The Silent Language of Grief (13/?) Post 2 of 2

[water4willows]

Title: The Secret Language of Grief, Book One
Characters: J. Sheppard, R. McKay, C. Beckett, E. Lorne, R. Woolsey, and various OCs
Pairings: None
Warnings: Violence, Mentions of Major Character Deaths
Disclaimer: Stargate: Atlantis and her characters are the property of MGM.  All I lay claim to is my passion for the show and the original characters within this work of fiction
Summary: 20 years after the Wraith decimated Earth in The Great Culling, the SGC is once again ready to resume the Atlantis Expedition. Top brass wants only one man for the job, unfortunately for them John Sheppard has been MIA since the end of the War. A slip-up reveals John's current location, but will he be able to forgive the ultimate betrayal and return?

Chapter 13 - Atlantis At Last
Part Two

Continued from Part One...

"Colonel Sheppard?" John was pulled from his concentration by a voice in his ear that nearly startled him.

It had been quiet on the comms for a while now. Everyone was trying to give him the space he needed to concentrate all his thoughts on flying Atlantis back to the Milky Way. Fresh from the loss of Ronon and Teyla on the Super Hive, nerves were frayed all around, and chatter had been kept to a minimum but now that John was about to drop the city out of hyperspace, Woolsey had come back on over the frequency.

John drew in a weary breath. "Yeah, I'm here."

Flying the ship while trying not to fall apart over the loss of his friends was taking its toll and taxing his already depleted reserves. He'd only ever been in the control chair when the city had been at half power and at full power... well, there was so much more to her than he had been ready for.

No wonder Carson Beckett hadn't been able to handle her.

"I've just received word from Earth and it's not good," Woolsey went on in his ear. "They'll need us to go in with everything we've got as soon as we drop out of hyperspace. Understood?"

"Roger that Mr. Woolsey. Sheppard out." His reply was terse but the voice in his ear stayed mercifully silent, and John focused his mind back on the task at hand.

Atlantis was already relaying him readings of the battle raging between the Hives, the Area 51 control chair and the recently arrived Daedalus and John familiarized himself as best he could with the feel of the Earth ship and her F302s. He would need to be careful so he wouldn't hit any of them when Atlantis dropped out of hyperspace and he began the attack. The Wraith Hive ships were everywhere and he worried for a very real moment that Atlantis wouldn't have the firepower needed to destroy them. The expedition had one advantage though, the Wraith had no idea they were coming. And maybe, just maybe, John could pull all this off before those bastards started culling and things got complicated... Or at the very least, inflict enough damage somehow to make up for the fact that his friend's corpses had just been blown up with the Super Hive.

John fought back a shudder.

"We're about ready for you to drop us out of hyperspace, Sir," one of the techs in the room let him know and John nodded solemnly from his reclined position in the chair.

This was it, the moment of truth for the human race, and John couldn't afford to fuck it up.

If he did, if even one ship was allowed to get away, then they would be screwed. The Hive would be able to alert any remaining Wraith in the Pegasus galaxy that hadn't received the subspace transmission to Earth's location, and that would be the end of it. Atlantis wouldn't have the element of surprise any longer and having the ancient city on Earth might not be enough to deter any remaining Wraith that might still be out there from returning to its fertile feeding grounds. The people of the Milky Way galaxy had enough to worry about without adding the possibility of a hostile alien race returning to try and make a meal of them again.

"We're nearly there. On my mark, Sir," the tech said again, and John almost asked why the unknown scientist was giving him directions instead of McKay, but figured Rodney, like himself, was probably still reeling from the fact that they'd just lost Ronon and Teyla.

But there was no time to linger on regret and a moment later John halted Atlantis' path through the stars and coasted her expertly out through the hyperspace window he could picture opening in his mind as he deposited them into the thick of the fighting.

