AN: Thank you for being so patient, lovely readers! I hope you are enjoying the story as much as I enjoyed writing it! Please don't forget to leave a review - I'd love to know what you're all thinking :)


A plane flew overhead, stopping all three of them dead in their tracks.

It had been years since any of them had last heard the dreadful sound of a Dart but it was a habit and an instinct instilled inside them that would never dissipate.

They all looked at each other but didn't say a word. A plane on Earth sounded nothing like a Wraith Dart, but for some reason, their brains connected the two without much trouble.

"These directions are a little difficult to follow," Samantha broke the silence, looking down at the sheet of paper Ed Brennan had given them.

"I'd bet money they're worthless," Lorne sighed.

Ed had refused to tag along. The last thing he wanted to do was get captured by his old team and be, more than likely, promptly executed. All he needed was his $300 and to be on his way.

"It says to walk twenty clicks north," she said, sitting down to study the paper better. "And we've been doing that all day. So far, I haven't seen a single lake."

Before either of the others could say a word, a shot rang out.

All three dropped to the ground immediately.

After making sure none of them had gotten hit, Sam tried to figure out where the shot had come from.

She motioned to Lorne that she was going to crawl towards the big oak in front of them. He nodded and pointed to a similar one about five meters away.

Teyla followed Carter.

Once she made it to the tree, she carefully slid her back up it and prepared herself.

Peeking out just slightly, she caught sight of a figure yielding a rifle, and looking directly at her.

She only missed the second bullet by a millisecond when she whirled back around.

Making eye contact with the colonel, she nodded in the direction of the shooter.

He nodded and pulled out his nine millimeter.

With the gunman concentrated on Samantha's location, Lorne was able to spot him without being noticed himself.

It didn't take long before Lorne expertly incapacitated the enemy, only needing to shoot once to hit the target in the leg.

Evan sprinted towards him, quickly kicking the rifle out of arm's reach and pressing his gun into the other man's forehead.

Once the other two caught up, Samantha quickly ascertained that this man was a part of Flock, the dead giveaway being the "secret" insignia of an ohm stitched onto the collar of his faded BDU jacket.

"Flock," she said aloud, she looked directly at the man, who was squirming in pain. "Where's Sheppard?"

He grabbed his wounded leg and spat in her face.

In response, Lorne tackled the man, pinning him down to the ground.

"Colonel!" Teyla shouted in protest.

Suddenly, another man popped up from the earth. Looking carefully, Sam saw that he was peeking up from a hidden door in the ground. When he saw his comrade on the ground and the three strangers surrounding him, he quickly disappeared again, slamming the entrance behind him.

Evan was already on it, attempting to catch the door before it was locked.

But he was too late.

The sound of commotion beneath them was deafening.

"They're gone," their gunman chuckled darkly.

General Carter ground her teeth as she listened to her mission scurry away like a flock of frightened sheep.

III

Her lip trembled. She smelled that scent that drove her senses wild.

Humans.

Sustenance.

She was only graced with the small beings' presence once in a while. It was usually when the one who kept her captive wanted to gloat or just stare at her in wonder.

He often tried to question her but she never responded. She would not entertain his primal curiosity.

Indeed she did smell his scent but she also sensed another – new, warm, younger, flesh – many more years from which to feed.

Her usual meals came from older, sickly ones – ones with, if any, only a few years left to satisfy her hunger.

It was never enough – just sufficient to keep her alive, but with a painful appetite.

She saw them appear and she hissed from her cage.

The familiar one lit up the room and she hissed again, this time from the sting that met her eyes from the artificial light source.

The other one looked frightened and confused. "This is…one of them?"

"Beautiful, isn't she? I keep her well-fed but yet she refuses to speak."

The younger one came closer, looking at her with the same stringent curiosity that infuriated her. "Can she speak?"

With the closeness, she could begin to smell him better. There was something in his scent that seemed recognizable.

"I've been told they can communicate with us," the older one replied. "My sources tell me they speak perfectly well. I think she's just stubborn. No amount of torture has encouraged her."

She hissed again at the memory of the electric rods placed at her sides as he had continually ordered her to say something. But she had endured far worse pains in her life and still refused.

"Why won't she?"

He shrugged. "Perhaps she still believes she is still royalty."

"Royalty?"

"She's a queen," he explained. "The Wraith operate on a hive mentality. She commanded an entire hive ship."

The new one shook his head in wonder. "How did you get her?"

Her enemy chuckled. "You seem to forget, Sheppard, I'm very –

"Sheppard!" she exclaimed, the name evoking all kinds of memories within her. She recalled the face that matched, slaughtering her brood. But this face was not that of the Sheppard she remembered.

The two humans jumped back in surprise.

"The beast speaks," the older one murmured.

But she did not care about him. She remained focused on the younger one who shared the name of the destroyer of her kind. Coming as close as she could to the end of her confinement without receiving the electric jolt, she stared into his eyes. They were the same, yet not.

