A/N: First and foremost, please excuse my obvious pilfering from The X-Files for the title. It just fits. Also, this story is based on preliminary spoilers for the upcoming season three episode, "The Real World". It's not really spoilery because all that we know about that episode so far (cover your eyes!) is that Elizabeth is in a mental ward and being told Atlantis and everything was all in her head. So I took that and ran with it… ran a lot with it.

I hope to update as frequently as possible and surely reviews will help that, hint-hint.
And also, this will be Sparky soon. Like, massive Sparky.
I hope you enjoy reading this as much as I am enjoying writing it.

ALL LIES LEAD TO THE TRUTH
Chapter I: Breaking Through Reality

by sourfall; 06.06.04

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Everything hurt. Her head throbbed, her eyeballs felt loose in their sockets, her face was tender and her throat was dry. Oh, no, the last thing I need is a cold, Elizabeth thought as her mind (which also hurt) entered consciousness. A split second later, her eyes followed, opening lazily, not needing to function as they assumed they would open to find a grey ceiling, white sheets, a door with blinking lights on the sides and her radio on the nightstand not far away. Thus, her brain hurt more upon the realisation her eyes gave it that she was not in her bedroom on Atlantis, but rather, in another grey-walled room that somehow didn't feel like it belonged anywhere in the city she led. Great.

She attempted to sit up, finding her body too shaky to fully comply. Too disoriented to really care what the room looked like, Elizabeth settled for only moving her eyes. She was lying in what looked like a hospital bed and there was an IV attached to her arm. The room was empty, save for a few other beds (also empty), and three chairs in a row against the far wall. The walls were concrete. They had an Earth familiarity to them that Elizabeth did not like.

There was a door, far away and to her left, near the opposite wall. It was metal with a small glass window on the top half. The window was covered with metal bars. There was a security camera on the ceiling above the door, aimed out at the room. She wondered where she was, briefly and unconcerned, as her mind lulled her back to a dark, dreamless sleep.

Elizabeth was not alone the next time she woke up. She opened sleepy eyelids to find a soft light and the hazy silhouette of a man hovering over her. Alarmed, she snapped into alertness, seemingly startling her observer as well.

"Dr. Weir, I didn't expect you awake and alert so soon. How are you feeling?" the man asked, quite obviously a doctor due to his signature white coat, clipboard and annoying questions.

Elizabeth was still groggy, her burst into wakefulness costing her energy and her confusion as to her whereabouts foremost in her head. "I'm… good. Where am I?" she managed.

"You're safe here. We'll take good care of you here," the doctor replied and it somewhat reminded Elizabeth of how one would speak to a child.

"Where is here? And what happened? Why am I here?" the questions came out in a rush as she sensed things were a little off.

"You're in a hospital. You've been here for a week. We had to sedate you at first because you were violent, a danger to yourself and others. But now that you've calmed down, we can help you… get your bearings back, so to speak," the doctor, whose coat read "Dr. Wright", answered.

"How did I get back to Earth so quickly? Did we find a ZPM?" Elizabeth closed her eyes against the growing headache forming behind her eye, but at the thought of Atlantis and her team, her eyes became wide and panicked. "Is the rest of the expedition alright? Where is everyone?"

The doctor seemed to regard her sadly. "Dr. Weir, I'm afraid there is no expedition."

"What… well… where's Colonel Sheppard?" she asked.

"Dr. Weir, I don't think you understand. There never was an expedition to Atlantis – it was all a figment of your imagination, a figment that drove you mad, and that is why you are here now. I'm sorry, but you have suffered a serious mental break characterized by severe hallucinations and paranoia. When you arrived, you were talking about a Stargate and, uh," the doctor reviewed the notes on the clipboard, "Stargate Project, the SGC, the Lost City of Atlantis, and several people no one has been able to locate."

Her headache seemed to grow. "No, no, you don't understand. You shouldn't know those things, but they're true. Just speak to General O'Neill, USAF – he'll explain."

The doctor took a step closer, gently placing a hand on her shoulder with a sincere look in his eyes. "Elizabeth, none of those people in the military you mentioned exist. They never have. We were able to locate a," he looks down at the clipboard again, "Rodney McKay and Carson Beckett, however they are now deceased."

