ford thought about it. Actually, he felt good. Really good in fact. “I feel pretty good.”

McKay nodded. “Been feeling pretty good last few days too?”

Ford nodded. “Yeah. Oh, except for yesterday. I had this really bad headache. I went for a long run to see how well I was going and it just hit me out of nowhere. Doctor Heightmeyer thinks maybe I just pushed myself a little too hard.”

McKay was nodding slowly. “Huh. Yesterday?”

Ford nodded back and followed McKay's gaze to the erratic green waves. McKay pulled up a seat and sat down. “Tell me about your day yesterday, Ford. Every little detail if you can.”

Sharra dragged Kate across the room, towards one of the open chambers. Even in his weakening state, John's bones had enough strength to prop Kate up in the chamber, letting the chamber do the rest to keep her upright as the glass door closed.

No more sleeping inside machines or broken bodies, Sharra thought. Her return would be glorious. Beautiful and glorious. All she needed was the right body. John... she couldn't think around John. He was unraveling so loud, shaking to the core. She couldn't think straight. One stray thought was all it took. One stray thought--

-- and fingers, imprinted on skin, still so vivid, touches that wouldn't be erased, not with water, not with acid, not with glass or steel. Nothing would taken take away the poison of Ba'al's harsh kisses, mixed into his blood, burning from the inside out --

“Stop,” Sharra gasped, shaking her head as she leaned against a wall, pressing her forehead into the cool surface. “Stop.”

But he wouldn't hear. John was somewhere deep, leaving the scum of his thoughts to float to the surface, so easily covering Sharra, pulling her under too.

You wanted this body.

It was the first time he had taunted her from the quiet corner where he sat watching. It made a river of rage rush through her veins.

“You couldn't do anything,” Sharra spat. “Nothing. All of you. I survived thousands of years to rise again. You're the one hiding.”

John remained hiding behind a wall of images she was sick of seeing, all pain, all shame, barely contained anger. The real John was somewhere behind them, effectively unreachable.

“Hide,” Sharra said, as she keyed in the commands in the console in front of her. “Once I have left you, you will have no one but yourself.”

Sharra felt an unexpected shiver, her mind flooded by endless white under a bright and clean blue sky. She felt as though she was flying high up in the sky, her shadow gray on the snow below, freedom wherever her wings touched the air.

What kind of man craved to be alone?

Sharra stared at the hand outstretched in front, his hand, shaking. Closing her eyes to gather herself, she pressed the last command. A chamber opened up next to Kate's. Sharra went to it, climbing into the chamber, ready to be human again.

She waited for the chamber door to close and the matrix to once again re-initialize. It would be as easy as water pouring from one vessel into another. Only, the glass door remained open. Nothing was happening. Sharra smacked her hand against the half open chamber wall and climbed out, running to the console and keying in a quick diagnostic.

No. No no no.

She threw her head back, something like the sound of a wounded animal escaping from somewhere in her chest as she stumbled backwards. John's body was crumbling and taking her with it and now... no. She had to do something. Another way. There had to be another way.

She went back to the console, re-routing the command protocols. She had codes only she and Janus had ever known, a cheat for everything. An escape from any prison. Dizziness overcame her and she gripped the edge of the console, trying to quell the nausea.

You don't look so good.

Sharra started to laugh. “Death has never suited me,” she whispered.

Everyone has to die.

She shook her head. “Not me.”

So what's wrong then? Stockholm Syndrome?

Sharra laughed, a bit at his nonsense words and a little at how she had been thwarted. “Her. In the matrix. She's corrupted the transfer program.” Sharra smiled, leaning against the console. “She thinks that will stop me. I made this city. No one can stop me.”

“What is it?” Jack said as soon as he arrived at Heightmeyer's quarters.

Elizabeth was standing there looking anxious. “Kate hasn't reported for duty and no one knows where she is. And I found this.”

Jack took the syringe from Elizabeth's hand, partially broken. There was a broken lamp on the floor and Heightmeyer's headset was on her desk. It was obvious there had been a struggle. Elizabeth also looked as though she wasn't finished giving him the bad news.

“What?” he prompted her.

“Major Sheppard's missing too.”

Jack tapped his headset. “Sergeant Bates, we've got a problem.”

Elizabeth went back to the main tower. She couldn't stay in Kate's room or the infirmary trying to make sense of the situation. Major Sheppard going missing she could understand to a degree. Maybe he was sick and confused, but Kate? There was no reason and she was refusing to go as far as wondering how hard this whole situation had been for the woman in charge of everyone's mental health. It was no secret that she was worn out and doing a job she didn't want. A job that only reminded her of the man who had died a pointless death.

What if she--?

No. Elizabeth wasn't thinking about it.

“Look, it's been a stressful time, maybe she's just taking a break,” Rodney said, after Elizabeth had sat at her desk in silence for too many minutes. “I mean, we haven't exactly had a great time since getting here.”

Elizabeth gave him a small smile. “I know. I just hope she's okay.” She could see Peter in the distance, making his way to her office, computer tablet in hand. Straightening up a little she greeted him with a more hardened smile. “Peter.”

He politely smiled back and pointed at Rodney. “Actually, I have some news for Doctor McKay.” Rodney twisted around to frown at Peter who said, “I was looking at the diagnostics for Lieutenant Ford's implants and I noticed something very odd.”