Piloting Atlantis was a strange mix of sensation, almost as if he were seated at the center of a huge stadium with the battle raging outside the windowless Control Chair room projected on a large jumbo-tron in front of him. In his periphery were the confused jumbles of Atlantis's systems that were constantly in flux and flowing around him like a crowd of crazed football fans.

The Daedalus was in trouble. He could sense that almost immediately through his connection with Atlantis and Woolsey's voice filled his ear.

"Fire! Fire! Fire on all Hives!" he cried, "Bring them all down!" and John was all too happy to oblige.

Focusing all his efforts on the battle playing out in his mind, John went after the Hives targeting the Daedalus first. The 304 Class vessel was defending herself as best she could, Asgaard weapons cutting through the Wraith fighters swarming her, but she wasn't targeting the larger Hives. John nearly hailed Woolsey again to ask why the ship was behaving so strangely, but his mind was pulled to other areas of Atlantis as the Wraith began pummeling the city's shields with everything they had. Carson in the chair down at Area 51 came to the rescue to make quick work of them though and John focused his attention back on getting the Daedalus out of trouble. The vessel was severely damaged, but managed to somehow limp out of the thick of it and John maneuvered the city between the advancing hordes and the retreating ship in the nick of time.

Daedalus safely shielded behind the city for the moment, John began a ruthless attack on the surrounding Hives, targeting hyper drives first before finishing them off with a barrage of drones. As each one disintegrated into nothingness against the glowing blue backdrop of Earth, John voiced a name in his head. Ronon, then Teyla, then every other person he could recall losing their lives to the vampiric race that was the Wraith. Carson was getting in his fair share of direct hits as well and the space around Earth was alight with the orange glow of angry drones and exploding ships. The sheer tactical advantage Atlantis provided was keenly felt and John could sense the exact moment the Wraith realized they were about to be obliterated and turned to run. He relished the feeling as he destroyed their hyper drives to leave them floating vulnerable in the vacuum of space as Carson finished them off with a volley from Earth below. They were doing it. They were actually fucking doing it! And he nearly whooped as the last Hive finally broke apart under their combined efforts.

Cheers broke out in the control chair room and John was surprised that the comms device in his ear had stayed quiet. Woolsey wasn't even coming over to at least say something about the victory. Not that he needed to hear anything the man would say. Seeing those bastards get wiped out was all the reward John needed and he sent a silent prayer up for the friends that had lost their lives to get him to this moment. Ronon and Teyla had been avenged, but his celebration was cut short a moment later as he sensed some danger near Earth. A Hive, half blasted apart but still managing to limp forward somehow, was entering the Earth's atmosphere. He didn't know if it was some last desperate attempt by the dying Wraith inside to inflict more damage on Earth by crashing the massive ship into her, or just the result of the planet's gravity field pulling the disabled Hive in, but he wasn't about to let the Wraith destroy anything else. He eased Atlantis forward into the atmosphere to give chase, hanging back to see if the exosphere would just break the damaged ship apart for him. It was already starting to, but thoughts of dead friends had him sending out a drone or two just for good measure. He watched on in satisfaction when they finally impacted the hull of the ship and the last of the Wraith were destroyed.

It was truly over and John let out a strangled breath just as someone burst into the room.

"John! Stop!"

He looked up. "Rodney?"

"John, you've got to stop!"

"McKay, relax. It's over. The last..."

"No, you don't understand!"

"McKay?"

"John, stop! There are people on those ships!"

"Rodney, what the hell are you talking about?" John questioned, brow creasing as he watched Carson Beckett push himself into the room and lock the door behind him on a group of advancing Marines. Their pounding continued on outside.

"What the fuck is going on?" He demanded. "And what the hell are you doing here, Carson?" John sat up in the control chair, the techs in the room with him huddled in a confused group near their instrument panels.

"John, haveya destroyed all the Wraith Hives?" Carson asked, coming up on the little elevated platform to capture both of John's shoulders in his hands. There was terror in the doctor's eyes.

