Sorry about the unbelievably slow updates. I've recently moved, been without the internet for weeks and just generally had a lot of real life pressures heaped on me. I promise that this story will get finished so bear with me as I piece it together for you.

Oh and thank you for all of the wonderful reviews I've been getting.

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Beckett palmed his penlight and scribbled on Sheppard's chart, taking his time before looking up, "Well, I can't see that there's anything wrong with you," he clicked his pen loudly and sighed, "I know I told you that I'd give you a sedative to help you sleep tonight, but it'll have to wait till tomorrow. I wouldn't feel comfortable giving you drugs, just in case."

Sheppard swung his legs over the bed ready to make his escape, "That's fine Doc."

"You should go to your quarters and get some rest. Come back here if you start to feel unwell."

"Will do."

Sheppard hopped off the bed and started to inch away.

"Rodney left rather quickly after your talk," Beckett said without looking up from the chart.

Sheppard stopped in his tracks, felt his back tense, and then turned slowly. He shuffled from one foot to the other and cast his eyes downwards, "I know."

"Left without saying a word. Unlike him," he noted as he read over Sheppard's file.

"I'd tell you if I could."

"I know you can't talk about it," Beckett added with a warm smile and a flick of his hand.

Sheppard looked down at his boots.

"Get some rest Colonel. You look exhausted."

Sheppard nodded and left Beckett to his paperwork.

In truth, he was exhausted. He had barely slept since returning to Atlantis, only snatching a handful of hours of restless sleep at a time, and even then, he would wake up in a cold sweat, his heart hammering in his chest, and panting hard as he tried to breathe evenly.

He knew that it was his guilty conscience preventing him from shutting off at night.

Guilt for not having saved all of his men and guilt at not being able to share vital information with those same men.

Sheppard walked the dark halls with no intention of going back to his quarters and instead ended up on one of the balconies, watching the water below as it lapped gently against the city.

Leaning against the railing and breathing in deeply, his mind began to wander back to his months away from Atlantis. Away from these peaceful balconies and the soothing sounds of the constant ocean.

He yawned loudly and arched his aching back.

If he had one regret, it was at not being able to fully confide in his men about the nature of their mission. He had wanted to, had been intending too, but on his way to the briefing, Stark had cornered him, and given him his own lists of don'ts.

Stark had told him that the Stargate program was off limits, as was telling his men where he had been for the last two and half years and further to that, he was not to mention the wraith. As far as his team was concerned, they were going to a downed ship, of unknown nationality, to destroy it so the Afghans could not use it in a war against the Americans.

After all, Stark had added, it was unlikely that there was a threat on board that ship. Like he knew.

In other words, it was all lies and Sheppard had been the one to deliver them.

He swallowed against rising bile and gripped the railing with white knuckles. The same feeling of sickness that had pervaded him then, returned to him now, to remind him that he was a coward. He should have told them from the start what they were up against and told Stark to go screw himself.

The question of why he hadn't done so haunted him.

Why hadn't he told them?

What was it about Stark that made him follow his orders?

Ah yes, because a long time ago he hadn't and look where that had got him. Shipped off to the Antarctic with a big black mark on his record.

Was it because he figured the wraith would be long dead, unable to survive on a downed ship, that had him so convinced that they would be successful? Was it the fact that the men joining him on the mission were the best of the best and so should have been able to take care of themselves? Or was it that he didn't want to go and screw up the only good thing he had going for him?

"Crap," Sheppard mumbled into the darkness.

"Crap."

Weariness tugged at him, pleading for him to go and get some rest, but he didn't want to sleep.

Couldn't sleep.

Every time he closed his eyes, he could hear the sounds of his failure.

Screams, the sounds of ricocheting bullets, flesh impacting on the cold hard floor.

He shivered.

Sheppard pushed himself off the railing, the chill in the air forcing him inside, and he walked the halls with nothing more than a need to keep moving and distracted.

The halls were mercifully empty.

It was only when he started to walk one of the least occupied areas of Atlantis that he saw two figures standing up ahead, their backs to him, both immersed in muted conversation.

He stood back for a few minutes, wondering whether to go over and shatter his illusion of solitude. He sighed and then, resolve strengthened, he forced a swagger into his walk and joined them.

First Lt Adams and Sergeant Jefferies turned to him in full salute, to which Sheppard just waved a hand at them and told them to stand at ease.

Sheppard leant against the corridor walls and crossed his arms, "So, how's…" he looked down the empty corridor and then turned back to the two men, "…corridor watching working out for you?" He smiled briefly.

Had he really instructed them to do such a mundane task?

Adams spoke first, running a hand over his short blond hair, "Really exciting Sir," he said with a deadpan tone.

Even though it was boring, Sheppard still knew that an exercise like this was important. Soldiers would often be required to stand sentry for long hours with little or no activity and maintaining a level of alertness and focus was vital, especially in a real combat situation.

