Teyla awoke Ronon. "He is alive, Ronon. John Shepard is alive."

Ronan stood in a bound, fastening his gun to his side. "Where is he? I'll go get him-"

She cut him off with a touch on the arm. "I do not think we can. I do not know how such a thing is possible, but I believe his soul is alive and trying to be with us. His body is still very much dead."

Elizabeth looked up from her coffee, meeting McKay's eyes. It was late, but neither could sleep. McKay's expression echoed the haunted feeling in her heart. "He's alive, Rodney," she said finally.

"I know." His voice was choked, and completely out of character, he said no more.

Teyla and Ronon entered, sitting at the table. "John's alive," said Ronon, grabbing a cup.

"Funny – I –" McKay pointed to himself "-we – were just saying that."

"He – was lonely, and I was grieving. We were sitting next to each other – he had his arm around me." Teyla paused, allowing the sudden impulse to tears to pass. "I started to fall asleep there, and he – I don't think he meant to do it, but he inhabited my body."

"Like –" McKay pointed at himself. "Like when I – she –"

"Yes. I woke up – as him. And then I realized what was happening, and he must have too, because he left."

McKay reached for her hand with hesitation, not grasping it but touching it gently with the back of his. Teyla smiled and inclined her head in a nod of gratitude. "I am fine, Rodney."

"No, you're not," said McKay. "Been there, remember?"

Elizabeth swirled the coffee in her cup. "He's not happy. Carson said he had – talked to him too, and it just about broke his heart. I don't know what's worse, thinking of him being dead, or thinking of him being alive and suffering."

"Not being able to rescue him," said Ronon. "That's what's killing me. I can't shoot my way onto a higher plane."

McKay rubbed his forehead with a groan. "What's killing me is, oh, right, the person I want to shoot every day of every week. If Caldwell gets wind that I'm working on this – or for that matter that any of us believe this, he'll have us committed. That man has no imagination. None."

"Take it easy on him, Rodney," said Elizabeth. "He's a good soldier, this is just too big of a job for him. It makes him tense, and he doesn't deal with that well."

Ronon snorted. "And that's why you wanted me to throw him in the brig last week? His tension is going to get us killed one of these days, and you know it. He's too busy covering his own ass and following his military protocols to follow his instincts. He's dangerous."

Weir nodded in agreement, setting down the cold coffee in exhaustion. "Well, padded cells or no, on my authority you have permission to work on whatever you can."

Sheppard lay on his back on the beach, looking up at the stars lighting up the navy sky with a wash of twinkling pinpricks. There was a full moon hanging low over the soft black waves rolling in continuously, their approach creating a soft, soothing rhythm of sound. The temperature was perfect, the lightest of breezes playing pleasantly over his skin. It was one of the most beautiful nights he had ever experienced, and he let it seep into his very soul, drawing courage for the conversations he was about to have.

"Teyla?" Sheppard kept his voice soft, nudging into her dreams as gently as he could. Her eyes flew open and she sat with a start, breathing heavily. He stared at the floor; being looked at like that by a member of his team – by Teyla – was killing him. "You – are someone I trust – and-"

Teyla recovered almost instantly and got up, walking towards him. "It is all right, John. What you felt was my shock at being controlled by another being. It is something I guard against constantly, being controlled by wraith. Had I known what was happening, you would have had my full permission."

He still couldn't meet her eyes. "I didn't. I know how much it frightened you - I felt it."

"And you did not mean for it to happen," said Teyla, her voice as gentle as Sheppard's. "I felt that. Look at me."

He raised his eyes, feeling unbearably shy. She looked directly into his eyes and spoke. "I trust you, John. That has not changed."

"Carson?" Sheppard probed quietly at the sleeping doctor's dreams, remaining carefully at the other side of the room. Carson's eyes opened. "Were my remains ever recovered?"

"Aye," said Carson, his expression grim. "That's right – ye wouldn't know. Taggart sent your body through the gate right after. So we could see what he'd done up close and personal."

Sheppard's face twisted in distaste. "That was charming of him. Sorry about that."

"It's not for you to apologize for, lad," said Carson, waving Sheppard over to a chair. "We respected your wishes. Your body was not returned to Earth, and we told your father that you were lost in action."

Sheppard looked down, and the room fell quiet. "Let me guess. He didn't say much."

"If you'd been my son, I'd have left no stone unturned until I found out everything about what happened, and where your body was." Carson was visibly upset. "I'm sorry, John." He forced a smile. "We cared about ye."

"And that's why I wanted my remains to stay in Atlantis," said Sheppard. He looked back up at Carson. "My father wouldn't – when I was rescued in Afghanistan, he waited until a merger was complete to come see me. He might have actually been annoyed that I was alive."

"Oh, I doubt that, lad," said Carson, his voice soft.

Sheppard smiled, touched. "It's okay. It turns out I'm just one of those guys who has to go to another galaxy to find a home." He brought the conversation back on track without allowing himself down the path of grief. "What was done with my body?"

Carson looked unsettled at the swift and ruthless change of topic. "It – was placed in the cryo storage chamber. You left instructions that we could use it for research as we wished, so it was placed in storage intact should it become – useful – in the future." He met Sheppard's eyes. "If you'd like something else?"

Sheppard shook his head. "No. I'm just – thinking." He stood and prepared to leave. "Thank you, Carson."