Sheppard didn't dare to believe what he felt as he slid his hands over the surface of what lay behind him. It was too dark to see, but the texture and form of the smooth metal planes was soothingly familiar in this harsh alien environment.

Feeling his way along the side, he recognised the contours of the jumper's body, refreshingly cold to the touch here in the depths of this cave. But how had it got there? Then he remembered what the Atrascans had said about there being a jumper missing from the Fortuna when they'd searched the ship. The captain of the vessel had been the only person conscious as it came down. Perhaps she'd survived and flown out here. But why hadn't she gone through the gate after removing the crystal from the DHD? Intriguing as that question was, he didn't have time to worry about those things. He had a jumper, but no way to get into it. That was his priority right now.

Unable to see there in the shadows, he slid his way round to the front to check the windshield, but it was still intact and sounded solid when he jumped up and thumped on it. He swore as he landed, the impact reminding him of his sorry condition and how much he needed this jumper. Since there was no breaking through the front, he headed back to the rear hatch, trying to get his fingers into the door seal, but he knew in his heart it was futile. Nothing, not even air, could get through those joints.

There had to be some way into it. The jumper was his ticket out of there; he wasn't going to give up on it just yet. He rounded it again, ready to kick the damn thing in frustration, when he stepped on something – something that didn't feel like a stone. With a grating, sand-grinding creak, the hatch buzzed into life. A remote? He picked up whatever it was that lay under his boot and scooted back to the hatch, squeezing in through the tight gap as it lowered and activating the internal control to order the hatch to close again. Around him, with each step toward the pilot seat he took, systems began to fire up, bringing with them that familiar sensation of welcome and belonging he had missed over the past few days. With the addition of light, he could see he was, indeed, clutching a remote in his palm. Captain Rushia had obviously dropped it out there in the cave; lucky for him she had.

The pilot seat was chilly beneath him as he sat down, but he guessed several thousand years parked in a cold, dark hole would do that. The air tasted stale, but was already beginning to clear as life support filtered it and brought the temperature inside to the optimum level.

Gripping the controls gave him an overwhelming sense of empowerment. He hadn't felt this safe in days. Sarayah had stripped him of his weapons, his senses, and his dignity, but now he had a real chance of getting the hell off this godforsaken planet a free man. He tested systems – flight, navigation, propulsion, weapons, they all responded to his thoughts. Beautiful!

As he ordered the jumper to fire up the engines, a holographic message sprung up beside him, almost scaring him out of his skin. It had obviously been rigged to play if anyone started up the jumper.

'This is Captain Rushia, of Lantean vessel Fortuna. My ship crashed here on Karafus along with a Wraith Hive Ship, with which we were doing battle. I was injured, but soon realised that many of the Wraith had survived the impact and were heading to my ship to feed upon survivors. Knowing I could not fight them alone, I launched this gateship and headed for the Stargate, removing the dialling system's control crystal. It was the only thing I could think to do. At least that way, if my people and I were to die on this planet, the Wraith would be trapped here, too.'

'Sorry, lady. Fascinating as all this is, I'm gonna have to make a move,' Sheppard muttered, ordering the jumper to rise from the cave floor and begin reversing out of the entrance. As he did so, the light from within the jumper illuminated the cave, and lying not far from where he'd stumbled across the remote, he spotted the crumbling skeleton of a humanoid form. She hadn't dropped the remote; she'd had it with her when she'd died. He gave her remains a cursory salute in thanks for the ship he was borrowing, hoping his good manners would bring him luck.

'I remained here, hoping to find an opportunity to return to the Fortuna and save others along with myself, but each time I flew there in my cloaked vessel, I found my ship heavily guarded by Wraith survivors. I landed nearby and made an attempt to get back on board to save anyone I could, but was spotted. On fleeing the area, this jumper took Wraith fire and was damaged, though not so badly that I could not affect my escape.'

Sheppard glanced up at her. 'At least you tried,' he replied, despite the fact she couldn't hear him. He broke out into the orange light of sunset, turning the ship round and ordering it to gain altitude.

'I brought the gateship to this cave to assess the damage. Though many systems were still working, I had lost shields and the ability to cloak, preventing me from returning to the Fortuna again.'