"This is verra important, lad!" Carson yelled, shaking him as John stared up, speechless. He'd never, in all the years he'd known Carson Beckett, ever seen the doctor behave like this.

"Yeah, Beckett," he answered defensively. "Me and you just blasted the last of them out of the sky. Or at least I had assumed that was you. What the hell is going on here, Carson?"

"John, the Wraith havenea only just arrived on Earth, they've been here for days! I'd been tryin' to fight them off, but they'd started culling lad. Those Hives were full of people!"

John's heart very nearly stopped beating in his chest.

He blinked back stupidly between Carson and Rodney: one face painted red in anger and the other taken over by saucer wide eyes filled to the brim with terrible understanding.

The very air was sucked out of the room and John swayed in his seat as his axis shifted.

Those Hives were full of people... He'd shot them all out of the sky...

"How many?" he asked with a voice he hardly recognized as his own.

"Too many to count," Carson replied with no emotion.

"Sir?" One of the techs came over beside them and Carson's hands fell away from John's arms, the places he'd been gripping still stinging and bruises from his fingers already forming. John looked straight ahead, eyes seeing nothing as he forced his brain to inspect this odd thing that Carson had just given him. This weird little piece of information he couldn't quite get himself to comprehend the enormity of just yet.

"Colonel Sheppard? We're losing altitude, Sir. We need you to reengage thrusters," but it was all of it just a jumble in his head.

The hives had been on Earth for days, had begun culling. And the Daedalus knew. That's why they hadn't been firing on the hives, just the Darts attacking them.

They knew.

...But not John.

"...He told me to fire," he said, not really caring that he didn't know if he said it out loud or not.

"Colonel Sheppard, please! We need you to take control of the City. She's losing altitude."

John turned towards the tech addressing him. "Woolsey didn't tell me."

"Sir?"

Well he was no help. John turned his eyes back to Carson who was staring at the floor as his shoulders shook.

"You're lying, right?

Tell me you're lying Carson, because if you're not then that means Richard Woolsey just ordered me to kill every single human being aboard those ships." Carson raised red rimmed eyes to meet John's dumbfounded gaze and a lone tear tracked its way through other paths already dug there as he nodded.

"You're lying."

"I'm so verra sorry, lad. I tried ta get back in time ta warn ye." Carson's brogue was thick, like it always got when he was upset. "Landry's dead and tha IOA's apparently gon' mahd." A blast at the door behind Rodney and Carson rocked the room and everyone inside gasped. Woolsey was saying something in John's ear but he plucked the comms device from his ear and crushed it beneath his boot. Woolsey's cries cut off instantly.

"Colonel Sheppard, please, if you don't take back control of the city soon, we're going to crash." His tech was back, tugging on the sleeve of his uniform and John pulled his eyes away from the devastated faces of McKay and Beckett to stare at the scientist whose name he didn't even know. But he would know the names of those he let die... He would seek them out and brand each one of them on his very skin so he could carry forever the names of the dead.

Murderer. That was what they would call him now. He'd taken the lives of countless people, there wasn't even a number for him yet, but he could feel their hands grasping at him for rescue, just like Ronon and Teyla. Something big and ragged opened up in his chest, spilling bits and pieces of him all over the floor of the Control Chair room and John Sheppard bent forward trying to wrap his arms around himself enough to keep at least a little bit of himself inside.

"Sir, please! Atlantis! You're going to kill us all, too!" Either Rodney or Carson gasped and John dragged his eyes up from the floor to stare at the... kid before him. He couldn't be more than 20.

"He's right John," McKay said, coming out of whatever shock he'd been lost in. "We're going to crash unless you get the city under control."

Hands pushed him back into the chair. Someone grabbed his wrists and forced his palms down on the pads of the chair. The city instantly reconnected with his mind and warned of the imminent impact. They were over the San Francisco Bay and with his friends yelling at him to stop Atlantis' beeline for the bay, he focused what little sanity he had left on trying to coast her into the water.

But it was no use.