"Rodney and Carson are dead?" she almost squeaked. Elizabeth had no idea what was going on and her head was swirling. She felt lost in her own mind.

"Yes, I'm afraid so. In fact, that is why you were brought here. I'm sorry to be the one to tell you, but your hallucinations became so severe that you believed this Lost City of Atlantis was at the bottom of the Atlantic Ocean. A week ago, you rented a boat with Drs. McKay and Beckett and… well, you attempted to prove to them that the city existed."

Elizabeth was unnerved by the doctor's tone. "What did I do?"

"You drowned them, Dr. Weir. You told them they would find Atlantis underwater and you held them there until you thought they had," the doctor finished quietly. Elizabeth's eyes immediately filled up, threatening to overflow, horror evident on her face. "I'm sorry, Dr. Weir. But now you see just how critical your mental state is. But we're going to help you get better. You should rest now." The doctor turned to leave, pitying smile on his young face.

"Wait," Elizabeth choked out, "wait. If they're… what about John, John Sheppard?"

The doctor turned back to face her at the door, fiddling with a pen in his hand. "Colonel Sheppard has been missing in action for six months. He was stationed in Iraq. I don't see that there's anyway you could have known him; as far as I can tell, there's no record of you two ever meeting." With that, he left the concrete room which now felt more like a prison than a place of recovery to Elizabeth.

And she was alone again, though she had only a minute to process what the doctor had told her – effectively, that everyone she had known over the past two years never existed, that she had killed two of her friends and senior staff, that the Stargate Programme wasn't real and that John was, but she didn't know him. All of this mixed together in her head to form a complete mess and that, coupled with her exhaustion, drove her into sleep once again.

She woke again later that night. It seemed to be night, anyway – the wide hallway outside her room was dark and there were only a few people milling about, a few guards in place. Her first waking thought was that John was alive. Well, missing in action, but… he was real. If he existed, how could Atlantis not? How would she know his name otherwise? Elizabeth just could not believe that the place she had called home for the past two years, and everything they had learned while they were there, was a figment of her imagination – it couldn't be; whose imagination was that detailed? Surely not mine or I'd 'imagine' a way to get the hell out of here, Elizabeth thought.

Was she being lied to? Was she even on Earth, like the doctor claimed? Elizabeth couldn't remember anything about being on Earth before waking up here. The last thing she did remember was stepping through the 'Gate on Atlantis with John and his team, emerging on a world whose society was advanced but kept in tune with nature. She remembered walking through the halls of their capital building where she was to begin negotiations for resources with their leader. She remembered how it looked to be made of something like steel, but was also organic – there were veins and branches and roots along every wall. It was beautiful and peaceful and she had expected to become good friends with these people. And then suddenly she was pulled away from that place and woke up here, apparently Earth. It seemed very much like it. She knew she had to find John, somehow, and see if he recognized her – then she would know if she were crazy or not. The fact that I can't tell by myself is vaguely unnerving, she thought sardonically.

Her restless sleep combined with whatever medication they were giving her through the IV in her arm resulted in Elizabeth still feeling tired to the bone, despite her catnaps since waking up from her medically-induced coma. She knew she couldn't come up with any type of feasible plan in her current state. She had to regain her strength and then find out what was going on and what has happened to John. She closed her eyes again, attempting to will sleep into her tired bones once more, though all the questions she needed answered floated around in front of her closed lids and she found it impossible to turn her brain off. She let out a small sigh that would have sounded angrier had she had the energy.

A few days passed before Elizabeth was able to stay awake and lucid for long periods of time. Nurses were in and out during this time, never speaking to her, but the doctor she had spoken to when she first woke up had not returned. He eventually came to see her on the sixth day, almost two weeks since she arrived at the facility, if she were to believe his timeline.

"Dr. Weir, I see that you are making excellent progress in your recovery," he greeted her with a small, professional smile as he entered and shut the door to her room behind him.

