Stargate Atlantis -:- The Collective

Author's Note(s):

Okay, this is the last chapter of this epic that has been my longest and most highly reviewed fic ever! Thank you so much to everyone who has read/reviewed/favourited and/or alerted this fic – without you I would have given up 50,000 words ago :P Revel in your awesomeness, you deserve it!

And briefly, to sheppardlover928: I have two bullshit answers to your Woolsey question – One: he just wanted a general answer as to what the hell had happened so he just asked everyone with a radio, and Two: technically, Lorne was/is acting military commander, so really Woolsey should've called him (Honest answer – I don't have a clue, didn't actually think about it :P – hope that helps lol)

Super thanks again! Enjoy the last chap!


Chapter Twelve -:- Consequences and Condolences

22.00pm – Gamma Tower/Quarter Charlie79-H [Lorne's Quarters]

Dear Mrs Walters,

I am writing to inform you with the deepest regret that your husband, Sargent Henry Walters, has been killed in the line of duty. I am afraid that the circumstances that led to this tragic loss are classified, but I hope you can find solace in the fact that it was an act of true heroism for which he was sacrificed, and that you can be forever proud of your husband.

As his superior officer and friend, I can say with great sadness that Henry will be sorely missed, and we will suffer from his absence. Sargent Walters was deeply respected and liked by all who had the privilege of knowing and working with him, his sense of humour in the face of uncertainty and his unabashed bravery were legendary.

I offer you my most sincere condolences for you loss. God bless his soul in eternal rest.

Yours Faithfully,

Maj. Evan Lorne

United States Air Force

It couldn't have been further from the truth – the first paragraph at least. Lorne was sorely tempted to throw the offending laptop and the fake letter across the room, but he knew it wouldn't achieve a thing. They wouldn't let him rewrite the Dear John with the truth just because he threw a temper tantrum and smashed up an expensive computer; even if the act might have made him feel a little better.

Instead he saved the file and emailed it to Amelia in the Control Tower who would then attach it to the next data burst back to Earth. The letter was a precaution only – Lorne fully intended on being the one to inform Mrs Walters face-to-face, but that was dependent on whether Woolsey would grant him leave. With Sheppard out of commission he was the Acting Military Commander of Atlantis, which probably put a dampener on his chances.

He would consider going AWOL if he had to.

But then again, if it felt so wrong to lie in a letter, how much better would he be at lying to her face? He couldn't tell her the truth, the non-disclosure agreement that everyone on the expedition had signed made sure of that, but he couldn't just tell her nothing. How could he give her closure when all he was giving her was empty words? How could he tell her what a great man Sargent Walters had been when he knew that he was the one who had killed him?

Even now he kept replaying the moment over and over, his mind cruelly offering him alternative scenarios where he could have avoided the bloodshed. If only he had done things differently… If only Walters hadn't shifted those few inches to the right… If only he had never woken up that morning.

He pushed the laptop to one side and lay back on his bed, staring up at the intricate ceiling. The day was finally over; but he got the feeling he'd be feeling the consequences of this one for a long time yet.


[The Next Day]

08.00am – Central Tower/Conference Room

"Dr. Beckett is working as hard as he can to try and help those that are…those that are on life support," Jennifer concluded as she came to the end of her report. Rodney squeezed her hand under the table in reassurance as her voice caught, and she passed him a grateful look. "But to be honest, it doesn't appear as if there is anything that we can do."

Woolsey nodded, and decided not to push the matter further. "I will inform the SGC of the situation; once Dr. McKay sees it fit to reinstall the ZPM of course…"

Rodney's stomach dropped as Woolsey turned his focus on him; a hint of annoyance in his gaze from what he perceived was Rodney stalling. The truth of the matter was that he had spent the whole night combing the city's systems for more of the code that had caused the explosion, as well as quadruple checking that he was right about the culprit. He had yet to tell Woolsey anything other than that it wasn't safe to install the ZedPM – it was dangerous enough with just the generators – or that he knew who had attempted to destroy Atlantis.

Across the table, Zelenka gave him a look. They were the only two who knew.

"I haven't reinstalled the ZedPM because it isn't safe, unless you'd like a repeat of yesterday's horror movie?" Rodney defended with sarcasm that wasn't wholly necessary. He felt the atmosphere in the room shift and knew he'd said the wrong thing – but he wasn't exactly one to take back his words. It was Jennifer who squeezed his hand then, a warning for him to tone it down.

