Stargate Atlantis -:- The Vendetta

Summary:

The race is on to find the real culprit behind the attempted destruction of Atlantis and prevent them from trying again…but with our boys Earth-side, who is left to save Atlantis?

Setting/Pairings:

Same timeline as the Collective, so late season five with added Sheyla

Genre/Rating:

Suspense/Action/Adventure/Hurt/Comfort/Angst/Most likely whump all around cause I'm mean like that/T to be safe

Disclaimer:

Still don't own a damn thing – I have been trying though, but MGM's stopped taking my calls :P

Author's Note(s):

Woot! I am back with the sequel for my most popular fic yet – The Collective! (Thanks for the reviews, I must admit that I am still doing that happy dance…) If I am completely honest with you, I never ever planned for the end of that fic to leave the massive question of who-really-dunnit? – actually, it was originally written as an accident and not an intentional act of sabotage. Hence why this has taken me so long to plan, I kinda had to come up with the subplot of the previous fic in order to write it into this one…if that makes any sense…

Warning: we do jump around in time again, but not quite on such a nit-picky scale as before, and the subtitles are pretty clear. If you followed the Collective this one is gonna be easy lol We are also jumping between galaxies as well, but you know who's where so that's pretty obvious too :P

But anyway – ignore me – let's get this fic started! Enjoy!

Chapter One -:- Aftermath

Lt. Col. John Sheppard stepped through the Stargate…and into hell.

At first he was too shocked to recognise what it was that he was seeing. Surely he had made a wrong turn…dialled the wrong address…this…this couldn't be Atlantis…this just couldn't be all that was left of his home.

The basic structure of the gate room had survived whatever had happened relatively well – it was still identifiable, and still a hundred or so storeys above sea level. The floor beneath his feet did not feel steady, and John got the distinct impression of being on a ship in high seas. There was no roof – the jumper bay was gone, and the glass windows at the top of the stairs no longer existed. Strong winds buffeted his frozen form as he stared in horror at the destruction before him.

What the hell had happened? No…this wasn't happening…it just couldn't be.

John closed his eyes in denial, praying that when he opened them again there would just be a marine giving him a funny look at his strange behaviour. He could handle that. But when he opened them again, all he could see was the disaster zone that had once been his home.

The Stargate winked out of life behind him, the sudden noise prompting him to move. He turned slowly on the spot to look out at the rest of the city. Or really, all that was left of it. At least four of the towers had collapsed, crushing the shorter buildings beneath them. Some parts were still on fire, churning out black smoke into the usually crisp sea air. The buildings that still stood were mere shells of their former selves, their windows missing and various walls blown out of existence.

How many people? Who? How much had he lost?

There came a sound – barely audible over the mournful wind. John forced his feet to co-operate, taking his reluctant form deeper into the chaos and towards the distinctly human sound. A survivor…please be a survivor. He couldn't be alone. He couldn't be alone in the remains of his home – not now. The sound became a groan of pain, muffled by a layer of rubble. Female, familiar…could it…? John allowed himself to hope.

He identified the right pile of concrete, allowing his knees to give out as he staggered down next to it. He pushed his hands and arms into action, trying to convince himself that doing was better than dwelling on the hell he now found himself in. He dragged off stone after stone, callously throwing them behind him, ignoring the ominous moaning of the tower beneath him. He had to get to her…he had to know…he couldn't lose her – he just couldn't.

He caught sight of her tawny hair first, the hope he had cautiously nursed blossoming into desperate longing. He doubled his efforts, clearing the entirety of her upper body. He pressured his voice box into duty, managing to choke out a hoarse "Teyla!"

Delirious, pain filled eyes searched him out until they settled on his face. The corners of her bloodied lips twitched slightly in an imitation of a smile. "J-John…y-you made it…y-you c-came…"

"I promised you that I would," John whispered back. He forced his eyes to remain on her face. He couldn't look at the ragged wound on her chest, nor at the support beam that pinned her legs. He wasn't aware of the tears that were streaming down his cheeks – all that mattered was that he was there. He took her hand in his, squeezing it as reassuringly as he could. "I promised you that I would be here."

