John came to with a soft groan.

It had been another surgery, another step back in the long road to getting to Atlantis. He wasn't sore or in terrible pain, the drugs had numbed him and apparently it hadn't been a major surgery—in other words no ventilator. He just had a large amount of fresh bandages wrapped around his elevated knee. Pushing himself half-up on his forearm, he looked at the offending leg with a groan before easing himself back down onto the bed. He sighed and arched his neck, trying to get comfortable.

Then he saw her.

She was sitting by his bed, flipping through a binder full of papers. She snapped the binder closed before he could pretend to fall back asleep and looked at him. In the soft light he could see the differences in her, how her skin was tanner and her hair a little lighter from being exposed to the sun. She was also dressed down, in dark colored jeans and simple blue and white stripped t-shirt. She licked her lips and sighed, folding her hands neatly over the binder. He almost smiled, maybe the diplomat wasn't completely gone—though she did remind him more of a history teacher he had in high school.

"I know you want me to go, but I'm asking you to hear me out first."

"Why should I?" John asked, though it sounded half hearted, even to him.

"Because you need to hear the truth," she said.

He sighed, half of him not wanting to know. The rest of him was screaming to hear the truth. Maybe it would explain why. Why she looked so sad, why he could never accept that she had left—why the infamous Simon was absent, why she named her dog after him. Before he could think about what knowing the truth would mean, he had nodded. She took a deep breath and he could see that her hands were shaking.

"I was told to leave!" she burst out suddenly, surprising them both, "I got the notice from them and I fought it as hard as I could but they gave me a date to be out by. I thought, maybe, if Atlantis felt I'd abandoned them it would be better," Jon laughed bitterly, "I know, silly right? But I thought that if the people hated me, they would accept a new leader."

"You should've told me," John said when she finished, "God Elizabeth, I spent the last five years trying to figure out why. We would have fought it—everyone would have!"

"It wouldn't have done any good," Elizabeth said looking away, "the order came from the president himself. That's why I thought if I closed the door on everything it would be better."

"Is it?" he asked.

"You tell me," she whispered, not trusting her voice.

He shook his head and reached forward, his fingertips hesitantly brushing her face. She sucked in her breath as his fingertips brushed her cheek. But instead of breathing out, it came out as a sob. John pulled her to him. She knew she should pull away but with her face pressed into his shoulder, all the memories came rushing back. She closed her eyes tightly and buried her face in the crook of his neck. She didn't even make the decision to let the tears flow they just came rushing out. John tightened his grip on her as he felt her shoulders shake with sobs. How many times had he thought about dialing the gate and demanding an explanation—but he had felt betrayed if she didn't want to be with him then he didn't want to be with her. End of story. Of course, the fact his own eyes were stinging with tears kind of killed that theory.

"I missed you," he whispered roughly, "so much."

He didn't know how long he held her or how long they both cried, but time seemed not to matter. Even the nurses left them alone. After her tears subsided they held onto each other. Eventually they pulled apart. Elizabeth wiped her cheeks with a slightly embarrassed smile. Their eyes caught and before either realized it they were laughing. There were no more tears to cry ad no more sadness to harbor. There was, however, one more confession to make. No words were needed, she just had to take out the data pad and place it on the bed.

"So that's what he did," he said.

"What?" Elizabeth asked, completely surprised.

"Ronon and Rodney were talking—not arguing. It was really weird, but then Ronon was gone."

"He came to see me," she explained.

John nodded and stifled a yawn, his body reminding him that he had just gotten out of surgery. Elizabeth stifled a laugh and John tried to shoot her a dirty look, but only managed to yawn again. Elizabeth sighed and shook her head.

"Get some sleep," she said.

"First," he said, "you've got to do something for me."

"What's that?" Elizabeth asked

"Over there, top drawer under the t-shirts," he directed her. She walked over to the drawers and followed his directions. Below the t-shirts she found a black case. She pulled it out and shot him a questioning look but he just motioned for her to open it. Inside was a flat paneled laptop computer.

"There's your homework," John said closing his eyes, "Ronon's been referencing old mission reports too often and Caldwell's getting suspicious."

"Thank you," Elizabeth said coming back to the bed, "get some sleep okay?"

He nodded and drifted off. She smiled and shook her head, reaching up to brush his hair off his forehead. In his sleep he turned his face into her hand with a slight sigh. On the bed, the data pad flashed. She picked it up and tapped it. Rodney's handwriting formed across the screen faster than Elizabeth could read it. When she did, she sat down hard, gripping the data pad. It was hard to breath past the lump in her throat. She pressed a hand to her mouth and closed her eyes, forcing air into her lungs. Swiping at her eyes, she laid the data pad down and picked up the tablet laptop, scrolling through the urgent mission reports, looking for something to confirm what was on the data pad—looking for a mission report. There was just one problem.

There was none.

88 Atlantis 88

An entire race had been reduced to a handful of survivors.

"You give that back!" one of the children yelled.

Well about fifty of them. After their Jumper landed, Caldwell told them he said one Jumper, not five. As soon as they had been told of the Jumper's departure, teams had been organized. Lorne's team had been split up into the leaders and almost forty more Athosians had been found. Of course now half of Atlantis was grounded, confined or otherwise being punished, everyone from Major Lorne who was currently serving as 2IC to half the maintenance staff who had turned a bunch of rooms in Atlantis to homes for the Athosians and almost doubled the size of the infirmary. Carson had escaped punishment mostly because he was needed to check-up the people. Ronon had escaped most punishment too because he refused to leave Teyla and the Marines still wouldn't touch him.

