The day was beautiful, a beautiful, sunny Saturday morning and John Sheppard was five minuets from killing someone. The physical therapist was, in his mind, worse than the Wraith. He had been stumbling around out here for the past forty-five minuets. His leg was in agony, but he forced himself to walk forward, thrilled to not be in hospital garments for once. Finally the physical therapist motioned for him to sit down, which he did willingly. Breathing in deeply, he hardly had time to catch his breath before he found himself being assaulted by something black and fuzzy.

"Sheppard no!" a very familiar voice yelled out.

'I'm losing it,' John thought.

But no sooner had the thought crossed his mind then she was there, pulling the dog off him. He stared, that was all he could do. She looked so familiar, so like he remembered. Her cheeks were colored, partly from the breeze blowing and partly from running to catch the errant dog. She was dressed in dark jeans and long-sleeved, low-necked green shirt that made her eyes look bigger. Her hair was still in curls, though they were caught in her scarf.

A thousand questions raced through his mind. Did she still drink lots of coffee? Did her students respect her as much as they had? Was someone (aka a boyfriend or worse, a fiancé) waiting for her at home? Did she miss their late-night discussions as much as he did? Did she miss him at all?

"I'm so sorr—" the words died on her lips.

Much to his chagrin, he found it nearly impossible to swallow past the lump in his throat, speaking was not an option. That seemed to be fine with her, because her lips had parted in surprise and she was staring at him like she'd seen a ghost, which was very close to the case. The dog looked at her, before barking at his playmate. Their eyes were locked for the longest heartbeat of his life. Nothing mattered but her, and him.

"John?" she said finally, almost inaudibly.

The world had stopped when Sheppard had revealed, well, another Sheppard. John. The one person she had waited for five years to speak too—the one person she never wanted to see again. It was all so confusing that it stole her breath away. Or maybe, it was how he looked. Ronon hadn't been lying, John looked broken. There were fine lines around his eyes now, a faint scar traced his temple lightly. His hair was a messy as ever. But the worst was his eyes themselves. They had always been so expressive and so alive. Now they stared back at her. If the eyes were the windows to the soul, then he had no soul now. They looked at her, showing her indescribable sadness and pain.

"What are you doing here?" she asked finally, feeling stupid as soon as the words left her lips.

"Healing," he said looking down at his knee. The mess of half-healed skin was concealed beneath a good inch of bandages and a thick brace.

"What happened?" Elizabeth gasped, looking at the brace.

"A mission," he said tightly, "unexpected off-world activity."

"John—" she began.

"Sorry," he said pushing himself to his feet, "you don't have clearance, can't tell you anything," he gritted his teeth as pain shot through his leg and he eased himself back down again. How could he have been so stupid? How could they have sent him to Georgetown University Hospital? How could she be there? The two dogs, Dr. Waters—all the pieces were coming together too nicely for him. All the old hurt, pain and anger he thought he had been successful in burying.

"What about the other projects you left us for?" he asked, bitterness evident in his voice, "shouldn't you be getting back to those?"

Elizabeth felt like she had been smacked. For a moment she felt shocked. Then, angry, how dare he make her feel like she was the evil one. She was not the perfect diplomat anymore, and he was not the invincible warrior. If he was going to be awful, then she was going to be awful right back—no matter how childish it was.

"Yes," Elizabeth said, her face turning cold, "I guess I should. Come on Sheppard, lets go find Sedge."

Turning on her heel, she walked back to her other dog, swiping angrily at the one tear that had escaped. She would not cry anymore, especially not over John Sheppard. Unlike the last time, she did not look back at him, but kept walking. Behind her, John up at the sky, figuring if anyone asked he could blame the water in his eyes on the sun.

88 Atlantis 88

Ronon Dex was not taking things well. In fact, Rodney would say he was taking things very badly. The hulking warrior had made a new sport in Atlantis: Marine beating. Major Lorne had expressly forbid his team to go anywhere near the warrior unless they were going off world together. All the other teams had been trying to enlist the warrior in their missions because he was taking out all the anger he would not admit out on anything with a pulse. Carson was about to set aside a section of his infirmary for the sprains and broken bones that seemed to be accumulating.

