Disclaimer: I do not own any of the Stargate parts - that would be MGM - I only borrow the characters to play with.

Thanks to my loyal betas mrscopterdoc and JoaniexJony - you rock!

And thanks to taris - without her idea of the weather whump challenge, this story would have never come into my mind.

The Fairy*

This was a wild dream. He was floating through water as If he was flying. His face wet, hair plastered to his head and creeping plants touching his naked arms and legs. Every once in a while some myopic fish crossed his path and knocked against his temples.

John Sheppard wasn't enjoying this dream. He desperately wanted to wake up, open his eyes, feel the soothing vibrations of Atlantis and snuggle deeper into his soft, dry blankets.

All of a sudden something sharp pierced into his forehead, leaving a bloody gash when resuming its way.
"Crap", he gurgled and swallowed a mouthful of salt water.
This dream sucked big time.

He concentrated on opening his eyes.
It shouldn't be so hard, should it?
He'd done it at least once a day for over 40 years now.
Why was it so hard this time?
If this really was a dream, how was it possible to feel so tired or experience pain?
Something wasn't quite right with this situation.
Raise eyelids, he ordered himself. Open eyes!

He groaned, spilling more water down his throat. John struggled and managed to drag his eyes open. He peeked out through the slits.
This wasn't a dream at all ...
John saw grey: dark, watery and somewhat blurry grey – water?
Realization hit. His face was drooping under water. John jerked his head up and let out a yell, as all the physical sensations were crashing over him.

He wasn't only tired and not in his bed, he was soaking wet, floating in water and aching all over. The gash above his right eye was still bleeding, his back hurt like hell and both of his arms were in pain, hanging uselessly under water.
Yet something wasn't quite right. He should be sinking like a stone, but instead he was floating nearly without effort.
He looked right then left and saw a piece of something sticking out from under his armpit. It was grey.
Of course, grey seemed to be the fashionable color nowadays.
Despite his head hurting and the tiredness growing, his weary brain grasped at a memory. He knew this design. This grey material was soft to the touch but very strong. It was made to last ten thousand years and longer. Was it Wraith?

John tried to remember what had happened to him, but nothing resurfaced from his tired brain. Thinking made him dizzy and he decided to rest for a while. Maybe after a nap he would be able to figure out why he happened to be here in the middle of an ocean, lying on a Wraith lifebelt. His last conscious thought was: 'It would be good not to drown' and his last rational action was to shift the grey thing, so that he could lay down his head.
Then grey blurred to black.

"How long since his last status message?"
Dr. Elizabeth Weir was nervous. Her shoulders were tense and she flexed her fingers again and again while pacing up and down the control room.
Peter Grodin was sitting at the crystal control panel, concern clearly visible on his face. He had nothing but bad news.

"Almost 5 hours. Colonel Sheppard was just reaching the mainland - which means our main scanner. We saw him for about 10 minutes, enough time to reach the coast, then … nothing."
Elizabeth forced herself to keep her hands still.
"But why did the scanner lose him? Even if he …" she trembled and wrapped both arms around her body.
"If he … crashed, we would still be able to sense his transmitter."
"Hm."
"What?" It irritated her that Peter looked even more worried than he did a few minutes before.
"There's a storm around the city. A huge cold front has reached the ocean and formed some kind of cover right above the water. Nothing will get through it."
"And how long will the cover take to vanish?"
Elizabeth knew she wasn't making any sense, but she had to try. Peter needed to give her something to keep her strong.
"I honestly don't know, Dr. Weir. The atmospheric layers have to mix properly."
"Ok. So we wait?"
"We wait."

"!"
The Queen's Wraith growl was bloodcurdling and the Drone in front of her ducked his head another 5 inches.
The temperature in this part of the Hive ship dropped from 34° to -10° as the Queen stood up and invaded his personal space.
"Just to clarify things …" She pointed her right index finger at him, her arm shaking so that her jewelry rattled.
"We started our culling on a nearly deserted planet, that was once a very promising feeding ground, then we were able to capture our worst enemy, this arrogant Colonel Sheppard and we LOST him?"
The Drone started to explain: "We …"
"Shut up!" She screeched and spit into his face.
"You're a miserable failure. Sheppard got off this ship in a STOLEN Dart."
Furiously she punched her fist, rings sparkling at every single finger, right into his face.
He staggered but did not fall. If he would have fallen, he would have been dead within a second.