"I don't think anyone wants that," Woolsey replied quietly. Next to Zelenka sat Lorne, who seemed to have gotten a shade paler following Rodney's comment. "Now if you'd care to explain why the ZPM is unsafe, please?"

Rodney chewed his lip. "Right, well. Last night I ran a full diagnostic of the city's power grid as during the…event…I found out that the explosion had been caused by seemingly random power fluctuations…"

"They began nearly three days ago," Zelenka added, earning himself a glare from Rodney for interrupting. Granted, the scientist caught his look and immediately quieted, but still, an interruption was an interruption.

"Anyway, what I discovered from the diagnostic was that the 'random' fluctuations were not actually random but targeted. There was a virus-like coding in the distribution sub-routine that instructed the city to create several buffers in vital systems in the Central tower, essentially prepping anything with the potential to explode for a catastrophic overload," Rodney looked at the faces around him, not 100% sure that they were following. He decided to simplify it, like he would for Sheppard if he were there. "Worst case scenario, a build-up in the ZedPM console would've have caused an explosion large enough to destroy the entire city."

Lorne let out a low whistle as he appreciated the magnitude of such an explosion, while everyone else at the table paled at the thought of how close they had been to total annihilation. Jennifer gripped his hand tighter under the mahogany table, her eyes wide as she looked at him. Woolsey recovered the fastest, and broke the tense silence. "This virus, is it still a threat?"

"It shouldn't be. I spent all night going through the entire system and I believe that I have completely erased it, but I want to be sure," Rodney replied, but couldn't help adding. "Hence why I haven't reinstalled the ZedPM."

Woolsey threw him a look as if he wanted to retort but felt it would be unprofessional. Instead he settled for asking another question. "Do you know what caused it?"

And this was the part Rodney had been dreading. He didn't know why, he barely knew the culprit, but enough things didn't add up, or rather, added up too well, for him to be completely sold on his conclusion. "It was created and uploaded into the city mainframe using Zelenka's access code to create a back door three days ago. Precisely 83 minutes after the Apollo beamed down the new recruits."

A dark look crossed Lorne's features as he leaned forward. "You're saying that this was intentional sabotage? Who?"

"It's difficult to say for certain," Rodney found himself saying before he realised. Zelenka was giving him that funny look again, as if wondering why Rodney was defending the person essentially responsible for the deaths of fourteen people, plus another fifteen on life support. Rodney couldn't say he knew the answer to that. "But every hacker has a unique way of writing code which makes it possible to identify who it is most likely to have been…"

"Who?" Woolsey asked this time. He didn't look quite as pissed off as Lorne, but his hardened gaze was enough to make Rodney get to the point he was dancing around.

"Miranda McKinley."


09.00am – Central Tower/Infirmary

"I'm fine, doc…when are you going to let me leave?"

Jennifer gave Colonel Sheppard a stern glare in reply as she busied herself with his chart. The pilot had slept through the night due to his exhaustion and injuries, which was a good thing since that now he was finally been able to talk again he considered himself fit for duty and was ready for one of his prison escapes. She'd have to warn the staff to keep a special eye on him.

"No, Colonel, you are not fine in any sense of the word," she retorted. She was about to list off all of his injuries just to remind him as he seemed to have completely forgotten, but his cocky shrug in reply had ended in a wince, making the reminder unnecessary. "You're better than I expected considering what Lorne has told me, but that doesn't mean that I'm signing you out."

John fixed her with that look of his, the one that told you that he knew what you were really worrying about. Jennifer braced herself. Sometimes the guy's intuition was so on the money it could throw you off completely. "Jennifer, I know you haven't got the resources or the man-power to give everyone here the proper care they need…what if someone goes unnoticed because you're too busy with someone else?"

And there, he'd hit the nail on the head again. She'd already had enough near-misses the night before to remind her of just how unprepared they were for the mass of injured, as well as the poor souls on life support down in the auxiliary med-lab. That morning she had released Lieutenant Henson with his gun-shot wound to the arm purely because she had had no choice, and not because he was ready for light duty.

She had had to call in the night staff early and now all her staff were running after being awake and on duty nearly thirty-six hours. Until the Daedalus arrived with their medical crew she had no-one to relieve her staff. They simply couldn't keep this up – soon they would start making mistakes and in her line of work, mistakes could cost lives.

