A/N: I'm so, so sorry for the delay. Partly this is down to RL, partly down to writers' block, but mostly down to an insane decision on my part to post this chapter in one, rather than breaking it up. Turns out it now represents an entire third of the rest of the fic, but hey! It's done now. Thank you for all the lovely feedback, you guys are great. I hope I haven't lost too many of you in the delay!

Chapter Twenty One - End Zone

Sheppard stood on the balcony, his hands wrapped around the cool metal railing, struggling to understand. Below him, the gate room continued to bustle with activity, soldiers checking their weapons, scientists moving the crates forward and back, then forward again, towards the open wormhole. He could hear Peter's hands on the keys of the Atlantean computers, and the soft mutterings the Brit made beneath his breath.

It was too real, too damn authentic but he couldn't defeat the staggering knowledge that this…

"Sir?"

Sheppard tore his gaze away from the Stargate, the silver sphere of the event horizon betraying everything around him. Ford stood beside him and looked confused.

"Major Sheppard."

Bates' voice roused him from desperation. Pushing away from the railing Sheppard turned to face the Sergeant, who was stood at attention, clearly waiting for something.

Oh, right.

"Sergeant." He fumbled, forcing himself back into the mindset of the game. It was easy enough – to lose himself in the fear of his men, of the bristling of guns. "Dr Weir's filled us in."

Bates nodded curtly. A good man, Sheppard noted, absently, but a stickler for the rules and a guy who really needed to relax more. Perhaps, if they got out of this, he would ask the guy to the next movie night. His choice. Something filled with testosterone.

"We're gathering all personnel to the command area of the city." Bates' explanation was staccato and as stiff as his posture. "I have forty men forming a perimeter around the area. The others have formed pairs and will accompany any civilians if they need to go further into the city."

Sheppard nodded, because he was expected to. "Then the line falls back to protect the Stargate for as long as possible."

Bates moved his P90 so it rested against his chest. "I've distributed the stunners, one for each group. A portion of the armory has been sent through the 'gate already."

"Good job, Sergeant." Sheppard paused, and added, impulsively: "on everything."

Bates blinked, softening fractionally in his bemusement. It lasted a second before he hardened and said, curtly: "All the teams have been given a quantity of C4. Should it come to that."

Sheppard winced. "Let's hope it doesn't."

"If you want to take command," Bates said, meaningfully.

"No."

He was aware of Ford's mouth dropping open and hanging agape for several seconds before the Lieutenant realized, and shut it, firmly.

"Major?" Bates asked, one eyebrow raised.

He filled in smoothly, improvising. "I need to coordinate with Teyla and her people. Some of the Athosians have agreed to fight alongside us. I want you to take command of the defenses until I rejoin you."

The security officer nodded, uncertainly. "I'll instruct Sergeant Stackhouse to lead the east section."

"Good idea." Sheppard waited, deliberately silent, for Bates to move away. He was aware of Ford, standing beside him, looking increasingly confused.

"Sir…"

"We need to find Teyla." He moved past the Lieutenant and headed down the corridor in the direction the Athosian had taken.

"Sir." Ford was insistent, and a little scared, following his CO dutifully. "Don't we need to…"

"Don't you feel it?" Sheppard kept his voice low, conscious of the people moving around them. They seemed too caught up in the evacuation to pay any attention to the two soldiers moving against the stream. "We never left the game. We're still on the Ancient outpost."

Ford looked doubtfully about him, glancing at their surroundings. "Major, with all due respect… it feels real."

"So did everything else," Sheppard replied, grimly. "Right up until it went to hell." He walked with speed and purpose, already trying to decide his next move. To give up, and wait for a rescue? To continue on? To…

"Don't you think it's odd," he pressed, "that the minute we step through the 'gate we find out the Wraith are attacking?"

Ford bit his already bruised lip. "We knew they would come at some point."

"But now?" Sheppard shook his head. "No. It's too convenient."

Aiden pulled a face, clearly disagreeing. "If you say so, sir." He paused. "I hope you're right."

"I am," he replied, and the more times he declared it, the more faith he had. It was too convenient - and damned if he ever thought he would call a Wraith attack that - too unreal, the reactions of Elizabeth and Bates feeling forced and stilted, like poor actors in a cheap play.

"So what do we do?"

He stopped abruptly, stepping into a transporter. Ford followed, and he hit the controls before the door had closed. "We go get Teyla and Rodney…" he paused, as over the space of a second his atoms were dematerialized, then rematerialized in an identical chamber three floors and two sections away. "Then we find a way out of here."

He stepped out of the transporter chamber, Ford close on his heels, still confused.

"Sir…"

"Think about it, Lieutenant." He walked quickly, having to step around the throng of people coming the other way. The crowd was denser nearer the Jumper Bay, and mostly comprised of scientists, pale faced and wide eyed. "What is the one thing that all the levels had in common?"

Aiden shivered. "They were all creepy as hell?"

"That," Sheppard admitted, ruefully. "They were nightmares, right? Part memory, part something else - whatever the computer dug up from our own knowledge. And it was designed to be a training device."

"Against the Wraith." Aiden paused to press himself against the wall, allowing a trolley laden with boxes to roll past him, pushed by a red faced marine.

"Exactly." Sheppard allowed himself a sick, grim smile. "It promised to take us to the final level."

A look of something approaching revulsion appeared on Aiden's face, but before the young Lieutenant could speak they were both hailed by a surprised sounding voice.

"Major Sheppard, Lieutenant Ford." Halling towered over the pair, Jinto hugging his father's hip closely. The Athosian carried a sack across one shoulder, and his free arm draped protectively over his son. "You are not with Doctor Weir?"

"No." Sheppard leant forward on his tip toes, trying to see over Halling's shoulder, struggling to spot Teyla in the bustle surrounding the jumpers. "She sent us to protect any groups heading to the Stargate."