Rodney looked at Elizabeth, a little bewildered and then back at Peter. “Worth celebrating odd or let's pack our bags and run away odd?” Peter opened his mouth and seemed to falter, as if he had no idea of what to say. Rodney rolled his eyes and waved Peter onwards. “Just tell me what's wrong.”

Peter placed his computer on the table. Elizabeth saw two main screens comparing some kind of wave lengths. “What is it?” she asked.

“It's a reading of Ford's implant,” Rodney said. “ It looks like the implants are sending and receiving messages, to his brain, nervous system, I dunno, biology wasn't my strong suit. What I do know is that the implant is transmitting something locally. We think the implant has the capability to enhance some abilities and at also log any errors in it's functioning. This readout is a recording of something interfering with the implant yesterday. Ford also complained of an excruciating headache yesterday. I think it's because something threw his implants out of whack.”

Elizabeth nodded and pointed to the display underneath. “They're both the same.”

Rodney nodded. “Hmm. Yes, they are. Peter, why are we looking at the same thing?”

“We're not,” Peter said with a shake of his head. “The one of the bottom is from a different diagnostic.”

“What?” Rodney asked. “Of what?”

“The stasis chambers,” Peter said. He looked at Elizabeth. “I've been going over the diagnostics of the chamber malfunction and that reading is from when the chamber's blew out last night. Specifically, precisely thirty seconds before Major Sheppard's chamber stopped functioning.”

Rodney was still, gazing ahead, mouth slightly open. “What is it, Rodney?” Elizabeth asked.

Rodney looked at her and said, “Ford said his head started hurting when he went for a run.”

“So?” Elizabeth asked.

“Well, he said he found Sheppard while he was out running. His head started hurting around the same time.”

Elizabeth shook her head and sighed. “What does that mean?”

“I don't know,” Rodney said, “Peter, I want you to pull up everything in the system that's even remotely connected to stasis chambers.”

Peter nodded, about to walk away when Elizabeth said, “Wait. Isn't there a way we can search for this pattern? I mean, if it showed up on Lieutenant Ford's implant and on your readings from the chamber malfunctions, maybe it's worth checking out where else it's turned up before.”

Rodney stared at Elizabeth for a moment before pointing a finger at her and announcing, “Brilliant.” He turned to Peter, getting up and grabbing the tablet and pulling Peter along with a flurry or instructions.

All Elizabeth could do for now was sit back and hope Kate was okay.

Someone had been here recently. The burnt out debris had been disturbed. Disturbed rather violently. Daniel couldn't think of anyone who wouldn't want to come here and do this. Ba'al deserved it, probably deserved worse. Probably, Daniel thought, hating himself for not even being certain about how much Ba'al needed to be punished.

It seemed surreal that Ba'al was gone, that it was all over. Somehow this seemed like the dream. Any moment they would all wake up and Atlantis was would be back in the process of turning into a gaudy Goa'uld temple. What had it all been for? What had Ba'al achieved besides quenching his lustful thirst? He broke everything. He broke them all.

Daniel turned his back on the mess.

“Christ,” he gasped when he saw the silent figure in the doorway. He took a deep breath. “Jesus, John.” John was hidden in a dark shadow cast by a fallen pillar covering half a window. He looked as though someone had rubbed him out on a black page. “I didn't even hear you.”

“I didn't want to disturb you,” John said, his voice low, quiet.

“What are you doing here?” Daniel asked.

Daniel saw the shadow of John's head turn towards the sarcophagus, his eyes catching some light. Something about them made Daniel think of large moths with frightening faces painted across their wings. He went to the sarcophagus, broken bits of the room cracking under his feet. Daniel watched John emerge from the shadows, going to the sarcophagus wreck and kneeling down, gazing right into it with an almost ugly lust on his face. He reached in, his hand closing around ashes, dust and debris. He brought up his closed fist, his hand pumping like a heart, crushing everything inside, falling back to the ground in smaller pieces.

“Pity it can't fix itself,” John murmured, getting up, ignoring his blackened hand. Daniel said nothing. John looked awful. He looked too flushed. His eyes too bright and his body seemed as if it might tip over to the side. There was a bloody gash high on his forehead. “You don't seem happy to see me,” John said.

Daniel shook his head. “No. I wanted to see you. I just... I thought--”

“What did you think?” John asked, the words slowly creeping from him, making Daniel want to jump into some light, away from this dark room.

“I thought I'd give you some space. We've all been in pretty close quarters for a while,” Daniel said. “You okay? You don't look so good.”

John smirked. “Maybe it's because I have my clothes on.”

Daniel just stared. After a while he couldn't even do that, looking away at the ground, his jaw working without any words to offer.

“Tell me something,” John said, slowly pacing in front of Daniel. “Did you like it? The things he did. Was it good?” Daniel turned to leave, but John almost bounded across to block his way, bringing them both too close for comfort. “It's just a question. I'm curious. Did you enjoy the things he did to you, because that's how it sounded to him.”

Daniel was shaken for all of few seconds before he frowned and said, “Him?”

John tilted his head, brow furrowing. “It is an affect of the stasis, to obsess over the smallest details. Unfortunately he still appears to be in his stasis state. All he ever does is remember or try to forget and it is driving me quite mad.”

Daniel reached for his headset, but John snatched it from his ear, throwing it across the room, moving closer into Daniel's space, his ash covered hand coming up to grab Daniel's face and hold it in place as he spoke. John seemed all fury, his eyes glassy.

