A/N: It's never over.

In this chapter: Pyjamas. Angst. Dark Corridors. More Angst. Missing Colonels. Bravery.

Fortis (Adjective, [for-tis]): bold; brave; fearless; courageous; enduring; valiant; tough.

"I need your help... to find Sheppard."

The look on Lorne's face probably gave away exactly how he felt about having to ask her, of all people, for assistance in this particular task; he didn't bother to try to hide it behind his usual mask of calm. He knew exactly what he was asking of her.

It was supposed to be over.

Casey blinked at him from inside the doorway of her room. The warm light from her bedside lamp produced a golden back-light effect, and her loose sleep-rumpled long hair framed her face like a halo. Lorne realised he was staring, and pulled himself back on task before the silence grew awkward. She had been half asleep when she'd opened the door and mumbled his rank, but now she was wide awake and watching him.

"Sheppard went off sensors earlier, and I... well, I can't find him. Usually I can find him when... he does this." Lorne tried to explain. She just looked at him. Right. Very few people knew about how Sheppard tended to handle his... issues. The Colonel had a strong connection to the city, and wasn't above using it when he wanted to be left alone. He took a breath, and thought of how best to phrase the problem.

"The Colonel has some... spots... in the city, where he goes to hang out if he wants to be alone. To deal with things."

Casey nodded. Everyone had their spots. Lorne had his own balcony, too. The Colonel held himself accountable for a great deal of things, and dropping off the map armed with a six-pack to go beat himself up emotionally in one of his spots after something bad happened was pretty typical behaviour. Lorne had learnt how to find him, fast, because he'd needed to track Sheppard down several times since becoming his XO.

"He's not in any of them." Lorne simply said. "I've been looking for him for hours. I think he's gone somewhere.. specific... to this particular situation. Somewhere beyond the sensors..."

Comprehension flashed across Casey's face.

Sometimes Sheppard would mix things up, and go somewhere relevant to the issue. A few days after the mission to unsuccessfully retrieve Lieutenant Ford, Sheppard had pulled his vanishing act and Lorne had gone to find him, again. He'd only been Sheppard's XO for a few weeks, but he'd sussed out most of the Colonel's regular spots by then. He hadn't been in any of them, and Lorne had eventually found him on a seemingly random balcony, looking out over the water. It had turned out to be the spot where Ford had been blown into the water with the wraith footsoldier attached to his chest.

This time, however, Lorne had a feeling that the specific location where the Colonel was hiding was the one only Casey knew how to get to: The sunken cave-room where Sheppard had taken her; where the Colonel had tried to "nest". She'd briefly described it to him, but had never actually told anyone exactly where it was located. He'd never pushed her to say more. But now here he was, outside her door at 3am, asking her to show him where it was because he firmly believed that Sheppard had gone back there. Both he and Carson had tried to help Sheppard through this particular funk twice already, with no success. Beyond him and Beckett, Sheppard didn't have anyone to talk to about it. Not that he ever talked all that much, but he couldn't even go to his team, to Teyla or to Ronon or even McKay, this time.

Casey's expression has gone from sleepy to awake to contemplative. Lorne keeps quiet, because there isn't much more to say. Casey has to decide, so he waits.

They both know that Sheppard believed he had finally done the unforgivable. He'd even said as much to Lorne. That was about all he had said, actually, when Lorne had tried to pin him down in their office the day before and push him out of his quiet funk.

I crossed a line, Major.

You can't hold yourself indefinitely responsible for everything that goes wrong, Sir.

I don't. I forgive myself, eventually. Lorne had looked sceptical at that. Sheppard had shrugged. Waking the Wraith? Inevitable and naively accidental. Naquadah generator EMPs? The only way to stop the nanovirus. Killing over 60 people during the Genii invasion? A soldier's duty, defending his home. Nuclear bomb suicide runs? Someone had to, and better me than someone else.

