Thanks as ever to my lovely reviewers. Here we go. Some angst and emotional whumpage here.

The new recruits nervously stood in the gate room as the blue circle closed with a whoosh behind them. Janet Donaldson had prepared carefully for this moment, reading up as much as possible on the city in the short time she'd had to prepare for her new job. She didn't really know much about her predecessor or the reasons for her death and hadn't felt it necessary to pry. In any case, there had been a distinct feeling of unease whenever she'd attempted to find out what had happened: not so much a closing of ranks, more a deep sense of something lost and an unwillingness to pick at the sore. She turned round and bent over to pick up the few bags she'd brought with her, pushing back her blonde hair as it fell in front of her eyes. She had the distinct impression that she was being watched and turned round quickly, catching sight of a tall, handsome man frowning down at her from the balcony. As she turned, he seemed to take hold of some emotion and, biting his bottom lip, turned rapidly and marched out of the room.

Janet stared, puzzled, at the empty space, feeling a tap on her elbow. A small woman in a scientist's uniform said quietly, 'That's Colonel Sheppard, you know. I've heard a lot about him but he more than lives up to expectations. I wouldn't mind a piece of that!' Janet grimaced at the young woman's vulgarity before the penny dropped big time. She was replacing a Doctor Catherine Sheppard. Sister? Wife? Whichever, she began to see that she might just have been handed a poisoned chalice.

***

The shock of seeing the blonde head bent down over her bags was too much for John Sheppard. Memories flooded back of the time more than three years ago when he'd first set eyes on Cat. She'd arrived through the gate that day and had looked directly at him, wonder and amazement in her expression, but something else that had caught his attention immediately. Her blue eyes had felt as though they bored right through him, honest, determined and beautiful. And, though they hadn't exactly fallen into each other's arms at first sight, it hadn't taken him too long to realise that fate had dealt him a kind hand for a change and brought him a soul mate to share his life with. For a moment, he'd almost imagined it was she standing on the floor below before the other woman turned and he realised that she was older and considerably more well-upholstered, and he'd caught his breath, surprising himself with the tide of emotion that threatened to drown him.

In the last three months, he'd managed to suppress the more painful feelings that had initially so totally over-whelmed him he'd been unable to do his job. Once he'd got over the 'firsts', the first time he went back to their quarters, the first time he smelt her perfume on the sheets, the first time he stumbled on one of Mona's toys, the first time someone looked at him with sympathy, he'd begun to put up the barriers that made it possible to carry on, although he could hardly call it living. Years of practice, burying emotions and painful memories deep, served him well and had allowed him to get on with a day to day existence. But, right now, he badly needed to escape somewhere less public, unable to hold back the pain he was feeling. He marched down the corridor towards his office, now his quarters again, radiating the kind of body language that says 'leave me alone' and managed to open the door and hear it close behind him before he sank to the ground, back against it, his body shaking with effort as the tears flowed more freely, a volcano finally being allowed to erupt, than they had since the first days his family had been taken from him.

Rodney had watched his friend's reaction to the new archivist with dismay and recognised the almost imperceptible shudder as a sign of more powerful emotions playing out underneath the surface. In the dreadful days that followed Cat and Mona's deaths, he'd held onto a morsel of hope that they might still be alive somewhere, that there was a logical explanation for what had happened. But, nothing in his scans had shown anything other than what they had witnessed with their eyes and ears. The ship appeared to have malfunctioned somehow as it attempted to switch to the alternative reality drive, the debris they had managed to locate confirming it. He'd held onto the hope that it might have been some sort of ruse to put them off the scent, until the fragments were returned to Atlantis and their energy signatures matched to that of the ship that had pierced the shield with so much ease. What they could say with some degree of certainty, was that this was a ship so similar to the one that had abducted he and Daniel Jackson that it had to be the renegade Asgard again. John had held himself together until Rodney finally admitted defeat and then he'd had to watch his best friend crumble, the man who was always a rock for everyone else shattered into little pieces. And, he hadn't known what to do to help. So, he'd carried on trying, investigating, searching for something, if only for an explanation. He could empathise, imagining the loss of Katie and Rosie, but even after all this time and the journey he'd taken emotionally, he still had no idea how to deal with another's distress. That he left to Teyla and Ronon, both more experienced at losing loved ones, Ronon especially.