Jennifer sighed heavily, briefly allowing her exhaustion to show before she hid it behind her professional façade. John gave her a genuinely sympathetic look, but didn't press the issue any further. "Tell you what; I'm going to be allowing everyone who can stand to go to the memorial service tomorrow. If you still seem okay after that, I'll think about releasing you…but not to return to work; not even light duty. Deal?"

John gave her a half-smile. "Deal."

She smiled back, and then tucked his chart away and left him to the small amount of peace he would get before Rodney came by to see him. Her smile collapsed when thinking of Rodney reminded her of the meeting that morning. She still couldn't believe how close they had all been to being completely destroyed – she still couldn't believe it had been on purpose, and that the person responsible was a member of their expedition. Jennifer had never met McKinley, but she had read Lorne's report and knew that she had been instrumental in eradicating the Collective threat. It just didn't make sense.

Jennifer banished the thought from her mind as she continued her rounds, pleased to see that everyone seemed to be improving. She then headed down to the auxiliary infirmary a few floors down to check on…to check on the ones that were sleeping.

Even as a medical professional, it still struck a chord within her when she entered the room to see the masses of tubes covering every patient. The gentle whoosh-click of multiple ventilators hummed in time to each other, the constant beep of heart monitors adding to the rhythm. She was all too aware that it was only the machines that were keeping her patients alive. Their brain activity was zero. Empty shells.

Tears tinged the corners of eyes before she realised that she had stepped in and frozen to the spot. Maria, one of the nurses, gave her a sad smile in acknowledgement before returning her attention to an EKG. Jennifer blinked to clear the tears, and forced herself to move. She walked past the familiar and yet completely alien faces, heading towards the office at the back that Carson had turned into a make-shift lab. She rapped lightly on the door before she entered.

"Jennifer, love," Carson greeted, though there was something off in his voice. She knew what it was. She had read Carson's report as well, the one that was deliberately vague about what had happened in the holding cell, and yet had made it abundantly clear that nothing good had happened. Jennifer wasn't sure what she had done; but she had been there, and now two scientists were dead. He turned away and she knew he was thinking about the same thing.

She couldn't think of anything to say. She felt she should apologise – but she didn't know what for. Instead she started the conversation professionally. "I just came down to see how you were doing. Have you made any progress?"

Carson sighed like a man with the weight of the world on his shoulders. She guessed in a way he was truly carrying the weight of the galaxy as he blamed himself for Michael's experiments with the Hoffan virus, but for once that wasn't why his face was so drawn. "To be terribly honest, I don't believe there is any progress to be made. No matter how hard I try or how much I want there to be some magical cure…"

His voice trailed away. He hadn't looked back at her, and still had yet to meet her eyes. Jennifer respected Carson as a doctor and as a friend. After all they had been through since his return, it hurt her in a way she couldn't describe that he couldn't even bring himself to look at her. Her own words sounded hollow, but they were true. "I'm sorry."

"It's nobody's fault," Carson replied as if she had apologised for his lack of success. They both knew that they were talking about the holding cell. There was long pause following his words, and then he finally turned in his chair. His eyes still didn't quite meet hers, but it was close enough. "I'm going to be taking leave the day after tomorrow, back to Earth."

Jennifer blinked, wondering where that had come from. "I thought you needed to return to M34-J82 to aid the survivors of the Hoffan virus?"

A guilty look passed briefly over Carson's face; it was difficult to distinguish from the one that seemed permanently etched there following his captivity, but she just about caught it. "I should, and I will. But I made a promise to Rowan Fletcher that I intend to keep."

Jennifer recognised the name. Rowan Fletcher was currently lying in their makeshift morgue being prepared for the memorial service the next day. Next to her was Bruno Arrighetti. The pair of them had been found in the holding cell with a distraught Dr. Dharma and Carson after the 'wake up', as it had been dubbed. Again, she found herself lost for words.

"She asked me to be the one to tell her sister what happened, or as much as I can," Carson continued, his eyes clouding with sadness. "Rowan didn't want her to find out through a letter. I'm to tell her that at the end she found happiness, as Bruno Arrighetti finally admitted that he loved her."

Jennifer didn't even try to stop the tears that fell down her cheeks. "I am so, so sorry."


