Chapter 50

'I want you to look straight into the camera and tell John to come home to Atlantis,' Sarayah told Elizabeth, aiming the camcorder directly at her face.

Though her panic meant she could barely catch her breath, Elizabeth gave a defiant tilt of her head. 'I'm not going to do that.'

Sarayah forfeited the angle of her shot to land a punch on her. 'Now let's try that again,' she growled. 'Tell John you need him to come home now.'

Elizabeth ran her tongue over the trickle of blood oozing from her cut lip. She was scared, insanely so, but she would not give ground. She would never ask John to hand himself over to save herself. She would never ask anyone to do that. 'You can hit me as many times as you like, but I won't do what you ask.'

Sarayah brought the camera in close, and Elizabeth did the best she could to keep her trembling to a minimum. 'You have to know refusal will be very bad for you,' the Medulsan purred, her statement dripping with intent.

Elizabeth refused to look into the lens, forcing on a smirk she had a hard time mustering. 'And agreement would be any better?'

'I might let you live,' Sarayah taunted, her own grin vicious in comparison.

'Might?' Elizabeth repeated, her voice cracking for the first time. She swallowed, composing herself. 'That's tempting...but I think I'll pass if it's all the same to you.' The very fact Sarayah had said "might" led Elizabeth to believe her fate had already been decided. She wouldn't beg for John's help...not even with the slim chance it might save her life.

This time, Sarayah kicked her hard in the stomach, knocking her chair over backwards so her head collided with the floor. Lights flashed in her vision as the Medulsan grabbed the chair back and hauled her back upright again. Her stunned brain had trouble keeping up with all the movement, still rocking inside her skull even when the seat was settled back on all four legs.

'I don't think I'm making myself clear.' Sarayah circled her now, the camera still aimed at her the whole time. 'I'm not giving you a choice, Elizabeth. You will do this. The only decision you have to consider is whether to make this easier on yourself, or harder.'

Again, Elizabeth felt her body shaking with the force of her thundering heartbeat. She knew this was going to be her final stand, whether she agreed to Sarayah's terms or not. She was nothing more than a pawn in this woman's power game, the only thing she had any control of was her script. She would not say what Sarayah wanted her to. John had to know she still believed that sending him back to Earth was the right call.

'I won't do it.'

Another punch set her brain reeling again, and the strong taste of iron on her tongue told her she was bleeding more heavily now. The blows were getting harder. She had to somehow focus on her decision not to talk and shut out the pain.

'I don't enjoy torturing you, Elizabeth –'

'No, you prefer torturing my military commander, which is exactly why he's not here.'

In response to that Sarayah huffed out a sarcastic laugh. 'You're protecting him from me? How touching. What a pity he's not here to return the favour.'

Elizabeth struggled to swallow, her throat now dry as dust. It was a pity, because she had no doubt John would have done whatever it took to save her, but she wouldn't wish it any other way. If her death meant Sarayah didn't get that experimental 'gate operational, then so be it. She was the leader of the Atlantis expedition; though she dearly wanted to live she would die to protect both it and the gateway back to Earth.

'You have feelings for him...' Sarayah surmised, bringing the camera in closer.

'I realise this is hard for you to believe Sarayah, but friendship is a very important thing to my people. We're loyal to our friends. I won't betray him to spare myself.'

'He's a man, Elizabeth. Men don't deserve such loyalty. They are manipulators, tricksters, only ever thinking of one thing. Do you honestly think he really values your friendship? Of course not; he covets your position. He's only waiting for his opportunity to replace you. And here you are handing that to him.'

Elizabeth smiled despite herself, her eyes meeting the lens for the first time. 'If you really think so, that just tells me how little you know about John.'

The sneer Sarayah had been wearing slipped from her face. 'I have seen inside his mind more clearly than any other living being. He resents having a woman in authority over him.'

'I may not have ever been inside John's mind,' Elizabeth challenged. 'But yours is perfectly easy to read. You want to turn me against him so I'll betray him in some way. I'm not falling for it.'

