"You're not going to bring anything with you?" Torren asked as Jem gate room.

"Well, there's not really a point. I'm going home – I still have most of my stuff there," she replied.

"Fair enough," he replied. He jogged down the stairs to meet her. "Ready?" he asked.

"Ugh, I guess," she answered.

"What's wrong?"

"Nothing," she laughed. "I just hate that gate."

"You'll get used to it," he promised.

"Let's hope you're right." She noticed the backpack he was wearing for the first time. "Are you coming too?" she asked, hopeful that at least she wouldn't be stuck with a total stranger.

"Yeah," he answered. "That okay?"

"Of course. But, I mean, how'd you pull that off? Shouldn't you be here, helping with plans and everything?"

"There's not all that much I can do with no weapons," he laughed.

"Oh, I guess that's true." Jem smiled.

"Dialling the SGC," called a voice from upstairs.

"Okay," Torren called back.

The wormhole opened within seconds and Torren took Jem's hand. "Come on," he said. "It'll okay, I've been through hundreds of times and nothing's ever happened to me."

"Alright," she agreed reluctantly as he pulled her in.

Torren stepped out of the gate with ease and comfort, but Jem wasn't so lucky. She stumbled dizzily into Stargate Command and paid little attention to the people who greeted them. They were led to a car which would take them to their destination – which thankfully was nearby. Jem was sure that much more movement would cause severe motion sickness.

She closed her eyes in the car, while Torren flipped through a book he'd brought with him. Jem didn't bother to try and find out what it was – she was too focused on not throwing up.

She was jerked awake forty-three minutes later when the car came to an abrupt stop outside of her father's house. Sleepily, she dragged herself out of the car and up to the door. It was a Saturday, so she knew her father would be home – where else would he be? He didn't socialize with anyone.

She rang the doorbell three times in a row – her trademark – and waited for a response. A minute went by with no response, so she rang it three times again. She heard banging, which she assumed was her father trudging down the stairs, and moments later the door opened.

His expression went from dull and depressed to shocked and excited in less than a second.

"Jem!" he exclaimed, pulling his daughter into a hug. "You're back!"

"Hey Dad," she choked out, barely able to breathe from his tight grasp.

He let go of his hold and noticed Torren for the first time. "Who's he?" Rodney asked warily.

"Daddy," she said, already trying to butter him up, "you remember Torren?"

"Torren?" he asked, taken off-guard. "You're Teyla's son?"

"What's with you people and calling me by that?" he asked Jem playfully. "Yes," he replied, turning back to Rodney, "I'm Torren Emmagan."

Rodney clearly wasn't sure what his reaction to this should be; whether he was supposed to be protective of his little girl or welcoming to an old friend of the family.

"Well, uh, don't stand out there in the cold," he said. "Come in, sit down! Can I get you anything?"

"Peppermint tea?" Jem asked.

"Oh, I, uh, don't have any of that," Rodney replied.

"Coffee?"

"Nope, none of that, either."

"Milk?"

Rodney scratched the side of his nose and looked at the floor. "Nope," he replied, blushing.

Jem laughed. "Dad, what do you have?"

"Um," Rodney replied. "Water and steaks?"

"Water's good, thanks," Jem chuckled, taking a seat on the couch, motioning for Torren to sit beside her.

Rodney walked back into the room with two glasses in his hand. He held one out to his daughter and kept the other for himself, giving Torren another suspicious look.

"So, uh, what brings you here? Missed your ol' dad too much?" he asked, a hopeful glimmer in his eye.

Jem looked at Torren, who was staring intently at his left thumbnail, so she knew he was going to be no help. Great, she thought.

"While I missed you a lot, Dad," she began, "I actually came to ask a favor of you."

Rodney smiled. "Anything for you, Jem," he said.

"I was hoping you'd say that," she said, "because this is pretty big." She began chewing on her bottom lip. She felt so guilty asking him to do this, but it had been almost thirty years since he lost her mother. Maybe it was time he face it; at least that's what she told herself.

Rodney's smile faded, and he had a look of fear, with wide eyes. Maybe he could sense that she was about to ask him something about Atlantis.

"Well, okay, the thing is, um, well, the Wraith," she stuttered, as she usually did when asking someone for something, though she wasn't exactly sure why, "well, they, um, kind of destroyed all of the major weapons in Atlantis. I mean, well, okay, they aren't like gone or anything, just, well, they don't work."

Rodney was no longer looking at his daughter, but rather, straight down at the scuffed hardwood floor.

"And the thing is, well, when they attacked, they, um, well they got the head of the science department and a bunch of the members of the science team, and some military officers too. Well, um, thing is," she paused to clear her throat. "Thing is, we kind of need your help." Silence. "Like, um, with, uh, rebuilding stuff. We need someone who's familiar with Ancient technology and who's really intelligent, so, um, well, we were hoping you'd agree to help us."

Rodney cleared his throat. Before Jennifer died, he would have jumped at the opportunity to prove he was the only one who could save the day, and he certainly wouldn't have done it silently, either. Now, though, that was a completely different story. He lost his ego and all desire to do anything when he lost his wife. He wasn't eager to have to go back.

"Isn't there someone e-else?" he asked, choking on his words.

"Not really, Dad," Jem responded. "You're the only chance we've got."

"Well, I mean, well, I'm just," Rodney began, trying to think of an excuse. "I'm old, honey. It's probably better you just find someone else." He still wouldn't look her in the eye.

"Dad, please," she begged. "We need you. We're all facing certain death otherwise."

"Jem," he said, looking at her and realizing for the first time that he could lose her. "You can't go back there," he stated. "You'll stay here, you'll go back to your job at the hospital and you'll be safe."

"No, Dad," Jem said simply. "I can't do that. Not just because of my contract, but because I made a commitment and because I'm a doctor. It's my job to do whatever I can to help."

"But Jem..."

"No, Dad, no buts. We need your help, but we're still going to fight as best we can." She was finally gaining some courage, to her delight.

Rodney stared at her for a moment and then back at the floor again. He couldn't just leave his daughter to die – especially not against the Wraith. "Fine," he whispered. Jem's mouth dropped.

"Really?" she asked, shocked.

"Yeah," he agreed, reluctantly. "I can't lose you too," he murmured to himself, but she couldn't hear him.

"Thank you Dad!" she exclaimed.

"Well if anyone knows Ancient technology, it's me," he said with an arrogant tone, though they both knew it was just a front. "I can't very well leave the whole city to be destroyed now, can I? I always knew they'd be lost without me." He forced a smile to appease Jem. He stood. "Well, if you'll excuse me," he said, "I'm going to retire to my room."

It wasn't until Rodney left that Torren spoke. "Wow, I really didn't think he'd agree to come back. I know how adamant he was about staying on Earth."

"Yeah, well you were no help," she replied, swatting his arm. "What's the point of escorting me back to Earth if you're just going to stare at your weirdly deformed nail?"

"Hey!" Torren protested. "It's not weirdly deformed, I'll have you know. It's just misshapen because of a fight I was in a few years ago. It never healed correctly."

"Yeah, yeah," Jem rolled her eyes. "By the by, misshapen and deformed mean about the same thing."

"Misshapen sounds better, though," Torren retorted. "Deformed implies there's something wrong with it."

Jem rolled her eyes. "Okay, whatever makes you feel better."