10.00am – Gamma Tower/Quarter Romeo32-K [Provisional Quarters]

A beep from the door, the equivalent of a knock in Atlantis apparently, brought Miranda McKinley out of her work-induced tunnel vision. She shut the laptop automatically, used to doing top secret work that shouldn't be left on display, and then made the short walk to the door. With a wave of her hand it opened, and she blinked in surprise. "Major Lorne?"

Lorne had a grim expression on his face, and McKinley got the distinct impression it was aimed at her. He stood just outside her door with two soldiers by each shoulder, all of them armed. "I've been ordered to do this privately; mind if we come in?"

Okay…McKinley thought to herself, incredibly confused. She stepped aside uncertainly, allowing the three men into her quarters. Part of her was concerned of them seeing the mess she had made in the not-even-three days she had been there, but that part was overwhelmed by the rest of her that was just thinking 'what the hell?' "What is this about?"

She realised then that she was surrounded. One of the soldiers remained by the now-closed door while the other hovered just behind her. Lorne stood before her, the grim expression hidden by a mask of cold professionalism. She was having a strong sense of déjà vu, her mind flashing back to a memory she was pretty sure she'd never forget, no matter how much she wanted to.

"Miranda McKinley…"

It was even the same tone of voice in which he said her name. For the briefest moment, Lorne disappeared and an FBI agent replaced him. Oh God…not again…

"…you are to be sent back to Earth immediately where you will be detained pending the result of a full investigation into the deliberate attempt to sabotage and destroy this city." Lorne continued coldly, though his façade slipped a little and she could see the betrayal in his eyes. McKinley suddenly felt empty: as if having her life stolen away once wasn't enough – how many times could she be falsely accused? She didn't even know what she was meant to have done!

"What?" was all she could say. The soldier behind her tensed as if expecting her to try something. Like what? Escape? And just where the hell was she going to go? She had already run to another galaxy to try and get away from her past – how much further was she meant to go?

"There is evidence to suggest that you tampered with the city's computer system; creating a computer virus that caused power problems with the intention of destroying the entire city," Lorne explained, sending McKinley's mind racing. He hadn't used any technical terms; she suspected he hadn't understood the complexities of whatever they had found, but he got the gist. And suddenly everything made sense.

"I didn't do it," she insisted, but knew she wasn't getting through. She knew that Lorne had suffered personally from the events of the day before and was probably glad to have someone else to blame as well as himself. "Look, I designed a code that would do what I think you're describing, but I didn't use it! I would never…it was hypothetical! There were bugs that needed working out, it was never properly completed…and thank God it wasn't…otherwise…"

Her voice trailed off and Lorne fixed her with that grim look again. They were both well aware of what could have happened.

"I didn't do it," McKinley repeated quietly, and she thought that maybe, for less than a millisecond, Lorne almost believed her. She was telling the truth – but that hadn't saved her last time either. "Why would I stay here if I knew I was about to blow everyone up? Why would I try so damn hard to help save the city when the Alcoloniavarium was released? You know this doesn't make sense…please…I didn't do it."

"Lieutenants' Neve and Kilmer will escort you through the Stargate back to the SGC where you will be held while the investigation is undergone," Lorne replied, his expression changing slightly. "You can make a case in your defense then."

Right, cause that had worked out so well last time. McKinley just nodded, resigned to once again shouldering a blame that wasn't hers.

She had only made it fifty-two hours in the Pegasus Galaxy – that had to be a record.


19.00pm – Omega Tower/Gym Kilo21-G

When Teyla arrived in the gym she found Ronon beating the living daylights out of a punching bag. The marines that he usually sparred with had wisely found themselves other duties that desperately needed tending to – she doubted they would have fared much better against Ronon in his current mood than the punching bag. He gave it a final punch once he became aware of her presence, and the support wavered dangerously close to giving out. "I thought I would find you here."

Ronon grunted, and then turned his back to her as he pretended to be busy with his gym bag. He pulled out a towel to wipe away the sweat, and then slouched on the bench.

She gestured at the abused gym equipment. "Did it make you feel better?"

"No." His eyes hooded as he took to staring at the floor. She noticed that his knuckles were bloody, but smothered the instinct to go to his side and treat them – she didn't think he would appreciate her fussing over him in his current mood, not that he ever did normally. After a silence where he did everything to avoid meeting her gaze, he muttered. "Did you read the reports?"

Teyla nodded, and then realised he still wasn't looking at her. "Yes, I read both Major Lorne's and Carson's, though I found them both to be deliberately vague on certain details. It is frustrating, but understandable that some things are to be omitted."