“You seemed interesting, before I became acquainted with certain memories he has,” John said. “None of which are pleasant.”

“What the hell's going on?” Daniel whispered. “What happened to you?”

John moved closer until their lips would most surely touch any moment. Daniel could feel John's mouth ghosting over his mouth, stuttered breaths accompanying the shaking of the hand gripping his face.

“You don't recognize me, do you? You used my weapon to win your war, but you don't know me,” John whispered onto Daniel's lips. “From the tower. Rapunzel.”

Daniel pulled back in shock and saw it. John's face, someone else's expression. “Sharra.”

Jack came to a stop, sick of the search yielding no results. He stopped and peered down one more long hall, another spot that looked like a bomb site.

“Colonel?” Teyla asked, having jumped at the chance to help in the search.

Jack turned his back on the quiet hall, too long and dark, like standing inside a burnt out sarcophagus. It was amazing to think this city had stood untouched for thousands of years and it took Ba'al a mere few months to fuck it up.

Teyla watching him with concern. Jack tapped his headset and told Rodney, “There's nothing down here. You got anything yet, McKay?”

“Not yet,” Rodney replied, his voice strained.

“What the hell's the point of all that technology is you can't even find two people?”

Jack wasn't sure, but Rodney may have spluttered. “Need I remind you, Colonel, the scanners show up every life sign in the city. They do not however come with little name tags.”

Jack rolled his eyes, Teyla looking ever more impatient. She said, “Doctor McKay, what of you were to look for something that appears out of the ordinary?”

“Out of the ordinary? It's an alien city. There's nothing ordinary about it.”

Teyla took a deep breath. “Doctor McKay, do any of the life signs appear to where they should not be?”

Jack nodded. A few moments later Rodney said, “Looks like Peter's got something. There's two sets of life signs definitely where they don't need to be. One is near the North pier. A single life sign.”

“What's happening on the North pier?” Jack asked.

“Nothing. We haven't even looked that far yet,” Rodney said.

“And the other life sign?” Teyla asked.

“The other location has two life signs. It's... it's Ba'al's quarters.”

Jack wanted to point out that Ba'al never owned anything in this city, let alone quarters. Instead he called Bates and said, “Bates, I want you and Ford to take a little trip.”

Daniel stumbled back, creating some space between himself and John. “I don't understand,” he said.

John just watched him, looking eerily calm despite how his body looked weighed down by an invisible burden. Daniel could tell something was wrong, way more than the sarcophagus.

“You're smart,” John murmured. “I saw you, before I found this body, I saw you.” Daniel backed further away. “Oh come now, surely your people are evolved enough to manage a simple equation. How is this possible?”

Sharra, Daniel thought. A scientist. One of the architects of the city. Someone who knew Atlantis inside out. Someone who was ambitious enough to cheat death.

“What have you done to him?” Daniel asked.

“I watched him die. Many times. Watched him struggle,” Sharra said quietly. “Oh wait. That was you.” Daniel stopped backing away, Ba'al's burnt out bed hitting the back of his legs. John didn't stop until they were too close for comfort. “Was it too much cowardice or too much pleasure?” Sharra asked smoothly.

Daniel stared. He remembered. He remembered Ba'al's touches, always intent on tormenting Daniel through pleasure, torturing John through pain. He remembered the hungry look of Ba'al's eyes, hungry for all of them. He remembered the way Teyla moved, wary, stiff. Knowing the monster might turn his depraved attentions to her.

Daniel remembered it clearly and it made him wish he could kill Ba'al all over again.

“His mind is filled with colorful pictures,” Sharra said, looking almost distracted. “Black. Gold. Red. Lot's of red. But he prefers to think of snow.”

Daniel clenched his jaw, a picture forming in his mind, everything beginning to make sense. “The stasis chambers. That was you. How?”

“I had a lot of time on my hands locked in my little tower. Prison is a good place to learn how to be creative. Unfortunately, unlike you I didn't have any company. All I had was my mind and ways to devise my rebirth. To find a way to sleep with the city and awake should anyone ever find my poor incarcerated remains and my most enticing weapon. And there you all were.”

Daniel nodded, keeping his eyes on Sharra as something came into his line of sight on the floor. If only he could get to his headset and alert someone. Daniel looked at the empty doorway and Sharra followed his gaze. Daniel leaped the other way, despite jarring his broken arm. A moment later Sharra was on top of him, scrabbling up his body and reaching for the headset too. Sharra dealt him a few blows, low on his back, making him recoil. She snatched the headset and rolled away, getting up quickly before throwing the headset on the floor and stomping on it until it joined the other debris on the floor.

Daniel was still recovering, his shoulder flaring up, as he heard a familiar click. When he looked up, he saw the gun in Sharra's hand, pointed right at him.

“What do you want?” Daniel asked.

“He wants revenge. I'm letting him have it,” Sharra said, out of breath, the tussle enough to have worn her out.

“You sure you're not the one who wants revenge?” Daniel asked. Sharra's look turned sour. “Because I don't think John wants to kill me.”

Sharra laughed. “No. He wants to kiss you.”

“Whatever he thinks about me, the John I know wouldn't do this,” Daniel said.

“The weapon is not in his hands,” Sharra said.

“Why do you want to kill me? You don't even know me,” Daniel said.