When another hour passed in unnerving inaction, Elizabeth decided to pay the infirmary a visit. As she turned to tell Peter, she saw him stifle a yawn. He looked up at her wearing a sheepish expression. The small number of people working in the control room were on their last legs. Elizabeth had lost count of the hours they'd worked without a break. As long as their leader was still walking, they would somehow go on. She knew they wouldn't give up trying to find the colonel.

"Get something to eat and maybe a coffee too – you can't do anything here", Peter suggested.
Elizabeth nodded and looked around at the grey faces with dark circles under their eyes, then back to Peter.
"I'll get you a sandwich and a cup of tea."
That's not what he'd meant, but he only smiled at her and looked back to his screen. The cold front on disply formed some kind of cheese cover over the water.
Hmmm, blue green Stilton …
His stomach growled.

The doors to the sick bay slid open and Elizabeth was once again overwhelmed by the sheer amount of people using any available space. People were lying on makeshift beds in the corridor, sitting and lying on blankets on the ground, occupying every single chair or seat. The most serious cases were resting on hospital beds and stretchers. It was pure chaos.
They never had so many casualties in Atlantis.
Thanks to colonel Sheppard, the evacuation of Cresda went almost as planned. He and his team had spent 4 days on the planet, supported by several units and all of their jumpers.
When the culling began, most of the residents were safe on the mainland.
Everybody else had got involved in something that major Lorne later referred to as 'Wraith wrath'.

Elizabeth sighed when she recalled the endless list of wounded on Dr. Beckett's short report.
75 easy to moderate wounded and 16 critical cases, Teyla and Rodney among them.
And one still missing … Elizabeth added deep in thought.

He had to stand in the cold a long time while the Queen ordered her scientists, technicians and pilots to report to her throne. At the end she decided what course to take and dismissed the underlings.
At last she turned to him again.
"You", she hissed and rose to her impressive height.
He snapped out of his brooding to look into her face. He wanted to show strength until the last moment of his life.

"Go after him. I wish him recaptured and killed – in this order. You find him, you bring him to me, you'll live."
There was no need for more words.
The Drone considered bowing then thought otherwise and left. He knew that his Queen would never let him live, no matter what the outcome. So he made up his mind to take his own life.
But not before he'd made the Queen proud of him again.

As long as he'd served under this Queen, he'd always wanted to be recognized by her. So he'd stood in the frontline for reconnaissance flights. He'd defended the Hive and hadn never missed a single culling.
He knew what he would need to do to make himself remembered.
He would destroy colonel Sheppard and as much of Atlantis as he possibly could.

John regained consciousness, shaking with cold.
This time he had no problems opening his eyes, because his ribcage and back were hurting so much. He desperately wanted to know what had hit him.
He knew all would be grey again, but this time his vision was clearer so he could see the horizon.
Was there a ship?
Did they go out by ship to search for him? But there was no ship in Atlantis or at the mainland. The Athosians were hunters and traders but no fishermen and this was no fisher boat at all. It was a three-master, no sails were hoisted and it was moving very slowly.
Ok, so if it wasn't the Atlantis sea – where was he?
John didn't know of another planet in the Pegasus galaxy with an ocean. But there could be one, of course.
And probably the ship was about to leave its harbor, setting sails and coming his way.
There was hope.
John trembled harder when another thought crossed his mind. The ship might just be calling into port.
No hope at all …

Tiredness crept back into his bones. Drifting uselessly through the water, slowly dying of thirst and ending up as fish food wasn't the kind of end he'd ever considered.
As a soldier he'd always thought that he would get killed in action. Hell, there had been enough situations that could have been his death.
Suddenly he thought of his team.
Rodney would be onto his case, no question. It was possible that they'd long since detected his transmitter, had come to this planet and had chartered a ship.
The image of Ronon at the wheel commanding the sailors, Rodney complaining about the spray ruining his tablet and Teyla standing at the bow like Kate Winslet looking out for him, made him smile like an idiot.