Sarayah circled her again, her boot steps echoing loud in the hollow wooden building. Elizabeth wondered where she was – how far away she was from any hope of rescue. It was cold here, so most likely not Medulsa, which enjoyed a balmy climate through most seasons. The building she was in had a very rustic feel, like something that might have been built by early American settlers. She wracked her brain for any mention of something similar in the numerous mission reports she'd read. Then a more random thought struck her, and she wondered if anyone would ever find her body when Sarayah had done with her. That thought brought tears to her eyes, tears she desperately tried to fight back. She couldn't show that kind of weakness...not now.

'What's the matter Elizabeth?' Sarayah asked, immediately seizing on that chink in her armour and thrusting the camera in her face. 'Are you afraid? Why not tell John how afraid you are? I'll be sure he gets your message.'

'I'm not afraid. I just feel sorry...for you,' Elizabeth told her, turning the situation back on her. 'I've just realised how much this all must hurt you.'

'All what?' her captor demanded.

'Having your plans thwarted, living in solitude, but most of all to have John Sheppard completely out of your reach.'

'He'll be mine soon enough,' Sarayah countered. 'Once I see my plan through.'

'But you can't see your plan through without him...we call that Catch 22.'

A furious anger ignited in Sarayah's eyes. She couldn't possibly know what the phrase meant, but she understood the situation she was faced with well enough. 'I'll find a way.'

'How? It's going to take more than your all consuming obsession to get to him this time, Sarayah. And I suspect that thought is eating away at you, driving you mad.'

An odd little smile crept onto the Medulsan's face. 'It suits you to think of me as mad, doesn't it? But I know exactly what I'm doing. The man is a menace. He has to be controlled.'

'But that's not it really, is it?'

The rage inside the woman was close to erupting; Elizabeth could sense it broiling and hissing like a lava flow waiting to break free. 'Shut up...'

'This isn't about control, this is about love. You love John Sheppard, but he doesn't love you. And for that you think he has to suffer.'

'Enough!'

Sarayah lashed out blindly, and for a second or two Elizabeth was too stunned to realise she'd stuck her. But the gradual return of sensations...pain in her cheekbone and the warmth of blood trickling down the plane of her cheek...brought her back with stark awareness.

Sarayah was nearing the limit of her patience.

'You may deny it,' she said, her voice catching in her throat as fear finally took its full hold on her. 'But I have seen it lots of times. John Sheppard has won over many people who thought badly of him...and he has charmed his way into your heart, too. And it's destroying you that he rejects you at every turn.'

Another blow, this time more savage. It took a little longer for her to rouse this time, but she soon rallied.

Once more she lifted her chin in defiance. 'I'm glad I sent him somewhere you'll never reach him.'

Without lowering the camera, Sarayah draw her side arm and pointed the gun at her head...

oooOOOooo

Alishia walked from her village with Indarah and her partner, who were set for a journey to Tranath to collect medicines. It was a dry morning and the air was already warm, though mist hung over the distant mountains. A sickness had taken hold in the village, nothing serious, but something that the lamenath plant from Tranath could alleviate.

Tranath was one of their more recent trading partners. They had only been willing to open up communications once they were sure the men folk of Medulsa were free and equal to the women. Aside from a mostly peaceful way of life and a general sense of wellbeing, another benefit of their new way of society had been the many new friendships and trading agreements they had forged. Life had become easier and more satisfying despite the sharing of what would previously have been a workload borne by the menfolk.

'There was no need for you to accompany us, Alishia,' Indarah told her as they walked. 'I'm sure you have more important things to do with your time.'

'I fancied taking in some fresh morning air before the day gets started,' Alishia told her. 'It helps to clear my mind ready for the new day.'

It was a truly beautiful sunrise, and she was glad she'd risen early enough to take this stroll with her good friend and her partner. Jelsar was a good man, a patient man, one of the very few who had never said an angry word to her about his previous incarceration. He was a good soul, not that she blamed the others when they complained from time to time, but they all had to put the past behind them for their society to work smoothly. And some days things were smoother than others. If everyone could be more like Jelsar it would make her job as leader so much easier.

'What is that lying by the Ring of the Ancestors?' Jelsar asked, making her snap out of her own thoughts and look out across the grassy plain ahead of them.

Sure enough, there was a dark shape lying amongst the grass in front of the Stargate.