"At least you know what you did," Ronon replied shortly. He pushed himself to his feet, grabbing up his stuff as he aimed in the direction of the door. Teyla wouldn't let him retreat that easily though. She purposely stepped into his path, and despite their greatly different heights, stood almost face-to-face with him.

"Yes, I do," she replied a little curtly. "I tried to execute John, threatened my child, held Rodney at gunpoint and then strangled John to within an inch of his life. I was aware and yet powerless throughout – there are moments when I wish I had been oblivious."

Ronon had the sense to look contrite before his eyes darkened again. "It's worse not knowing. You start to read between the lines of what people say, your imagination filling in the gaps. I wish I knew what I had done – at least then I'd know what I was apologizing for."

Teyla placed a hand on his arm, forcing him to meet her eyes. "We didn't do anything – creatures with our faces did those horrible things. We are victims as well, not the culprits. Do you understand?"

"I know that," Ronon muttered quietly. "But it doesn't change a thing. It doesn't make me feel any less guilty."

She nodded, completely understanding. She could still vividly remember wrapping her hands around John's throat. They were her hands, even if it wasn't her actions or intentions. She stepped aside to allow Ronon to pass and then found herself alone in the empty space. She tried listening to her own words to try and lessen the blame she placed on herself, but he was right – logic was never going to change what had happened.

Nothing would ever alleviate the guilt on her heavy heart.


[Two Days Later]

11.00am – Central Tower/Gate Room

John stood at the bottom of the gate room steps, staring at the table of flags laid out before the Stargate. There simply hadn't been room for all fourteen coffins despite the vastness of the space, so the display served as a memorial for all the lost souls in their place. The coffins would be walked through the gate and back to the SGC later, but for now they were represented with their flags.

Everyone had been affected by the event two days earlier, and as such every member of the expedition had found a way to fit into the gate room, each paying their respects. To John's left stood Lorne, and to his right was Teyla, Torren perched on her hip. Ronon was keeping himself carefully away from Beckett, recognising that he wasn't the scot's favourite person right then – even if he wasn't sure why. Rodney, Dr Keller and Zelenka stood behind John, all of them looking at Woolsey who stood beside the memorial.

Woolsey had never been good at making speeches, but he had managed to pull off something respectful and half-decent without making a fool of himself and unintentionally insulting everyone there. It was more than John thought he could hope for – not that he was volunteering for the job.

"…Sargent Henry Walters, Lieutenant Jaime Harlow, Dr. Rowan Fletcher, Dr Charles Volkov, Dr Leanne Parsons and Dr Bruno Arrighetti: We will never forget."

Woolsey came to an end, and then nodded up at the balcony of the control room where a violinist stood. She took her cue and began a sorrowful melody. All around him John could hear people crying, though in his peripheral vision he could see that neither Lorne nor Teyla were among them. They stood there as rigidly as he did; preventing their emotions from reaching the surface as if such a display would present them as weak. John had never cried at a funeral, not even his mother's. He really hoped that didn't make him a bad person.

The violinist kept playing as the congregation began to scatter. Lorne made no move to leave, and John placed a reassuring hand on his shoulder as he turned. He knew his second-in-command was hurting and that there was nothing he could do to placate it. John saw that Ronon had already slipped away, and Carson had never even acknowledged his presence. He wished he knew what had happened, but he doubted he'd be able to help regardless.

There were some wounds that would just never heal.


[Three Days Later]

14.00pm – Gamma Tower/Quarter Alpha83-F [Sheppard's Quarters]

The moment the door opened, Teyla forgot all the carefully constructed things that she had been planning to say. Instead, she found herself declaring "You've been avoiding me, John."

He stepped back from the door with a guilty expression and walked over to his bed, his back to her. She took the open door as an invitation and stepped inside, allowing it to close behind her. It was then that she noticed the bag on his bed, a pile of folded clothes next to it just waiting to be packed. "Are you going somewhere?"

John picked up a pile with one hand – his right arm trapped in a sling – and haphazardly shoved it into the duffel. Even from the distance between them she could see that his movements were stilted, his injuries causing him pain every time they were jostled. "Yeah," he answered, still not turning to face her. "I'm going to be taking leave on Earth for a while. Lorne needs the support even if he isn't asking for it."