"Gah …"
His head hurt.
John once again looked at the ship. He wanted to wipe his eyes, but couldn't move his arms.
"What the …"
The ship had altered course and it was definitely setting out to sea. But it wasn't THAT ship, was it? He only saw two masts now and the front one definitely was under sail.
He wondered if the cold and pain were confusing his senses.
Anyway, there was a ship and he had to try to get into its course and make himself noticed.
His arms were useless, but he still could paddle with his legs. After all he was a decent swimmer. He'd never lost a swimming competition against his brother.
So paddling it was.

It turned out to be a bad idea.
Moving his legs upwards felt like being sliced from toe to head with one of Ronon's swords. John let out a deep groan and his body collapsed.

Approaching Atlantis from space was insanity, but the Drone wasn't left with another option. He knew the way to his target.
A year and a half ago, he had flown in the strike to destroy Atlantis. They had been close to victory when suddenly the huge battleship had appeared out of hyperspace and the city's shield came up.

The Drone took a firmer grip on the control stick and let murderous rage float through his body.
Again he looked up the results of his latest scan. There was nothing unusual above the land, but what he saw on the ocean was very promising. A strange atmospheric situation with humid warm air right above the water and cold dry air covering the whole sea. This was something that could help him fly to Atlantis undetected.
All he needed to do was slide his Dart as close as possible to the water surface …

Dr. Carson Beckett walked towards Elizabeth with a very agitated Ronon in tow. The Satedan was sporting a head bandage and an angry red stitched up wound on his forearm. Elizabeth assumed that this wound had been bandaged too, but knowing Ronon well, she was surprised that he'd let the doctor suture it at all.

"How is Sheppard? Did he make it home?"
Ronon had walked in front of Carson and was now standing right in front of her, demanding answers.
Elizabeth swallowed her words when she saw Carson's angry face. He said with a low menacing voice: "It's enough now, Ronon. I told you I'd come and tell you the news as soon as I've spoken to Elizabeth. You need to stay in bed. So …"
"I need to …" Ronon suddenly staggered and Carson grabbed his left arm, crying for help. When two nurses reached them, the doctor was relieved and let him go. If Ronon had collapsed he would've had no chance to catch him.

"Take him back to bed please", he told the nurses, but before they left, Elizabeth took pity and said: "I'm sorry, Ronon, we haven't heard from him yet. There's a storm outside so we can't do much. Please try to rest. Carson will tell you when we know more."
The big man looked defeated. He grumbled something that sounded like 'Ok' before he was slowly escorted back to his bed.

Carson sighed and rubbed his hands over his face.
She saw how exhausted he was. Two and a half days of working non-stop had taken it's toll. 'Double shift' wasn't the right expression for what the medical personnel were doing here. It was working ad-infinitum if required and never giving up.

"I don't think I've ever seen Ronon sway", she said somewhat lightly.
The doctor looked at her, wearing a wry smile.
"He'd already keeled over twice before, that's why I want him in his bed. I don't have the personnel to constantly keep him upright."
"Concussion?"
"Aye. The wound at his temple knocked him out for a few hours, but he isn't in a bad way. 24 hours from now, he will be as good as new."
"How about Teyla and Rodney?"
"Teyla came through the surgery very well. She's still heavily sedated to help with her recovery. We fixed her broken tibia and used some artificial skin on her thigh. Provided there isn't any infection, she should make a full recovery."
Elizabeth knew how tricky burns could be and hoped for Teyla to get through it soon.
"And Rodney?"
Carson sighed again and continued: "The last scans came back promising. The swelling and therefore the pressure on his brain have declined, but he's still in a coma. We replaced the blood he'd lost through his arm wounds, but … his condition is still critical."