'Now you tell me,' Sheppard grunted. He tried to fire up the cloak, getting a negative sounding bleep in return. 'Crap!'

'Unfortunately, it seems my injuries are more serious than I at first thought, and my strength fails me. I will not leave this planet without my crew. If their fate is to die here, then it is a fate I am determined to share. I have destroyed the control crystal for the dialling device. Now, even if the Wraith find me, which I feel certain they will, they will not be able to leave this planet unless their brethren come to rescue them.'

Sheppard had to admit he liked her style. But more than that, now he had a jumper, he didn't need a crystal. He could dial the Stargate from the ship...as long as he could gain enough altitude to put himself out of Sarayah's weapon range. He just had to think of a friendly planet, whose population had the capability to contact Atlantis on his behalf...

A thud against the back of his craft shook the vessel, and for a moment, power levels dropped with a disheartening whine, then seemed to right themselves. The HUD flashed up, showing an area of damage on the rear of the jumper. As he studied it, it flickered, the vessel's power fluctuating again.

Sarayah...she was firing on him and the jumper was failing. Dammit! C'mon – don't cut out on me now!

He asked, or rather begged the craft for more speed and altitude, trying to put enough distance between himself and his crazy pursuer so her next shot would be too weak to make a difference, but the ship, already fading, couldn't respond quickly enough. Another thump, and the jumper lurched. The power dropped, and this time it didn't rise again. Nothing he tried worked; the craft plummeted and there was nothing he could do to stop it.

Knowing he was coming in fast fast, Sheppard steered as best he could toward higher ground to reduce the momentum the craft was gaining. But he was still going to hit hard. He braced himself and waited for the inevitable crash...

*****

Flashing red light just visible through his closed eyelids was the first thing Sheppard became aware of, then a vague crackling sound reached his ringing eardrums. With his head pounding out a painful rhythm, his sense of self-preservation kicked in and alerted him to the fact neither of those things were good and he should get out as fast as he could.

Lifting his head from the control panel, he realised he'd sustained a pretty impressive case of whiplash, his neck now excruciatingly painful as he tried to move. But move he had to. Sparks were shooting out all around him, and there was a risk of fire or electrocution if he didn't get himself clear.

Somehow managing to get to his feet, he found his legs unwilling to move as fast as he needed them to or to completely support his weight. He stumbled, catching himself against the seat behind the pilot's chair, his head throbbing an angry protest. It was only then he realise how sticky the side of his face felt. When he reached up, his fingers found what he was certain was an unhealthy sized gash surrounded by a substantial swelling.

'Dammit!' he gasped, understanding now why he felt so unsteady. Then, knowing he couldn't allow his injuries to get the better of him, he forged on.

Sheppard fell out of the rear hatch rather than disembarked, scrambling back to his feet and swaying away from the jumper like a drunken reveller making his way home after a party. There was a distinct smell of burning in the air, and, worried the jumper could erupt into a fireball at any moment, he staggered away, falling down and picking himself up again numerous times as he headed toward the precipice of the landmass he'd crashed on to check the view. Hopefully, from that position, he could get his bearings and see how far he was from the 'gate.

As he reached the edge, he could see the familiar circular shape of the Stargate a little over two miles away in his estimation. Of course, the climb down would slow his progress considerably, not to mention his whiplash and threatening concussion on top of his older injuries. And, of course, he still didn't have a way to power up the DHD. This situation was not improving, no matter how much he tried to find a way out of it.

So, now he was outrunning Sarayah again. In the distance, he saw a truck trundling across the plains – another extermination party heading toward Nuulas' position. He figured he was far enough away not to be spotted by them this time, but with Sarayah still out there he would need to defend himself and tackle her for the control crystal. Though risking further injury, he headed back to the rear of the jumper to check for any ancient weapons the captain might have left on board.

The cockpit was now sporting several small fires, and since it had no power whatsoever, the usual extinguishing systems hadn't kicked in. Ignoring his various aches and pains as best he could, he forced open some of the rear compartments, rummaging through various boxes and cases, but coming up empty handed.

