To all the fights I've conquered and behold

The times have changed and I will now move over slowly…

But through it all I still feel lost without you

Hard to find a new soul

The silence takes its toll

-Lostprophets, "Sway"


John Sheppard shifted his sweaty grip on the steering mechanism as he waited. A minute before he had broke off from the formation and gone to the other side of the planet. The other jumpers were 'fleeing' the battle. The jumpers flew into their range of vision, quickly followed by several Wraith Darts. John counted the jumpers: four of them. He clenched his jaw, angry at himself for the loss of the two. Manifesting itself in the back of his mind was the truthful idea that Stackhouse and Simpson would be only the first of many people to go.

"Jumper 4, we're one minute from the designated point."

"10-4," John said aloud. He guided the jumper in the direction where the others had gone. "Is the bomb ready?" John addressed Lieutenant Crown, who was attaching a panel to the sphere of black metal.

"All set."

"We're breaking off now," John nodded at the transmission from one of the other jumpers and watched the scene before him. The four jumpers suddenly doubled their speed, veering off in several directions. John increased the speed on his jumper. Lieutenant Crown sat down beside him, looking at the multitude of Darts below them.

"What if…what if this doesn't work?"

"It will," John glanced sideways only a second.

"If they make it to Atlantis…"

"Crown!" John's harsh voice snapped the other man out of his nervous reverie. "We're going to get through this. Now stay sharp." Crown nodded wearily, putting himself together and trying to stop his shaking hands. John focused on the problem ahead, fixing his sweaty grip on the controls. "Deploy in 5…4…3…2…" They were directly over the Darts now, "1…now!" Crown pressed one of the controls down with finality and the jumper deployed the bomb. As soon as he did, John pushed the jumper to full speed.

"Go, go, go!" Crown urged from his seat, looking back fearfully.

The bomb went off with an earsplitting crack. John winced but continued to guide the jumper forward as fast as possible. Beside him, Crown watched the blue and white mass of energy heading their way with a fearful awe. His mouth opened to speak as the wave struck the back end of the jumper, but the words never left his mouth. The wave sent the jumper spiraling to the side. John gritted his teeth, trying to regain control of the jumper. His attempts were valiant but futile. The motion of the jumper sent him forward, his head hitting the controls. Lieutenant Crown was knocked out of his seat as well, sprawling backward with a sickening thud of his head against a wall. John grasped onto the back of his seat, trying to stay in one spot. He turned toward the back, and upon seeing Crown's body being thrown like a marionette, reached his hand out, trying to steady the other man. The lieutenant was too far back.

When the jumper settled, John touched his burning forehead. His fingers came away sticky with blood. Sheppard's eyes moved to the motionless Crown, and he slowly crawled his way over to his shipmate. "C'mon, Crown…" John's whisper echoed through the jumper as he checked for the man's pulse but found none. Blood split down the other man's neck and face from tiny scratches from the interior. His open, unblinking eyes stared back at John.

The major turned from the fallen man and attempted to stand, only to have his feet crumble beneath him. Wincing against the sudden pain in his legs, he crawled toward the controls, inwardly cringing at the blood on them—he knew it was his. "This is Jumper 4," he rasped into the radio. "Crown and I caught the tail end of the blast. He needs medical attention, now," John said. His mind refused to accept that his fellow officer was dead, but the cool, lead pit in his stomach told him otherwise. "Hello? Can anyone hear me?" There was no response. John rested his head on his seat for a moment, staring up at the flashing red on the screen. "Shields…dead; Weapons…fifteen percent; Hull…ten percent; Life support…five percent," he read the stats quietly, his heart sinking. John let his body slide to the floor. That was when he caught it—the strip of white toward the back. His head lolled in the direction, and whatever was left of his hope suffered a brutal blow. A large white crack ran down the back window of the jumper, a spider-web of smaller cracks along the edges. Realizing this, John could hear what he had ignored earlier: the faint hiss of air escaping through the cracks. 'I have to cover it up somehow or all of the air will go…' the thought made it through his head but died before it reached his muscles. John felt his eyelids flickering shut, the pull of sleep intensified. He tried to reach out, but his body was too weak. Sheppard moved his eyes from the breathtaking intricacy of the fatal cracks to the ceiling of the jumper. His crimson blood rolled over his eyelashes; the gentle tears of death. Everything felt like a daze. In the silence, the only sound the weak murmur of air as it escaped the jumper, John felt oddly at peace. In that moment, nothing mattered. The cover of blackness descended upon him lovingly, like a mother caressing her son. The dull throb of John's head disappeared as he fell deeper into the warm dark.

"Jumper 4, respond! This is Jumper 1. The shot was a success." There was a pause. "Sheppard? Crown? Is everything okay?" The radio crackled urgently, but there was no one there to answer.


Author's Note: -hides behind bush- Lol, hope you liked. Please review!