What he had done pulled his concentration away and he could do little more than slow the city's decent...

"BRACE FOR IMPACT!" Somebody screamed, and John was forced up and out of the control chair a moment later as Atlantis crashed into the waters of the San Francisco Bay.

Chaos erupted. Bodies and debris were thrown everywhere, but it wasn't as bad as it could have been. Not as terrible as it would have been had John not been able to slow the city or if she hadn't been equipped with inertial dampeners.

John landed hard on the floor beside one of the consoles and smoke began filling the room from somewhere unseen. People were screaming and alarms clanged out at him as sight and sound slowly penetrated his addled brain. Fire erupted from the workstation he had been thrown against and John pulled an unconscious scientist away from it before his uniform could catch fire. The lights went out on them next but small fires and electrical sparks from the busted panels still managed to illuminate the room as John pulled himself up onto unsteady legs. He coughed hard on the smoke invading his lungs and something stung at his side when he breathed, but he just put an absentminded hand over it and stumbled forward into the melee. He needed to find Rodney and Carson and make sure they were okay. He made his way across the chaos, tripping and groping as best he could in the flickering semi-darkness and finally spotted them huddled near the door to the control room trying to pry it open and when John reached them, they finally managed it.

"You guys okay?" He coughed as they all backed up and several unconscious Marines tumbled into the doorway. Carson bent to check pulses.

"What do you think?" Rodney rounded on John, panic evident on the astrophysicist's soot streaked face. "You just crashed landed the city into the San Francisco bay!"

"Rodney! Tha's not helping right now!" Carson jumped in before McKay could say more and John broke a little under the look the scientist gave him next. Fuck, this was all his fault.

"We're okay, John," Carson promised, putting a hand on his shoulder. "Aren't we, Rodney?" but the scientist looked away. "I said, 'aren't we' Rodney!" and McKay offered a terse nod back before heading off to help herd those could walk from the room.

"But are you, laddie?" Carson asked suddenly over the alarms still sounding, pulling John's hand away from his side. The palm came back soot covered but it wasn't enough to hide the red. He was bleeding.

Carson's hand shot out to lift the hem of his shirt to have a look, but John stopped him with a grip on the doc's wrist and shook his head. "We need to get to the Gateroom!" John yelled over the alarms still clanging away in a cacophony of sound so loud and dissonant he almost wanted to put his hands over his ears to get it to stop, "figure out what's damaged and help get people out of the city!" Carson gave him a reproachful look.

"I'm fine, Carson! I promise, but we need to make sure the city is secure!"

"He's right, Carson." Rodney chimed in, rejoining them. "We need to get to the Gateroom!" Carson reluctantly took back the hand John was still holding at the wrist but nodded his agreement and the three men took off towards the Stargate.

The halls of Atlantis were teaming with the injured and trapped. John, Carson and Rodney constantly had to halt their progress towards the Gateroom to stop and help someone pull free of a collapsed bit of equipment, or track down more hands to help move those they came across who couldn't walk. It was slow and arduous work but eventually they reached the wrecked and ragged Gateroom and spotted it's one lone inhabitant. Richard Woolsey stood alone amid the wreckage with his back to them, staring out over the calm waters of the San Francisco bay through broken windows. When he heard someone approach, he turned, and as his eyes landed on John, the alarms cut off suddenly and the silence that followed was so loud, it rang in their ears.

For a while in the corridor John had imagined that Woolsey had just been a pawn, that he'd had no real knowledge of the fact that the Wraith had begun culling the Earth before Atlantis had arrived, but the look on the man's face as he turned said it all. Richard Woolsey knew exactly what he had just ordered John to do.

"Colonel Sheppard..." he started but John put up a blackened hand to stop him.

"What did you do, Woolsey?" he asked dangerously, voice going low. Rodney and Carson shifted behind him.

"We had no choice," Woolsey pleaded, wringing his hands and John leapt forward.