'I'm not sure,' Alishia replied, walking a little faster. 'Surely none of our trading partners would leave supplies at the ring unattended. A bad feeling blossomed low in her gut, and as they got a little closer she realised it was with just cause. What lay before the ring was not a something but a someone.

Alishia broke into a sprint. Whoever it was could be hurt and in desperate need of help. She slid to a halt as she reached the crumpled form, falling to her knees beside it. The brown curls and grey uniform were sickeningly familiar. She couldn't see the face as the figure had been positioned face down, but the hand rested up near the head look worryingly pale. She touched it tentatively. It was cold.

Indarah and Jelsar joined her. 'Who is it?' Indarah asked, frowning down at the body. 'Is that an Atlantis uniform?'

'It is,' Alishia whispered, licking her suddenly dry lips. 'Help me turn her.'

The others each took hold of the form and helped Alishia to roll the body. The sight of the pale face the movement revealed caused Alishia to cover her mouth and stifle her shock.

'This is the Atlantean leader...Dr Weir,' Jelsar said, brushing her hair gently back from her face.

That action revealed the hole almost perfectly centre to her forehead along with several cuts and grazes.

'Who would do this then send her here?' Indarah gasped.

Alishia battle back her emotions at seeing this once great leader lying dead and abandoned, all alone and far from her wondrous city. There was only one person she could think of cruel enough to do this to someone like Elizabeth. 'Oh, Sarayah. What have you done?' she sighed, leaning forward now to cup Elizabeth's cheek in her hand. 'I am ashamed that a Medulsan could do such a thing to a woman such as you, Elizabeth Weir. You did not deserve this.'

Sniffing back her tears, she set her jaw and sat back, assuming her role as leader. 'Jelsar, run back to the village as fast as you can. Beneath my bed is a box containing the device with which we contact Atlantis, bring it here as fast as you can. We must send this woman home and I do not wish to delay it for a moment longer than necessary. She has been out here alone for too long.'

He nodded and began his run.

'And bring a blanket!' she called after him. He raised his hand to let her know he had heard her.

Indarah knelt beside Alishia. 'What would you have me do?'

'Let's make her look more respectable,' Alishia said quietly, dusting down the front of Elizabeth's jacket. 'This will be traumatic enough for her people. If we can make it even just a little easier to bear, we must.'

Indarah helped, straightening her jacket and struggling with the zip until she worked out how it fastened. 'If Sarayah did this I do not envy her. Colonel Sheppard will not rest until she's made to pay.'

'No he won't,' Alishia agreed, stopping to wipe a tear from her cheek. 'And I do not blame him. Someone has to teach that monster a lesson. It is just a pity we didn't kill her and the daemon within her when she was a child.'

She knew her anger shocked Indarah, but right now she didn't care. Sarayah had drained her of any empathy she might have once felt for her. Now it was time for her tyranny to come to an end.

oooOOOooo

The sound of the Simpsons theme tune playing out in a ringtone woke Sheppard in the early hours. It wasn't his, so it had to be O'Neill's. Who knew he was a fan?

It was when he tried to lift his head off the pillow that he realised the single malt had drowned his sorrows a little too effectively. Now he had the mother of all hangovers brewing. His digital clock told him it was only 0245 hours. He thanked the stars that he didn't have to get up yet and let his head drop back to the pillow.

The tune stopped playing and O'Neill grunted what sounded like his surname as he answered. Then Sheppard phased out for a while...

'What? When?'

O'Neill's raised voice and urgent questions woke him up again. It sounded like there was a problem. He supposed that meant his fishing weekend would get cut short. There was still the hotel room booked for him...

'Aww, crap. Yeah...okay. Give us ten minutes.'

Us? There were footsteps heading Sheppard's way and now O'Neill opened the guest room door. 'Sheppard, you need to get up, get dressed and grab your stuff. We're beaming out in ten.' He was gone as quickly as he arrived.

Sheppard flung back the covers and stumbled out after him. 'What's going on?'

'We don't have time right now. Just get your stuff unless you want Caldwell's crew to get an untimely view of your boxers.'

'Is it Atlantis?'

O'Neill stopped, his head dropping...his shoulders, too. He turned toward him, and Sheppard could see real pain in his eyes. His heart skipped a few beats. Whatever it was, it was bad. 'We have nine minutes now before we get beamed out of here then over to the SGC,' O'Neill reminded him. 'I wish I had time to tell you what I know, but I don't. You'll find out soon enough.'