“I see you,” Sharra snapped, voice edged with hysteria. “You above, with Ba'al. Everyone below. All of us. I remember what he did to me.”

“That wasn't you, Sharra,” Daniel said quietly. “You were never there.”

Sharra swallowed, looking utterly lost and confused. “I remember it. All of it. It's all I see when I look at him.”

“Then leave him,” Daniel said. “Take someone else. Take me.”

Sharra looked disgusted. “Touch you?”

Daniel got to his feet, Sharra training the gun on him with a crazed look in John's eyes. “Fine. Stay where you are, but it won't be for long. John is sick. He needs help. At some point he won't be able to keep going and when he goes down, you're going down with him.” Sharra seemed unconcerned. Too unconcerned. Daniel couldn't quite believe it. “Why aren't you looking for another body? You must know he's sick. Why stay... unless you're stuck.”

Sharra gave him a heated look. “Maybe I just like him.”

“Maybe you just can't leave him,” Daniel said.

Sharra stepped forward and back handed Daniel, gun in hand, the impact making him stumble back and fall into the hall. Daniel lay on the ground, grimacing as he touched the gash on his face, fingers coming away bloody. Sharra was following him out of the room, but at one end of the hall there were shadows descending the stairs.

“Over here!” Daniel called out.

Sharra ran to his side, arm locking around his throat as he was hauled up to his feet. She was holding the gun to his temple by the time Teyla and Colonel O'Neill came into sight. They stopped in their tracks.

“John? What are you doing?” Teyla asked, looking as though she couldn't believe what she was seeing.

“Major, I am ordering you put that gun down now,” the colonel said, his fingers hovering over his sidearm.

“It's not John! Her name's Sharra!” Daniel yelled.

Sharra tightened her hold around his throat, almost choking him. Teyla was slowly edging forward, one hand stretched out in front.

“Teyla,” Colonel O'Neill had a warning in his voice.

She continued forward. “John, listen to me. You are not well. Let Daniel go.”

Daniel could feel Sharra tensing, her breathing fast and almost ragged in his ears. She was still moving backwards, pulling him along.

“He could have... he could killed him,” Sharra hissed. “He could have done it so much sooner.”
“What? John, I can't hear you. Just, put the gun down and we'll both talk,” Teyla was imploring.

“It shouldn't hurt this much to come back from the dead,” Sharra was whispering, her fingers tightly wrapped in Daniel's shirt. “It was supposed to be amazing.”

A shot was fired. Daniel felt the impact, but not the bullet. He was dragged back with Sharra and Colonel O'Neill was running towards them, the fired gun in his hand. Daniel tried to capitalize on the sudden shock of the moment, but Sharra wouldn't let go, dragging him backwards until he was watching the doors of transporter shutting in front of him, Teyla calling from the other side. He was shoved forward and slowly turned to see Sharra with one sleeve of John's shirt damp, a hole high up on his arm where the bullet had passed. She didn't seem to care or notice, eyes looking feverish, hair and face damp, gun held tight.

“What now?” Daniel choked, massaging his throat.

Sharra didn't answer, but Daniel knew, she had no intention of letting John go.

“What happen to your face?” Ford asked, looking at the large bruise over Bates's left brow.

Bates looked amused. “Teyla.”

Ford smiled. “Probably served you right.”

Bates was quiet for a while, nodding slowly after a moment. “Probably.”

“Okay, Lieutenant, you're coming up to the room now. It's directly on your left,” Grodin announced in Ford's ear.

“Copy that,” Ford said as they headed into a room filled with empty stasis chambers, and a main console which looked as though it had been busted open.

Kate Heightmeyer sat on the floor in front of a chamber, hands tied behind her back, mouth gagged and ankles tied. She looked away when they untied her, shaking as Ford helped her to her feet.

“You okay?” Ford asked quietly.

Kate gave a nod. “I'm fine. It's Major Sheppard we need to worry about.”

“I need this transporter working, McKay,” Jack was yelling, as if that was going to speed things up.

Rodney looked at the readouts in front, shaking his head. “I'm not magician! He's blocking access to the transporters, I have no idea how.”

“Well, figure it out. He's got Jackson and he's got a gun,” Jack said.

“I am well aware of that fact, Colonel,” Rodney grated out. “Okay, look, double back. Use the transporter one level up. That one still looks like it's working. Sheppard's headed to the chair room.”

“Doctor McKay, Daniel said something before John took him,”Teyla spoke.

Rodney looked across at Elizabeth who was standing on the other side of the console, worry written all over her face. “What did he say?”

“I'm not sure. It didn't make any sense. He said it's not John. He said her name's Sharra.” Rodney was silent as Elizabeth stared. “Doctor McKay?”

“Hold on,” Rodney said quietly. “I'll get back to you.”

Rodney turned away and hurried over to the laptops still running diagnostics on the interference Ford's implant had experienced.

Elizabeth followed him, stopping by his side. “What is it, Rodney?”

Rodney pointed at the screen, showing her the several boxes with the same energy pattern. “There. That's the reading from Ford's implant. And there, just before Colonel O'Neill and Sheppard's chambers threw them out. That one,” he said pointing to another identical signature, “that's before the chamber with the old woman went up in smoke. And this.” Elizabeth was watching Rodney as he swallowed. “That's from the tower where Daniel and I saw her. I think... that's Sharra and I think Ford's implant was somehow picking her up as interference.”