Halling dipped his head slowly. "Your aid is appreciated, Major." His expression changed, flickering to one Sheppard couldn't identify. He saw the Athosian's arm hug his son a little tighter. "I had hoped this day would not come."

"Yeah. We all did." His gaze drifted down to the belt around the taller man's waist, and the smooth, wooden sticks housed there. Halling seemed to notice and shifted, his eyes turning dark.

"As long as there are those willing to stand against the Wraith, there is hope. The Ancestors have protected this city for all these generations, and I believe they will continue to do so."

"Father."

Jinto clung to his father, both hands wrapped tightly within the man's clothes. He looked away from John, but not before revealing tear stained cheeks.

"Please…"

The boy's voice broke, and he lapsed into silence, pushing his face against his father's side. Halling gently lifted his hand and placed it atop his son's head, his thumb stroking the boy's hair.

Again Sheppard eyes turned to the Athosian's weapon.

"Your people have sacrificed much to protect mine," Halling said, quietly. "It is right that we should do the same. I cannot hide whilst the Wraith claim another galaxy as a feeding ground."

A single sob tore itself free of Jinto's throat and was muffled by Halling's shirt. Bending down, Halling whispered hidden words into his son's ear, and after several seconds Jinto pulled away, wiping his face with one hand. His expression wavered, then resolved itself into one that was cold, and determined, and made him seemed older than his years.

It was not an expression Sheppard relished seeing on the boy, and he swallowed hard, and looked away.

"Major." Ford had spotted Teyla, in the open mouth of one of the Jumpers.

"We've got to go." Sheppard forced himself to look back at Halling, aware of the way Jinto stared determinedly ahead. "Take care," he said, and the words felt empty.

The Athosian nodded slowly, then moved past the two officers, his son in tow. Resisting the urge to watch them, Sheppard moved through the bay towards the Jumper. Teyla stood amidst a family of three, speaking in low tones to the young mother. A baby slept against the woman's shoulder, bound in a dark colored shawl that wrapped the mother's shoulders. They both looked up upon Sheppard's approach, Teyla unable to hide her surprise.

"Major Sheppard, Lieutenant. You are not with Dr Weir?"

"No." He glanced briefly at the young woman, but she ducked her head and turned away. "Teyla, can we talk?"

She frowned, but nodded. "Yes, but…"

"Great." Turning to the family, Sheppard gestured at them, beckoning one of the marines over. "You know where to go, right?"

Again the woman shied away, obeying as the marine gestured her and her family away from the jumper. Alone, Sheppard drew closer to Teyla, overly aware of eavesdroppers.

"What is going on?" She looked between the two men, confused. "Major…"

"We're still in the game."

The look of confusion remained for several long seconds, and then she shook her head.

"No. No, I would feel it, Major. My people…"

"Did you feel it before?" he challenged her. "Back in the forest, when you were fighting in front of your father? Did you feel it then?"

She turned away, looking out through the jumper bay window to the large number of Athosian men, women and children still milling, in confusion, in the bay. "I realize," she said quietly, "that the knowledge of the Wraith's approach is terrifying. To uproot - again - and leave the City of the Ancestors…"

"I know." He placed a hand on her arm.

"No." She pulled away. "With all due respect, Major, you do not. This is the difference between my people and yours. You have never had to flee a culling before. Athos has lived under its threat for as long as our history remembers." She shot a dark look at him. "We are wasting time."

He was silent for a moment, Jinto's expression fixed in his mind. "I'm sorry," he said, after a moment. "You're right. I can't see this the same way you do."

"No." Her expression softened. "I had hoped you never would."

"Let's keep hoping, huh?" He paused, speaking softly. "Look, I know this feels real – but I just don't buy it. After everything it put us through, we're supposed to believe that the final level was just that cliff?"

Teyla's gaze flickered downwards, to the floor. "It was not easy, but…"

"But you agree?" Sheppard encouraged.

"Perhaps. It does seem odd, that the game ended in such a manner."

"I think…" Ford paused briefly. "I think the Major is right, Teyla. The more I think about it, the more things feel odd."

"It was a training device," Sheppard pressed. "It was designed to teach the Ancients how to fight the Wraith."

Her determination faltered. "And you believe this is part of it?"

"The guide agreed to send us to the final level, to give us a chance to complete the game." He took a deep breath, and continued: "it's been playing this cycle of nightmares all this time, and this is just another part of it."

She placed a hand on the wall of the jumper. "This is the final part?"

"You said it yourself," he said, softly. "It's terrifying."

Teyla closed her eyes for a moment, then opened them and looked between the two men. "You both believe this?"

Sheppard nodded decisively, but Aiden seemed a little more hesitant.

"I think. It's starting to make more sense."

"This…" She looked out again at the jumper bay. Slowly the Athosians were filtering out through the corridors, and one of the empty jumpers was in the air, preparing to return to the mainland. "It is tempting…"

"More than tempting," Sheppard insisted. "It's true. The Wraith, the Stargate, Halling, Weir - they're not real. You, me, Ford and McKay - we're the only things that are."

Teyla pulled herself away from the jumper wall. Sheppard laid his hand on her shoulder and felt her tremble, briefly, beneath his touch.

"I want this to be over," she breathed. "This is not a game."

"No." He squeezed her shoulder briefly, then allowed his hand to drop away. "We need to find McKay."

The physicist was in his lab. His voice was raised and sounded angry, though the occasional peak of high tone betrayed nerves and panic. As they drew closer, Sheppard could make out the softer, more rational voice of Radek, responding calmly to McKay's rants but never allowing the Canadian any ground.

"If Ashcroft worked on the directional controls then Kavanagh…"

"No, McKay. The distribution of power between the two would be highly volatile and would not hold under the stress you…"

"Not unless we diverted some of the flow back towards the buffer…"

"Which would create a feedback loop…"

"Which might create a feedback loop, yes, but the chances are so small…"

Sheppard rounded the corner into the lab in time to see Zelenka snap. Slamming a folder onto the table, the Czech yelled: "There is no time, Rodney! Maybes and what ifs will not save us! If you give them this hope then they will stay, and they will all die, for nothing!"

