Why then 'tis none to you;
for there is nothing either good or
bad,
but thinking makes it so.

Evan Lorne did not like waiting around. They'd stepped through the 'Gate onto M1X-764 only to be scooped up by the Daedalus as they ventured off to find Ronon Dex at his last known co-ordinates. Lorne had argued with Elizabeth Weir through the Daedalus' deep-space communication system that it was more than highly unlikely that Dex would still be there.

When Colonel Sheppard's team had come across the man from Sateda, he'd been a Wraith Runner, hunted by the Wraith for sport. He'd been offered refuge in Atlantis, a place on one of the teams (both Sheppard and Lorne had been bidding for him to join theirs) but the Satedan had chosen to go it alone and instead of being the hunted, he'd become a hunter. Lorne knew there were a few hunters out there, but he'd always assumed they'd had little effect on the overall battle.

"Intel suggests he's still there."

Lorne had been against letting Ronon go in the first place. One, he was too good an asset to give up and two, he knew about Atlantis. They did not know the Satedan, so how could they trust him? Colonel Sheppard had said three words to Weir and any protestations that any other member of the team uttered were brushed aside.

Lorne didn't really have any misgivings about Weir and Sheppard's relationship; like many he was glad they'd found happiness in one another but it pissed him the hell off when she refused to listen to anyone else's opinions but the Colonel's. Lorne was second in command of the military expedition so he knew his opinions had weight – Sheppard listened to him, trusted him with his life – but Lorne wondered if the leader of Atlantis did.

"We've reached the co-ordinates."

Lorne turned to the young Lieutenant who's approached him and he nodded in her direction, moving to the centre of the bridge.

"Major," Colonel Caldwell greeted him with a nod from his position in the Commanders chair. Lorne returned the greeting and stood to attention as the F-304 dropped from hyperspace. It was a sight that still sent tingles down his spine and he often stood in wonderment for a few minutes when he saw a new planet stretched out beneath him. "Ronon Dex, this is Colonel Caldwell of the Lantean vessel, Daedalus do you read?"

Lorne waited with bated breath. If Dex wasn't on the planet then they'd wasted three hours in which they could have been to the planet to check out the beacon that the City's long range scanners had picked up. Lorne could feel his heart rate increasing with each passing second they waited for a response and he was mentally going through the list of things he was going to say to Weir when they got back to Atlantis.

"Ronon Dex, do you read?"

Lorne could hear the almost desperate tone of Caldwell's voice and he turned to the older man, connecting their eyes with a knowing look passing between them. He saw Caldwell shake his head and he knew exactly what the Colonel was thinking; it was the exact same thing Lorne had known since they'd been beamed on board the Daedalus.

"He's not here."

Lorne ground his back teeth together to keep the groan of annoyance from escaping past his lips.

"Maybe we should give him a few more moments, sir?" Novak spoke over the radio but Caldwell shook his head.

"Negative." He turned to the woman on his right. "Get us out of here."

Lorne saw the planet dip from his vision and he slumped against the control panel behind him, his head hanging low on his chest. Three hours for a wasted journey. He shook his head.

"Engaging hyper drive."

"This is Dex," a deep voice sounded over the radio and Lorne bolted upright his head turning to Caldwell.

"Double back," he told the navigator who Lorne was sure glared back at him.

"Ronon Dex, this is Colonel Steven Caldwell."

"I heard you the first time."

"Took you enough time to respond," Lorne muttered darkly.

"I was busy." There was a steady silence, one that no one seemed to want to fill. "What's up?" Dex asked eventually.

Lorne and Caldwell exchanged glances again before Caldwell replied;

"We need your help."

-

"Your world seems a strange place to me."

John smiled over at her from his place against the wall near the door. He'd spent the last hour or so telling her things about Earth; things he enjoyed, things he didn't enjoy, different countries, Ferris Wheels... She seemed quite taken and after he had finished telling her his stories, she'd become contemplative and silent. He'd let do it because he couldn't really think of anything else to say, anything else to ask her about her world.