Like the one, he had been in just months ago.

Maybe his men could have been a little more alert if they had known what they were up against.

Shit.

Realizing he had been silent for too long, Sheppard licked his lips and continued, "You starting to feel sorry now?" he asked in a serious tone.

"Yes Sir," Jefferies nodded.

"In future, I'd prefer it if you put your left hook to good use in a combat situation," Sheppard said, "And not use my face as target practice. I don't tolerate in-fighting amongst my men. Its unprofessional, it's dangerous, not too mention stupid."

He stood up straighter and Jefferies and Adams mirrored his pose, no longer at ease.

"It won't happen again Sir, "Adams stated somberly.

"No," Sheppard added, "It won't."

When had he become this unrecognizable person? He used to be so laid back, used to be able to command respect easily, used to be able to keep his temper reigned in.

All he saw now when he looked in the mirror was an aging man, bitter and lost in a sea of regrets.

He stood in silence, quietly deciding what to do with them.

He needed for these men to redeem themselves. He needed them to show him that he could respected, that he was doing a good job on Atlantis.

Adams and Jefferies looked uncomfortable in his presence, their expressions reflecting remorse and inexperience.

"I'm going to give you a second chance."

"Oh, thank you Sir," Jefferies blurted out.

"I'm going to be going off-world in the next couple of days. Field training for new recruits. I was going to have you on graveyard shift for the next few months," He pursed his lips, "I had better not be disappointed by you."

"You won't Sir."

"Thanks Sir."

"I'll let you get back to your….. work," said Sheppard.

Sheppard had gone back to bed that night and still hadn't been able to sleep. His mind was working over time, conjuring old images and burning them to the underside of his eyelids.

He had simply lain awake, stared up at the ceiling, and counted away the hours until he could get up again.

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The 'little bird' chopper had been cutting through the air for two hours, skillfully avoiding detection and hugging the undulating terrain as if tethered by an invisible thread.

As their pilot expertly advanced on the drop off point, Sheppard readjusted his position in the co-pilot seat and sighed. He wasn't used to being a passenger. He liked to feel in control, to have the craft respond to his every command, to feel free and uninhibited as he soared through the expansive skies.

Instead, he found himself subject to someone else's piloting; trapped, forced to endure their commands and watch them experience their freedom. He hated it.

His heart was thudding in his chest and refusing to beat in a normal timely fashion, which in turn was amping up his adrenaline, his hands were clammy, his stomach was twisting in knots, and his whole body was uncomfortably tense.

The atmosphere aboard the chopper was muted and contemplative. He could just hear his men talking quietly amongst themselves. He wondered if they were feeling the same as he was.

No, he decided instantly, they were not, because they were all blissfully ignorant of what they were about to face.

He had to tell them. Even if the wraith hadn't survived they still needed to know. Damn it! No, he had to follow Stark's orders. So the wraith had survived on a downed ship when he had gone to that desert planet. Mckay had insisted that that was an anomalous event. It couldn't happen again. Could it?

"How much farther?" Sheppard asked with the realization that he had let his mind wander.

His pilot checked his instruments and grunted out a reply of "ETA ten minutes."

Sheppard nodded.

He was beginning to hear conversation from the back filtering forward to him; intoning voices and fractured words that he couldn't piece together. He tried to concentrate.

"I'm not seeing any Afghan patrols around," a voice informed Sheppard and he dragged his attention back to the pilot.

"Good."

The pilot beside him made a few standard checks and turned to Sheppard, "So, how many years you been a pilot?"

Sheppard gave up on trying to listen to the conversations behind him and faced forward.

"A long time," Sheppard answered bluntly as his eyes traced the ground below them.

The pilot nodded, "Seven years," he said proudly.

"Great."

Sheppard wasn't in the mood for small talk. He merely nodded and kept his eyes downcast.

"Seen action in Iraq," he stated with a smile.

"Well done," Sheppard ground out.

"You?"

"Yeah, here and there."

"You been to Afghanistan before?"

Sheppard sighed, "Yeah."

The pilot finally gave up trying to coax a conversation out of Sheppard and he went quiet. Silence made the rotations of the blades above them sound even more pronounced. Sheppard strained his ears, managed to hear the conversations behind him, and finally got a form to the words.

He had read their files, familiarized himself with their strengths and potential weaknesses and would protect them, lead them through any danger to the best of his ability. It was strange, trapped in the chopper, being taken to the drop off point, with men he hadn't built a strong working relationship with. He found himself missing his team back on Atlantis. Even though they were a rag tag bunch, they worked together seamlessly.

"I'm sweating like a whore in church!" Sheppard heard Collins exclaim in a southern drawl.

"Hey man, you use that language in front of your mother?" Cole said quickly, a hint of amusement lacing his deep voice.

"Hey, I ain't got no mother to worry about what comes out of my mouth," Collins replied quickly over the roar of the blades.

"No?" It was a voice he couldn't discern. Maybe Andrews or Martins.