'Looking for something in particular?'

Sheppard's blood literally froze in his veins. He'd thought he would have a while before Sarayah caught up with him, but he hadn't considered the fact he might have been unconscious longer than he'd first thought.

'Yes, something to shoot you with,' he said, figuring it wasn't even worth trying to lie to her anymore. As he looked back at her, he could see her bloodied knees and hands, her trousers torn and the skin rubbed raw from the crawling she must have done in an attempt to follow him even while under the influence of her own drugs. Not even the draught had cancelled out her obsession. Could anything stop her?

'I thought so. Needless to say, I'm not too happy with that idea, so why don't you come back out into the open before this thing blows up and takes you with it.'

'Actually...I'd prefer to –'

A moment later, he was on the floor, starring up at the ceiling of the jumper. The view changed to a vermillion and violet sky as he slid from the ship, Sarayah's voice speaking but muffled by the disruption of his auditory system. The bitch had shot him again, he realised as his ability to process information began to slowly creep back to him, albeit with the smaller stunner. And now she was dragging him away from the jumper by his ankle...and on his damned back!

With his returning awareness and increasing pain came his determination to fight. He kicked the back of her knee with his free leg and sent her spilling to the ground.

He tried to roll to his hands and knees and get up, but was still too shaken by the sonic pulse. His muscles quivered with effort, but simply wouldn't support him. Before he could rise, she leapt on his back, flattening him to the floor. She was clearly determined to leave no skin on his back at all before this was over.

Flipping him onto his back left him writhing in agony beneath her, not that he had expected any sympathy. She certainly didn't show him any, wresting with his flailing arms as he desperately tried to push her off. He had little left to fight with, the reserves he'd been surviving on for the past few hours now almost spent while she grew ever stronger, fuelled by his distress. She subdued his attempts to free himself with ease, laughing as he screamed in pain and frustration. He had done everything possible to get rid of her except kill her. Was that what it would take?

Once she had him overpowered she rolled him onto his front again, sitting on him and leaning in close to taunt him. 'I think it's time to get you back under control, pretty one,' she hissed in his ear, and he felt the first half of her set of restraints snapping shut around his right wrist.

Something inside him snapped, and with it another unknown reserve of determination revealed itself. No way are you getting those damn things on me! he thought, bucking her off his back, screaming out as he felt his injuries tear apart with the force of the movement.

He scrambled away as she righted herself, the restraints dangling from his right arm. Rising on shaky legs, he snapped the other side shut to make it harder for her to get them on him. She would have to open it first, and he wasn't planning on giving her time to do that.

'I see you've changed your mind,' she smirked, edging toward him. 'I thought you'd decided to leave with me. It seems you prefer Atrascan company now.'

'Well, your deal turned out to be a bit rich for my taste,' he explained, wiping blood from his right eye as he backed off. The fighting was causing him to lose blood faster from his head wound, and his legs felt uncertain beneath him, wobbling as he took a few steps and forcing him to stop until he could steady himself.

'Just give up, John,' she purred, circling around him. 'You know you cannot win.'

He kept turning to face her, his head pounding and his vision twirling with the motion. He noticed now she had something hanging from her belt, several somethings that hadn't been there earlier. It took him longer than it should have to work out what they were, then it dawned on him that they were the bound ponytails of the Atrascans. Victory trophies.

When she began walking toward him again, he retreated, keeping her at a safe distance. 'I told you before, my friends call me that, and I can say with absolute certainty you will never be a friend of mine.'

'All I want is you, John,' she continued, ignoring his complaint. 'The Atrascans will hurt so many more people if they take you, but if you come with me...who knows...you might even grow to appreciate my company.'

Sheppard sputtered out a laugh, still backing up. 'If you and I were the only two people left in the universe, the human race would die with us,' he assured her.

She stopped, a satisfied smirk spreading across her face, and he suddenly realised she'd distracted him and backed him into a corner. Her movements had driven him onto an outcrop of rock with a steep drop on the three sides other than in the direction she stood. If he hadn't been so disorientated and exhausted he would have realised what she was doing, but he'd made a mistake...a mistake he was pretty sure she would waste no time in taking advantage of.