Right now, Ronon was taking out his fury out on an unfortunate punching bag. He wore no gloves, his fingers were stained with dark red from where blisters had formed and broken. But he would not stop, he could not stop. Sweat was pouring down his shoulder-blades but he kept pounding the bag. Finally, with a last kick, the bag snapped free of it's tie and dropped to the ground. Ronon pressed his hands on his knees, breathing hard.

"I thought I'd find you here."

Ronon looked up at the sound of Colonel Steven Caldwell's voice.

"I need to speak with you," Caldwell said, "come on."

Ronon frowned but did not feel up to protesting. He nodded and stood up, following the older man out of the room. Caldwell looked exactly the same, from the shaved head to the hard eyes. But he looked older, and upset. Ronon wiped the sweat form his eyes and fell into step with him, the cold air of Atlantis rapidly drying the sweat from his skin.

"Colonel Sheppard should be back within the month," he said casually.

"I know," Ronon replied.

"We've been, ah, picking up some strange readings on the mainland," Caldwell said turning to face Ronon.

Ronon stopped and looked at Caldwell, at a loss for words.

"SGC thinks it's nothing," Caldwell said, "I'm doing my best to convince them otherwise, but it may take a while," he added, turning to go, "oh and could you tell Major Lorne to watch the bottom of the Jumper when landing? Dr. McKay and Dr. Zelenka are both working on repairing it, it's in the Gate room, maybe you should show him—show his team while you're at it."

Ronon nodded and took off running.

"The bottom of the what!" he heard Rodney holler, "that's ridiculous!"

"No it's not," he said coming up, "get Major Lorne down here to look at the mess he made with his landing," he said, his voice low and urgent, "there's been some activity on the mainland—" he let out a frustrated sigh, "I think Teyla's in trouble."

"Oh no," Rodney breathed, then he tapped his ear, "Major Lorne could you please come down to the Gate room and explain to me why, exactly, you feel the need to destroy a Jumper. You know what, bring your team with you, they should see this too, learn from your mistakes—" Ronon gave him a look, "so just get down here!" he looked back up at Ronon, "how bad?"

"I don't know," Ronon growled in frustration, banging his hand against the Jumper.

"Oh no," Rodney gasped, "Radek, Cadman, would you two come down to the room as well. Cadman, get Carson as well, I have a cut on my hand that needs attending to."

"Alright what's going on?" Lorne demanded striding into the room, "my landing was fine!"

"Come here," Rodney said, "I'll want to show you something," he said tapping things on his laptop. Lorne craned his neck.

"This is a map of the mainland," Lorne said, "what's going on?"

"Teyla's in trouble," Rodney said, "or we think she is—"

Lorne motioned his team over and said something to them softly. They nodded quickly and walked inside the jumper. Lorne walked back to them.

"Same place as last time?" he asked.

"That's what we think," Rodney said, "right?" Ronon nodded.

"Okay," Lorne said and turned to two of his men, "you go to Cadman, you to Carson, brief them quietly on the situation and get them whatever they need. Make up any excuse you need."

The men left quickly. Rodney tapped furiously on his laptop. Carson came running towards them.

"Alright Rodney, lets see that hand of yours," he said. The two men hurried inside, each carrying two large bags.

Cadman appeared and nodded to both of them and ducked inside the Jumper. Radek hurried forward swearing hotly in Czech before storming inside the Jumper with steel case in hand.

"How bad is it?" he asked almost inaudibly.

"Bad," Rodney said, "we don't know for certain. We're assuming the worst."

"We can only get one Jumper?" he asked.

"Unfortunately, Teyla's a light packer," he sighed. Carson nodded, "do you have everything?"

"Hopefully," Carson said, "lets go quickly before it gets worse."

Inside the Jumper, Cadman was quickly undoing the cases she brought.

"Okay I have explosives, I have P-90s, stunners and handguns," she said pointing to the contents of the cases," she looked at the men who started forward, "got these for you," she added tossing Ronon a P-90 and his sword. His blaster was already at his hip, "Carson!"

The two men hurried inside. Lorne sealed the hatch and the Jumper took off in record time.