Had he been in control of all his faculties in that moment, he might have made it all the way. The one thing that saved Richard Woolsey that day was the fact that John Sheppard was an exhausted, grieving, mess. Carson and Rodney managed to catch both of his arms and halted his progress before he could get near enough to beat the ever living shit out of the cowering bastard stumbling back and away from him as John shifted from denial right into anger.

"Sheppard, stop!" Rodney pleaded, holding on for dear life as John struggled and growled in anger. "There are people that need to get off the ship, John. We'll get what we need and make them pay, but not now." Rodney increased his grip as John fought again to throw him off. "Come on, John! Use your head. Another day, when we're ready for it and you're not in danger of murdering someone in cold blood!"

That was the word that finally stopped him. John had murdered enough people that day and he made himself quit fighting and look over at Rodney. He wasn't expecting to see calm kindness behind his friend's eyes, not after the control chair room earlier when he had seen blame flash across them, and he stilled.

"That's better. Now you're going to go with Carson and help everyone get out safely. I'll go work on securing the city and get us the data we need, okay?" When did their roles suddenly reverse? In what universe was Rodney McKay the cool centered one while John went off like a firecracker with no regard for who was around to get singed when he went off.

He glanced over at Carson who was nodding. "Dare I say it, but I believe Rodney is right, Colonel Sheppard. We've got bigger problems to deal with right now than this coward." Carson spat the word.

John let his eyes settle back on Woolsey who was actually starting to snivel. He stepped forward, the grips on his arms tightening, but one look to McKay and Carson and they seemed to understand. Both men stepped released him but remained close behind to hover nervously.

John took another step forward. Woolsey backpedaled and tripped over a piece of debris, falling to the floor.

"If I ever see your face again, Richard," he sneere, kneeling down and ignoring the hot pull of pain at his side, "I will kill you. And that goes for every member of the IOA and military who decided that it was better to murder our own people today then try to come up with a better solution.

You lied to me, you son of a bitch, and I will never forget what happened here today. The world's gonna know what you made me do, what every single one of you assholes made me do..." he choked. "...and I won't rest until you hang, Woolsey. I can promise you that." He straightened, turned on his heal, and let the sounds of the weeping man disappear behind him as he left the tattered remains of the Gateroom. When he got outside into the hallway, John rested a hand against a nearby wall for support and let his breath out on a ragged sob that he just couldn't make stop.

But he didn't shed tears - there would be time enough for that later - but he did start to shake as his soul finally absorbed and acknowledged what exactly he had just done. The number of hives he'd destroyed... there had to have been millions of people on them.

John let his head fall.

It hadn't been done consciously or with malice, but he had been responsible for mass murder today and all he could think to ask was: why? Why hadn't anyone stopped him. Why had Woolsey ordered him to fire? With one word the supposed leader of Atlantis could have stopped it all, but he hadn't. The system worked because they trusted each other and John had put his faith in that man, given his absolute loyalty, and had been utterly betrayed for it.

Betrayed. The word sat dark and heavy in his mind.

John pulled his hand away from the wall to form it into a fist then slammed it into the metal panel in front of him with all the force of his wrath. Knuckles cracked. Pain exploded out of his hand and John let out a bellow that hollowed him out and had Rodney and Carson crowding in around him instantly. He put his palms against the wall he'd just tried to punch through and tried to breathe through the pain.

"John, you must keep it together now, lad." Carson pleaded beside him. "We cannae do this without ya!"

He was coming apart at the seams but Carson's desperate pleas for help seemed to be what he needed to pull the threads tight again. There wasn't time to think about what he had just been betrayed into doing. The members of the Atlantis team were in this mess because of him and he needed to pull himself back together and help get them out of it.

"Alright," John said through gritted teeth as he pushed himself away from the wall. "Rodney, you head back in there and do what you can to save any information there is on what happened and who's behind it. Scan the city if you can and radio Major Lorne if you see anything that poses an immediate threat. Hopefully I can track down a working earpiece by then. Carson, you and I will head to the Jumper Bay to start helping with the injured and getting people off the city. We can use the Jumpers if we need to."