The Canadian visibly recoiled, paling dramatically and taking a step backwards. "If," he continued, in a low voice, "there is a chance…"

"Doctors," Sheppard interrupted, loudly. The two physicists looked around at him. "What's going on?"

Zelenka glared at McKay. "He believes we can use the combined power of the jumpers to power the chair."

John raised an eyebrow. "Can we?"

"Yes."

"No."

McKay shot a dark look at the Czech. "Maybe," he conceded.

"No," Radek repeated, his voice harsh. "Rodney, yes, you are possibly right…"

"Ah!"

"… but there is no way to do it before the Wraith get here. You know this."

McKay deflated, turning his back to his audience. "I know."

Ford frowned, looking at the bowed form of the physicist. "If there's a chance, shouldn't we go for it?"

"Not in this case," Radek said, fiercely.

Rodney gave a deep sigh, and turned back to them, drawing a hand across his tired face. "If I had my entire team working on it, then maybe. But to do that I would have to call them back from the Alpha site and…" he hesitated, "Radek is right. It isn't worth it."

"So," the Czech paused, glancing towards Sheppard, "you must choose."

"Choose?" Teyla took a step into the room, watching the two scientists closely.

McKay dipped his head, his expression dark. "Kusanagi is the best programmer we have. Peter knows the control room and the 'gate better than anyone. Ashcroft is efficient. Send Kavanagh through the wormhole. And…" He stopped, folding his arms across his chest.

"I will also stay," Zelenka agreed. His voice held a note of weary resignation, his expression turning as shuttered as McKay's. "Myself, Miko, Peter and David."

Sheppard's stomach dropped away from him as he realized what McKay was doing. "These are the people staying to release the virus?"

"Yes." McKay lifted his head and looked at Zelenka. "But you're not staying."

Radek shook his head. "I know what you would say, Rodney, but it is the truth - you are the better scientist…"

"No," McKay snapped back, fervently. "I'm staying. You're going through the 'gate."

"Rodney…"

"No arguments, Zelenka. I'm staying, but the Alpha site still needs a head scientist and you're the best."

The Czech raised an eyebrow. "You finally admit this."

"Second best," Rodney amended. He took a breath, and pressed on: "Tell the others to pack their gear quickly and get to the Alpha site."

Radek opened his mouth to protest, but stopped, McKay folding his arms and turning away. "Alright," he conceded, his voice soft. "I will go and inform the others."

"Radek."

The smaller man turned, and looked back at the Canadian.

"Make sure the military know they're to be protected. That goes for you, too."

Zelenka paused, his hand on the door frame. "We will meet later, yes?"

McKay inclined his head, his neutral expression carefully controlled. "Yes."

Radek nodded once, and then disappeared through the doorway. Exhaling a deep sigh, McKay turned and faced his teammates. He seemed older, and terribly tired.

"What is it?"

Sheppard glanced between Teyla and Ford, and plunged ahead. "We think we're still in the game."

The scientist blinked, and looked askance. "What are you talking about?"

"The computer simulation created by the Ancients." Teyla spoke smoothly, taking a step forward. "Major Sheppard believes this is part of the final level." She paused, and added: "As do I."

"And me," Ford said, quickly.

"What?" McKay's eyes widened. "Are you all insane? You know the Wraith are coming, right? Any minute now? And we…"

"I know it's hard to believe," Sheppard interrupted, "but just think about it for a minute, Rodney. The computer puts us through all that crap, wouldn't you expect the final level to be something harder than taking a leap off a cliff?"

McKay scoffed, and turned his back to them, facing the computer. "That wasn't easy, Major, that was damn stupid and reckless and it's a miracle…"

"McKay!" he snapped. "Listen to me. Don't you feel it? You've got the gene, you've gotta feel a fraction of what I do."

The scientist's shoulders knotted beneath his shirt. "I don't know what you're talking about."

"Atlantis. The way it talks, the way it…" he gestured vaguely with his hands. "It whispers. It's always there, except it isn't – not here. It doesn't feel right, it doesn't feel like it ought to…"

Rodney turned on his heel, his face flushed and angry. "How?" he demanded. "How is it supposed to feel? I am sending three people to their death, and that's probably going to be followed by mine, so tell me, Major, how is it supposed to feel?"

Sheppard took a breath, watching the scientist turn a brighter shade of red. "Not like this," he replied, quietly. "I get that this is hard to grasp, McKay, but think about it. Think about the 'gate."

"What about it?"

"Elizabeth said Grodin had been redialing the Alpha site every thirty eight minutes to stop the Wraith from dialing in."

"Yes." McKay shrugged. "What about it?"

Sheppard took a breath, and plunged forward with his ace card. "How did we get back?"

There was a pause. McKay opened his mouth to reply, then shut it. Ford and Teyla exchanged confused looks.

"Sir?"

"I realize my knowledge of wormhole physics is a little sketchy," Sheppard admitted, "but I do know that you can't dial a Stargate if the receiving Stargate is active. It's like dialing a phone and getting the engaged tone, right?"

McKay nodded, slowly. His face was no longer red, but a sickly shade of white. "And Peter has been keeping the 'gate open for the whole time."

"So how did we manage to dial Atlantis when we were back on the outpost?" Sheppard asked. "How did we manage to 'gate back home?"

This time the silence was even longer. McKay turned away, leaning over the lab bench. His reply, when it came, was muffled and tight.

"So what do we do?"

"I don't know."

The scientist pushed himself away from the bench, glowering. "Great plan."

"Look, I…" Sheppard raked a hand through his hair roughly. "Back to the Stargate," he decided. "We dial up the outpost and head back there."

"To achieve what?" McKay snapped. "Wouldn't it be better if you just, y'know…" he clicked his fingers, "bewitched your way out of here?"

