Chapter 11

The isolation room was utterly silent other than the sounds of the medical eqipment now set up there, the gentle, rhythmic beeping of the heart monitor grating on Ronon's frayed nerves. He stood beside Sheppard's bed, staring down at his pale, still form, illuminated now by subdued lighting in comparison to the brightness of the infirmary, watching his friend's chest rise and fall with the steady pumping of the ventilator. Only a little over an hour ago, Sheppard had been fighting to free himself from his grasp. Now, he was fighting for his life.

Ronon was angry. He didn't know exactly who or what he was angry with, but he fumed as he looked at his fallen comrade, his body incapable of sustaining itself without the aid of that machine. On the opposite side of the bed, Teyla and Rodney sat in a hushed vigil, their faces drawn with worry. They were almost as motionless as Sheppard, the atmosphere in the room reminding Ronon of a held breath – stifling, painful. But what were they waiting for? For Sheppard to wake up? For him to die? Or maybe for him to do something crazy and freak everyone out again. Right now, he would settle for that rather than this...this half-existence...this waiting.

He tore his eyes away from the scene when he heard the door open. Jennifer slipped past the security detail Woolsey he ordered to keep watch at the isolation room door, giving Ronon and the rest of Sheppard's team a sympathetic smile as she crossed to the bed and checked the colonel's vitals, logging them on her data tablet. Ronon wondered why they relied so much on all these machines for monitoring people. It was clear to him Sheppard was exactly as he had been when she'd checked them on his admission; he didn't need any fancy gadgets to tell him that.

'How is he?' Teyla asked, her voice so quiet the question was barely audible.

'He's stable,' Keller assured her. 'His condition is still critical, but he's not getting any worse.'

'Well, we'll take that as a positive since worse than this would be dead,' Rodney snapped, his expression immediately reflecting the regret he felt at being so sharp with her.

Jennifer was thankfully forgiving; Ronon couldn't have tolerated any bickering at this point. She gave Rodney a patient smile, squeezing his shoulder. 'He's fighting, Rodney. And right now that's exactly what we need him to do.'

'I just don't get it,' the scientist whimpered. 'One minute, he's trying to fly the city, and the next...the next he's like this!'

'I know this coma is scary, but ninety percent of people who slip into comas emerge from them within four weeks and make a full recovery.'

'So what about the other ten?'

'Rodney...please,' Teyla sighed, rubbing her face and clearly feeling too weary to form any more of a sentence.

Ronon hated seeing their pain. Neither of them knew what to do...and there really was nothing they could do. It had been the same on that godforsaken planet. Again, just as there, all they could do was watch and wait while other people tried to bring Sheppard back to them. 'This is my fault,' he said, his heart heavy. He'd been too hard on Sheppard...too physical when restraining him. Somehow he'd brought him to this.

Jennifer's response was instant. 'No, Ronon. That isn't true.'

'I must have held him too tight or something...maybe he couldn't breathe.'

Jennifer walked around to his side of the bed and looked him straight in the eye. 'Listen to me. This is not your fault. From what I saw, Colonel Sheppard was able to breathe just fine when you restrained him – he certainly did enough protesting to suggest he could.'

'So how'd he end up like that?' the Satedan asked, peering up at her from beneath lowered brows.

'Well, to tell you the truth, we're not certain. If I had to guess, I'd say the bump to his forehead might have had something to do with it, but we scanned him and there's no sign of any kind of bleeding or pressure in his brain. As far as we know, this isn't an adverse reaction to any of the medications or procedures used on him recently, and the bloods we ran ruled out any kind of poisoning or organ dysfunction...so far, the cause is a mystery.'

'Healthy men don't just suddenly slip into comas. There has to be something wrong,' Rodney pressed, looking increasingly desperate.

'I know, and you're right. It's just that right now we can't find it,' Jennifer responded. 'But we will keep trying.'

'How bad is he, Dr Keller?' Teyla asked, and Ronon braced himself for bad news. How could it be anything but? The man was completely inanimate, unable to even breathe without assistance.

'Well, I'm not going to pretend this isn't serious,' Jennifer told her, tucking a strand of hair that had broken loose from her ponytail behind her ear. 'He scored very low on the GCS, hence the need to intubate to assist his breathing.'

'What's the "GCS"?' Ronon asked. He didn't have the patience to try to work it out. He needed plain talk to settle his mind, not her usual medical jargon.

'I'm sorry, I should have explained. It's the Glasgow Coma Scale, a measure of how deeply comatose a patient is. He has no eye response, no verbal response, and no motor responses at all. He scored three on the scale, and anything below an eight signals him as a severe case.'

Ronon heard Teyla suck in a sharp breath, struggling to hold her emotions in check. Sheppard's life was in the balance and there wasn't a thing they could do to help him.