"The idea of not knowing everyone is astounding to me, I cannot..." She trailed off, shaking her head as a slight smile graced her lips.

John had come to realise the night before just how attractive she was when the lights had come on – and stayed on the whole night. Despite the scratches and bruises adorning it, her face was beautiful. Her dark eyes were rimmed with long dark lashes that touched her cheeks when she closed her eyes. Her hands, though rough and calloused, were elegant but strong and John could tell from her stance that she was either a dancer, or a warrior. Given the situation – and the fact that he was in Pegasus – he'd bet on the latter. She was petite but she didn't look it; he'd only realised it the night before when she'd wrapped her arm around his waist and all but dragged him to the corner of the room they'd made into their 'bedroom'.

He'd been taken again by his captors and beaten with something akin to a log used in some Highland Games that Carson had made them watch that time they'd gone to Earth on the Daedalus for some much needed R&R. He'd been pretty sure his ribs were broken, maybe his pelvis too but they'd put him in some kind of stasis pod afterwards that looked remarkably like an alien egg and he'd come out tired, sore but not broken.

"Yeah, it is a bit over-whelming," he muttered and smiled when she looked up at him. "But where I'm from just now, where my people are," he continued, careful not to use the word Atlantis, "is different. There's only a handful of us, a couple of hundred at the most," at her frown he made a mental note to explain numbers to her later. "We all know each other, at least by sight. Some of the scientists stay holed up in their labs until Marines come and haul their asses back to their quarters," he continued with a slight smile, thinking about McKay and the numerous times he had sent two burly Marines to his lab to do just that to the scientist. McKay had never quite forgiven him for it, yet.

"And it is in this place that your Elizabeth is?" John looked at her, startled. He hadn't really thought about Elizabeth for a couple of days and the mention of her name opened up deep wounds in his heart. He'd never forgive himself if he didn't get out this alive and tell her just what she meant to him. "Why do you not stay on your world?"

John looked up at her and shrugged, his lips scrunching together.

"We're explorers... We can't do much exploring sitting on our asses back home, can we?"

She smiled with half her mouth and John matched it with a half smile of his own. He stilled, though, when he heard footsteps outside the door, marching in groups of two and three. He caught her eye and she slid further back to the corner of the room; she was still to beaten up to mount any kind of resistance if they decided to take her instead of John.

The door swung open to reveal the one that John thought was the leader with two burly looking men on either side of him, a couple more in the back. John didn't like the look of the weapon he had in his hand. He met the man's eye and he smirked, signalling with his head for the soldiers to enter. John let them haul him off the floor but when he saw three move to the back of the room to the woman, he began to resist.

"No! She's not fit for this, let her go!"

She didn't resist however and let them drag her until she was beside John. She caught his eye but quickly looked away. John growled at the leader of the group who quickly struck out at John, catching him on the eyebrow with the butt of his John. John's world went dizzy but it did not blacken and he was glad. He focussed back on the leader and snarled at him, knowing his act would do no good.

"Bastard," he muttered as he was dragged past him and down the corridor.

John had tried to memorise the layout of the corridors whenever he'd been taken away but each time they took him, they went in a different direction and John quickly lost his bearings. They led him and the woman up some stairs, then down another set that looked remarkably like a fire escape. They were tugged out onto a balcony and below them was a large room that looked like it had once been used for storage. Behind him, the woman hissed and John's arms reacted instinctively as he turned to help her. He caught her eye and she mouthed to him;

"Wraith."

John tried to catch sight of the Wraith as they pulled him down stairs, dragged him across the empty room, making a mental note to ask her how the hell she knew that. From a door on the far side of the room, a figure emerged, black against the startling light of the room and John felt something akin to dread – or maybe it was hatred – wash through his body when he recognised the figure.

No, he thought, not Wraith.

"Michael."