"Yes, I feel much better now," Elizabeth replied. Her head still throbbed but she hoped if she showed she was physically and mentally sound, they might let her go. That is, if this were an actual hospital and not some creepy kidnapping and torture den, she thought. It couldn't hurt anyway; at least they might not give her the drugs.

"That's good. We've lowered your dosages so that you can remain conscious for longer periods of time. This should help get your mind back in order, emotionally speaking," the doctor was hesitant.

"Doctor, uh, Wright, is there any news about Colonel Sheppard?" Elizabeth asked, trying not to sound desperate. How could she find him?

"No, no, nothing new. He has been missing for over six months, Dr. Weir. I hate to say it, but in all likelihood, he is dead and his body may never be recovered. And he may not even be who you think he is, it could just be a coincidence that your mind imagined his name, or that you read his name somewhere and your mind incorporated it, along with the others on the expedition you lead in your hallucination. Even if he was, miraculously, found alive, I don't see how that would expedite your recovery at all," Doctor Wright looked at her sympathetically.

I don't need to recover! I have nothing to recover from! "I know that, Doctor. But I really would like to meet him regardless. I don't believe that it is a coincidence," Elizabeth said instead. "I would like to be discharged once I am well enough to leave."

The doctor blanched. "I'm afraid that's impossible, Dr. Weir." His tone changed from sympathetic to icy in a moment.

"What do you mean?"

"You have much to tell us, and there is much we can learn from you," he gave as way of explanation.

"You can't keep me here once I am strong enough to leave," Elizabeth tried her best to access her commanding tone of voice but felt it fall short.

"Then we'll just have to make sure you don't become strong enough," Doctor Wright added quietly, almost menacingly, before turning around to leave. As he reached the door, he added, "Now get some rest. Dinner will be delivered in a few hours." His change of demeanour surprised Elizabeth, who was perplexed by his obvious concern for her as his patient at the beginning and now his alternating between that and threatening her.

The last thing she wanted to do was rest so she didn't. A few more days and I'll be ready to escape, she told herself. Until then, she concentrated on mentally preparing herself for breaking out of a psych ward. Never in a million years did she think she would have to do that during her lifetime. Even when she joined the Stargate Programme, she still didn't imagine this scenario. Commanding the SGC, organizing an expedition to the Pegasus Galaxy, fighting the Wraith, escaping the psych ward of a hospital; Elizabeth managed a small rueful smile at her brief accounting of her life over the past few years.

A few more days passed and Elizabeth finally felt like she was back to normal (as normal as things got for the leader of a team that is exploring another galaxy, anyway). She no longer felt dizzy and the drugs they used to sedate her had long left her veins. She tentatively got out of the stark white bed, face scrunching when her bare feet touched the cold, concrete floor. Standing up, she took a moment to get used to being upright again. Then she set her mind to work and inched over to the door leading to the hallway. She peeked out the barred window and saw the usual night-time happenings: a few nurses standing around and tiredly talking over patient charts, the quiet rings of muted phones, and most importantly, the only two guards at the end of the corridor – one standing by the elevator and the other by the emergency fire escape stairs, the only two exits out of the building from this ward. Elizabeth decided on the fire escape as she wanted to be outside and running as quickly as possible.

But how was she going to get past the guards? Her mind raced; she was so used to talking through difficult situations and for once, she felt that method was hopeless. She had to act, physically, and quickly – her brain filtered out the connections between her current situation and the many problems of the countries she had mediated. She didn't need to think about that right now. She did briefly think that this would be so much easier if John were here with her. Pushing the melancholy tinge away from her heart, Elizabeth let out a deep breath and acted: she banged on the bulletproof glass covering the metal bars on the door with all her might, the sound resonating down the hallway in the evening quiet.

The guards jumped to action, alert and grappling their handguns in an instant. They exchanged glances, the elevator guard inching down the hallway to Elizabeth's door, the source of the commotion. He looked inside to find nothing, as Elizabeth ducked down, her body pressed closed to the heavy door and her head safely out of sight of the small window. She breathed heavily, though tried not to notice. She felt the adrenaline in her veins. This was it, her escape, her one chance. She felt the doorknob begin to turn into her side and she beamed a stream of gratitude to whatever higher power existed for sending such a dim-witted guard tonight.