Elizabeth asked about the other patients in serious condition then told the doctor about their missing military commander."As soon as the weather allows, I'll send out two jumpers to search the ocean and the mainland. We hope that our scanner will pick up his transmitter signal."
Carson could hear her voice trembling and see her eyes glistening with unshed tears. They all were tired out and worried sick about the colonel.
John was essential to Atlantis, to the people who worked here and in the battle against the Wraith. He was essential to his friends and especially for Elizabeth who relied on him.
He had to live.

He was stiff all over. The position on his Wraith life-saver hadn't changed for what seemed like years and the pain had dimmed down to a dull ache. Had the cold helped to numb the pain?
John went on with his physical inventory. He was cold and thirsty – which just about summed it up.
He wanted water so badly that he began to dream about the fountain in his high school. It was cool and refreshing …

He was cold. Every part of his body that wasn't under water was exposed to the chilling breeze. His hair had dried and the skin of his face felt like sandpaper.
Suddenly he remembered the ship and he looked around frantically.
Nothing.
The ship was gone.
He had been out too long and the ship had sailed away.
The tiredness and discouragement threatened to overwhelm him. Tears stung his eyes, but he swallowed them - there was already enough saltwater.
John realized he should have crashed the Dart on the mainland. His death would have been quick and relatively easy.

Dart?
He'd flown a Dart.
His memories came back and he couldn't suppress a bitter laugh. How ironic to remember all this just before dying.
The culling.
Most of the people were rescued before the war began.
He'd done his best, they all had, but then he'd been captured and taken on a Hive Ship. He'd been lucky. For once he'd been relatively unscathed and the two Drones who'd brought him in had been the most stupid ones in the Pegasus galaxy.
The escape from the Hive in a Dart had gone smoothly. He recalled remembering how to reach the mainland and he knew he had contacted Atlantis.
He didn't know he'd had a tail but realized there must have been one. John remembered the impact of the missile and the moment the Dart had tumbled down.

So why was he still alive?
Why hadn't the enemy made sure he'd died?
He would have.

Another shivering attack coursed through his body, ending in a coughing fit.
So he was at the Atlantis sea after all.
What was the problem with localizing him, sending a jumper and picking him up?
It shouldn't take Rodney more than a minute to figure out where he was.
Rodney … his team … Lorne … all his marines …
Where were they?

What if … there was no one?
Atlantis' finest had been on Cresda to fight the Wraith. What if they lost?
There had been no time to ask Elizabeth about them before his Dart had crashed.
John didn't feel the tears running down his face.
There was no more feeling, no pain, no thirst.
Ice.
Ice was all that was left inside and outside of him.

"Dr. Weir to the control room, please."
Peter Grodin's voice startled Elizabeth, as she was standing deep in thought in the middle of the mess hall, a tray of food in her hands.
She hurried to the transporter and stood next to Peter only 2 minutes later.
"Good news, Peter?"
He watched her setting down the tray hard that his tea spilled over the wrapped sandwiches.
Ignoring his gnawing hunger, he pointed out to the display.
"The storm has ceased and our scanner …"

An incoming message from the mainland interrupted him and Peter put them through.
"… couldn't contact … storm … tried because … single Dart … shot with the new weapon, Colonel Sheppard introduced us to. Toran out."
The static died down and the words 'Dart' and 'shot' rang through Elizabeth's ears. Her stricken expression matched the faces around her.
She made a gesture to Peter that she wanted to speak.

"Toran, please come in. Part of your message was lost to static. Say again."
"Dr. Weir, we couldn't contact you for several hours because of the storm. We tried to warn you about a single Dart flying very low over the mainland, heading towards Atlantis. We fired a shot with the new weapon, Colonel Sheppard introduced us to."

Peter sucked in some air and uttered: "The AT4 …"
Elizabeth felt cold right to the bones. Sheppard … John ...
"Did you hit the Dart?"
"We did, Dr. Weir."
There was pride in Toran's voice.
"The Dart was on fire when it went down into the sea."

TBC

*A/N
Some explanations will be posted after pt 2 – so please stay tuned.
I'll try to hurry up and post pt 2 tomorrow. In the meantime you could leave a comment (smile)