Elizabeth was shaking her head. “Rodney, are you telling me this woman is inside Major Sheppard?”

“I'm telling you that someone who had a hand in building this city might have found a way to use it to preserve her consciousness and now she's headed to the chair room inside Sheppard who as I recall has the Ancient gene. There's a reason they locked her up, Elizabeth. She's dangerous.”

Daniel was shoved hard into the chair room. Behind him, Sharra closed the door and knocked out the crystals from the control panel. He watched her eyes searching the room for open exists, eyes that belonged to a caged animal, wild and unpredictable.

“What are we doing here?” Daniel asked as Sharra ignored him and climbed the chair platform. She reached out to stroke the back of the chair, almost reverently.

“I won't let them kill me again,” she said quietly. “I won't have my life stolen a second time.”

Daniel watched her sit down, relishing the moment before sitting back and letting the chair come to life, lighting up underneath, tilting and extending.

“By stealing someone else's life?” Daniel asked.

“He has died and lived several times,” Sharra said. “I had one life and they took it from me. I had to find a way to survive, hiding inside this city, waiting to wake. I deserve to live.”

“You cheated death. That doesn't mean you deserve to live at the expense of another. John Sheppard does not belong to you and you don't have the right to live out your life in his body.”

“I am not sure I would, even if that were possible,” Sharra said with a smile, nothing happy about it. “It appears the stasis matrix protocols corrupt any data that seems malicious, causing it to deteriorate. And apparently? I am malicious.”

Daniel stepped forward. “You're dying.”

She pointed the gun at him. “No. I have a lifetime's worth of work to finish. I can't die. I won't.”

“But you... you said--”

“I can fix it,” she said with mad excitement, the platform lighting under the chair. “I won't be confined by the tower. I can be the whole city. Re-write the matrix protocols with a simple thought. Turn this whole room into one stasis chamber. Be done before your friends would even realize what has transpired.”

Daniel stared. That was why he was there. She was going to find a way into another body. And maybe another after that. Maybe forever finding new bodies. “What about John?”

The hum of bees. Daniel could hear it, the sound of a surge building somewhere right under his feet and flowing to the chair.

“Well, that's why I need you,” Sharra said. “He's too weak to survive the transference. I need my mind intact, even if that means the cruelty of cutting him away in pieces.”

The panels under John's hands turned bright, beams of light shining down onto the platform and chair from above. Daniel stepped towards the chair, only to rebound off a shield that sparked on contact, sending him crashing to the ground.

“Don't do this,” Daniel called out over the din of the strange whine emanating from the platform. “You're smarter than this. You don't need to kill a man to live. Why are you doing this?”

Sharra smiled at him from the chair, eyes roaming over Daniel as he sat there on the ground. “Because I can.”

She leaned back, closing her eyes, John's body bathed in bright light.

“Wait!” Daniel called out, scrambling to his knees, getting as close to the shield without touching it. “Just... let me talk to him. Say goodbye. Let me tell him I'm sorry.”

Sharra laughed, looking so unlike John, it was like staring at different face. She seemed to think it over for a while. And then, “Yes. Say your goodbyes.”

Daniel watched and waited and it was like seeing the fog clear in John's eyes. He seemed lost, exhausted and barely able to keep his head up. But then he saw Daniel and sat blinking, frowning, but focused.

“John,” Daniel said. “She's going to kill you.”

John looked down at his hands on the platform before looking up at the ceiling, like he should have seen something there, looking away in confusion when he didn't find it.

“John?”

John looked grim, but there was something determined about the set of his jaw. He looked at Daniel and said, “This is why I came here.”

“Sir!” Ford yelled, having made it to the hall outside the chair room in record time. He held up the small pack in his hands. “C4.”

Colonel O'Neill nodded. “Do it.”

Teyla was staring at the Colonel who simply said, “You might want to cover your ears.”

Elizabeth watched. The screen in front showed an area under Atlantis, blinking red. Rodney looked at her and shook his head. Whatever was about to happen, it was out of their hands.

Sharra felt it. Like her whole body was lifting, drifting and flying. She saw snow, felt the cold of the air on her face, the sting of endless white on her eyes. John's presence was leaving her, like a claw slowly opening and releasing its painful grip. She could almost feel the central core of Atlantis's systems.

“No,” John's voice seemed to reverberate in her mind. “No.”

The explosion could be seen from the main tower. A single drone was flying up like a comet into the night sky, leaving a trail of sparkling stars before exploding, its fiery demise blooming like orange flowers under a moonless night sky.

The chair went dead, the room silent, the lights once again dim and at bare minimum. John sat in the chair like someone out of a fairytale, waiting to be woken up, under the spell of bad magic. Daniel got up, slowly making his way to the chair, his body aching, old injuries flared up. Just as he reached it, John's eyes opened, barely slits. He saw Daniel.

“John?” Daniel asked.

John nodded slowly and said, “She's gone. She's gone.”

Elizabeth was up in time to see the sun rising again. Atlantis looked beautiful under a breaking dawn, fantastical. She couldn't help wondering what horrific secrets were locked up under her beauty, She couldn't help feeling sorry that maybe Ba'al had become one of them.

She left her quarters and took a walk through the empty halls as she had been doing since Ba'al's demise. The freedom of walking unguarded precious. The city was sleepy, some people probably still in their beds, others probably wishing they could sleep. Some not having gone to bed at all.