Then he turned his back and walked way, leaving Sheppard with a sense of numbness spreading through his body as he stood in the dark passageway. Something awful had happened, and he hadn't even been away from Atlantis for forty-eight hours. Snapping himself out of his stupor he ran back to his room and pulled on his clothes from the evening before, jeans and a T-shirt, not having time to look for anything else. He could barely see straight enough to lace his boots, but he managed it somehow, then he grabbed the stuff he'd unpacked only that morning from the closet and armoire and threw them into his holdall.

He had just fumbled the zip closed and snatched it up from the bed when he was engulfed by a beam of light and he suddenly found himself standing on the bridge of the Daedalus beside O'Neill. In this light he could see the general looked as rough as he himself felt. Sheppard's holdall slipped from his grasp and he grabbed it up quick before they beamed him out without it.

'General O'Neill, Colonel Sheppard. I'm sorry to rush you, gentlemen,' Caldwell said solemnly, 'but I've been told this can't wait. Prepare to beam them down.'

'Ready, Sir,' Sergeant Marks announced.

Sheppard just managed a last glance at O'Neill before they were beamed out of there. The general's jaw was tight, and his face pale. Was that just the hangover, or was he actually struggling to contain his emotions in the way he appeared to be?

A flash of light later and he was standing in the gate room of the SGC, General Landry already there waiting to meet them. 'General O'Neill...Colonel Sheppard. I'm sorry to disturb your weekend. If you'll follow me to the conference room, I'll debrief you on the latest developments.'

Two SFs stepped forward to take their bags, and then they followed Landry out of the room and up the steps to the conference room, Sheppard all the time battling with waves of nausea. Whether it was because of the single malt or nerves, perhaps a mixture of the two, he wasn't entirely certain. He sat down in the nearest seat before his shaking legs let him down.

O'Neill managed to make it around the opposite side of the table before collapsing into a chair. He dropped his head into his hands, and let General Landry do the talking.

'Thirty minutes ago we received a communication from Atlantis. It appears Dr Weir and a 'gate team travelled through to a planet called Khargon to negotiate the return of a Puddle Jumper stolen by Sarayah during the invasion of Atlantis.'

'Yeah...we discussed that shortly before I left,' Sheppard nodded. 'Did they find a clue as to Sarayah's whereabouts?'

General Landry's cool grey eyes looked at him from beneath his heavy brows. 'Not exactly, son. Apparently, she and the security team attending with her were ambushed and kidnapped.'

'They're missing?'

'Sheppard...let him speak,' O'Neill said calmly, lifting his head at last.

Sheppard didn't want to let him speak. He was afraid of what Landry was about to tell him. He swallowed hard, his heart now hammering. 'Sorry.'

'It's all right, son,' Landry told him. 'As I said, Dr Weir and Sergeant Jeffries' team were ambushed on Khargon. The bodies of Jeffries' men were found near the abandoned jumper when a search team was dispatched to find them.'

Sheppard closed his eyes. Three men dead...but although that was bad enough he could tell there was worse to come. 'What about Jeffries and Dr Weir?'

'Jeffries hasn't been found yet,' Landry told him.

Sheppard felt the sensation of ice water filling his veins, his tongue numbing to the point he could barely repeat, 'And Dr Weir?'

Landry licked his lips, and flashed a glance O'Neill's way. O'Neill gestured that he should continue.

'Dr Weir's body was found beside the 'gate on Medulsa...'

Sheppard knew the man was still speaking, but he couldn't take it in anymore. Elizabeth...dead? He pushed his chair back from the table and almost fell out of it stumbling backwards toward the stairs. 'I have to get back to Atlantis...I need to be there!' he demanded.

'Sit down, Sheppard,' O'Neill ordered. 'Please.'

Sheppard stared at the chair he'd abandoned as if it had betrayed him. He felt as though he couldn't breathe in this damned underground bunker. He needed fresh air. But he did as he was told, returning to his seat.

'As I was saying,' Landry continued. 'A camera was found along with her and returned to Atlantis along with her body. When the footage...'