She dropped, bringing the swords around. With very little resistance, they tore through flesh and bone, arcing outwards and coming around to bite into the next victim. There was a time, she was sure of it, when she would have stopped. She would have reasoned with them and herself. She would have cared about who she was killing. Now it didn't matter, the burning in her arms mattered. The screams of names she'd never know, that mattered. Her pulse mattered. Not these nameless men, not the people trying to kill her.

All too soon it was over, though all of her screamed for more blood. She stood, chest heaving, the only thing standing amongst the mixture of stone and body. Funny, she didn't remember an explosion. She turned around to face the battle. Her chest burned and she dully realized that the burning was too fierce to be only her lungs. She looked down and froze. The swords dropped from her hands as she looked at the deep gashes on her chest. Her blood, her people's blood, her enemy's blood—it all mixed together. She lifted her hands, soaked in blood, and wondered if she could ever be forgiven. She realized she never would.

She was so numb she didn't even realize she'd been shot until her legs gave out. Choking on blood, she looked over at her people, dying now because of her. She wanted to tell them to run, to get to anywhere but there. She wanted so much, but it could never be. With a sob, Teyla Emmagen closed her eyes and knew no more.

The smell of burning flesh was the last thing Teyla was aware of before falling into darkness. Rough fingers rubbing the back of her hand impossibly softly was what woke her up. Then the events came rushing back to her. Her people were gone, because of her weakness and her stupidity. It was all her fault, because of her pride. She gripped the hand like a lifeline and heard a relieved voice call for Cason. She fought to open her eyes and succeeded. White was all around her, but then the light ebbed away slowly and her vision cleared.

She was lying in a hospital bed, in Atlantis.

She was alive.

She bolted.

Carson had barely come into the room before Teyla ran out of it. He opened his mouth in shock. She was supposed to be healing—not to mention the good chance she was paralyzed. He looked helplessly to where Ronon had been and was not surprised to find him gone. He threw up his hands and grabbed his earpiece. He was going to need some serious help for this.

Teyla tore out of the room and ran down the hallway, into her old rooms and pulling out the middle crystal before leaning against the door breathing hard. The adrenaline drained out of her and she leaned against the door, lifting her head up. She felt sore and weak, her legs more like lead than limbs. Carefully she walked over to the windows. It was dark out and her reflection was clear. She gasped at the sight. From the waist down she was in scrubs. Upwards, she looked more like a mummy than human. Her long, dark braid was gone, now her hair was lighter and just barely brushed her shoulders. She blinked in surprise and reached up, touching it lightly. She shook her head with a sigh. After all that had happened, the thing that made her stop was her hair.

Laying a palm against the cold glass, she looked at the reflection and spun around, instantly regretting it was the world spun with her. Ronon darted forward and caught her easily as her legs gave way.

"No!" she gasped, "let me go—"

"No," he growled shifting so they were both on their knees. He grabbed her shoulders, "I am not letting you go."

"No—" she began to protest, "it's my—"

"It's not your fault!" he interjected angrily, "it's their fault—the people who did this. You did everything you cou--"

"No I didn't!" Teyla yelled, "I should have made them run! I should have saved them! They looked to me for leadership and I—"

"You think you let them down," he finished, "you think you should have saved them, you think you could have saved them. But you couldn't have! It took me five years to accept that—but you don't have that luxury. You can't fall to pieces."

"Why! Because I'm supposed to be the strong warrior?"

"Because there are seventy Athosians in this city right now and they need you," he said.

She looked away, ashamed of the burning in her eyes. With the same impossibly light touch, he turned her face to his. She slowly tried to get to her feet. He gripped her elbows and helped her up. He bent down and picked her up, carrying her down the hall to where the Athosians were staying. He put her down a few feet from the door. She walked forward and pulled it open.

"Teyla! You're alive, thank God," one of the women whispered coming over, "we thought you were dead."

"Far from it, Doran" she said, "how is—"

"Everyone's fine," she soothed, "the Atlanteans have been more than kind," she said, "but—Teyla you are injured—should you be up?" Teyla gave her a look and Doran smiled, "come, see what the Atlanteans have done."

Teyla walked with her careful of her wounds. Doran pointed out all the new features of their homes.

"Ronon Dex has been here a few times," Doran said after a moment, "but you know, he has hardly left your side. I hear half the infirmary won't speak to him after the racket he and Dr. McKay have been making in there."

"Really?" Teyla asked looking at Ronon who was speaking to one of the Athosian men. She pressed a hand to her forehead, "Doran I apologize but I think perhaps I was too eager to leave the infirmary."

"Oh of course," Doran turned around, but Ronon was already there.

Teyla was past the point of pride and leaned against him gratefully. He pressed a hand to her cheek before bending down and picking her up easily. Some of the younger Athosians giggled but most of the older ones nodded approvingly as the hulking warrior carried their leader off to the infirmary. Teyla sighed her thanks to the warrior before closing her eyes. Ronon walked back into the infirmary and laid her on the bed, sitting on the chair next to her, his hand covering hers.

"Ronon!" Rodney came running in.

"No! Rodney no! She needs her rest!"

"Save it!" he yelled running into the infirmary with his data pad, "Ronon Lizabeth's coming back!"