"No. Died when I was born. Never met her and my dad," Collins laughed coarsely, "Ain't worth the air he breathes."

"Tell me about it," Laraby said suddenly, his voice cutting through the engine noise, "I never had a family. Consider yourself lucky."

"Lucky?" Collins asked. He was a smart ass, loud and confident.

"I only got my brother," Martins said quietly, "He's off in Iraq though. Might never see him again."

"Hey, I'm sure he's fine. At least he's on a real assignment," Martins, definitely Martins voice.

Sheppard couldn't help but feel uneasy as he listened to the remainder of their conversation. It was an unsettling feeling that he couldn't pinpoint and definitely couldn't dismiss. There was something about the way that none of his men had family that just wasn't sitting right with him. He cast his mind back and mentally flipped and scored his way through their individual files. Cross checking, using an invisible rule to read each line as a sickening thought dawned on him and twisted his gut into a thousand knots.

"Hey Sir?" he heard Collins call out to him.

Sheppard was pulled out of his thoughts and turned to face the dark skinned man, "What is it Lt?"

"Was just wondering whether you had family Sir." Collins met Sheppard's eyes and held the gaze.

Sheppard licked his lips and answered, "No," he stated before returning to the front window.

He looked out at the barren landscape, his mind still trying to work on connections.

That was it!

He felt himself pale, could feel the palms of his hands becoming clammy and his heart stuttering in his chest. The strange pervading feeling he was having was starting to make sense.

None of them had family. Not one of them had a thing to go back to. They were all expendable.

Their mission was a suicide run.

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Sheppard entered Elizabeth's office and gave the doorframe a light tap.

He'd had another night of tossing and turning, another night of being assaulted by his nightmares and circular thoughts, another night where he knew responsibility and burden would be heaped upon him the next day.

He had got up sluggishly, had an hour long run, a hot shower, and had kitted up quickly; steeling himself for his three days away with the new recruits.

He had just entered the gate room when Elizabeth had summoned him to her office.

"You wanted to see me?" Sheppard asked as he forced an impending yawn back down.

Elizabeth looked up from her desk, pushed her laptop away, and sat back with an air of ease borne of their long-suffering friendship.

"I just wanted to be sure that you were okay to go away for three days."

Sheppard narrowed his eyes and readjusted his P90 as he came to sit in the chair opposite her desk. He leant forwards, fingers pressing down on the edge of the desk, "I'm sorry?"

Elizabeth sat forwards and clasped her hands together, "After you're initial collapse, you're further incident with that strange device and your lack of sleep I thought I had bet-"

"I'm fine," Sheppard interrupted before she had a chance to continue.

"You're sure?"

"Has Carson been checking up on me?"

"No."

"Rodney?"

She shook her head.

"I'm sleeping much better," he lied, "And Carson said I was fine."

"Hmm," Elizabeth said.

She didn't look convinced.

"I'm fine." He repeated.

"Okay," Elizabeth finally conceded.

"I am."

"Just be careful and be safe."

"Aren't I always?"

Elizabeth gave him a curious smile, "I want you back in one piece."

Sheppard smiled and jumped up out of his seat.

When he left Elizabeth's office, he was so intent on rechecking the contents of his pockets and positioning of his gear that he nearly walked into Mckay who was too absorbedly reading a report on a data pad.

Both men looked up just in time and took a step to the side before making fools of themselves and collapsing in a heap together in the centre of the control room.

"Ah, so you're going then?" Mckay asked idly.

Sheppard looked down at his tactical vest and the P90 clipped to it and gave Mckay a 'duh!' look.

"Oh yes, well enjoy. Have fun. I'm sure you'll have a great time," Mckay said jutting his jaw out and moving his eyes back down to his data pad.

"Rodney," Sheppard stated flatly as he crossed his arms, "I'm just taking the new guys away for a few days training."

"Hm," Mckay said with a dismissive flick of his hand, "Fine."

Sheppard examined his face, "Why don't you come along?"

Mckay's eyes widened and his mouth opened and closed like a fish.

"At least I offered."

"Well, if you think that's my idea of fun then you're mistaken. Strange energy readings or devices……." He looked up at Sheppard carefully, his mind obviously going back to what he had seen.

"It was nothing," Sheppard clarified.

"What I saw…."

"Was nothing."

Sheppard shook his head. He didn't have time to deal with Mckay, "See you in three."

He descended the steps to the gate room quickly, leaving Mckay standing at the top of the stairs. Eyes forward he arrived at the huddled recruits. Ten in all.

Lorne stepped out from the middle of the fray and gestured to the pile of supplies that they would be heaving through the gate with them.

"We're ready Sir." Lorne said.

"Okay," Sheppard said as he slapped him on the back, "Dial it up!"

TBC

Another update tomorrow….and it's all going to start happening now. Plenty of whump to come and finally some explanations. PLEASE REVIEW :D