She stared at him with dimming eyes, her breath catching as she struggled for air. "Y-you are l-l-late…J-John…"

"I'm sorry, oh God, I am so sorry…I tried…please…I'm sorry…" he clutched her hand to his chest, using his free hand to cup her face, his thumb gently stroking her cheek. Her breaths were coming few and far between, the light fading from her eyes. "Please…please don't leave me…I can't…please don't…please don't go…"

He was begging, but some logical part of him knew that it was pointless. There was nothing that either of them could do. Her glassy eyes stared sightlessly at the smoky sky above them, and something inside John broke. He lifted her up and hugged her limp form against him, sobbing openly as he felt his heart shatter to pieces.

She was gone. He was alone.

About halfway down the tower beneath him, the central support gave in. As he held her he was oblivious to the building collapsing. He ignored the sensation of defying gravity, ignored the terrifying drop. He didn't care. He just gripped a hold of her as if she were his only lifeline.

When the end finally came, he welcomed the darkness.

Two Weeks Post-Explosion: Earth: Stargate Command

Dr Rodney McKay studied the panel before him. This was the third time he had been called before them to explain, yet again, what had happened on Atlantis two weeks prior. Maybe he was using too-bigger words, or maybe what he was saying just didn't fit into the precise little report they had created to explain away the hellish day. Whatever the reason; repeating himself was getting old, and he let his tone tell them that.

"McKinley was pivotal in the resolution of the event. She proved adept at using Atlantis' systems and adapting to the Ancient tech, and was practically the co-ordinator of the plan that saved the majority of the expedition personnel," Rodney explained, uncharacteristically singing her praises. Truthfully, it had been his brilliant plan created by his quick thinking that saved the day, but he needed the short sighted IOA members to see that McKinley wasn't the one responsible – despite the evidence against her. "McKinley was the one to discover what it was we were up against, and I truly believe that without her things would have turned out a lot differently."

"It would seem so," the short, balding man at the far right of panel – Jim, James…Jameson? – replied curtly. "As far as I can see, if McKinley had not been present on Atlantis, the whole incident would never have happened."

"I'm not convinced that she is the one responsible…" McKay began to retort, but was interrupted again by the insufferable man.

"Did you not say in your report that her guilt was the most logical conclusion?" Jameson straightened a piece of paper on the desk before him as if to indicate said report. "Were you not the one to name McKinley as the culprit? I am confused – what is it that makes you now doubt your own deductions?"

Rodney glared at the man, but the smug bastard simply leaned back in his seat as if to watch a fish out of water. "At the time I wasn't entirely convinced, I was just presenting what the physical evidence seemed to dictate. However," he stressed the word heavily before Jameson could get in another comment, "having worked with McKinley during the…event…I felt that it was counterproductive for her to have assisted in the rescue of the city she had apparently set out to destroy."

"Is that you're only defence for Miss McKinley?" Jameson asked with faux sincerity. He turned to the rest of the panel who were watching the exchange with that strange professional distance with which the IOA seemed to approach everything. "Does that not seem weak to anyone else? The physical evidence is undeniable and indisputable – and I believe McKinley's criminal record is enough of a character witness to dwarf Dr McKay's…theory."

"You seem rather eager for McKinley to be guilty," McKay didn't even bother to try and hide the accusation, and Jameson visibly bristled. "I realise the IOA likes to sweep these things under the rug nice and quickly, but I have to ask – what if you are wrong? What if McKinley didn't do it? Then that means there could be someone still out there that came this close to destroying Atlantis, and could very well try again. Have you thought of that?"

Jameson settled back in his seat, toning down his outspoken approach. "Of course, a full investigation is underway and every measure has been put in place in order to prevent a repeat of past events. Rest assured that Atlantis is safe now."

Rodney snorted in disbelief. "Yeah, that's comforting."