"I tried. It didn't work." He took a deep breath. "No, we head to the 'gate, dial the outpost, and force the computer to end this."

"Oh, and how do you expect us to do that?" the scientist demanded. "What if the wormhole just sends us right back here?"

Teyla's voice was quiet, but resolute. "What if this is, in fact, real?"

Sheppard repressed a shudder. The suggestion lurked at the back of his mind but he dared not voice it, reminding himself of the 'gate, of the facts.

A distant explosion sent vibrations through the room, the floor shaking beneath their feet. Over the radio came an alarmed crackle, Elizabeth's voice.

"Major Sheppard, report to the 'gate room immediately."

He ignored her, desperate.

McKay had moved to a computer console and was looking at reports from across the city. "Several darts have taken suicide runs at the east and west towers. One generator is down." He looked up, pale. "There are Wraith all over the city."

"What?" Aiden's eyes were wide, and panicked. "I thought we had more time…"

"They are early," Teyla said, softly.

"It isn't real," Sheppard replied, fiercely. "The system's just trying to compensate for what we know. It's a distraction, that's why they're here."

There was another explosion, muffled by layers of metal and glass. McKay bounced between one console and another, a bundle of nervous energy. There was another call from Elizabeth.

"Attention, please." Her voice was strained. "We are abandoning the city. Anyone not remaining behind must make their way to the Stargate."

"They're attacking the outer sections," McKay continued, "where the weapons are. Or," and he uttered a short barked laugh, "where they would be, if we had any." His hands skipped across the console. "We have to move."

"To where?" Teyla demanded. "I will not hide, whether this is real or not."

"I agree, sir." Ford dipped his head. "I think - I think you're right, I think we're still in the game but part of me isn't sure and that part, well…" He stopped.

"Somebody has to deliver the virus to the control centre," McKay said, quietly. "It's not going to be Radek. It's bad enough…" He paused, and finished: "I'm not running away, however appealing an idea."

Sheppard assessed his team: pale, scared, but determined, half hidden in the shadows of the lab. He wanted to protect them, wanted to use his luck of genetics to pull them all out of there, to bring things to an end. He wanted to communicate his feeling of wrongness to them, the enhanced sense of something seeming very odd, and hollow. Like being trapped in a play, or in a dream. But as he looked at his team some of their doubt seemed to radiate back, and the fear - what if this is real, what if this is it - he stifled the feeling before it could grow.

"Alright. We stay."

And he was hideously aware of what that meant. No rescue, no retreat. Fighting to protect a home they would never see again. Staying in the city until…

There was a sudden burst of sharp static, punctuated by a high pitched whine coming from the city intercom. Speakers hidden in the wall spoke loud with a fast-paced, terrified Scottish brogue.

"This is Carson Beckett. I'm in the infirmary. I have four patients and twelve staff down here. There are Wraith trying to get in."

Ford turned towards Sheppard. "Didn't the doc' get a security detail?"

"I'm sure he did," Sheppard replied, darkly. More men dead.

"I need assistance. I've instructed the computer to keep the doors closed but I'm not sure…"

There was a clatter, the sound of something metal hitting the floor. McKay jumped, and gripped the edge of the console tightly.

"Major…"

"We can't get to him," Sheppard replied, tersely. His insides clenched at the sound of the physician, of his friend - desperate and trapped.

"…I think the Wraith are doing something to the lock. I don't think it will take them long to override it and we are unarmed. Please, we need security…"

"The transporters are still working." McKay stretched out one hand to tap at the computer console. "There's a way into the medical supply closet using the ventilation system. If we go now…"

"No," he ordered. "We have jobs to do. If we're playing by the rules…"

"Damn the rules!" McKay snapped. "You can't expect us to sit and wait while…"

"You have to input the virus!" Sheppard shot back. "Don't be reckless, McKay!"

"Oh, god. Can anyone hear me? Is this working? They've got through the first door. I think…"

"We will go," Teyla said, suddenly, taking a step towards the door and followed by Ford.

Sheppard stepped into their path, shaking his head. His hand gripped the butt of his gun, tightly, feeling the blood leach from his fingers. "You can't take them down with just the two of you."

The sounds of the physician's harsh breathing continued loudly over the intercom.

Teyla lifted her gaze to meet his, defiantly. "We will try."

"No, you won't! Dammit, this isn't real, Teyla! If you go there…"

"They need protection," she shot back.

"…they'll kill you," he finished, grimly. "And then they'll kill everyone else."

McKay was the color of ash, clutching the console with both hands. "They're going to anyway," he whispered. "There's not enough time."

"Please. They're nearly through the second door. We need…" Carson's voice broke off at the sound of an explosion. Screams could be heard over the radio, the sound of Wraith stunners.

"We're of no threat to you!" the physician yelled, his voice breaking. "We can't hurt you, there are injured people in here, please…"

And then his voice cut off, abruptly, and there was more crashing, and explosions and Sheppard could see the infirmary being torn apart, of Wraith slamming the brave against walls or tables, of draining the life from the bodies of patients, of nurses, of…

A long, drawn-out, guttural moan came across the intercom. A cry of pain, of anguish, of a man dying in agony.

The voice was recognizable as belonging to Carson Beckett.

"Turn it off."

McKay lifted his head from his hands and looked up.

"Turn it off," Sheppard repeated, but Carson had already fallen silent, and now the only sounds from the infirmary were those of the Wraith, moving through wreckage.

McKay touched the computer console and the intercom went dead. His hand was shaking.

Aiden had pulled himself into a corner and was pressing himself against the wall, looking sick.

Teyla was stood facing the door, one hand covering her mouth as she whispered soft, alien words to herself.

Another muffled boom rocked the city.

"God…" McKay scrubbed his hand across his hair violently. "He…" His voice broke.

Sheppard flinched. "We couldn't have done anything."

"We should have tried," the physicist responded, thickly. "We should have done something."

"You would have got yourselves killed."

"If it's a game, then what does it matter?"