'However, as I said,' Jennifer continued, trying to sound cheerful, but somehow falling short, 'there was no sign of any damage to his brain tissue on the scans we ran, so that leaves us hopeful that Colonel Sheppard will be one of the ninety percent who wakes once his body has had time to heal from whatever caused this. All you guys have to do is be here for him. This kind of support is exactly what he needs right now.'

'So, what? His body has just shut down for no reason?' Rodney asked again, rubbing the deep lines scored into his forehead.

'Well, his body has, yes. But his brain is still quite active...very active, in fact, from what we've seen on his scans.'

'So, what? Those voices we heard on P5G 598 have somehow brainwashed him into switching off?' McKay asked, just as the doors opened and Mr Woolsey entered.

'Well, I can't say for sure, but it seems that might be the case,' Jennifer conceded.

'That's crazy, what can they hope to gain from that?'

'Puzzling as that is...I have to confess I'm more worried by the fact he was trying to fly the city,' Woolsey interrupted now, forcing his way into the conversation. 'It seems those beings you encountered on P5G 598 might be more malicious than we originally assessed, Dr McKay. If they want him to fly Atlantis to them, we have to view them as a potential threat.'

'And if they were able to influence the colonel's mind and learn about Atlantis, they may also know our gate address,' Teyla sighed.

'Yes, but thankfully they should only know Sheppard's IDC, so we've blocked it. I've also cancelled all gate travel for the time being, and all teams currently off-world are being recalled,' Woolsey told her. 'Until we get to the bottom of whatever these beings want, and exactly what they have somehow persuaded the colonel to do, I don't intend to put anyone else at risk. We stay here, we secure the city, and we work out what to do for the best.'

Ronon nodded, feeling Woolsey's approach was probably the best way to deal with things, even if it wasn't his preferred style. Normally, he would be suggesting they head back to the planet and kick some ass, but not once had they even seen the beings there to know what they were up against. His instincts told him this was serious...perhaps the most serious threat they had ever faced. He might not have been able to hear the voices some of them had claimed had plagued them on that planet, but he'd felt the malevolence in the air as those rocks had begun to crumble and the skies had opened. Any species wielding that kind of command over the elements had to be given due respect.

'And how exactly are we going to find out what they have planned?' Rodney snapped. 'I thought we'd decided it was too dangerous to send anyone back there. And something tells me they're not they type to volunteer information.'

Woolsey looked down at the motionless colonel, thinking that over. 'I believe Colonel Sheppard holds the answers. Dr Keller assures me there's no damage to his brain, so there's no reason he shouldn't eventually wake up again. When he does, I intend to get to the bottom of this.'

'Good luck with that!' McKay snorted. 'He claims not to remember anything about his time on that planet.'

'That's as maybe...and it might even be the truth. But I've also spoken to Dr Smithson, and she's agreed to try to access the memories she believes may currently be suppressed within his memory.'

'You mean hypnosis?' Jennifer asked, clutching her data tablet to her chest. 'I don't imagine Colonel Sheppard will agree to that.'

Woolsey looked grim-faced as he gazed down at the unconscious form they had all gathered around. 'I don't require his agreement, Dr Keller. He has already proved he could be a significant threat to this city. He will take part in the process whether he wishes to or not.'

'You're kidding? You're going to force him to be regressed,' Rodney squeaked, rising from his seat. 'Hasn't he been through enough already?'

'I'm sure he has, Dr McKay. But if this is what we can expect to keep happening to him, I think forcing him to undergo the procedure could be the best solution to his problems. If Dr Smithson can work out exactly what these beings have subconsciously programmed him to do, she might be able to undo it and free him from their hold.'

'He is never going to go for it,' Rodney reiterated. 'So what're you gonna do? Tie him down?'

'If necessary, yes,' Woolsey replied, matter-of-fact.

Rodney sputtered, about to protest again, but Ronon had heard enough.

'McKay,' he rumbled, finally feeling the need to intercede. 'Woolsey's right. We have to do something to help him...whether he likes it or not.'

McKay glared, as if unable to fathom why anyone would agree to the plan. 'You think so? Maybe you could sit on him to hold him down while they do it,' he sneered.

'Rodney, Ronon is right,' Teyla told him. 'John's thinking may have been compromised by whatever beings we encountered on P5G 598. He might disagree, whether it is the right thing to do or not.'

'In fact, I would go so far as to say that if he disagrees after what he just did, he has definitely been compromised,' Woolsey added. 'Colonel Sheppard is not in the habit of putting this city and the people within it in danger. Quite the opposite, in fact. So, I'm sure he would want to do everything possible to ensure their safety.'

'I agree,' Teyla said with a respectful dip of her head.