"Right," both men said at once, marshaling behind him instantly, and it nearly pulled a smile from John.

They were all of them beat to hell. A red slash was painted down Rodney's face from a head wound hidden behind his receding hairline. Carson was trying unsuccessfully to hide a limp and protecting his ribs with a hand and they were each of them covered from head to toe in grey soot from the fires that had broken out all over the city after the crash. They were the ragged remnants of a once proud and powerful team, but even the ever pessimistic Rodney McKay was looking over at John squarely with his jaw set in determination and John knew in that moment there were no two people in all the world that he'd rather have by his side in that moment. If only Ronon and Teyla had been with them.

"Let's meet by the east pier in an hour. Will that give you enough time Rodney?" The scientist's baleful eyes met his and John nodded. "Okay then, let's go.

Oh, and Rodney?" He said to McKay as the scientist turned to leave.

Rodney craned his neck and looked back over his shoulder. "Good luck and try to be careful."

McKay's face broke out into a wide grin, his white teeth a stark contrast against his cracked and soot darkened lips. "But I'm always careful John," and turned on his heels without another look back.

Something twinged in the center of him as he watched McKay walk away and for one brief moment he nearly called out to his friend to draw him back. For the first time in his life his gut was telling him that he might never see the man again and his throat tightened with the urge to call out. But he didn't and followed Carson down a different corridor as Rodney disappeared back into the Gateroom.

It didn't take long for doctor to get caught up in some medical emergency and John separated from him awhile later. He called over his shoulder that he would be in the Jumper Bay helping coordinate the rescue efforts and cursed himself for having crushed his comms device under his boot in the control chair room earlier. He would have to track another one down, and quickly.

John made his way towards the Jumper Bay and when he finally walked through the automatic doors a few minutes later, supporting an injured civilian on one arm, he found it a hive of frenetic activity. Atlantis' disaster plan dictated that all wounded were to be brought to the bay to be removed by Jumper if the Gateroom was not available and John was glad to see the sure signs of ordered chaos. He'd trained his men well and while the scientists flung themselves about in a panic, he could sense the calm undercurrent of his men keeping everything from falling apart.

John handed the woman he'd stopped to help in the corridor off to a couple of people who knew her and Major Evan Lorne rushed up to greet him.

"Sheppard, we've been trying to reach you for almost an hour!" His 2nd in command barked and John let the breach in decorum slide.

"Status Major," he shot right back and Lorne recovered a little to fall back into his normal cool.

"No casualties to report that we've been informed of so far, Sir. We've got mostly bumps and bruises though there are a few who are critical. Those have been loaded onto Jumper One and have been evacuated to the mainland. Stargate Command has been notified of the crash and I've been informed that help is on its way. When yourself and Mr. Woolsey couldn't be contacted by radio I assumed command, Sir."

"Good work, Major, and keep doing what you're doing. I want all the wounded secured first then we can start getting all uninjured and nonessential personnel off Atlantis."

"Very good, Colonel Sheppard," Lorne said as he stiffened, saluting John before leaving and John returned it with one of his own. Evan Lorne was one of those rare soldiers who actually got better under pressure, if that was even possible, and John would have to remember to thank the man when all this was over for keeping such a level head.

John walked past the soot smeared faces of the people waiting to leave and tried not to let the anxiety that was slowly starting to grow at his center eat away at him completely. He was responsible for this... he'd let Atlantis crash into the bay because he couldn't get his damn mind to focus right and stop it before people got hurt. And from the look of things, no one had gotten any real warning that Atlantis was about to crash and that was on him. Shit, how had it come to this? But the only explanation his brain would give, was Woolsey. Woolsey must have cut him off from all radio communication. That was the only reason he could think of as to why no one had been screaming at him about the Hive ships stuffed full of human beings that he was blasting out of the sky.