It was to the big Satedan that he went for help now. Ronon had lost so much in his life, his 'wife', his planet, most of his people, and yet still managed to stay strong. He was probably the closest emotionally and in character to Sheppard and the two men had developed a firm friendship: no they were almost like brothers. Ronon was beating up some poor unsuspecting marine, or so it seemed to Rodney, but there must have something urgent in Rodney's demeanour that made his stop and dismiss the man.

'What's up?' he growled, voice deep from exertion.

'It's Sheppard. I'm worried about him,' and he explained what he'd just witnessed and the door shutting firmly on the stiff back of his friend.

Ronon didn't pause, but threw the towel into the corner of the room and with a simple 'on it' strode purposefully from the gym. It wasn't until he'd reached Sheppard's door that he'd begun to wonder how to handle this one. Sheppard wasn't a man who liked to be seen to lose control. He was a man who preferred to keep his emotions hidden and private. And yet, Ronon knew from bitter experience that the wounds would still be raw and he had 'only' lost a wife. He couldn't begin to imagine the pain of losing a child. Pausing outside the door, he could hear the sound of pained sobbing from the other side, not wild and out of control, but clearly coming from a man desperate not to let it go in case there was no going back. Ronon knew what that felt like too. Too many times, he'd nearly lost his mind with grief, only to fight the temptation to give in to that kind of madness.

He gently knocked on the door. 'Sheppard? Can I come in?' was all he said. There was pause in the sobbing and the sound of someone moving about then the door opened to reveal a room in half light and a shadowy figure standing well away from the entrance. Ronon knew what that meant. Sheppard didn't want to be 'talked' to or questioned.

'I, um, I wondered if you were in the mood for a movie later on. I haven't seen 'Hellboy' yet and you keep promising to show it to me. Rodney and Teyla might be up for it too.' Ronon paused, giving his friend time to recover.

There was a silence and the sound of a deep breath being taken. 'Yeh. Why not. Your place or mine?'

It had been two months since the solemn little ceremony in the gate room, no coffins or other such lies at John's request. He didn't want to stare at an empty box or imagine his wife and daughter's bodies inside, he didn't really want this public show of grief at all, but others had needed it, he could see that. Once before, he'd stood at a memorial service for Cat, but that time she'd miraculously come back from the dead, rescued by the Genii doctor who was still a close friend. How he made it through the ceremony this time he didn't know, but somehow he'd stayed together, stoically putting up with the kindly meant platitudes of his colleagues. General Jack O'Neill had travelled from Earth as a sign of respect, but also because he felt a personal loss. He'd a great affection for Cat, and Colonel John Sheppard was something of a protégé, and it had grieved him deeply to see the man so clearly broken, but desperately trying to keep himself in one piece. From a more pragmatic perspective, he wanted to see for himself if Atlantis' military commander was still capable of holding on to his position and he'd stayed for a week, quietly observing. What his saw made him proud of the man: he carried out his duties in his usual effective way, if without he humour that normally accompanied much of what he did and who he was. As well, of all the people John Sheppard knew, Jack was someone who could most empathise with the pain of losing a child and though it wasn't in either man's nature to open up emotionally, somehow John had recognised and appreciated the unspoken sympathy and concern.