Body. The word stuck in his mind and blocked all other thoughts. Elizabeth's body. Just an empty vessel now. No more masking her smirks at Rodney's rants. No more playing solitaire when she was supposed to be churning out requisitions. No more updates on the balcony under the twin visible moons of M35-117. Now she was just a shell...

'Obviously we don't recommend you return to Atlantis despite Sarayah's threats.'

John surfaced from his shock. 'Threats? She talked to someone?'

'Okay, Sheppard. I understand this is a shock for you so I'm gonna go over that last part again,' Landry said, like a patient father teaching his kid to read. 'Sarayah used the camera Jeffries had taken with them to document the condition of the jumper to record Elizabeth's last moments. Sarayah tried to force her to ask you to return to Atlantis, but she wouldn't. She stood up to her until the end, which was thankfully swift. She's threatened to kill the other members of your team if you don't surrender yourself to her. Oh, and she apparently has the 'gate device operational, though not initialised, which makes it even more vital that you don't return.'

'How did she die?' Sheppard asked. He needed information to get his thoughts straight – to work through this.

'Single bullet through the head. Death was most likely instantaneous.'

His breathed shuddered, and he sucked in his bottom lip to stop it quivering. All he could do was nod.

'We're sorry for your loss, Colonel,' Landry said simply.

O'Neill now nodded, eyes focused on the table top.

Sorry for his loss? And they thought that made this somehow okay? 'I warned you all that something like this would happen,' he growled, his hands balled into fists he yearned to lash out with.

'Sheppard...' O'Neill warned.

'What? Don't wanna hear it? Well tough, because it's true. I told Elizabeth, and I told you that taking me out of Atlantis would mean Sarayah would shift her focus onto someone else. She's started with Elizabeth, but who's next?'

'We'll make sure your team are safe...' O'Neill countered. 'They can stay in the city...'

'That's not good enough!' Sheppard yelled. 'You think Ronon can be held like that willingly? Or Teyla? They will get out somehow to seek revenge and then they're at her mercy. I have to go back to Atlantis.'

'You're not going back,' O'Neill told him.

Sheppard got out of his seat again. 'I've lost one friend...I won't lose another.'

'We can't risk sending you back there,' Landry stated as O'Neill too stood.

'And if it was your team being threatened?' Sheppard demanded of O'Neill. The man had been there himself not so many years ago. He had to understand.

O'Neill walked around the table toward him. 'I'd want to head out there and protect them, but it wouldn't be the right thing to do.'

Sheppard watched him approaching, his fists held tight down at his sides. 'Does that help? Does telling yourself that I have to be here somehow make what's happened more palatable? Elizabeth is dead. Jeffries and his team are dead. How many more people have to die before you admit you were wrong?'

'Colonel Sheppard! Stand down! ' Landry blustered, trying to diffuse the growing storm.

'It's okay, Hank. I'll handle this,' O'Neill assured him, his gaze now burning into Sheppard. 'Elizabeth wanted this too, John. Have you forgotten that?'

'Do NOT call me John. We are not friends!'

'All right...all right!' O'Neill patted the air, trying to placate him.

'And I'm pretty sure Elizabeth didn't send me away thinking it might lead to her death.'

'No, I'm sure she didn't, son,' Landry interrupted, giving O'Neill a look that suggested he should let him speak. 'But her last words to Sarayah were that she was glad she'd put you out of her reach. She sacrificed herself to protect you...to protect everyone. Don't tarnish her bravery with your anger.'

Sheppard raked his fingers back through his hair and desperately tried to keep control. 'That wasn't her job...I was supposed to protect her, not the other way around.'

'She was the commander of the Atlantis expedition, Sheppard,' O'Neill reminded him. 'Part of that role is taking responsibility for all those who serve beneath you.'

'If I had been there my team would have been the ones to take her to Khargon.'

'Which was exactly what Sarayah wanted,' Landry told him. 'She wanted you to turn up. She set it up that way.'

'And if I'd been there Elizabeth and Jeffries team might be alive now!'

'Oh, c'mon Sheppard,' O'Neill snapped. 'If you'd shown up on that planet it would be your team lying on the slab, Elizabeth along with them. And right now Sarayah would be carrying out the last stages of her plan to lord it up over the universe. What's happened has happened. You have to get past it.'