"You share his blood," she licked her lips. "Tell me; are you family?"

"You know John?" he asked, attempting to seem at ease as he placed his tiny hands on his hips.

She laughed. "I know Colonel Sheppard very well. You are brothers?"

He seemed reluctant to confirm her assumption but nodded affirmatively. "How do you know him?"

"He killed our caretaker, awaking our kind prematurely from our slumber – in turn, killing us all without cause –

"Don't lie, you naughty girl," the older one scolded. "Tell the truth."

She growled but did not speak.

"You and your kind feed on humans," he narrowed his eyes, feigning bravery as he neared her. "Don't pretend you and your lot didn't deserve the treatment you received. You're monsters."

"And who are you to determine that?" she hissed angrily. "We only do what we must to survive. Meanwhile, you kidnap us, torture us, experiment with us, and release your mutants into the universe to wreak more havoc than we ever could."

The Sheppard looked at him in shock and demanded an explanation.

"That Atlantis expedition led some questionable research on the Wraith kind," he surmised, waving a hand. "It's a long story."

"Where is your brother?" she turned to the young one, impatient with the idle chatter.

"What do you want with him?" he asked skeptically.

She grinned. "Only to make up for lost time."

III

It had been six months since they were forced to escape their compound.

Deciding then to move the operation along, the team relocated to England, spreading out into different townhouses in sporadic towns.

They knew Cale was within the country. It was a good as time as any to begin the search.

Sheppard sat on the edge of his bed. It was 0400 but he was awake.

Nightmares had been plaguing him relentlessly. That night's theme had been Teyla and Torren – held hostage by Kolya and the Genii.

He wondered how they were. He hoped they weren't worrying, though he knew such a thing was not possible. Teyla always worried and Torren always cried.

John struggled with himself now.

His father was never a good role model and he was always so quick to blame him for his choices resulting in his terrible childhood. But was he any better?

Of course, Torren was not his flesh and blood but he was more of a dad to him than his Athosian father ever was – granted, his untimely death had made that a bit difficult.

He was "daddy" to the little guy. And he loved him more than he ever thought possible.

Then why was he so easily able to leave not only him behind but also his mother, whom he had thought was dead and had thus developed numerous psychological problems over, no more than four years ago?

He leaned forward and gripped his shoulder. My priorities are screwed up.

There was a knock on the door.

Before he could even grant entrance, Ronon strode through.

After living together for the past six months, the Satedan had begun to forget all codes of decorum and privacy.

John grabbed a shirt and pulled it over. "What's the point of knocking?" he asked, looking to what his friend held.

"Letter," he said simply, handing it to him.

Sheppard raised his brow.

They didn't get mail. No one knew they were there except for other Flock members – and even then they were forbidden from communicating via traceable methods.

Ronon shrugged in response to his confusion.

He flipped on the light and turned the envelope over in his hand. The handwritten address was flowing and neat. He noticed that it was addressed specifically to him – in his full name: John Reagan Sheppard.

No one knew his full name – save for his one living family member, David.

At that, he tore it open. Something fell out as he opened the written letter.

Ronon bent to pick it up and John read the note aloud: "I am growing impatient."

"Sheppard," his friend's voice sounded uneasy.

He looked up and saw that he was handing him whatever had fallen out of the envelope.

After taking it, John realized that it was a photograph.

When he turned it over, he saw the picture of his brother standing on a chair, his neck encircled with a noose.

III

Teyla watched the flat from across the street. Every day she would come to the paper stand, buy one, and pretend to read it on the bench, so that she could just be near him.

They had known where he was living for about a month. In that time she was both relieved and anxious. Not wanting to spark another grand relocation, the three had remained silent observers as they settled into their own flat, awaiting the right time to make their move.

The only thing she wanted was to just see his face.

But from what they could tell, John hadn't left the apartment – at least not during the day when Teyla was permitted to leave hers.

She longed to lay eyes on him once again, just to know that he wasn't a faded memory or a forgotten fantasy.

However, she couldn't help but wonder if he felt even an inkling of what she was feeling. She wondered if he missed his son too.

Teyla called Jennifer every night – just to hear his little voice ramble on and on about his day.

He wasn't used to being away from her for so long. Ever since their captivity when he was very young, being away from each other was extremely strenuous on their psyches.

But he was being a good boy for Aunt Jenny. He went to school, he did his homework, and he even helped her with chores once in awhile.

Yet he was in constant perplexity as to his mother's absence. He couldn't understand why she was gone for so long.

She tried to explain in the simplest terms, but that only seemed to illicit an even more terrible question: Where was Daddy?

While it broke her heart, it also infuriated her. Teyla knew John couldn't imagine the turmoil he had put his family through – but she would be sure to tell him when she was finally able to slap him across the face.