"We play by the rules," he shot back. "It's the only way we're getting out of here."

"If we're wrong…" McKay cut off, crossing his arms over his chest in a defensive hug.

"We're not." Sheppard swallowed, his mouth tasting of ash. "He's fine. They're all fine." Though it felt real, it felt real, and he was screaming to wake up, for the computer to…

"We cannot stay here." Teyla uncurled herself and moved towards the door. "I am going to protect my people. Real or not, I have to ensure as many escape through the Stargate as is possible."

"I should help Sergeant Stackhouse." Ford had drawn himself out of the corner, but he still seemed shaken. "If the Wraith have got as far as the infirmary…" he cut off, his Adam's apple bobbing furiously.

"Stay together," Sheppard told them. "See if you can find a team with a lifesigns detector. Stackhouse will have one, and Sergeant Facaros."

Ford nodded, stiffly. Teyla had her hand on the door frame, and paused. "And you?"

"I'm going to head to the 'gate room, see what Elizabeth needs, control things from there."

"Protect Grodin," McKay said, suddenly. "He's the one with access to the city stabilizers."

Sheppard nodded. "Got it. You?"

"I need to coordinate with the others, then input the virus into the control centre." McKay's hand rested on the console. "I can only do that after Peter's started to sink the city."

"I'll send a security team." He looked towards Teyla and Ford. "When this is over…" he paused.

Ford glanced away, but Teyla met his gaze and returned it, evenly.

"We will be careful," she promised him.

Empty, he thought, since the Wraith were swarming the city, and anyone who stayed to defend it was sacrificing themselves. But he forced himself to nod. "Good. And afterwards, we'll all get drunk."

"Excellent idea," McKay muttered, turning his back on them.

Ford managed a grin, then disappeared out the door, his P90 in his hands. Teyla followed, drawing her sticks from her belt. Sheppard watched them leave, then turned back to McKay.

The scientist was concentrating on the computer, his fingers moving quickly across the keyboard. Sheppard glanced at the screen but could understand none of the information scrolling across it, and gave up trying.

"Don't be a hero," McKay said suddenly, his tone terse. "You're not Kirk."

"Kirk was the good guy," he reminded him, gently.

"And it got him killed." The physicist glanced at him, quickly. "If you have a chance to go through the 'gate, then take it."

Sheppard opened his mouth to respond, then thought better of it. "See you on the other side," he finished, simply.

McKay didn't respond. The scientist's bowed back was the last sight Sheppard had of him.

Aiden ran through the halls quickly, Teyla moving effortlessly at his side. He struggled to lose the sounds of Beckett's pain from his mind, failing to grasp the idea that Major Sheppard was right, that the city, the people in it, the Wraith – that it was all fake. The levels of the game had been real, but not on such a scale, and though the logic made sense the emotional impact told different, and he struggled to reconcile the two.

"Do you think…" he hesitated, glancing at Teyla. "Does this feel real to you?"

Teyla drew to a stop, looking around a corner cautiously. A moment later she stepped out into the empty space and the run continued, heading towards the nearest transporter. "It feels real," she admitted, "but I have dreamt with equal clarity. I do not think we are supposed to be able to distinguish the two."

"If this is…" Again Aiden hesitated. "Doctor Beckett…"

Teyla's shoulders slumped fractionally. "What happened to Doctor Beckett could not have been prevented," she said, softly. "Major Sheppard was right. Although I felt compelled to help him, our efforts would have been in vain." She looked at him with dark, old eyes. "Sometimes terrible decisions are made during times of crisis, and there is no right or wrong outcome. Afterwards, there will be time to grieve."

"After?" Ford felt a sudden surge of bubbling hysteria, flashing back to the memory of his family home, of his cousin's blood smeared across the walls. He swallowed hard, and gripped his weapon tighter. "I don't think there's going to be one."

Her look hardened, her jaw clenching. "No one can afford to think like that. We do what we must."

"I know." His thumb curled around the trigger. "I know, it's just.. " Again he paused, wanting to explain but unable to find the words. To do this, to stay and fight not for his life, but for the lives of his family back on Earth – he understood it, he believed in it, but to know all that and at the same time doubt that the experience was even real… "It's not like I thought it would be."

She gave a small smile. "It never is, Aiden."

He sighed, and nodded, lifting a hand to press his radio. "Sergeant Stackhouse, do you copy?"

"Sir."

"What is your position, Sergeant? Teyla and I are looking to join you."

"We've picked up five Wraith moving toward our position, sir. Sergeant Facaros has a number of evacuees trying to get to the Stargate but the enemy have cut them off. Any help would be appreciated."

"No worries. Where are you?"

"I can see you on the scanner. We're three corridors down to your east."

Teyla moved instantly, Ford following. Explosions continued to rock the city around them, muffled booms and the creaking of metal. As he approached an outer wall he thought, for a moment, he could hear screams, but a second later they were gone. Teyla hadn't reacted, and he wondered whether the sound was simply a remnant of the violence in the infirmary.

Stackhouse was with five other men, weapons drawn, fanned out along a corridor. The Sergeant beckoned the Lieutenant closer, but it was Teyla who spoke first.

"Where is Sergeant Facaros?"

"Northern wing, on your left." Stackhouse turned the scanner around so she could see the display. A clustered group of dots were situated in a room several corridors closer to the city centre, along and left from the corridor in which Stackhouse's men waited. Five other dots were moving from the outer edges of the screen inwards, towards their position.

"The Wraith," Stackhouse explained, tersely. He glanced at Teyla. "We'll hold out here and keep the way clear until Facaros can get your people to safety. If you want to join them…"

She bowed her head a fraction in gratitude. "I would." She turned, then paused, looking back at Aiden. "Lieutenant…"

He floundered for a second, sharing something with her, a silent understanding of what they had signed up to do. Of the doubt that lay in her eyes, and was mirrored in his own. "Take care of your people," he offered, finally.