Teyla couldn't help the pang of annoyance that ran through her. She knew he was running away, and she suspected it was from her. They hadn't really spoken since the kiss…when she had gone to see him in the infirmary he hadn't even been able to talk, and he'd been skilfully avoiding her since. "Were you going to tell me?"

"Of course, I just…" he trailed off, realising he had run out of things to pack. He failed at zipping the bag up one-handed, so Teyla stepped in to help. This close, he couldn't avoid looking at her, and she could see the confusion in his eyes. She imagined that an unexplained kiss from nowhere would do that - even she was confused over its meaning, and she had been the one to instigate it. They had been friends for such a long time, was it even possible at this point for them to become something more?

"John…" Teyla began, trying to find the right words. She had unconsciously placed a hand on his arm, and she was pleased to find that he didn't shy away. "About…about the kiss. I know it was sudden, and a little impulsive…but I…it was true. I won't apologise."

John studied her then, guarded hope in his eyes as if he couldn't quite allow himself to believe her. And then a shadow crossed his features. "What about Kanaan? And Torren?"

"Kanaan…understands," Teyla replied; she thought back to her visit a few days ago, the guilt still heavy on her already laden conscience. "We have been drifting apart for some time now; I'm not even sure if we were ever truly together. And Torren…Torren will know his father regardless of whether we are joined or not."

"It could make things…complicated," John said after a moment. Teyla gave him a smile, and then she reached up and kissed him again. This time there was no hesitation from him, his hand settling on her waist as he returned her kiss.

Eventually, she pulled back, but looked up at him with the same smile. "I think we can handle 'complicated'."


15.00pm – Central Tower/Gate Room

Lorne stared at the inactive gate with more than a little trepidation. Woolsey had granted him his leave despite the fact that, for the time being at least, there was no military commander on Atlantis. Caldwell was en-route in the Daedalus though, and since being apprised of the situation, had offered to stand in when he arrived. It meant that Lorne had no excuse for not going to Earth now – not that he wanted to back out – but he couldn't say he was looking forward to it. He hoped that made him normal.

He stood alone for a few minutes before Colonel Sheppard appeared from nowhere next to him, depositing his own duffel bag next to Lorne's. He gave Sheppard an uncertain glance. "Sir?"

"No one should find out in a letter, major," was all Sheppard said in reply, staring straight ahead as he said it. Lorne nodded. He strongly suspected that his CO was there for him as well as to visit the families of the fallen soldiers, and for that he was immensely grateful. There was nothing worse than being the one tell someone that they had lost a loved one; at least Lorne wouldn't be doing it alone.

Less than a minute passed before McKay came to join them, a laptop tucked under one arm and his bag in the other. Lorne gave him a questioning look.

"The SGC has asked that I present my findings directly to the IOA," he gestured his laptop. "Apparently they want to wrap this up as quickly as possible, and having someone to point the finger at makes things a lot easier."

McKay still didn't look entirely convinced that McKinley was the one responsible, and after confronting her two days earlier, Lorne was finding it difficult to believe as well. The idea that someone else had tried and was walking around free unnerved him greatly. What was to stop them from trying again? He would launch his own investigation once he returned, even if McKinley was found guilty. Even he could see how things didn't add up right.

They stood in silence for a while before Dr Beckett came to join them. There was no need to ask what he was doing there; they had read his report – and between the lines of it.

It was then that Chuck dialled the Stargate, the lights around the ring spinning in sequence until the gate locked, the wormhole initiating with its spectacular kawoosh. Once it settled into place, the four of them walked forward and disappeared into the serene pool of blue.


There! All finished now! Really hope that you have enjoyed reading this as much as I have had fun writing it! And thank you in advance to future reviewers – if the count gets above 100 I will actually die dancing like a maniac with hysterical happiness, film it, and then put it on YouTube (…from the grave…)

Hopefully, however, I will then return from the dead so that I can write the next fic that is just begging to be written :P Because I'm an opportunist, I am once again going to advertise the not-even-planned fic right here:

Summary: Sheppard and the team step through the gate…and into the middle of a warzone. As Prisoners of War they find themselves trapped not only by their captors, but by the very planet as it falls apart around them…

Action/Adventure/Hurt/Comfort, Set Season 4 (Carter leader/pre-Teyla pregnancy) No Pairings, and most importantly – Shepwhump a-plenty

'Endgame' – coming to fanfic site near you! (Or you know…the web, which is local to anyone with an internet connection…) Hopefully see you then!