Two Weeks Post-Explosion: Atlantis: Infirmary

Teyla walked into the infirmary to find it in complete silence – a change from the recent activity following that day. Not a single bed was occupied and none of the usual staff were milling around. It was like a ghost town. She supposed she should be happy about the lack of injured present, but honestly she just found it creepy.

With Torren perched half-asleep on her hip she headed towards Dr Keller's office at the far end of the desolate room. With a quiet knock that echoed like a gunshot in the silence she stepped inside to find a bedraggled and tired doctor. "Hello, Jennifer."

"Teyla! You made me jump!" Jennifer swivelled in her seat in surprise and then melted into a warm smile when she saw Torren. "And you've brought my favourite patient. Is everything alright?"

"Ah…yes, I think so, but…" Teyla began, unconsciously patting Torren's back. Jennifer waited for her to choose her words, her smile turning to concern. "It is just that…I am probably being paranoid. Something about that…day…is bothering me. They deduced that it was the ATA gene that made John and the others immune, however as far as I can tell, Torren was not affected. I know about the assimilation process and that by the end the original host was meant to be erased…"

Jennifer nodded and stood up to get a better look at the small child. "I am certain that Torren was never infected with the Alcoloniavarium, but as to why I can't be sure. Everyone received a blood test after, including him, and there was absolutely no trace of it in his system. He is just a healthy, normal, little boy."

"I-I know…I just had to ask," Teyla responded, hugging Torren closer and placing a kiss on his head. "He just seemed a little different after, but then again, everyone seems different now."

"Ain't that the truth," Jennifer sank back into her chair with a sigh, gesturing at another for Teyla to take. "It's been so quiet without Rodney and Colonel Sheppard around…causing trouble. It's like the whole city has just come to a stop; no one's sure what to do anymore."

"The Apollo is only a few days away from Earth; they will be back soon," Teyla replied. "Hopefully then things will return to normal." Teyla blinked when she found Jennifer then smiling at her knowingly. "What?"

"Something has finally happened between you and Colonel Sheppard, hasn't it?" Jennifer laughed at Teyla's surprised deer-in-headlights expression. "Your eyes light up whenever anyone talks about him, and I saw you both in the infirmary before he left. What happened?"

Teyla shrugged awkwardly, trying not to jog Torren's now sleeping form. "We…I…I got caught in a moment and well…I kissed him," Jennifer was practically beaming now, and Teyla shifted a little. She never had been comfortable discussing her private life with people, even her friends. "Kanaan…understood, and now I guess, I guess we are a couple."

"'Guess'?" Jennifer raised her eyebrows.

Teyla sighed heavily, remembering their last conversation before he left. "Afterwards, he avoided me as much as he could and I thought that maybe he didn't remember. And then I found out that he was going to Earth. He told me once that he hates going home; all he ever receives is bad news. But this time he chose to go and I am not sure why. I think…it felt like he was running away."

"I guess I'm not one to give advice on relationships," Jennifer shrugged, leaning back in her seat. "It took me so long to choose between Ronon and Rodney that I was actually kinda cruel to them both. I'm surprised Ronon even spoke to me again afterwards…not that he ever really talks…especially not now." She glanced almost longingly at the empty infirmary through the open door. "I'm really worried about him – I haven't seen him since the memorial. Usually he's in here every other day with a sparring injury, but recently…"

"He won't spar with the marines anymore," Teyla replied quietly. "He never told me why, but I think it is because he does not want to be responsible for any more harm. I tried to talk to him, to tell him that it was not his fault, but even to my own ears they felt like empty words."

Jennifer nodded, her eyes briefly straying to a file on her desk – Beckett's report, the one that vaguely described the experiment in the brig. "Logically, I know that it wasn't me who did those things, but that doesn't change the fact that they happened and it was my hand that did them. I've tried to move on, but I can't."

"Eventually we will all find a way to live with what happened, but until then…"

Four Days Post-Explosion: Earth: Sgt Walters' Residence

The black car cut through the neatly manicured front lawns of suburbia like a death omen. Fitting, really, considering what the driver was bringing to a perfectly normal family. Major Evan Lorne piloted the dark SUV around a final bend, trying to ignore the growing sensation of dread, guilt and misery that had begun to form in the pit of his stomach - on top of all that which had been there ever since that day. He came to a stop before one house that was identical to every other, put the car in park, and then took a readying breath.