She pulled her gun and walked toward him a few more paces. 'I think you know your running time is over. You have two choices, death or to leave with me – even you aren't foolish enough to think death is the better option. Unless of course you'd prefer to wait for the Atrascans to pick you up and take you back to experiment with. But somehow, I don't think galactic betrayal is your thing.'

This woman might be as mad as a box of frogs, but she sure as hell had him worked out. He already felt bad about Solvaat and his troops, and they were the enemy to all intents and purposes. He stepped back a little way – as far as he dared – to check how big a drop lay beyond the edge.

'It's too far to jump,' she told him. 'I just climbed up it, so I should know.'

How do I know you're not lying about what the Atrascans want me for?' he demanded.

'I may have told you a few lies over the past few days, but that wasn't one of them. The Atrascans really do plan to collect Ancient technologies to fortify their army...including the defence weapon from Medulsa.'

He gaped at her in disbelief. 'You sold out your own people?'

'They exiled me! What do I care for their safety,' she screeched. Then she composed herself. 'Walk toward me, John. We don't want any unfortunate accidents.'

He stayed there, balancing on the edge, contemplating whether or not it might still be the better option.

'Come on, John. Come away from the edge,' she beckoned, her eyes burning with the anticipation of having him in her clutches once more. 'Unless you plan to wait there until the Wraith turns up in the hope it finishes this for you. We could have quite a wait in our hands, but I'm fairly confident I could outrun it far better than you could.'

He hated to admit it, but she had a point. The Wraith was busy right now, but it could easily find them if it followed the track marks from the truck. He was out of options. He raised his eyes to the sky, waiting for some kind of divine inspiration, but that wasn't what he saw. What he actually saw was something flying in the sky behind her, coming in fast. Though it looked like nothing more than a black dot for a start, it soon became apparent it was much, much more than that.

Apparently seeing the change in his expression, Sarayah turned and ducked, leaving him the only remaining target as the huge bird-like creature swooped in to pick him up. Trying to avoid its grasping talons, Sheppard lost his balance, the world suddenly falling away from him and turning over in a dizzying display of swirling colours and rushing air until he hit something solid with a sickening crunch.

Silence.

Sheppard lay very still. He hadn't fallen the full distance, just about forty-feet onto a ledge, but it had been far enough. With the wind knocked out of him, he was too shocked to feel anything for a start. Then, he saw the bird go plummeting down nearby, careening down to the desert floor below. At least he didn't have to worry about that thing anymore.

'SHEPPARD!'

Sarayah's panic-laced voice split the air. He couldn't respond...didn't want to even try. Maybe if he closed his eyes and lay real still she would think he was dead and leave him alone at last. Then what? Then, he would die out there, alone and in pain, possibly slowly over hours or days. That didn't sound so good after all. There had to be another option.

His mind phased out for a moment, and when he opened his eyes again, he saw Sarayah halfway down the rock face, climbing down to him. Damn! His plan hadn't worked. But he was pretty sure he was dying. Why the hell wouldn't she just let him be?

New pains began to announce themselves, one in his side and an incredibly excruciating throbbing in his shin that told him he had bone jabbing into raw nerves down there. He tried to sit up and get a look at the damage, but that only worsened the sensation in his side so that became the dominant problem. He would have gasped, but he couldn't find the air to do it.

Lying back, his mind drifted again. The next time he became conscious of what was happening again, Sarayah was right there beside him.

'Sheppard! SHEPPARD! Stay awake!' she yelled, shaking him vigorously and awakening a variety of agonies both new and old through his battered body.

'Not...helping!' he gasped, wondering why he still couldn't get his breath. He could hear a high-pitched wheeze accompanying his attempts to get more air, and the side of his shirt was now sticky and warm. Medicine wasn't his area of expertise, but he was certain none of that wasn't a good sign. Maybe it wouldn't take days after all.

'Don't even think about dying, Sheppard. I won't let you get away from me.'

He stared up at her in disbelief, her face coming in and out of focus with his waning consciousness. Was she actually so crazy she thought he had a choice in this? The sound of his own laboured breathing told him no amount of determination would get him through this. This was one fight he was going to lose very soon.