He opened the door a crack and that was enough. Elizabeth grabbed the edge of the door, pulling it wide open before pushing it back, trapping the guard between it and the doorframe. He grunted as he was pinned down and as Elizabeth snatched away his handgun, the back of her mind quietly reminding her she hated guns. She paused for a moment, but the thought of her expedition team and if they were alright flashed in her heart and the sound of an alarm going off and footsteps approaching was all enough to drive her forward. Elizabeth held her arm up and brought the heavy metal weapon down on the guard's fully expecting head. His body slouched as much as it could in the tight doorframe. Elizabeth quickly checked to make sure the young man still held a pulse before opening the door and allowing his unconscious form to slide to the floor. She leapt over him and ran down the short hallway.

Others were running after her, chasing her. Doctors, nurses, hell, even the cleaning staff – anyone who noticed her. The guard by the fire escape saw her approach as she turned the corner and raised his gun. Elizabeth fired off a shot before he could, not thinking of the consequences or how she could do such a thing. It didn't matter at that moment. A split-second later, she heard the round connect with something in the metal stairwell and was relieved it did not pierce her opponent, however much he stood in her way. She continued to point her gun at the guard who hesitated when she came into focus, now knowing she was not afraid to shoot. She didn't give him a chance to get over it, firing another round, this one aiming at the wall behind him again but it struck his arm. Lucky shot, Elizabeth thought and berated herself for it later.

Tearing down the fire escape, gun still in hand, Elizabeth jumped the last few flights to the ground, grunting as she made hard contact with the earth below. She took a second – it was dark outside, streetlights were on illuminating the hospital parking lot which was mostly empty, a wooded area was to her right and she immediately set course for it, running as fast as she could. She could hear metal doors opening and manly, boot-covered footsteps quickly chasing after her but that only made her run faster, never looking back. She had no idea where she was, not seeing any recognizable landmark or insignia, but for the moment she focused on getting away from the facility and finding a safe place to stay the night. That was all that mattered now.

She ran for what felt like hours, she ran through trees and dirt and streets and alleys and buildings until she was sure there was no one left following her, all the while gun hanging from her left hand. She never had time to process the shocked looks from people walking down quiet streets when she reached a small town, nor the surprised gasps of yet more people as she bolted through a crowded restaurant, escaping through the back door and into another unseemly alleyway. She only stopped at the outskirts of the town when she saw a small house, obviously abandoned and in a bad way. She slowly jogged over to it and entered the open door, closing it behind her. It was dark but it was a roof and a window to watch for pursuers. That was all that mattered now.

Severely winded, she fell to the dusty floor unceremoniously and panted, fatigue catching up. She lay on her back on the floor for some time, listening for any sounds that would indicate a presence outside. She heard nothing but after several hours, still would not let go of the stolen gun.

Elizabeth was alone here, as she had been alone at the facility. She still had no idea where she was or what was happening, or more importantly, where John was. Her next step – to find him – how would she do that? She held the gun to her chest, needing to feel the military comfort it provided, a far cry from who she used to be. This is no time for soul-searching and Who-Am-I bullshit, Elizabeth's mind threw out the idea to her in not so many words. She was so tired but it seemed her mind would not rest yet as it continued to systematically plan, strategize and analyse options and actions. By the time the sun began to invade the small living room from the cracked glass of the window, Elizabeth knew what to do next. Calmed, she stood up, brushed some of the dirt off her clothes and placed the gun next to her ankle, pulling up her left sock to keep it there. She moved when the sun became a little brighter, warily stepping out into the sleepy town as it also awakened for a new day.

Elizabeth began walking the lonely path toward the more densely populated main thoroughfare of the town. This will all be over soon, she thought and then she wouldn't be alone anymore – she would be back in Atlantis with her team, the people she thought of as more a family than mere colleagues, and they would be defending the galaxy, fighting the Wraith (she never thought she'd miss that) and most importantly, they would all be alright and together.

That is, unless I'm actually crazy.

Elizabeth kept walking.

---------------- To Be Continued.