“Teyla,” Elizabeth said, seeing the other woman in the same chair she had been sitting in the night before.

Teyla turned her head and saw Elizabeth, smiling politely. “Doctor Weir.”

Elizabeth looked at the man occupying the bed Teyla seemed to be guarding. He seemed to be in a fitful sleep, face looking too warm and damp.

“How is he?” Elizabeth asked.

Teyla continued watching him, gently covering John's hand with her own. “Doctor Heightmeyer's sedated him. He was very uncomfortable in the last few hours. The next few days may be very difficult.”

Elizabeth looked at him. The man she had asked to bring to Atlantis. She pulled up a seat on the other side of the bed and. “We'll be there for him.”

“Did you sleep at all?”

Rodney had been standing the doorway to Daniel's recently assigned lab. He'd been there for longer than he cared to admit. Daniel had no idea. He just sat staring off into space. He only turned when Rodney asked him the question, the gash on his cheek stitched up and covered with small butterfly bandages.

Looking a little lost he said, “No. Not really. You?”

Rodney snorted and walked in, pulling up a seat next to Daniel. “Are you kidding me? I've had enough coffee to keep me awake for a month.”

Daniel nodded, still looking like he was somewhere completely different. “I didn't sleep.”

Rodney nodded back slowly. “Yeah. You said.” Daniel either didn't hear Rodney or chose to ignore him, just gazing aimlessly across the lab. Rodney decided to venture a little further. “Well, since we're up, we could get some breakfast or something.”

Daniel shook his head. “You go. I'm not really hungry.”

Rodney sighed, left alone on the outside again, while Daniel carried on having a personal cave in.

“It wasn't him,” Rodney said in a rush. “Whatever Sheppard said or done, it wasn't him.”

“No,” Daniel said. “It wasn't.”

“So... so what then?”

Daniel stared at Rodney, like his glassy eyes were seeing right through. “She was right,” he said, his voice thick, as if he couldn't quite get the words out. “She said I could have killed him sooner. But I didn't. She was right. John, Teyla... they didn't have to keep suffering.”

“Daniel,” Rodney said, trying to be as firm as he could muster. “It's over. Ba'al's dead. We all made it. We're okay.”

“No,” Daniel said, shaking his head, swiping a hand at his wet cheek. “I don't think we are.” He turned away, Rodney catching the sound of a ragged breath, the sound of him hiding his grief. Rodney opened his mouth to speak, but Daniel said in hushed voice, “I just need some time.”

Rodney considered asking what he needed time for, or specifically, what he needed to think about without Rodney impeding his thought process. Instead, he got up and walked out, doubting if Daniel would even notice he was gone.

Bates plan for the day had been to turn the dial up to normal. To forget about all the recent craziness. But Ford was next to him with blinking lights in his forehead and his hand and they were both standing with a bunch of other guys and Colonel O'Neill in Ba'al's personal love nest.

Bates had to say something, so as a protest and question neatly combined, he asked, “Sir?”

“I've made a decision,” Colonel O'Neill said. “This is where I want my pool table to go. Eventually. We're throwing all this crap out. I don't even want to see a speck of dust left behind.”

“I say we just blow this whole room out to sea,” Bates said, sickened by the mere thought of anything that had been touched by Ba'al.

Colonel O'Neill didn't comment on this suggestion. In fact, he was quiet for a long time, just looking at the burnt out lump of debris on the floor. It was like looking at a man made of stone.

“Colonel?” Ford asked.

He snapped out if like nothing had happened, slowly turning his head to look at Bates and Ford, as if considering something, face calm, eyes too far beyond calm. He gave them a nod. “Let's call that Plan B.”

John opened his eyes. Everything was bright and claustrophobic for a moment. He tensed, waiting for the sarcophagus lid to open, for everything to begin again. His fists tightened by his sides.

“John.”

Someone covered his hand, warm and reassuringly. He blinked away moisture from his eyes, looking down at his hand, pale against white sheets and the warmth of Teyla's skin. When he looked up to find a similarly warm pair of eyes, he remembered. The chair. Broken dreams of a woman who climbed under his skin. Not like the sarcophagus where there was only black and silence instead of dreaming. This time he was waking without the sludge of death still weighing him down.

“Hi,” he said, throat aching a little.

Teyla gave a small laugh, filled with relief. Her hand tightened around his. It felt like the only thing grounding him while his body still felt like it was slowly pulling itself apart.

“Did I hurt anyone?” he asked, his memory vague and unclear.

“No.”

John turned his head to see another woman by his bed. It felt as if they had met a lifetime ago. “Doctor Weir.”

Weir smiled, leaning forward to pat his other hand. “You didn't hurt anyone.”

John nodded, fighting the blurry feeling. He looked up from where she had touched his hand, his focus going higher to a bandage.

He frowned at Weir. “Colonel O'Neill shot me.”

She looked across at Teyla, opening her mouth to say something. Then she turned to him shrugged. “Well, you kind of deserved it at the time, Major.”

John stared at her and nodded slowly. Sure. Bullets were easy enough to deal with. You either died or you didn't. Not like other things where you could do both.

“I'm going to take a nap,” he said, closing his eyes, knowing it was going to hurt when the fog cleared.

Almost a week after Teyla had introduced Bates to the joys of sparring, he was excelling at one particular move more than other.