Now, with time passing, John Sheppard was attempting to put his life back together again. In a moment his world had changed from the best it had ever been to the very worst. Everything that mattered most to him had been snatched away in an incomprehensible instant and he was determined, at the very least, to discover what the reason was, hoping to give what had happened at least some kind of purpose. They had managed to surmise only the obvious so far, although he had a theory about what was happening, and today he was determined to discuss the next stage forward with Woolsey. He also needed to 'do' something. To that end, he was on his way to the man's office now, and he'd called by on Teyla for some moral support.

Richard Woolsey had been waiting for the sleeping dragon to wake up. In truth, he was as keen as anyone to find out who had taken Catherine and Monica Sheppard and why, but he had tactically held back, hoping that the carrot of leading an investigation might be enough to help his 2iC back to the real world. Not that John Sheppard hadn't been doing his job, but he lacked the flair, the individuality he normally brought to his command, so much part of his success, and Woolsey was concerned that in a time of major crisis he just wouldn't cut it. He looked up from his desk and nodded to the Colonel and Teyla. The man looked tired and, goodness knows he couldn't afford it, thinner and drawn too, with deep black shadows under eyes which were dull and lifeless without the usual sparkle of humour. By his side was his loyal friend and confidant, keeping a careful and surreptitious eye on his welfare.

'Good afternoon, Colonel, Teyla, what can I do for you?'

John was hesitant. The road he was about to take, he knew, would be a painful one and he just hoped Woolsey would allow it. 'Mr Woolsey. I wondered what headway has been made. I mean, about finding out who is responsible for...' here he paused, not knowing if he could say the words, 'for taking my wife and daughter.' He tried to avoid the other man's gaze, staring at a point above his head, trying to keep steady and calm.

'Well, Colonel. I'm glad that you feel you can ask.' Woolsey smiled encouragingly. 'We have been sending out feelers and trying to speak to our various contacts on the ground and a few facts are beginning to come to light.' Inwardly, he winced, hearing the mixed metaphors spew from his mouth and hoped that the other man hadn't noticed. 'The fragments from the ship and its energy signature do suggest we are dealing with a similar group of renegade Asgard to the ones we encountered before, so we've been asking around to see if we can't get any Intel on why they wanted to, er, to do what they did.' He looked again at John, but there wasn't a glimmer or flicker of emotion. 'We already know about the religious sect that believes a new prophet has arrived in The Galaxy and we can probably surmise that the rumour may have spread both about Monica's birth and her parentage. It wouldn't take much for someone with such fervour to assume that she had 'powers' of some sort, especially if any news leaked out about the little incident when you were taken and tortured by The Genii. Since The Asgard are probably looking for ways to extend their lives and stop their dilution through the cloning process, it is possible that a child with a strong Ancient gene might just be the answer to their problems. Talk on the ground suggests that they have managed to build up quite a little following, for generations, with priests and priestesses of their 'cult' on the lookout for a possible 'messiah', someone who will be directly connected to The Ancients and bring with them a vast wealth of spiritual knowledge and understanding, including the ability to ascend. Lorne and his team came across a disused temple on a planet at the edge of the galaxy and there were images of their 'gods' which looked remarkably similar to the Asgard.'

He paused, allowing what he'd said to sink in. John Sheppard was a highly intelligent man, a fact often obscured by his tendency to childish exclamations and humour. The frown that had developed showed a man trying to process the information he'd just been given. 'So, there are groups of religious nutcases out there who've been conned by those weasely creatures to do their dirty work for them and like all 'gods' they've perpetuated a lie to get people to do what they want. Once they had the information they were waiting for, they launched an attack but something went wrong as they tried to escape.'

Woolsey smiled grimly. 'Succinct, Colonel, but accurate I suspect. The question is what do we do next?' And with that, he sat down and closed his notepad, signalling that he meant 'and over to you, now'.

John spoke through gritted teeth, a man clearly in desperate need of holding onto a deeply felt anger. 'What I want to do is to find every last man, child and slanty eyed alien responsible and do to them what they've done to me. What I will do is take my team to the planet Lorne found as a starting point. McKay may be able to find something out that others have missed. And, we'll take it from there.'