She smiled, and placed a hand on his arm for a moment. "Stay safe, Lieutenant." Then she turned, and headed down the corridor at quick run.

Stackhouse was directing his men along the corridor, but paused, glancing back expectantly at Ford. "Lieutenant?"

Aiden hesitated, recognizing his superior rank but acknowledging the ease with which Stackhouse directed his men. The Sergeant was several years older than him, and Aiden had never fully come to terms with his standing as Atlantis' military second-in-command. He relished leadership, but was aware of its proper place, and given the situation, rank seemed unimportant.

"You've got someone on point?"

The Sergeant nodded. "Airman Taylor."

Ford nodded, satisfied. Taylor was a good man, with keen eyesight and quick reactions. He looked over the team. Technical Sergeant Willis, a beefy Australian with an iron clad stomach when it came to both alcohol and alien food. Four airman; Chan, Broderick, Denton and Moore. Senior airman Patel, born to Indian parents, secret lover of stadium rock, famous player of air guitar, and with a mouth that could curdle the Athosian cattle milk. Aiden knew them all, was closer to some than others, but despite their differing personalities at present, they all shared the same expression. Tense, and nervous, and determined.

Certain death, he thought, and did a weapons check. "One stunner?"

"One per team." Stackhouse grimaced. "That's all there are."

Aiden nodded. He knew this, had done an inventory more than once in the past month, but the sudden reminder was hard to bear. One stunner, a handful of P-90s and a number of grenades, to be used only in the worst case scenario. He glanced again at the screen of the lifesigns scanner, and saw that the Wraith party were closing in.

It wasn't enough. The only hope was that they could hold off long enough to allow Teyla and Facaros to get the evacuees to safety. To give McKay and the remaining scientists enough time to destroy the city, along with the Wraith and any survivors.

His radio suddenly came alive with static, and the sound of Taylor's panicked voice.

"They know where we are, they've seen me. Fall back! Fall…"

The radio cut off suddenly, with a click. Ford felt a wave of intense relief, grateful for the reprieve, unable to face another transmitted death. Then the relief gave way to guilt, and to grief, and he bottled it all down within himself and lifted his chin to face Stackhouse.

There would be time for rage later, he figured. Whatever the outcome.

"Lieutenant?" Stackhouse asked, his face drawn and pale.

"We move back a corridor." Ford waved his P90 as way of a signal, and led the men towards Teyla's party. "There's a crossway ahead that will give us better cover."

"Taylor?" Chan asked, plaintively.

Aiden shook his head, feeling bitter, and incredibly tired. "We fall back a little, then we hold our ground. That's the job."

Stackhouse nodded, looking as grim as Aiden felt. "We hold our ground," he repeated, determined.

"Teyla."

Sergeant Facaros was a short, well-built man with a dark complexion and thick, unruly black hair he failed to keep in check with clippers. One of the few marines gifted with the gene, he headed a team of six guarding the main corridor from the Jumper bay to the 'gate room. He held a lifesigns detector in one hand and a gun in the other, his concentration swapping between the two.

"Some of your people are waiting to evacuate." He glanced down the corridor, then back at the detector. "I've got a room full but I've orders from Sergeant Bates to wait until getting the all clear before allowing them through."

Teyla nodded. She liked the Sergeant. He had been one of the first to talk to her after her official move to the city, when others had treated her inclusion on the team with distrust and suspicion. He had opened up to her about his homeland, about long stretches of dusty road curling around cliffs, of islands covered with coniferous trees and surrounded by crystal blue ocean.

He had talked of returning there, if they made contact with Earth, said that he had spent too long away from his family already. Now he would never have the chance, and Teyla found it difficult to face him.

Several Athosians stood with the soldiers, a common threat uniting them when otherwise there would have been distance. One of them, a woman named Sharel, had been Teyla's close friend for much of her teenage years and although her appointment as leader had separated the two women, Teyla found herself intensely glad of the older woman's presence.

"We always knew they would come."

Teyla dipped her head, sadly. "I know."

Sharel glanced at the marines, and spoke quietly. "I am not sure they did."

She hesitated, considering the six soldiers for a moment. "Perhaps not," she admitted. "But they now fight to save their home world."

"The Wraith's feeding ground cannot be allowed to grow," Sharel said. "Not across one planet, one system. And not to another galaxy." She shifted her weight between her feet.

"Facaros." The Greek had a hand to his radio but Teyla could still hear the voice of Stackhouse carried loudly over it. "We've got Wraith coming in our position."

There was a short buzz in her own ear. "Teyla," Aiden instructed, "move your people now. We'll give you enough time to get to the 'gate."

"Understood," she replied, and moved past Sharel towards Facaros, who had already opened a side room. What had once been a recreation area was now full of twenty Athosians and several Earth scientists, clutching bags or young children to their chests, waiting silently. Frightened.

"Come on," Facaros said, gesturing towards them.

"It is quite safe," Teyla assured them, moving aside to let the first ones past. "We must move towards the Stargate."

Facaros started directing his men, sending them to protective positions around the small party. Sharel gave Teyla a small smile and then moved past them to join the soldiers at the rear, helping the slowest evacuees to move faster.

Teyla cut to the front, to the side of Facaros, who stared intently at the lifesigns detector as he moved. She recognized the corridor as the one connecting the main living area to the city centre, but at that moment it seemed twice as long and suddenly oppressive, full of shadows and threats behind each corner. The people behind her were twitchy and mostly silent, save for the occasional whisper and soft cry of a child. The soldiers were on edge, tense and alert, guns held at the ready, safeties off.

She held her own P90 loosely, the weapon uncomfortable in her hands.

Facaros took the first step forward, trotting quietly to the first crossroads before stopping, and again consulting the life signs detector. He gestured for Teyla to come to his side, and moved his hand so she could see the detector's display.

"The road's clear," he said, and waved the group forward.

Teyla moved with them, listening carefully to the soft tread of military boots, and the light footed, almost silent steps of the Athosians. The scientists were the loudest, clumsy and jittery, but thankfully said nothing, bound up in their own thoughts and fears.