He climbed out and into a deceptively sunny day, his aviator sunglasses perched on his nose. He straightened his dress blues that he had chosen to wear, and then made the short walk from car to front door. Surrounded by grass, it felt uncomfortably like the green mile – a connection both apt and inappropriate at the same time. With another sigh, the removal of his shades, and a quick nervous check of his uniform, he gave the door a gentle rap.

When Mrs Alice Walters opened the door, she took one look at Lorne, and she knew.

"Oh God…please no…" she whispered, her hand flying to her mouth to stifle a sob. She just about managed to stay on her feet, but it was clear that her knees were weak. Lorne placed a hand on her shoulder for both physical and emotional support. "Please…not my Henry…"

"Mommy? Who is it? Is daddy home?" a small boy wandered up to the front door, no more than seven or eight years old. He tugged on the end of his mother's shirt. "Mommy, what's wrong?"

Alice quickly wiped at the tears that had fallen and pasted on what was meant to have been a reassuring smile. She took the boy by the shoulders and turned him round, giving him a gentle nudge back to where he came. "It's nothing Mikey; go play for a while Mommy talks to the man. That's a good boy."

Lorne watched the exchange, the guilt he had been expecting from seeing Walters' wife face to face being dwarfed by the reality. This was his fault. He was the one who had stolen her husband. He had stolen the father of her child. One mistake, and he had caused all of this heartache. For a moment he was speechless, and could do nothing but watch as she closed the door behind her and came to stand with him on the porch. Gradually, he got his mouth to work, his voice coming out hoarse. "I am so sorry."

She nodded, chewing her lip, restraining the urge to scream and cry and hit something. Instead she brushed away another tear and stared without seeing over his shoulder. "Wh-what happened to him?"

"Truthfully, the events surrounding your husband's death are classified…" Lorne began, sounding far more formal than he had hoped. He saw the irritated look cross Alice's face and turn her misery into a flare of anger. "…but I feel you deserve to know as much of the truth as possible. We served together, Henry and I, before this assignment…he was a friend."

"I told him not to go," Alice announced suddenly, meeting his eyes for an instant before taking to staring at her shoes. "Before, when he was offered the assignment, he told me all he could about it. That it was further than he'd ever been before, that communication would be difficult and that everything he did or saw would be top secret. I told him that I didn't like it…I told him not to go…"

Lorne nodded, unsure of what else he could do. "I still can't tell you where he was; or what it was he was doing, but I can tell you that there was an incident on the base. There was an…attack…from within and in the confusion that followed there were several friendly fire accidents…"

Alice looked up then, confusion marring her features. "I don't understand…he was killed by another soldier? One of ours? Who?"

"Mrs Walters, that is why I am here…to be the one to tell you…" Lorne explained guiltily, watching as realisation dawned on her face. "I am truly sorry…I didn't mean to…I never intended…I…I killed him."

She looked at him in shock for a moment, and then her face cycled through a series of emotions – horror, agony, anger – until she settled on hatred. Her voice dripped with venom, and she glared at him with a stare that promised retribution. "Leave."

"I-I'm sorry…"

"GET AWAY FROM ME!" she shrieked, batting away the hand that he reached towards her. Horrified, Lorne stumbled a few steps back, and could do nothing but stand there, aghast, as she turned heel and ran back into the house.

He wasn't sure what he had been expecting – he knew that forgiveness was out of the question, that understanding was a tall order. But he hadn't been expecting the pure hatred she had lashed at him with, even if he was all too aware that it was what he deserved. A part of him had been hoping that being the one to tell her would somehow alleviate the weight on his chest, but all it had done was make him feel a thousand times worse.

After a moment, he managed to get his feet to obey and carry him back to the ominous black car.