He felt his eyes involuntarily roll back, but she shook him again, yelling and screaming that he wouldn't get away from her – that she would find a way to follow him. This was not how he wanted it to end, his cold dead body left in the hands of a lunatic and never laid to rest.

Unexpectedly, a breeze stirred the dust around them and he thought he could hear a familiar buzz. Surely, it couldn't be...When a jumper de-cloaked, hovering next to them, he pretty much figured it was an hallucination due to lack of oxygen. There was no way their timing could be that sweet. He just wasn't that lucky.

Then the rear hatch dropped and Ronon was there, pulling the spitting, hissing, possessed monstrosity away, his expression almost as feral as hers, and making room for Carson and Teyla, the former starting a rudimentary check of Sheppard's vitals, while the later gripped his hand and spoke gently to him.

'We're here, John. You're going to be all right.'

This felt real, and the pain when Carson stepped up his treatment was certainly intense. If this was an hallucination, shouldn't he be giving himself a break from all this agony?

'Pulse rapid, blood pressure falling, blue tinge around the lips. Does it hurt to breathe, Colonel?' he heard a soft Scottish voice ask.

'Yeah,' he gasped, unable to take a deep enough breath to ease his desperation.

'Any back or neck pain?'

'Can't...tell. Everything...hurts,' he grunted.

'All right. We'd better take precautions.' Carson slipped a neck brace on him then asked Teyla to help roll him onto his side so they could keep his spine as immobilised as possible and slide a backboard beneath him. 'Let's have a listen to those lungs while we've got you like this,' Sheppard felt him push his shirt up to examine him. 'Dear lord, she's done it to him again! I can't hear anything through those dressings...let's get him on his back again and I'll listen to his chest.'

Teyla helped to keep him straight as they returned him to his original position, now with a smooth board beneath him instead of the rocky ground. The doctor opened what fasteners remained on the colonel's shirt and Sheppard felt a sharp sting as his fingers found the injury in his side. 'That doesn't look good, son,' the doctor sighed. 'Let's have a listen.' The cold metal of a stethoscope pressed against his hot flesh, and he flinched at the contact. Carson steadied him. 'I think we're looking at a tension pneumothorax. Bear with me, Colonel. Teyla, I need you to put your hand over that injury in his side to stop any more air getting in. Can you do that for me?'

She must have, because the pain increased a few notches and he could only just hear her trying to comfort him as he rode the crest of it.

His mind phased out again, and when he came to a few minutes later Carson was pressing a dressing over the injury. 'Okay, that should do it.' Seemingly satisfied with the covering, he pulled out a large syringe from his medical kit. For a moment, Sheppard forgot who was with him, seeing the faces of Atrascans he'd thought dead now floating before him, and he tried to pull away. It took a few moments for his confusion to clear as they held him firm and talked him round. Realising he was still with Carson and Teyla, he relaxed again. The doctor's bright blue eyes sought out the colonel's, waiting until he was sure he was focussing on him. 'Don't worry, son. We've got you now. I need to remove some of the oxygen pressing in on your left lung, Colonel. I'll be as quick as I can.'

Sheppard mumbled his agreement, feeling the sharp prick as the needle pierced somewhere between his ribs, then the pressure in his chest eased, air filling his deprived lung again. With that improvement, he became more aware of other things, like Rodney's pale face now hovering just behind Carson's shoulder.

'Is he gonna be all right?'

'Hopefully, Rodney...if you let me work. Okay, Colonel Sheppard. I'm going to get a line in and give you some pain meds. Then, I need to set that leg. Don't worry, son. You won't know a thing about it.'

Sheppard let him do his thing without complaint, just happy to be in the hands of friends...even if they were just his failing mind's way of making bringing him some comfort in his last moments of life. A stabbing pain in his hand was shortly followed by a cool rush in his vein, and it wasn't long before darkness enveloped him in its comforting embrace. Now he really could give up...


A/N Yay! Rescued! I know this isn't the way some of you wanted Sarayah stopped, but I have other plans for her yet. So what now for Sheppard and Sarayah? Thanks for the comments. Glad to hear your thoughts. :D