She thought briefly of McKay, and the way that, in his first off-world missions, the scientist would continue to chatter despite the situation. It had taken some sharp words from Sheppard and several near-fatal encounters with the local populace before he had learnt his lesson, but her first month after meeting the physicist had been spent wondering at his inclusion on the team. Whether his genius had come at the expense of other, more personable traits, like bravery and honor. Then he had waded into the middle of the energy sucking creature, and all doubts she had of him and the other scientists had evaporated.

Facaros glanced at her, then back at the group, and signaled one of the soldiers to hustle them along. The soldier, a dark skinned man with speckled grey hair, took the elbow of one of the female scientists and spoke soft words into her ear, the woman nodding and picking up the pace.

The scanner had shown the five dots, representing the Wraith, almost on top of Sergeant Stackhouse and his men. Silently she uttered a soft prayer for Aiden, then tightened her grip on the P90, and moved onwards down the corridor.

Adams and O'Brien were the two soldiers designated as McKay's military escort. He knew neither of them, other than as faces in the lunch line, but was satisfied with both their weapons and their size. O'Brien was a fair haired giant of a man, with wide shoulders and thick arms, his face a constant pink and covered with a smattering of freckles. Adams was a fraction shorter, but still two heads taller than McKay, slender and without an ounce of visible body fat, over six feet of tight muscle.

McKay clutched a scanner to his chest and sandwiched himself between the two hulks, Adams at his back and O'Brien watching the path ahead. The scanner had shown that the surrounding area was free of anyone other than themselves - no one else had cause to be in the lower level of the city - but he still felt jittery, and struggled to keep calm despite the ever increasing explosions and the creak of the city around him, struggling to cope.

"Relax, doc'," Adams assured him, from behind. "We'd know if there were Wraith on our tail."

O'Brien glanced back towards the pair and raised an eyebrow. "You're not going through the 'gate?"

McKay grimaced. "Ideally. But I need to make sure the computer's memory is wiped first."

"And you couldn't' have picked someone else?"

"No," the scientist replied, hotly. "The rest are idiots. This has to be done right."

O'Brien's eyebrow lifted higher, but his expression softened and he nodded, and made a noise of understanding. "Hmm."

McKay glared at him, then turned his attention back to the scanner. He ran over the virus schematics quickly in his mind. Ashcroft in the east wing, Kusanagi in the west, Grodin at 'gate command and himself heading north, where the core systems rested.

Dave, Miko and Peter. His stomach clenched, and he repeated Sheppard's mantra: It's not real, it's not real, it's not…

It hadn't made the decision any easier and it did little to ease his tension.

He touched his hand to his radio. "Ashcroft, you hear me?"

"Crystal clear, McKay." The Yorkshireman sounded casual and relaxed, as easy going as ever.

McKay hated himself.

"Any problems?"

"None. She's just waiting for me to fit the final piece."

"It's not a she," he responded, automatically. "It's a computer."

"You'll hurt her feelings." Ashcroft paused. "Feels wrong, tearing her down like this."

"I know," McKay replied, vehemently. "You'd better have an escort."

"Don't worry, I'm like a boy scout. Always prepared."

The physicist rolled his eyes. He was aware of O'Brien staring at him, and looked away, clinging to normality. "Please. You were never a boy scout."

"Could have been. Besides, it's still true. And don't worry, McKay. I've got back-up."

"Good. As soon as you're finished head to the 'gate."

"Just waiting for the go."

Which would never come, McKay thought, despairingly. Though neither Dave nor Miko had to wait for Peter to set the city sinking, they still had to return to the control room before they could head for the Alpha Site and with Wraith swarming across the city, achieving this seemed impossible.

Neither of them would see Earth again.

McKay looked down again at the scanner. He was getting closer to the northern section, and the room housing the mainframe.

"The system will let me know when you're done," he said, to the radio. "Be as quick as you can."

Ashcroft's reply was still laidback, but it held a tone of something warmer, and deeper. "I'll make it a race." Then he cut off, with a click.

McKay's hand dropped from his radio. It trembled slightly, and he curled his fingers into a fist. O'Brien was looking away, his attention on the corridor ahead. Beside him, Adams cast a sympathetic glance before looking to the walls. Another rumble sent vibrations through the city.

"I don't get it," the large man admitted. "If they want Earth then why are they trying to destroy Atlantis?"

"Because they're only buildings," McKay said, numbly. "They know we can't all escape, that we'll be trying to wipe the information from the computer. They're trying to stop us anyway they can." He thought again of Ashcroft, Miko and Peter, then of his teammates, of Teyla and Aiden and Sheppard, divided and spread across the city.

Sheppard said it wasn't real. The logic made sense, but at that moment, McKay couldn't believe it.

The control room was a mess.

On the lower level, in front of the shimmering Stargate, a crowd of Athosians, scientists and soldiers piled through the event horizon, accompanied by any supplies never unpacked from their crates. Weapons, food, medical supplies. The amounts were meager, particularly when compared to the numbers of people escaping to the Alpha Site.

Sheppard moved along the upper deck, switching his gaze continually between the melee below and the bank of computer consoles ahead. Elizabeth stood outside of the group, a few meters from her office door. She was watching the scientists, her face drawn and tired looking, a moment of vulnerability when she thought no one was looking. The second she saw Sheppard her expression changed, her fears hidden behind a mask of cold determination, and Sheppard wondered, is it that good? Can it be that real?

He moved towards her but paused at Grodin's station, clapping his hand on the Brit's shoulder and making him jump. "How's it going?"

Grodin was usually unflappable, a source of calm even when a crisis called for a panicked rush. He settled in seconds, turning his head briefly to acknowledge Sheppard's presence before returning his attention to the laptop sat on the surface of an Ancient control console.

Sheppard craned over Peter's shoulder and looked at the screen. Lines of binary data scrolled up and down, reminding him of the instruction base the guide had displayed back in the game.