Each of these had taken time for Sheppard to process, internally, and forgive himself for. Even Sumner's death had slowly faded, and while he still accepted the responsibility of ending Sumner's life, he didn't hold himself responsible for causing Sumner's death. He blamed the Wraith for that. Lorne had slowly dragged all these little admissions out of Sheppard over a period of months as they got to know each other.

This time Sheppard felt he'd crossed a line that could never be undone. It was him, him alone and nobody else, that had grabbed Casey, assaulted her, kidnapped her and raped her. He'd made a mistake in choosing his quarters for his confinement. He'd made a mistake in believing that two guards would be enough to stop him if he lost control. He'd chosen to escape his room in an attempt to force a security response that would kill him. Weir wouldn't order it, he'd known that. And she wouldn't try the Iratus eggs mission again. So he had tried to force her hand. He'd made a mistake in underestimating the Iratus bug influence on his mind, hadn't thought about what it might do once it was free. He blamed everything that had happened to Casey Cartwright on himself, purely and entirely, no excuses.

Some things can't be forgiven. Sheppard had walked away from him with those parting words, and had vanished into the city.

It was public knowledge that Casey had been attacked by the Colonel while he was bug-insane. Nobody except Lorne and Beckett, and Casey of course, knew the truth. Beckett had agreed to never put any of it into a report or a medical file, had checked Casey into the infirmary the second time under the guise of a (fake) tumble down some stairs, had fudged with the prescriptions to induce a miscarriage and had sat with her through it in her quarters. There were no scans logged, no blood samples or reports to indicate the pregnancy had ever existed, and nothing about the sexual assault in any paperwork anywhere. She had chosen to trust Lorne and tell him the whole story.

She looks at Lorne, standing on her doorstep, and decides that trust is absolute. She simply nods and turns back into her room to grab a pair of shoes and a jersey. It's cool in the belly of the city where they're going, and she's not going to waste time changing out of her pyjamas. They head off, Lorne at her side but following her lead.

"It's just us," he says, as they reach the transporter. "Nobody else."

The transport flashes.

"I'll be with you the whole time."

Casey just nods.

"You can stop, or turn around and leave whenever you want to... if you need to."

Lorne flicks on a flashlight that he pulled out of a pocket. He has to say these things, just so that they have been said. Casey looks down the dark passageway in front of them, and starts walking.

They both know that she won't stop.

Fifteen minutes later they reach the corridor outside the sunken room, and she hesitates. Lorne halts with her, immediately on guard, one hand hovering next to her arm but not touching her. She doesn't look at him, but looks instead down the corridor towards the doorway, willing herself to go through it. It's been seven weeks since that day, and two weeks since the covered-up miscarriage had finally brought resolution to the whole situation.

In her mind it was over and done, gone, finished, water under the bridge. Okay, probably not entirely, but she had chosen to move on and would mercilessly beat down the memories when they popped up until they surrendered and fled forever. She'd eventually had her turn with Dr Heightmeyer. After having talked to Lorne about it, seeing the city shrink wasn't half as bad as she'd expected. The bad dreams were already subsiding, and she'd been happily asleep for five hours before Lorne had woken her.

But this isn't a dream. This is reality, and at the other end of that passageway is 100% Sheppard, the nightmare's courier. 100% Sheppard, who could barely look at her, much less speak to her. 100% Sheppard, who had valiantly attempted to apologise after finding out from Lorne what he had done.

100% Sheppard, who had been about ten words into an awkward and mumbled and slightly-panic-inducing apology (she was alone in a room with him!), when he'd frozen, sniffed at her and blurted out that she smelt pregnant. 100% Sheppard, who had gone with her to Beckett and who had held her hand (that was super awkward) until Beckett had come back, pale and nervous, and asked what she'd like to do.

100% Sheppard, who probably didn't want but most likely needed her help to get past this. If Sheppard couldn't forgive himself, then the next best thing was for her to forgive him. She had the right.

Did she have the courage?