He landed on his back hard and grimaced. “How I do never see that coming?”

Teyla was nodding, standing over him. “It is a mystery.”

“Maybe you're just not good at this,” Ford suggested from where he sat by the wall.

“Funny. I don't remember asking your opinion,” Bates said. Ford just grinned, something Teyla seemed to find amusing as she gave Bates a hand up.

“So, how's Major Sheppard doing? I heard he's out of the infirmary,” he said.

Teyla gave a nod as she started to put her things into her bag. “He is well. Sick of lying around. His words.”

“I heard you're both disappearing to the mainland,” Ford said.

“Well, my people have decided to settle on the mainland and I asked John if he would accompany me to help set up the new camp,” Teyla explained, though Bates knew that for some the city still felt like a prison, with ghosts of the dead rattling their cages in people's dreams.

“You're coming back, right?” Ford asked, not quite able to hide his disappointment at the prospect of Teyla saying no.

Credit to Teyla, she didn't say no, deflecting the question with a polite smile. But Bates saw the look in her eyes. She couldn't run away fast enough.

Rodney sat staring at his computer screen. It had turned black a while ago, but he couldn't quite find the energy to do anything about it. The noon sun had begun to dip, his coffee had gone cold and the last time he saw Daniel was because he bumped into him in the hall. Not to mention crazy alien things in an alien city with humans only ever managing to be human about everything.

So much for coming to another galaxy.

“You know there's nothing actually there, right?” someone poked his screen. Rodney looked up to see Elizabeth who had a quizzical look on her face. Rodney made a face, waving off the comment. “You look cheerful,” she said.

“Yes, I am just a fountain of good cheer,” Rodney said. “Was there something you wanted? I'm a little busy --”

Elizabeth sat down next to him, wearing her no nonsense face. Rodney shut up. “You okay?”

Rodney slumped a little. “No.”

“Give him time,” Elizabeth said. “We all need some time.”

“I think you mean we need a time machine,” Rodney said.

Elizabeth smiled at him. “Well, this is Atlantis. Maybe we'll find one.”

It was stupid, but Rodney laughed anyway.

When the door slid back, John was surprised, though not entirely shocked to see Daniel standing before him. Both men stood looking at each other in silence for a moment. The last time they had spoken as friends, or as whatever the hell they were back then, was as Ba'al's prisoners. Now they just felt like two guys who only had nightmares in common.

“Hey,” John said, giving Daniel a nod.

“Hey,” Daniel said. He seemed different, something harder about his eyes. An infusion of cold and steel perhaps. Something unfortunate.

John looked away, turning his back on Daniel. “Come on in. I was just packing.”

“Going somewhere?” Daniel asked.

John gave a nod, tossing a folded shirt into his bag. “Yeah. Me and Teyla are going to help out on the mainland for a bit. Get the Athosians settled in.”

“Sounds good,” Daniel said.

John looked up from his task and smiled. “Yeah. I figure we're kind of due a vacation.”

Daniel seemed to muster a smile, though his eyes said smiling wasn't something he was doing much. It was painful watching him try to be amiable. John just wanted to pull this band aid off as quick as possible.

“Look--”

“I--”

Both men stopped as soon as they started. John smiled tightly and held out a hand. “Go ahead.”

Daniel looked like he'd rather John just read his mind. “I'm not really sure what I'm here to say.”

John gave a nod as he straighted up. “Maybe it's best you don't say anything then.”

Daniel looked away, eyes taking in the room. John could tell he was making some kind of assessment based on how it looked barely lived in.

“I'm sorry,” Daniel said without preamble. “About everything.”

“From what I vaguely recall, I was the one holding the gun to your head,” John said with a frown.

“For not killing him sooner,” Daniel said, meeting John's eyes. “For letting it go on.”

John frowned. He almost laughed, his face faltering half way. “You think... you believed all that stuff she said?”

“Sharra was in your mind,” Daniel said. “The way she talked, she could have been there instead of you.”

John shifted, swallowing down the anger that seemed on constant slow burn in his body. “She saw stuff I couldn't stop her from seeing. Like what he did to Teyla. Like lying on the floor dying instead of doing something. Saving someone. Like waking up in that fucking box over and over. You think that means I'm sitting here blaming you? This is not about you.”

And John didn't want to go there, but it was coming anyway, coming despite how much he hated himself for it. “I was the uniform there. The guy with the magic gene and the military training and it came down to me waiting and wishing you'd get a chance to slit that son of a bitch's throat because you were the only person that could get close enough. And you did it.”

And I couldn't do anything, John thought. I couldn't do anything but die and die and die.

“Do you think I had a chance to do it sooner?” Daniel asked.

John considered easing Daniel's conscience, but it felt like a hard thing to do today. Maybe tomorrow would be easier. “I don't know, Daniel. What do you think?”

Daniel blinked. He had an answer, John could see it in his eyes even if he did say, “I don't know.”

John gave a nod. “I guess we'll never know.” He looked away at his bed, this conversation more than over. “I better finish packing.”

“Yeah,” Daniel said. “I just wanted to see how you were doing.”

John nodded. “I'm good. Look... thanks for coming over. We'll talk... later.”

Daniel nodded back and turned to leave as John stood scratching the back of his neck, random snapping sounds interrupting the quiet of his mind every now and then.