John shook his body to dislodge those thoughts. He needed to keep his head if he was going to get them all through this and his next priority, now that he was sure the wounded and all nonessentials were being taken care of, was to find Rodney again and try to ascertain how much damage had been done to the city and if there was any imminent danger to the remaining people trapped aboard. Those were his duties and he wouldn't shirk them like others had done that day. The only thing was, he was going to have to go back to the Gateroom to do that and he could only hope that Richard Woolsey had run from it like sniveling bastard he was... because John Sheppard was going to keep his promise. He made his way back through the city, stopping anyone he came across to ask if they knew where Zelenka and his team were. If Rodney wasn't working on securing the city, then Zelenka would be and he couldn't remember where he'd seen the man last that day. The Gateroom main floor was empty but there were a few marines on the upper level putting out a fire that had started near the dialing device, but no sign of Radek. One of the Marines suggested he try the control chair room as most of the Gateroom team had headed in that direction to try and gain access to the city's mainframe again through the control chair and John hastily made his way back in that direction. When he arrived, the Czech was there and standing over the smoking remains of a wrecked work station muttering irritably in his native tongue.

"Zelenka!" John called out, but the name never fully formed on his lips, not really. Hearing at least part of his name called, the Czech began to lift his eyes, his gaze about to land on John even through the thick smoke still hanging about in the room like whips of low hanging cloud. An explosion ripped through the center of the floor and the force of hit hurtled John backwards and into the wall behind him. His head impacted the wall heavily. Bright white lights exploded in front of his eyes and the left side of his body went numb as he crashed to the floor.

Somehow, and he would always wonder how he'd managed to pull it off, John remained conscious and watched as the center of the room imploded inward and swallowed Zelenka and his team down into its gaping maw. He cried out and reached, trying desperately to lurch his unresponsive body forward so he could grab at the hands scrabbling for hold on the tilting floor. But something white hot and greedy stole the breath right out of him and John closed his eyes as the hands fell away. Someone bounded into the room soon after, but all John could see of them when he forced his eyes back open were the pair of black combat boots the figure wore.

"Colonel Sheppard? Oh Jesus!" The figure knelt beside him. "Major Lorne, Lieutenant Stackhouse here. The explosion was in the Control Chair room, Sir. Colonel Sheppard is injured." John made his tired eyes look up at the young solider kneeling beside him in full combat gear. Did he say injured? Stackhouse looked over at him then turned away, but John didn't miss the "it's bad, sir," that the young airman said into his earpiece.

The world slid out of focus and John felt the air in his lungs catch and then stop all together.

John Sheppard had almost died before, but never like this. He'd never been on the verge of it and still conscious enough to feel when a mouth covered his and oxygen was forced back into his lungs. He'd never been aware before as hands pushed down on his sternum to try and talk his poor heart into beating again, but he was this time. John put every last bit of himself into refilling his lungs and after a few unknowable minutes when he'd nearly lost the battle, he somehow managed to pull in a heaving breath when the shriveled things that he used to call lungs actually listened to the order. He sputtered and coughed and the hands that had been giving him CPR stopped to help him roll over. The pain the movement ignited in his side was unimaginable, but John didn't let it carry him away into oblivion. He held onto it and forced his eyes to open. Half his line of sight had been invaded by black dots but he could still make out Stackhouse leaning over him as he was rolled again, hands reaching out to cover something at his side and only making the pain worse. He made to move out from under those hands, but Stackhouse shushed him.

"Colonel Sheppard, hush. Lie still, Sir, you're badly injured."

"Zelenka?" He managed to choke out and Stackhouse's brow creased before he realized what John was asking. The Lieutenant cast his eyes around the room then shook his head sadly.

"I don't see him sir."

"Need you... to do me... a favor, Stackhouse," he heaved, oxygen becoming more and more difficult to pull in as his body prepared to shut itself back down again. The young Lieutenant's eyes went wide.