"We may actually have to talk about proper Jumper piloting!" Rodney yelled at Lorne as the Jumper shot up and out of the room a hell of a lot faster than Carson thought possible, pitching them all against the walls. Carson began pulling things out, transforming the back of the Jumper into a kind of mini-hospital. No-one spoke for the short journey. Then, the interior of the Jumper darkened considerably. Ronon eased his way forward, careful of the medical supplies set up. His eyes narrowed as he saw the lack of sun. Craning his neck, he looked up and felt his jaw drop. Blocking the sun was a group of ships, the kind none of them had ever seen before. Then, as suddenly as they were there, the ships were gone.

"Oh my God," Lorne gasped softly, "Carson! Get ready! Cadman, leave the explosives."

"What's going on?" Cadman demanded pushing forward, "what do you mean—oh on."

Below them, there was no village, there was the wreckage of one. Destroyed buildings burning fires—it was a wasteland rather than a place to live. Carson cranes his neck to see the damage and immediately set about changing the Jumper into something more suited to the task. Lorne found a clearing and set the Jumper down quickly. His team ran out and began to make sure the are was clean, but Ronon was already barreling ahead.

"Teyla!" he yelled, looking around furiously.

"Sir! They're all dead!" someone yelled.

Ronon sucked in smoke filled air and ran forward. He turned a few bodies over but they were all dead. Men had died trying to save each other, sacrificing themselves for the sake of their friends. A cold knot of fear formed in Ronon's stomach as he realized Teyla would do something like that. He ran on, looking for anyone who was alive. The shouts of Lorne's team were growing dimmer an dimmer until he could not hear them. He called out for her again but got no response. Running forward as fast as he could, he found the half-charred remains of a large house. The bodies were shot and burned here. He followed the trail to the foundation and froze.

A few men, not Athosians, were scattered but burned beyond recognition. And lying in the middle was, face down, was Teyla. Ronon ran over to where she was and turned her over. Blood was covering her, though whether it was her own or someone else's he wasn't sure. Deep cuts were visible under the gashes cut diagonally across her chest and her back was more raw meat than skin. But the most troublesome thing, at least to him, was the hole in her chest just below her heart. She coughed when he turned her over and groaned with the pain it caused.

"Teyla," he hissed, "Teyla!" he said sharply when he got no response, "Teyla!"

"Wha—" Teyla couldn't force the words out, "Ronon?" she whispered, her voice breaking.

"Come on," Ronon said sliding an arm under her and lifting her easily. He walked quickly, making sure not to jostle her.

"Ronon—oh my God—Teyla!" Rodney dropped his equipment and ran over.

"Go get Carson," Ronon said. Rodney nodded and ran off. He looked down a Teyla before quickly resuming his pace. He made it to the Jumper and hurried inside. There were five Athosians spread out in the makeshift hospital.

"Put her down, there," he said motioning to a free space. Lorne's tea was already there, "is that all of them?"

"Yes," one said, "life signs—there was nothing."

"Alright," Lorne said, "lets get back, maybe we can save them," he said spinning the Jumper around and gunning it. The Jumper shot forward and flew towards Atlantis. Carson hooked monitors up to the few surviving Athosians. Ronon sat near Teyla's head and did what Carson told him to.

"Who did this?" Ronon asked looking at Rodney.

Rodney rubbed a hand over his suspiciously red eyes and looked at Ronon.

"That's what I can't figure out," he said turning the fabric over, "I tore this off of someone but—but the signs don't match anything I know or—or—they're not from the Pegasus Galaxy!" he burst out suddenly.

Ronon knew the obvious conclusion, they all did. He knew it as Carson's medical team rushed the remaining Athosians to the Infirmary. He knew it as he waited for news of Teyla and the other's condition with what seemed like half of Atlantis. He knew it as Carson finally emerged and told them the Athosians would be fine, but Teyla was the worst off. He knew it as his body numbed, until, like his heart, it could feel nothing. He knew it as he watched her fight for her life, aided not by warriors but by machines.

He knew.

The ships were sent from the Milky Way Galaxy

Earth did this.