“We'd still be there,” John blurted out, against his better judgment. “If you hadn't killed him, we'd probably still be there.” John looked away when Daniel turned to listen. “Whatever the hell you had going on with him... I couldn't do it.”

Daniel was silently staring. John had nothing more to say. He turned towards the bed and continued packing, feeling like an old man, worn out and weary.

“I'm not really sure about what the hell I had with him either,” Daniel said, sounding lost in thought. John straightened up, but didn't turn around. “He certainly had me... in some kind of thrall. But, what I do know is, it might still be going on now if you and Teyla hadn't been there. If I hadn't seen how hard you fought him every day.”

John said nothing, staring at the window in front, imagining Ba'al's carcass floating out there in the sea somewhere. Wishing he was alive just so John could squeeze the life out of his glowing eyes with his bare hands.

“I saw all the times you said no. Maybe you think you didn't save anyone, but you had a bigger hand in killing Ba'al than I did,” Daniel said.

John heard the doors open and shut, but he found himself unable to move from the spot for a long time. When he did, it was like moving through glue, every step an effort until he reached the bathroom, stumbling to the sink to splash water on his face, before giving in and falling to his knees on the floor, where a broken mirror lay, every piece showing a reflection other than his own. Every piece with Ba'al taunting him and reminding him of the time he almost said, 'yes'.

The familiar and oddly comforting smell of cigarette smoke lured Jack out onto a balcony. Heightmeyer was standing there with one arm across her stomach, other arm loosely held up, cigarette held in hand.

“Those things'll kill you,” Jack said, going to lean against the balcony railing.

“Well, I'm almost out. It'll be cold turkey soon.” There was a flicker of a smile on her face. “I heard you cleared out Ba'al's... the rooms he was occupying.”

That's right, Jack thought, Ba'al's nothing. “Yep.”

“What did you do with his stuff?”

“Tossed it.”

Heightmeyer gave an approving nod. “Good,” she said. “Good.”

Jack was just about quarrel with himself about how much he really needed to revisit old habits and whether one cigarette was really going to be a big deal, when Rodney's panicked voice clicked into his and Heightmeyer's headsets.

“Doctor Heightmeyer. It's Ford. I need you in my lab right away. Colonel O'Neill, you better get down here too.”

By the time they reached Rodney's lab, a medical team was half way down the hall too and they could hear Elizabeth inside the lab, Bates standing on guard outside, looking tense and worried.

“What the hell's going on?” Jack asked as the medics and Heightmeyer went to the curled up man on the floor, shuddering in pain.

Bates just shook his head, managing a, “I don't know, sir. But I think he's in serious trouble.”

Jack turned to Rodney was looking pale as he watched Ford being dealt with, Elizabeth kneeling on the ground near his head.

“McKay,” Jack said, getting his attention.

Rodney looked up and just shook his head. “It's the implants. We were running more scans and they just went crazy. I didn't... I don't know what the hell happened.”

On the floor, Ford let out a blood-curdling scream and everyone around him gave a collective gasp. Jack got in closer and saw why Rodney now looked as white as a ghost. The implants had changed, looking jagged, uneven and ugly. New ones seemed to have sprung up too. Where the implants had been removed on Ford's hand and face, the skin had swollen up, looking almost jelly like. Ford was writhing in agony, the medics barely unable to keep him still.

“Can't you give him something?” Rodney almost pleaded.

“No,” Heightmeyer snapped in frustration. “It won't work. It didn't work the first time.”

“Then get those damn things out of him,” Jack said.

“I am not cutting into him while he's awake a second time, Colonel! I can't.”

“We have to do something,” Bates said. “We have to find a way to stop whatever those things are doing to him.”

Elizabeth stood up and looked at Rodney. “Are the stasis chambers operational?”

Rodney was staring at her as Ford almost sobbed in pain on the floor. “Elizabeth, after what happened?”

“You said the scans were clear and Major Sheppard said Sharra's gone,” she said sternly. “Are they operational?”

When Rodney seemed to daze off into some kind of shock, Ford was the one to snap him out of it, grating out, “McKay! Do it... please."

Rodney blinked down at Ford, nodding slowly. “Get him to the stasis room. Not the one downstairs. The one near the North Pier.” Elizabeth frowned in question. "We're starting work there. So he's not on his own."

Elizabeth nodded slowly while Jack just stared at Rodney.

Night fell and the city was once again quiet, missing the beams of light that should have fallen through at least some of the windows. But nothing. Just a black night covering a calm sea, the sound of distant thunder in the sky. Major Sheppard and Teyla were gone. Kate had been sitting at her desk, looking blank when Elizabeth left her there mere moments ago.

When she passed through the mess, Jack seemed ever more distant, staring into his coffee, Rodney opposite him, his face never bothering to hide the cracks. Bates had been in the work out room, standing alone, twirling a short staff in his hand, not even noticing when Elizabeth walked down the hall. Daniel sat in his lab, the lights dim, his back to the empty hall. He was looking out of the window, even though there was nothing but black to see.

Elizabeth didn't sleep tonight. She stood in a room of empty chambers, only one occupied. Ford looked distressed even in his sleep, the mutations of his body too slow to kill him yet. No one knew how long he would be in there. But at least he wasn't dead, Elizabeth kept telling herself.

“Yes,” Ba'al whispered next to her. “At least there is that. What a comfort it must be.”

Elizabeth covered her mouth to stifle the sob. This time she couldn't stop the tears from falling.

- the end -