'Okay, Colonel. You have a go.' John turned on his heel, grateful for the chance to get out there and do something. 'And, Teyla, may I have a quick word please?' he said, once the Colonel was out of hearing. 'I know I can rely on you to keep an eye on our friend?'

Teyla smiled sadly. 'You can, Mr Woolsey. I will try to make sure, as will Ronon and Rodney, that he does not get into any trouble.'

'I know you will.'

For some of Atlantis' residents, it was a sign of some semblance of normality when 'the' team strode purposefully down the corridors towards the gate room. The tall Satedan, dreadlocks flying as he strode, the diminutive and pretty Athosian, the plump and grumpy scientist and above all, the tall handsome figure of their military commander dressed in his usual black BDU's, boots casually tied several eyelets below their tops, had been such a familiar sight until recently that most hadn't realised what was missing until they saw them again. But, nothing was normal about the group and what they were feeling. Rodney felt good, heading back out again with his friends, off on some escapade where probably his skills would be most valued and he might, yet again, be able to claim to have saved the day, but he knew in his heart of hearts that it didn't feel right. It wouldn't until the old John Sheppard returned: his friend with the snarky sense of humour and the ability to put him down with a few choice words; the man who could find a positive in every situation and when he says 'I'm fine' it is at least possible to try and believe it; the man who has a ready smile for anyone and loves nothing more than a silly joke; the only man on the base who could even match Rodney McKay in wit and intellect. He glanced sideways at John, noticing the more hollow than usual cheeks and the extra grey hairs that had appeared in his side-burns and at the nape of his neck and sighed audibly, causing Ronon to dig him painfully in the ribs. Well, at least that was normal, he thought.

John was unprepared for what was waiting for them in the gate room. A blonde figure was struggling with a heavy bag, bent over it, trying to do up the catch. Despite himself, he caught his breath yet again, before she stood upright and turned towards him. At least ten years older than Cat, she was as far removed from her in looks as was possible, and yet the smile was warm and friendly. He gritted his teeth and walked towards her.

'Can I help you?' he asked.

'Oh, 'em, didn't Mr Woolsey tell you, Colonel? I'm so sorry. My name is Doctor Janet Donaldson and I'm the new archivist. He thought my knowledge of Ancient might come in useful on this trip.'

'No, Doctor, he did not,' was John's short reply, before he turned to Chuck and said, 'dial the gate.'

The team stood behind him, Teyla and Ronon exchanging nervous glances and wondering at Woolsey's lack of sensitivity. That the man should just not have realised the impact of replacing Cat without reference to John was awkward enough. That she should bear a distant resemblance to her was worse. And both knew that the stiff straight back of their friend was disguising a deep hurt that he was trying to conceal.

The gate on the planet was in the middle of a vast plain, dust whipped up from a sweltering wind that blew across it. John put on his aviators before turning to Rodney with the unspoken question, 'which way?', while Ronon casually rested his hand on his blaster, ready for any nasty surprises. Teyla stood next the new archivist. 'He'll be alright with you eventually,' she was trying to explain. 'His wife was killed a few months ago and you've replaced her. You also bear a passing likeness to her, which I think caught him off guard, especially your hair. Do not worry. He is a good man.'

Janet smiled gratefully at Teyla. She rather suspected from the pain in the younger woman's eyes that Catherine Sheppard's death was felt keenly by her too and for the first time she regretted her decision to take the job.

She heard a slightly whining voice and realised that McKay was speaking. 'I think it's a little north of here, about two kilometres away as the crow flies. There's definitely some kind of structure in that direction. You know, we could've brought a jumper; there's nothing out here to stop its flight and it would have taken us a lot less time. And, it's hot too. Anyone think to bring any extra water supplies?'

Ronon gave him a disdainful look which could only have meant 'suck it up' and McKay shrugged his shoulders to show his irritation, before following the disappearing back of his team leader, who had already set off towards what they hoped would be the temple that Lorne had discovered.

