I would like to start off this author's note with the fact that this story is sad, depressing even. But I guess you kind of got that from the summary. Also, this story includes someone drinking alcohol. And includes someone having flashbacks, maybe he's PTSD-ish? So if any of that bothers you I suggest you stop reading now.

But anyways, this story is about Evan Lorne and Kennedy Reed, two people from SGA-2. It is from Evan's point of view. I actually watched Conversion like fifty times to get the flashbacks right, so I hope the quotes and actions are correct. The flashbacks are in italics. But, anyways, you can go ahead and read if you want.

I was sitting on the northwest pier. I swung my feet, the edges of my shoes sliding in and out of the ocean water with each pass. I brought a glass half-way filled with some Athosian version of scotch to my lips. The silky liquid seemed like acid as it soaked into my parched lips and slid down my dry throat. It made my stomach churn unnaturally, making it feel like my intestines were twisting together. I half-heartily clutched my stomach, trying to keep my last meal right where it should be. I glanced at the bottle of amber liquid beside me, the source of my freshly-poured glass of scotch. The large bottle was already mostly gone. I briefly wondered how long I had been out here drinking. I discarded the thought quickly, it didn't matter how long I had been out here. Walker and Stevens were no longer here to worry about me, and I'm sure Reed was out somewhere preoccupied with trying to make the loss that clawed at him go away.

The ocean stretched out in front of me. The aqua color of the water seemed to glitter as the dim sunlight hit it. The water was calm, serene. Above the ocean the clear blue sky stretched out. It was a truly beautiful sight, too bad I wasn't really paying much attention to it. I wasn't really even seeing the ocean. Not exactly. Instead my mind was just playing back flashes of what had happened days ago, but something that was just as fresh in my mind that it could have happened a second ago…

Elizabeth and Rodney stood in front of me. Elizabeth looked upset, her hands twitching at her sides, her feet shuffling uncertainly. Rodney looked concerned, His usually sharp blue eyes clouded with fear for his best friend. Carson appeared then. Carson wasn't his usual calm and collected self, instead he looked flooded with worry for his friend. I knew John was getting worse just by their rough-around-the-edges appearance.

McKay spoke, "The Ancient database has quite a lot of information about the Iratus bug. We know what planet it's on, we know that it likes cool damp dark places to lay its eggs."

I spoke then, my voice unnaturally rough with worry for the man who saved my life so many times, "It shouldn't be that hard to locate."

Elizabeth had seemed even more worried at my words, she was worried for me and my team as well as John now. But I could still see the poorly-concealed relief that flooded her eyes. "Wait a minute! The last time we ran into one of these things, we almost lost Sheppard. How do you expect to just walk right in to one of their nests?"

Carson spoke then, trying to reassure Elizabeth and further convince me to go. "I don't see that we have any other choice. We need the Iratus stem cells ... the best stem cells come from embryos! With them, we actually have a chance of saving Colonel Sheppard. Without them, he'll die!"

I shot a pleading look at Elizabeth, determination flooding my veins and supplying adrenaline. I wanted so bad to save John. After all the times he's risked his life for me and everyone else of Atlantis, it was my turn to return the favor and I wouldn't fail him.

A few tense seconds passed as Carson and Elizabeth argued, showing just how wound up both of them were. John must be close to death. I spoke up, ignoring the fact that my voice had fallen into default tone. My cold and calculating voice sounded strangely loud, "We all understand the risks, Doctor Weir, and I believe that Colonel Sheppard would do the same for any one of us."

Elizabeth crossed her arms for a moment. Then she dropped them and her fingers drummed on her thighs. Then her hands fell limp as she made a decision. Elizabeth finally nodded, "Permission granted."

The wave of relief I felt was sickening…

I closed my eyes at the memory, as clear cut as when it had happened. I sucked in an uneven breath. I suddenly gripped the glass bottle of strange scotch in my hands. I then suddenly stood up, surprised when I felt a wave of nausea and lightheadedness. I then slammed the glass against the wall as hard as I could, again and again and again. The glass shattered into a million pieces. The glass pieces flew everywhere. Some pieces landed in my skin, causing shimmers of light against my skin. Blood suddenly rose up from the short, but deep, cuts. Thick scarlet rivulets of blood ran across my wrists, blood began pooling in the palms of my hands, blood soaked through the dark material of my shirt. I gasped at the pain, wondering why the hell I had just done that. It was a stupid idea, sure It had helped release the white-hot rage that roared inside me, but still it was a bad idea. Whatever, I could deal with pain. Well, physical pain at least. My breath quickened as I felt my fingertips tingle and my gaze darken, symptoms of the terror that filled me up. The terror of the knowledge that I would have to experience my teammates deaths again and again until my mind gave up punishing me…

I was in the dark cave now, Walker, Stevens, and Kennedy beside me. Rodney, Carson, Teyla, and Ronan somewhere behind me. Everything I saw was unnervingly green, because of the pair of Night Vision Goggles. I strained my eyes to make out the sight of Carson trying to collect eggs from an egg sac hanging in front of him. I suddenly saw a Iratus bug come up behind him, but before I could call out a warning so that he could get away, a flash deep red filled the cave. The light came from Ronan's gun and the creature dropped to the floor, dead. The other bugs charged. Carson stumbled back and away from the creatures.

