Author's Notes: Thank you for the reviews! Drufan, Elisa, Obsessedwithscifi, Belisse, Dr Dredd, and inkysmom - thank you! Also, Krysalys - d'oh! Flashlights, not torches. I have enough trouble remembering trash, not rubbish! Please let me know if you spot any others, it's much appreciated :-)

Chapter Ten - The Yard

Even as a young child, Aiden Ford was wise enough to understand that the very bottom of his grandparent's yard was a dangerous place to be.

They had a long, wide plot of land at the back of their shambling house. More than enough to satisfy the needs of a young boy and his best friend. Aiden and Tom spent most of their free time there, building forts against invaders – usually Aiden's three cousins – fighting pirates, winning Super Leagues, floating paper boats in the stream that ran along the back.

But across the stream lay another patch of land, between the yard and the field beyond. An area overgrown with weeds, where grass towered above young Aiden's head, where nettles and poison ivy grew with wild abandon. There was an abandoned car tire and an empty kerosene barrel, and a warning from his grandparents to never cross the line because it was too far from the house, and they could not be seen.

The two friends would take it as a challenge, daring each other to cross into forbidden territory, usually earning themselves a verbal lashing from Aiden's grandmother and a week without television as a result. As the boys grew older their excursions became less frequent. New interests called them. For Tom, his extra two years drew him to bikes, and girls, and time spent from under the watchful eyes of any adult. For the younger Aiden, it meant exploring the field beyond the yard with his friends, and playing baseball, and weekend jobs.

When Aiden was fourteen, his uncle decided that the time had come, that the jungle, since abandoned by even its most ardent of explorers, was now overdue for a massacre. His father in-law wanted a vegetable plot, a hobby to entertain him past retirement and his grandchildren's increasing independence.

At twenty five years old, Aiden stood in the home of his childhood, looked out across the yard, and saw the jungle with a sense of dread.

His uncle stood amongst the bushes, half hidden by leaves, his broad shoulders slightly bowed. Aiden could hear the sound of a blade hitting wood, of an axe blade against a forest.

He frowned, confused. Something felt odd about the scene, something other than his own advanced age or the presence of his team mates behind him. The breeze was still, but Aiden was certain that in original events, it had been windy. The surrounding area was eerily quiet, devoid of the usual sounds of birds and nearby car engines, and the excited screams of neighborhood children.

"Lieutenant?"

Sheppard stood on the steps of the porch, looking at his second-in-command questioningly.

"It's, ah…" Aiden hesitated, glancing back towards his uncle. He was beginning to feel distinctly sick. "It's my home, sir. My grandparents' house."

McKay had sauntered across to a wooden table and was examining a jug of lemonade with a strangely disgusted expression. "What are we doing here?" he asked, sniffing a glass and grimacing.

Ford turned away from them, back to the methodical sounds of his uncle's axe tearing down the overgrown jungle. "It's, ah…"

There was the distant sound of a plane as it sped, silver and glimmering, across the blue sky. Inside he could hear his grandmother singing to herself as she worked in the kitchen.

"Aiden," Teyla prompted, gently, taking a step towards him.

His uncle's axe had paused, the garden suddenly silent. Ford could see the older man's silhouette amongst the undergrowth, could see him stand still for a long, drawn out moment before crumpling suddenly to the ground.

Instantly Aiden tore across the yard, team mates and mission forgotten. He was vaguely aware of a frightened: "Lieutenant!" from Teyla, but had he wanted to stop, his body wouldn't allow it. Eleven year old Aiden Ford, caught completely up in the memory of his youth, running across the garden, stumbling over his grandmother's precious lilies, crushing white petals into the mud.

She would never replace him. Eventually his grandfather covered the bed with concrete and built a barbeque over it.

He crossed the edge of the garden and started to force his way through the undergrowth, pushing back branches and ripping away handfuls of leaves. The plants grew up around him, seeming taller and denser than they ever had when he was a child, thorns scratching at his bare hands, the ground thick with intertwined roots that grabbed at his feet.

His uncle was on the floor, curled into a fetal position beside the pile of chopped branches. The axe lay a few inches from his outstretched hand. Aiden dropped to his knees beside the man, reaching out with shaking hands to turn his uncle over, knowing he was dead, knowing there was nothing he could do.

A strangled gasp prompted him to leap back a foot, stumbling backwards over a fallen log. His uncle was twitching spasmodically, white faced, neck veins bulging, his mouth open and swollen tongue lolling as he struggled for every breath - dying. Slowly, painfully, and awake, and oh god, it wasn't supposed to be like this, it wasn't supposed to be like this.

Clutched in his grandfather's arms in the hospital waiting room, he'd been promised it was quick. "His heart just gave out." Dead before his nephew had ever reached him.

Not - not gasping pitifully, his eyes rolling around in his head before fixing themselves on Aiden with a keen desperation that ripped at the boy, lips struggling to form around a breath, a word, a plea…

Help me.

And eleven year old Aiden, unable to move, frozen to the spot, unable to grasp the lie he was witnessing.

His uncle's gasps started to stutter, disintegrating into strangled wheezes. His chest heaved once, twice, three times before stilling.

His eyes continued to stare at Aiden long after the man's heart stopped beating.

Pushing himself backwards in a desperate, hasty attempt to get away, Aiden stumbled and fell back against the ground. He choked a breath and pressed his arm over his eyes, burying his face into his hands.

"Aiden."

A warm hand touched his shoulder. He ignored it.

"Aiden," Teyla repeated, her voice strained and urgent. "This is not real."

He shuddered, but was able to remove his hands. Teyla crouched beside him, her eyes bright and wide, her face oddly pale. His gaze drifted past her shoulder to the patch of ground behind her, to where the corpse of his uncle lay.

The space was empty.

"Lieutenant."

A shudder rolled through him, but he managed to drag his gaze back to meet Sheppard's. The Major stood stiffly beside Teyla, his jaw clenched tight.

"It wasn't…" Aiden paused, struggling to form words. "It didn't happen like this."

"It's part of the game." McKay stood on the edge of the undergrowth. He looked distinctly uncomfortable, his gaze flitting to cast Aiden a sympathetic look before returning to study the ground.

"It doesn't feel like a game."

"No, well…" The scientist's voice trailed off. "I don't know what this thing is," he admitted, ruefully.

"Nightmares," Sheppard said softly. "Ford, you going to be okay?"

He nodded, grimly, although his body seemed reluctant and sluggish. "Yes sir."

"We should move," Teyla said softly, her hand lingering on Aiden's shoulder before she moved, standing up. He followed, accepting her offered hand to help him up.

"I think this part's over." Sheppard gestured back towards the garden, where a door had materialized in the middle of the lawn. The Major gave a macabre grin. "My turn."

"Major." Ford licked his lips, his throat dry. "You don't have to."

"As much as I'd like there to be an exit, I don't see one." Sheppard turned, moving through the undergrowth towards the door. "Let's just get on with this."

McKay winced, pausing to glance at Ford. "You're, ah… you're alright, Lieutenant?"

"Yeah." Aiden cleared his throat and tried for a more confident answer. "It isn't real, right?"

"Right." The scientist turned, about to follow Sheppard.

Aiden swallowed, and spoke quickly. "Doc?"

McKay glanced at him.

"Sorry. For before."

He received a careless, awkward shrug and an uncomfortable cough in response. "Yes, well, I think it all becomes pretty meaningless in here."

"Meaningless." Glancing back to the empty ground Aiden saw his uncle's axe, still lying where it had fallen. "Yeah. Right."