'Well...when you put it like that,' Rodney conceded, plopping heavily down into his seat again, admitting defeat.

'I'm glad you can see the merit in our idea,' Woolsey said, flashing them all a brief, tight smile. 'I wanted to inform you now, so you were aware of the situation when he wakes.'

'If he wakes,' Ronon heard McKay mutter.

'Thank you, Mr Woolsey,' Teyla said sadly, reaching out to lay a hand gently on John's forearm. 'But I fear that is all some way off yet.'

'So it seems,' he agreed, sighing heavily. 'So it seems.'

...oooooo...

When Sheppard opened his eyes, he found himself standing in a barren landscape, the red ball of a sun casting its bloody hue across the land and bathing everything in its unnatural glow. Nearby, he saw long shadows cast by towering columns of rock, stretching out toward him, crawling across the floor as if trying to reach him. His chest seized as he realised where he was. He was back on P5G 598. How was this possible? Why hadn't someone stopped him leaving Atlantis?

Confused, he turned full circle, looking around him for anything or anyone he recognised. But he was alone.

'What the hell...?' he breathed, then suddenly realised he was talking for himself, something he hadn't been able to do for the last day at least.

Feeling vulnerable, he reached for his sidearm, but the holster strapped to his thigh was empty. That figured. Why would his luck change now?

Weapons will be of no use to you here, a disembodied voice told him with more than a hint of a sneer in its tone.

He spun round, but still couldn't see anyone else. 'Guess that's just as well since I don't have one,' he replied, eyes darting about the flat ground, but seeing nothing other than the rusty coloured dust swirling around his ankles.

Foolish corporeal, the voice taunted. 'You see violence as the resolution to all problems.'

'Not all, just some,' he corrected, receiving a derisive huff in response. 'So, you gonna show your face or just leave me talking to the air here?' he asked, trying to engage his invisible critic.

What makes you think we have a face?

'We?' he wondered if that was some kind of "royal" we, or whether his companion just had a split personality.

Yes, we. We chose to use one voice, a pause followed, and Sheppard had to admire the dramatic effect it caused. But we could use many.

The final statement rang out in numerous voices, so many he suddenly felt surrounded and even more vulnerable. That holster felt emptier than ever.

Chewing his bottom lip as he gave that some thought, he asked, 'So what do I call you? You have to have a name, right?'

Names are not important.

'Oh, c'mon! Humour me!' he pushed.

A pause followed his demand, and he wondered if he was about to be punished for his tone. The answer when it came was both calm and simple. We are Initium.

That sounded familiar, making him wonder if they'd had this conversation before.

'Initium.' He knew what that word sounded like, and he figured he knew the likely meaning, but sought clarification anyway. 'What does that mean?'

Just then, a single, painfully bright light appeared in front of him. It grew steadily, taking on form and mass until eventually it had the appearance of a woman, older than him and in a long rob, her flowing white tresses blowing in the breeze. 'The beginning,' she breathed, but he heard it simultaneously inside his brain as well as the sound that fed through his ears. It was a strange and disconcerting sensation.

The form of the "woman" standing in front of him made him think he finally understood who or what they were. 'You're the Ancients...you ascended and left your physical...'

'Silence!' she ordered, and he sensed the absolute fury his assumption had caused her. So, not the Ancients. Then who?

'You are too young and foolish to understand us...as were they,' she sneered, her body fading in and out of focus. 'Even now, I have to take on your form so that you can communicate with me without fear.'

Well, he wouldn't exactly have said he was fear-free, but he didn't mind her thinking that. He recalled now that the last thing he remembered was losing consciousness in Ronon's grip. So, was this all some kind of dream.

'Not a dream, no. But you are still unconscious,' she told him.

'Why are you inside me?' he demanded, figuring, if nothing else, he deserved an answer to that question after the trouble they'd caused him.

'Because you will lead us to the Lanteans we have been searching for these past millennia.'

He huffed out a laugh, shaking his head. 'Sorry to break this to you, but those Lanteans are long gone. Whatever beef you have with them isn't going to get settled by doing this.'

The woman smiled, but there was no warmth behind it, her eyes remaining hard and cold. 'But you are a link to them, and so are all the others here on Atlantis who carry their genes. You will travel to your home world where their descendents reside. There, all traces of what remains of the Lanteans will be destroyed.'

'Not gonna happen,' he told them, folding his arms as if to underline his defiance.

'You speak as though you have a choice,' she replied, approaching now.

As she came nearer, he felt his body, at least this imagined version, begin to tremble, to weaken perceptibly, his knees shaking until they finally buckled and thudded against the dusty ground. The wind picked up, swirling the dust and blowing in dark crimson clouds, blocking out the sun. Pain wracked him, but he kept his eyes on her. He wouldn't show fear. Fear would give her an incentive to continue.