Six Months Earlier: Earth: Lt. Matthews' Residence

Jessica Matthews felt the usual apprehension she felt whenever she came to visit her brother. And it wasn't just the neighbourhood and the way that everyone seemed suspicious, staring at her cleanliness. It wasn't the fact that she knew that once she stepped through the door she would find a gag-inducing mess. No, it wasn't any of that; it was the fact that she knew that she would find her brother in an even worse state than she had left him. One day she knew that she would open the door to find that he had succeeded in his task to drink himself to death.

At the top of the stairs, she took a final breath of (clean) air, and slid the key into the lock. Unoiled hinges squealed and she was unsurprised to find herself in a hellhole. The flat was tiny; literally a box with a kitchenette and living room, a bed hidden behind a screen and a bathroom. Saying it was a mess was an understatement; the floor was littered with empty bottles and discarded food packets - and the smell... In the middle of the room in a chair facing a broken TV set, sat Ben Matthews, a former First Lieutenant of the United States Air Force. Or at least a shell of what that man had once been.

He wasn't moving, and for a horrifying moment, Jessica thought the day had finally come. "Ben?"

Unintentionally, she let the door slam behind her, eliciting a surprised jump from her practically catatonic brother. She breathed a sigh of relief, and then immediately set about to nagging. "God, this place is disgusting. When was the last time you…did anything? I told you that Dad was coming round – did you even notice he was here? Huh? Jesus, Ben."

He gave her no response, he just continued to stare at the cracked TV screen. Now that he was on planet Earth, or as close as he ever seemed to get, he returned to his usual activity of taking regular gulps from a glass bottle. She had no idea where he was getting the alcohol from – she never brought it, and as far as she could tell he never left that damned chair.

She began tidying up her immediate vicinity, continuing to natter on about his awful living arrangements, but quickly stopped when she realised her efforts weren't even making a dent in the grime. "Well now Mom's coming to see you – remember her? The one that was so proud of you for joining the Air Force? I don't want her to see you like this…it will…it will break her. So, we're going to get cleaned up, aren't we?" She came up beside him and plucked the bottle from his hand. "And we'll start with this, shall we?"

Surprisingly, he allowed her to take it with minimal resistance, and she turned into the kitchenette to pour the remainder of its contents down the sink. Or really, all over the dishes piled high in the sink that were blocking the plughole. "See, was that so hard, huh?"

She turned around to find him sucking on a new bottle that she didn't even want to know where he had been hiding. "Oh for God's sake Ben! What the hell happened to you!"

"I screwed up."

"You can say that again," Jessica interrupted before realising that this was the first time she had heard her brother speak in over six visits. She instantly forgot what she had been doing and came to crouch beside the chair. She looked into her brother's tired face, and for the first time she saw an echo of the Ben she had once known. "What happened?"

He didn't look at her, gesturing with the already half empty bottle at an audience behind her right shoulder. "I had it good, real good. Man, the things I saw – the places I went. A whole different galaxy!" Jessica assumed he was talking metaphorically there. "I actually liked my CO, despite all the rumours that he had killed his predecessor…" that word came out incredibly slurred and almost indecipherable "…in order to get the position. But then I screwed up…"

…And stopped making any sense. He spoke of something called a 'Stargate' that allowed people to travel not only to other planets but to a whole other galaxy where the legendary city of Atlantis actually existed. Jessica didn't believe any of it; she was just surprised that the alcohol had turned her sceptic brother into a sci-fi nerd.

"D'you still work at the IOA?" he asked once he had described in remarkable detail the grand architecture of this supposed Atlantis. Jessica was taken aback that he remembered her day job, and it took her a moment to nod her reply. "They know the truth. They're in charge of the programme. Just wait till you get promoted – then they'll tell you, and then you'll believe me."

Jessica knew that the International Oversight Advisory had been set up as a way to monitor assets that were simply too big for one nation to control. She guessed that a 'Stargate' would come under that jurisdiction; but that was just preposterous. Even if it were possible – they'd never be able to keep it a secret.

No, she didn't believe a word of it. Yet.

And that was the beginning of The Vendetta – pretty please let me know what you think!