That was one cliché too much for Sheppard. He launched, grabbing bunches of O'Neill's shirt in his hands as they collided with the conference table. 'Get past it? Are you for real? Elizabeth's dead because of me! How do I get past that?'

'Sheppard, you let go of me or I swear to God I will put you down!' O'Neill yelled, his dark eyes drilling into his. O'Neill might be older than him, but he was big and strong and Sheppard didn't doubt he could do him some damage. Not that that worried him. What worried him was the fact that the man he now had pinned was a US Air Force general with a lot of sway. If he wanted to get back to Atlantis, this wasn't the way to do it.

He let go of him and stepped back. 'Sorry, Sir.'

O'Neill straightened out his clothes, his mouth just a thin line of pent up rage. 'Forget it, Sheppard. I think we're both stressed and a little the worse for wear. But if you try that again, I will set you on your ass.'

'Yes, sir.' Sheppard hung his head, ashamed of his outburst. If what Landry had said was true, Elizabeth had given up her life intentionally; to mourn her and place blame in this way was to belittle her choice. Sacrificing herself to save others seemed to be her destiny, he realised. One way or another, in this version of the time line and perhaps in every other possible permutation, she had to die to save Atlantis and those under her command.

'Can I...can I see the recording?' he stammered.

Landry's jaw dropped a fraction. 'I'm not sure you need to see that, son.'

'Yes, I do. If Sarayah sent me a message, I want to see it,' he asserted.

'C'mon, Hank. If you were in his position, wouldn't you need to see it?' O'Neill said, his manner softer now. 'I know I would.'

Closure...that was what the psychologists called it. He couldn't really grasp what had happened yet. Seeing the recording, seeing Elizabeth speak the words General Landry had passed on, would help him to do that and...move past it? If that was actually possible. He was still trying to move past what Sarayah had done to him on Karafus...he wasn't sure how many more body blows he could take.

'All right,' Landry agreed, gesturing toward the door of the conference room. 'The video file's on my laptop. You can view it in there.'

Sheppard followed him in, sitting in Landry's seat as the man indicated he should while he got the file ready for him. Then the two older men headed for the door. 'General O'Neill,' Sheppard called after him. 'Don't you want to see this?'

'I think it's better if you see this alone the first time,' O'Neill told him, stopping at the doorway. 'Once you're done I'll take a look.'

Sheppard nodded, appreciating their consideration. He didn't know how he would react to watching his friend die. Privacy was probably best.

Landry closed the door behind them as they left, and for a few long minutes Sheppard just stared at the laptop screen. He had to do this, but at the same time he wasn't sure he could bear it. No...there was no question. He had to. This was closure...this was understanding and making sense of the violence...this was the only way he would ever believe it was true.

He opened the file and let it play...

By the time it ended, his fists were bunched so tight he'd almost drawn blood from his palms. It took every ounce of willpower he possessed not to pick up the laptop and smash it against the wall. She'd tortured Elizabeth. Yeah, the death was quick and clean, but no one had warned him about the other stuff leading up to it.

Sarayah's warning still echoed clear in his mind. 'Return to Pegasus, John, or I will hunt down your friends one by one and end their miserable, worthless lives.'

Guilt. It was his weakness and she knew that. He couldn't live with the idea of anyone else dying because of him. But this wasn't his decision to make. What if he couldn't persuade Landry and O'Neill to let him return? He dropped his head into his hands as the utter frustration of his situation engulfed him. He knew going back was right, but there was no way they would agree.

He heard the door open. 'Sheppard?'

He lifted his eyes, now pricking with tears, to see O'Neill's face looking in on him, pinched with concern.

'Can I come in?'

Sheppard nodded, chewing on his lip to stop it quivering. He would not buckle. He was a trained soldier and pilot. He could get through this.

O'Neill pushed the laptop lid down. 'Look, I know how bad this must all feel right now. But you have to know that this isn't your fault.'

'Yeah,' he growled. 'I know it's not my fault.'

O'Neill immediately picked up on the inflection in his words. 'It's not mine either, Sheppard – no more so than it's Elizabeth's.'

'I told you both that something like this would happen...'