'But you forget. I'm inside your mind, and I know how afraid you are,' she said, responding to his unspoken thought. 'You want to protect your home world, but you know I can make you do what is necessary to take this city there.'

'How...many of you...are there?' he grunted, straining against the muscles spasms rippling through him.

'We are infinite,' she stated. 'We have no beginning and no end...we have always been.'

'Everything has a beginning...and an end. I just hope I'm there... to see yours,' he ground out through clenched jaws, shuddering as more spasms passed through him.

The image laughed, apparently amused at the mere suggestion that such a thing could happen. 'You are so foolish,' she replied, finding genuine amusement in his comments. 'You have no understanding of us. How can you ever hope to find an end to what is so far beyond you? We are all things – the cell that trapped you, the light that blinded you, the sound that stole your hearing, the fire that burned you...all of that was us.'

He shuddered, curling against the pain that felt like electrical currents contracting his muscles. 'You're not omnipotent...my friends will figure out what's going on eventually and they'll find a way to stop you.'

'Your friends have no hope of stopping us. We will succeed – it is only a matter of time.'

'Ten thousand...years,' Sheppard grunted. 'You've been hunting for the Lanteans for ten thousand years. That's a hell of a long time to bear a grudge.'

'They fled from us before we could finish our work. We searched for them beyond the boundaries of the Pegasus Galaxy, but we never found them. That is why we finally came home, only to find the Lanteans had returned.'

'What did they do that was so bad you would hunt them down for all that time?' he asked, half-expecting them not to answer.

'They turned their backs on us,' she said enigmatically, and again he was back to not understanding.

'What...so they created you and abandoned you?' he asked, knowing the Ancients had a habit of doing that kind of thing.

The sky above them darkened along with the woman's worsening mood. The wind whipped up, buffeting him, and his pain increased.

'I'm gonna...take that as...a no,' he panted, his fists clenching so hard he was sure his nails would draw blood...if this had been real.

'We are Initium. We have always been,' the woman hissed. 'Foolish child!'

Realising it would be petty at this point to point out he wasn't a child, he tried again. 'So, did they turn their back on an alliance between your peoples?'

'There was never an alliance. We made them, they worshipped us...then they decided they no longer needed us...that they were our equals. We had to stop them.'

'You created the Ancients?' Another surge in his pain was the reward for his disbelief. 'Okay, fine...you created them...but they didn't run from you, they ran from the Wraith.'

She tilted her head, looking on him with eyes so bright they made his own sting to focus on them. He could see she wanted him to think about what he was saying, so he did, wondering how the Wraith's involvement was pertinent. Then it dawned on him.

'You...you created the Wraith?'

She gave just one nod in response.

'No...no...the Ancients inadvertently created them when they seeded the galaxy,' he told her. He remembered the theory Carson had formulated well. It paid to know all you could about the enemy you were fighting.

'Do you really believe an enemy so singular in its purpose could purely be an accident of nature?'

And, no, now he thought about it, he supposed it was unlikely.

'The "Ancients" as you call them began to imitate us, to tamper with the lives we had created here in Pegasus, and then to create life of their own. Then they decided they no longer wished to imitate us, but become like us...to become pure energy and usurp our position in this galaxy. We could not allow that.'

'So you sent the Wraith to do your dirty work.'

Pain wracked him, folding him over again. They really didn't take criticism well.

'The Wraith were designed to rid the galaxy of the Lanteans and keep their creations in check. There was no need for us to make our presence felt. But the Lanteans were more intelligent than we gave them credit for, creating vessels capable of travelling at speeds our wonderful Wraith children could not achieve. Before we realised what they were planning to do, they left Pegasus and we lost track of them. We have spent the millennia since searching the universe for them. And now we have found what we need to reach them.'

'Atlantis.'

'Atlantis,' she echoed. 'In this city, the Wraith will be able to at last make the journey they couldn't make so many millennia ago.'

'Woolsey will never allow me to pilot the city after what just happened.'

She sneered and though pinned in place he longed to rise and wipe the smirk from her face. 'He will be dead at Wraith hands before you begin the journey.'

'The Wraith have to take over the city first. They're not gonna get past our defences.'

Her smile didn't slip, so confident was she that what she said would come to pass. 'Your people cannot stop us, John. Now...enough talk. It is time for you to wake up and play your part.'

'It's not going to happen. They won't let me compromise the city. They'll kill me if they have to,' he insisted.

Now her smile became almost sympathetic. 'Then prepare to die, John Sheppard...as many times as it takes.'

A/N: Uh oh! That does not sound good for Shep! So now you know who the Initium are and what they want. Thanks again for all the comments, I'm always glad to hear what you think. :D