The heat was almost unbearable and by the time they reached the little outcrop they were all hot, sweaty and bad-tempered. The walls that were left of the edifice had crumbled into disrepair and the roof almost entirely gone. Dark creepers grew up and through them, pulling the sandy stone apart; it seemed astonishing that anything could grow in this heat, but even here nature was determined to take its land back from the human usurpers. In the middle of the 'room', for it was no more than a circle with a few piles of stones around it, there was what was left of an altar, etched deep with Ancient writings. Janet stepped towards it, only to be stopped by a strong hand on her shoulder.

'Wait, please, Doctor. Let us check it out first. No knowing what creepy crawlies or Asgard booby traps are waiting to bite us.' While there was no hint of a smile from the Colonel, she had the briefest glimpse of what he had been and could be from these words and she began to understand that his friends felt the loss of more than just those who had died. She watched as he and Ronon painstakingly checked out the altar and its surroundings, before he beckoned to her that it was safe.

'Be quick please, Doc,' he said. 'We don't want to spend longer than we have to in this heat. Take the pictures and we'll go.' Then he and Ronon took guard, facing away from the altar. McKay walked forward to assist her and to make his own diagnosis of the structure.

At first glance, there didn't seem to be anything special about the writings, but then she noticed a small indentation which appeared to give as she touched it. 'Doctor McKay. There seems to be something here. It's certainly loose and I think if I just push it.....Oh!!' The small stone disappeared into the altar, causing the top to slide open, grinding painfully as stone struggled to move against stone.

John and Ronon ran over. 'What is it? John queried, switching on the light on his gun and pointing it into the darkness.

Inside was a jumble of stone tablets, each with a series of hieroglyphs and some with Ancient writing on them. Janet shone her torch onto the stones. 'Well, unless I'm much mistaken, each of these stones seems to have some kind of location on it. At a guess, and it's only a guess right now, I'd say they tell us where there are other temples to whatever gods these people worshipped. We'll need to get them back to Atlantis to be sure. Oh, and wait.' She leant forward and picked up a little statue from the jumble.

'Well, that's familiar,' quipped Rodney. 'Looks just like Hermiod, doesn't it?'

***

Marlana's long wait for recognition had arrived. She lay flat on the ground, almost unable to look up to the spot where the silver ship had landed, magically descending in a glittering halo from the heavens. She heard a buzzing noise and in the periphery of her vision was aware of a bright flash and finally dared to look up. Walking towards her was a creature dressed in shiny black, its hard shell covered in small regular rectangular shapes, its head round and covered with the same material. On the front was a square with brightly flashing lights. And in its arms it held a tiny human girl, her shock of dark hair visible even from this distance. She was screaming and struggling against her captor with an incredible might, almost impossible it seemed that such a little thing could be so powerful. Two studded boots stopped in front of Marlana.

'Rise, priestess and receive your reward. You have been chosen to look after a precious charge, the one we have been searching for.'

As she rose, he handed her the struggling bundle. Marlana looked down and was met by the most beautiful but angriest set of emerald eyes she had ever seen. 'How long do you wish me to care for the child?' she asked.

'You will need to keep her safe for several years, until she has reached the age of reckoning. Look after her, teach her our ways and educate her as to her purpose. You will need to be both mother and teacher. We had hoped to bring her birth mother with her, but that did not prove possible. She was not as co-operative as we had wished and we had to dispose of her. We will contact you as each new season begins and one of our kind will visit you each year to check on the child's progress.'

At that the creature turned and said something she didn't understand into the air then it was taken in a flash of white light up to the ship, which left as quickly as it had arrived.

Marlana grimaced at the squirming bundle in her arms. 'Well, it is just we two, then,' she said.

TBC

Well, I did say no easy get out this time, didn't I???

Please R & R. It might encourage me to write more quickly!