O'Neill perched on the edge of Landry's desk and looked down at him. 'Yeah, you did. But even though this has happened, I doubt either of us would have made a different call. If the shoe had been on the other foot, you'd have sent Elizabeth back here, right?'

He met O'Neill's dark gaze for a moment, saying nothing. Finally he conceded a nod.

'John,' O'Neill ventured, pausing until sure he would meet no resistance at the use of his name. 'I know what you're feeling. I've lost people in my life too, some too close to even bear thinking about. You keep going over what you can do to put things right...to get some justice...to bring meaning to their death. It eats away at you until it's the first thing you think of when you wake up, and the last thing you think of when you close your eyes at night and try to sleep. And it hurts...oh, yeah, it's agony. I get that, I really do. But you have to believe that your going back to Atlantis is the most dangerous move you can make right now. You understand that, don't you?'

'Yeah, I do,' John sighed, finally allowing his rational and strategic mind to overrule his heart for the first time in two days...maybe a lot longer. 'Doesn't mean I have to like it though, does it, Sir?'

The general gave him a smile. 'No it doesn't. Hell, Sheppard, I'd like nothing more than to take an anti-tank missile launcher and blast the hell outta her myself, but I can't go through that 'gate either. I guess we're gonna have to not like this together and let someone else take the fight to her.'

It was some comfort to know O'Neill felt as impotent as he did. The numbness he'd been encased in since that phone call back at O'Neill's lodge was beginning to dissipate into an immense and overwhelming sense of sorrow and futility. All of his energy left him. He felt exhausted.

'Yeah...I know you're right...it's just...it's hard.'

The phone rang. Sheppard looked at it but made no move to answer it. It wasn't his place when there was a general in the room. O'Neill picked it up and announced himself, listening a while, then saying he would pass the message on to Landry. He set the receiver down and shouted through to the other general to call him in.

Landry appeared, his substantial eyebrows raised in question.

'You both need to hear this. Atlantis has dialled in to say they will be sending Elizabeth's body through at 1400 hours our time. We need to be ready to receive her.'

'You let me organise that,' Landry told him. 'You two look beat. I'll have a couple of my people show you to your rooms and you can...uh...sleep it off?'

O'Neill scratched at his hair and yawned. 'Yeah, we were sampling a drop or two of Ireland's finest...We may have got a little carried away.'

'Yes...well...I've done that myself a time or two,' Landry smiled. 'Go get some rest. You're gonna need clear heads for the day we have coming up.'

O'Neill clapped his hand down on Sheppard's shoulder as a sign it was time to go. Sheppard nodded, and rose from the chair, not sure he would get any sleep, but prepared to give it a try. Right now he would welcome anything that would give him some respite from the grief steadily building inside him.

He trudged the mostly empty corridors behind their escort to the elevator that would take him to the level where his room was situated, his body heavy and weighed down with the baggage of this timeline. Elizabeth's death felt like the thing that had finally tipped him over the limit for what he could mentally and physically bear, and not being with his friends to make sure they were coping was crippling him inside.

By the time the elevator doors drew back to grant him entrance to his accommodation level his chest was seized with anxiety and he could barely feel the floor beneath his feet. Yet he somehow made it that last hundred yards or so to the door indicated to him and stumbled inside, closing the door behind him, shutting out the SGC and all the horror this day had brought him. But it didn't work, and his grief suddenly gripped him with both hands. His legs buckled and he slid down to the floor, his back still to the door. There, he drew up his knees and wrapped his arms around his them, crying into them until the fabric of his jeans was soaked through. And though he cried for Elizabeth, he knew these tears weren't just for her. They were for everything Sarayah had put him and others through for the past three years. He'd held it back all that time, but now the floodgates were open and it all come pouring out.

Eventually, exhausted by his emotions, he crawled onto the bed and succumbed to restless dreams.


A/N: As I mentioned a few chapters ago, the story is now taking an even darker turn. I hope I did Elizabeth's death and the aftermath justice. It felt right to have her die protecting others, just as she did in the show. Sorry to my guest reviewer who wanted to see Elizabeth stay alive. Sarayah wouldn't spare anyone who stood up to her the way Elizabeth needed to! And she knew how much it would hurt John if she killed her, too.