I helped the others lay cover fire as Carson stumbled over to us as quickly as he could. Once he was with us, Teyla and Ronan began to run out of the cave. Carson was at their heels and I was about the follow them when I realized Kennedy had paused beside me. I grasped him by the arm and shoved him in front of me, near the door. He stumbled in front of me. I heard him mutter something, so quietly I could have mistaken It for the wind had we been outside. His voice echoed with loss, sounding strained and weak. "Walker, he's dead. That bug was eating him alive, chewing out his neck and ripping open his throat."

I paused and cursed my vivid imagination as I imagined the scene playing out before my eyes. I shoved Kennedy out the doorway, and he went limply his mind not on the present but on the scene one of his best friends viciously dying in front of him. I called into the radio, hoping I would hear a response from Stevens. Or maybe Walker, Kennedy could have gotten them confused in the darkness, though I honestly doubted it. "Walker! Stevens! Get the hell out of there!"

I was met with silence. A silence that announced the death of half of my team. That announced the death of two of my friends. I stayed a moment, hoping for a response, any response. A scream echoed through the cave. A rough pain-filled scream that was abruptly cut off. A death call. I called into the radio again, knowing deep in my heart that I would get no response. "Walker! Stevens! Do you copy?"

I was met with only the sound of shifting Iratus bugs. My two teammates were dead. I would never see Stevens again, or Walker. I would never see them again because they were gone, forever. I found it hard to imagine not seeing Walkers playful grin as he stole Stevens's Ipad so that Stevens would realize he was hungry and should go eat lunch with his team. It was hard to believe I would no longer see those two pairs of half-veiled smirks that appeared when something devious happened. I pulled out a grenade, in my heart a fire raged for revenge. I pulled the pin and through it in the cave at the Iratus bugs. They burned.

And I ran…

I met Kennedy who was still at the entrance to the cave, waiting anxiously for my return. I shoved him out the door just as the explosion reached us. I was thrown through the air like a rag doll. I landed on the ground hard, all the air sucked out of my lungs from the impact. Ash and dirt rained down from the force of the explosion. For a moment I couldn't breathe from the thick smoke, but I soon got my breathing under control enough to raise my head from where it had face-planted in the dirt… and then lost my breath all over again at the sight that met me.

Kennedy was laying limp on the ground, his limbs stretched out every which way, his face unnaturally pale. I was instantly by his side. He moaned softly, one of his trembling hands raising to his head. I saw blood run down his face, strikingly dark against his pale skin. The blood clotted in his long dark eyelashes, where it flooded his right eye. It came from a wound just above his right eye, where his head had collided with a nearby rock. He gasped, his voice raspy, "Did Stevens make it out?"

I gazed at him for a moment, my head dropping down until the tips of my soft brown hair brushed his chest. I let out a shaky breath. I raised my head just enough to see Kennedy's face, and shook my head in the negative. He opened his mouth, his unusually sharp teeth tainted with blood from his biting his lip. He spoke then, his voice sounded as shattered as I felt, "No. They can't be dead. They just can't be."

His honey-brown eyes met mine, pleading silently as his gaze searched mine for any trace of a lie. When he found none, his eyes seemed to dull and darken, The brilliant light that usually shone there gone without a trace. His eyes glossed over with tears, but he didn't let them fall. He blinked a few times, at a loss for words.

I heard a soft thud as Carson dropped into a crouch beside me. His pale steady hands brushed against his wound, ignoring the wince that this caused Kennedy. His hands gently pressed against the wound to pause the blood flow for a moment before he let go of the wound, and reached for his first aid kit. I backed away from them and watched from the background, not wanting to get in Carson's way. Carson pulled out a field dressing and applied it to Kennedy's head wound. He then drew out a light and flashed it in Kennedy's eyes, whispering words I couldn't make out from where I was standing…

I tore out of this memory abruptly, because I became aware of someone speaking. I was suddenly aware of the fact that there was a cold floor beneath me, and that I was sprawled on top of it. I was breathing in rapid jerky movements. My eyes felt like they were burning, while I could taste a salty taste. My cheeks felt wet, and they seemed to gather more moisture each second. Was I… crying?

I opened my eyes to see a blurry world, and screwed my eyes shut to try to stop the burning in my eyes. I reopened my eyes to see black combat boots, Atlantis tread. They shifted as someone crouched beside me. I looked up to see Kennedy. His face was still too pale, and a line of stiches ran across the wound just above his right eye. That wound would definitely scar. His eyes aren't their normal bright sharp blue. They are dulled with loss, clouded with guilt, glassy with tears. His eyes are the same as I had seen them that moment after his teammates deaths. They are so shattered, that it's just wrong. A voice drifted from in front of me, steady and slick, "Hey, Evan."