"Help's on the way, Colonel. Please don't try to talk." but John had things to say; things that other people needed to know.

"There were..." he swallowed back something metallic and tried again. "There were ... people on th-the Hives," he managed and Stackhouse's eyes careened away from John's wounds and back to his face to stare at him thunderstruck. "Make sure... people know."

"I will sir," the young Lieutenant stammered as he nodded.

"I'm sorry..." but John couldn't go on anymore. He let the tension go out of his body just as Carson Beckett arrived with a team of EMT's.

"We're here!" the doctor called, stumbling into the room and when John met the docs gaze as he glanced down, all the color left Carson's face.

"Bloody hell," he said to no one in particular and collapsed to his knees on the floor bedside John.

He watched the rest of it pass by him as if in slow motion and time had a funny way of flowing over him after that. John figured a lot of it had to do with the slight pinprick of pain he felt at the crook of his elbow, or rush of icy relief as pain medication flooded his system, but he was having a hard time making his focus stay centered. Time passed him by so fast at times he lost whole minutes to the chaos going on around him and in the next moment, it seemed as if he'd spent whole hours living just one second of agony.

John was lying on the cold floor of the ruined control chair room and he had nothing left to fight with against the realizations that came at him in the confusing calm of the pain meds. With no purpose, no task to complete to occupy his mind anymore... that was when it began to creep in: that little voice inside his head that he'd never given credence to before, but that was whispering to him now. And the things it had to say were terrible.

"You killed them all."

"You crashed the city into the bay and now more people are going to die."

"You couldn't save any of them."

"Colonel Sheppard?" Carson's face swam into focus. "John?"

He'd lost track of time. He was on a gurney outside, heading down one of the long fingers of the city and towards the Jumper landing site at the end of it. Carson Beckett was clutching at his hand for dear life and any other time John would have been embarrassed by the gesture, but he found he could not pull the hand away.

"Stay with us now, lad," the doc said sadly and John wondered if there was even a reason to.

"Rodney?" He rasped from behind an oxygen mask someone had put over his face and Carson lifted a duffel from the gurney beside him.

"John, I need you ta listen to me. Are you listening ta me? " the doc ordered as they neared the swirling blades of a Medevac helicopter and the EMT's surrounding him left for a moment. He pulled his wandering gaze away from the memorizing swirl of the blades above him to focus back on Carson.

"Are ya listening' to me, laddie. This is verra important," the doctor pleaded again and John tried to clear his cotton filled thoughts enough to absorb what he was being told. Carson kept glancing over his shoulder but finally leaned in close to John.

"I dunnea think they're going to let me come along wit' ya. John, I've put what Rodney could could pull from the computers in your duffel and there's another drive hidden in your uniform. Whatever happens, git yourself somewhere safe then meet me at... OY! Get your bloody hands off me!"

Something was happening. Carson was pulled away forcibly and John's hand was ripped from the doctor's grip.

"Get him out of here!" An unfamiliar voice barked and the EMTs appeared beside him again to begin loading John into the back of the helicopter.

He put everything he had left behind trying to lift his head, but his body wasn't responding. It was numb from blood loss and unresponsive to his pleas to just get off the stretcher and help the friend he could hear fighting with someone just outside the helicopter door. John turned his head slowly, the tall spires of Atlantis visible through the hatch that was still open beside him and he searched again for Carson. A Sergeant he'd never seen before darkened the helicopter door and pulled himself inside, admonishing the EMT that tried to tell him to get out sternly before leveling his malevolent eyes at John. It was that gaze that sent understanding flooding through his already muddled mind.

He got it then.

John flicked desperate eyes back out the door, frantically seeking Carson, his last line of defense against the man who'd likely been sent to shut John up for good... but Carson was being held back bodily by two burly MP's who each had an arm around him, holding him back. The doctor was fighting, bellowing even, one hand getting free to reach towards John even as the helicopter door was slammed shut on him.

The black hawk lifted from the ground and John Sheppard's world fell apart.


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