"Hey." I mumbled, my voice weak and rough. I stared up at Kennedy's face. His eyebrows were tilted inward, a sign I had since learned meant he was concerned. But they were barely slanted, as if he was trying hard not to show his concern but just didn't have to strength to. Kennedy stood then, leaving a hand outstretched to help me stand. His hand was rough, scarred, calloused. His hands were the hands of a warrior, a soldier. The slight tremble that flowed through his hands just made his hands look wrong. I grasped his wrist and his hand tightened around my wrist in return. His hands were warm, sweaty, they stuck to my wrist like glue as they held on too tightly. I could suddenly feel pain on my arms, my face, my neck, my chest, oh hell my whole body. But the pain felt far away, phantom. He hauled me upward, the only effort I made to help him a weak tug to get my feet on the ground. I gasped as a wave of dizziness flooded me, making my stomach clench in nausea. The world seemed to spin in a mass of blue and silver, then the world tilted and I felt my feet fly out from under me.

I wasn't sure how long it was until the world righted itself, but it felt like forever. I was now sitting on the ground, my legs splayed out in front of me and my back leaning against the wall behind me. I glanced beside me to see Kennedy. His knees were drawn up to his chest, one arm wrapped around them, his other arm laying on top of his legs. His head was buried in the arm laying limp above his legs. His hands were coated in blood, and glass was in a pile in front of him. He must have pulled out all the glass from my skin. He was silent, but his shoulders shook ever so slightly. I knew instantly he was crying. I was suddenly aware of the fact that I had never seen him cry. So many horrible things have happened, so many tragedies and terrors. I had seen almost everyone I knew on Atlantis cry at least at one point. Except for him. Even Sheppard, out fearless military leader, had cried. He had cried after Ford was presumed dead. I remember my shock at seeing him, he had been so lost and I had never known anyone look that broken before. He had sought comfort in one of his remaining teammates, needing to be reminded that he still had his best friend and that that best friend was alive and well. John had been curled up on the floor beside Rodney, his head buried in Rodney's shoulder. His soft cries drifted down the hall, and I knew he was crying even without seeing his face. I did see Rodney's face though. His eyes filled with so much loss and guilt that it made me terrified. Terrified that maybe one day I would lose a member of my team and I would feel that horrible loss, a loss that left him hollow and empty for months. A loss that made him loose that spark in his eyes for so long. The same loss of spark shone in Kennedy's dark eyes, and I knew that it shone in my eyes to.

Kennedy was looking at me now, his cheeks red and blotchy. A lone tear gathered at the corner of one of his eyes, where it hung on his long dark eyelashes for a moment, then it dripped onto the dark circles hanging under his eyes, Then it flowed down his cheek, it gathered with other tears at the end of his chin, and then slipped off and onto his shirt where it soaked into the dark material. The tear was soon replaced by another, then another.

I thought of something to say to him, Something comforting to make him feel better. Nothing came to mind. I could ask him if he was okay, but I knew he would say he was. Even if everything was so not okay that it was just wrong. So I forgot words. Words could do nothing to fill the emptiness inside us.

I scooted closer to him, until we were sitting beside each other, I gently put my arm around his shoulders. He leaned into my touch, his head falling to rest on my shoulder. His skin was cold, even freezing. It reminded me of the sharp bitter wind that tugged at me, freezing me deep down to the bone. I ignored my discomfort, instead focused on my best friend as he withered in the agony of those lost. His every muscle was tense, taunt, trembling. His eyes were open wide, glinting and bloodshot. I watched him for a while, knowing just how exhausted he was. Eventually he would fall asleep, he wouldn't be able to help it. I was sure he hadn't slept since the mission, and that had been days ago. I hadn't slept either, but I was confident I would be able to stay awake.

Kennedy slowly began to fall asleep, his head lolling limply until it settled snugly in the crook of my neck, his muscles loosened from the strain of several days. His eyes had closed, his cheeks turned back to a pale tan instead of a blotchy red. His rhythmic breaths gently blew in the air, sending soft little puffs in the breeze. I was suddenly aware of how young he was, only in his late twenties. He looked so vulnerable as he lay in my embrace, seeking comfort to hide the pain that tore him up. To me he was like a younger brother. I trusted him more than anyone else in the whole world. I knew he trusted me too. He trusted me more than anyone else I had ever known. I knew that I would help him heal from this pain, this loss. And I knew that he would help me heal to.

With that thought, I felt the exhaustion catch up to me. I felt my body fall limp of its own accord. I allowed my eyes to slide closed. Blissful darkness enveloped me in warm comforting arms.

And for the first time since I had lost half my team I realized that maybe, just maybe, I would be alright.

So… What did you all think? Did you enjoy reading this? I would love to get reviews or favorites. I love those. Now goodbye. The shiny review button is calling you.