"You know what you're doing?"

He expected McKay's line of sarcasm, but Grodin simply replied: "It's a precise job, but yes."

"Precise?"

"Released loose the virus would wreak havoc on primary systems and take too long to destroy the most valuable data. By selectively applying it to the three main memory banks we can focus its efforts." The Brit's hand rose briefly from the keys and gestured at the screen. "It's like sending a virus direct to a server, rather than distributing it across websites, understand?"

Sheppard didn't, but wasn't about to admit it. "McKay's got you on the stabilizers?"

Peter nodded. "There's a danger of the virus destroying our ability to operate the stabilizers through the computer, and there is not enough time to do it manually. It must be the last thing done before Rodney inputs the virus into the control centre, and we lose 'gate control." He smiled, but it looked forced. "It's just a matter of timing."

Sheppard glanced towards the doors of the control room, where Bates was directing his men to protect all entrances. "We'll watch your back," he promised.

Peter nodded, but he wouldn't look up. "It's appreciated, Major."

"Major Sheppard."

Elizabeth was walking towards them, a slight frown on her face. Around her scientists and soldiers scurried, carrying weapons, scanners, and laptops. "Where have you been?"

"Preparing the defenses," he lied.

She continued to frown, but a radio call interrupted her next question and she turned away from him before answering. "No, leave it. I know, doctor, but…." She paused, listening to the unknown scientist's plea. "Abandon it, doctor. That's an order." She dropped her hand and looked back at Sheppard, but said nothing, looking suddenly stricken.

"Elizabeth?"

"Carson," she said, simply.

The sick taste of bile was back in his mouth. "I know."

"They couldn't get to him. That whole section of the city is swarming with Wraith. We've lost more people on the upper levels, near the towers. They're shooting down the Jumpers we send for the Athosians." She blinked rapidly, and took a deep, shaky breath before continuing. "Dr Biro and some of the other medical staff are already at the Alpha site. I've ordered any wounded to be sent there."

He nodded. "Good idea."

She nodded again, uncertainly. Sheppard was suddenly struck by the knowledge that she was a civilian, and that while he was used to being denied the time to grieve, she was not.

Then, he thought, there would be no more time to grieve. Not for them.

"I keep expecting Rodney to pull a last minute trick out of his hat," she admitted.

Sheppard offered her his best smile, but it felt weak. "I think he holds off deliberately. Makes him look more impressive." He glanced back at Peter. "McKay given you his orders?"

Peter touched a hand to his radio. "Rodney, are you in touch?"

"Aren't I always?" came back the reply, terse and irritable. "Is there a problem?"

The Brit shook his head, though McKay couldn't see it. "Just checking the time."

"Rodney." Elizabeth spoke into her radio. "Who else do you have down there?"

"Ashcroft and Kusanagi are in the east and west wings, I'm heading to the memory drive of the control center."

"And Radek?"

"Zelenka should be with you already." The Canadian paused. "You haven't seen him?"

Weir glanced towards the Stargate. "No, Rodney."

Sheppard heard cursing over the radio. "Dammit. I told him to get to the 'gate."

"He's probably just held up," Peter offered. "The defense lines are moving, Rodney. He may have had to find another route."

"Right, right. You're ready?"

"Yes," Grodin replied, patiently.

"Okay. Major, I'll need you to coordinate with Grodin. We can only start to sink the city at the last moment."

"Sure," Sheppard drawled, more casually than he felt. "How long do you need?"

"Only minutes to start the process," Grodin answered. "Half the time for McKay to release the virus."

"I'll let you know."

"Good. I'm almost at the memory banks. Let me know when you've disabled the stabilizers."

The radio cut off, with a small click.

"After you've set the city sinking," Sheppard said, "you get to the 'gate."

Grodin nodded, but again he refused to meet Sheppard's eyes, concentrating on the computer. Sheppard watched him for a moment, but was aware of Elizabeth moving away and after a second followed, feeling lost.

She stood in the same spot he had occupied, on his leaving the mission briefing. Her hands were wrapped around the metal rail, just like his had been, and she stared at the Stargate blindly.

"Rodney won't make it back," she said, softly.

Not real, Sheppard told himself, screamed at himself, but outside he was calm, bottled up and cold. "No. He won't."

"Neither will most of the men out there." She folded her arms defensively across her chest. "This is my worst nightmare."

You have no idea, he thought, ruefully. "They're good men," he said, simply. "They'll fight to protect Earth."

She nodded. "I know."

He watched her for a moment, staring out at the Stargate, whilst another group of Athosians stepped through its shimmering surface. There were fewer refugees now, although a trickle of people were continuing to appear at the doors to the control room. The number of explosions rocking the city had decreased, and now an eerie sense of calm descended upon the space, as though he were watching the evacuation from a distance, a play watched from the circle.

A rattle of machine gunfire drew him abruptly back into the scene, and he turned towards the sound, aware of Elizabeth doing the same. There was a commotion in the corridor leading towards the living quarters from the upper level of the control room. The door had been kept open to allow evacuees and supplies to move quickly through it, but now it was hidden behind a line of soldiers and weaponry.

He moved quickly, running towards the area. Bates was already there and turned to him as he approached, shouting.

"We've got Wraith heading our way! Six and counting!"

Grimacing, he shouldered his gun and moved to the head of the group. He caught a glimpse of the corridor, and the shadow of a pale blue silhouette, white hair and a black coat. He released several rounds into the Wraith's direction, then pulled back as Bates stepped forward. The Sergeant threw a grenade down the corridor, and moved back as Sheppard hit the release for the door control, thinking, lock. The door slid shut quickly, and a second later he felt a deep rumble and heard the corridor vibrate, a wave of heat washing over him.

"Major Sheppard!" He heard the voice of Sergeant Russell over the radio, the soldier barely restraining the panic from entering his voice. "Sergeant Bates!"

Bates glanced at him, and nodded, subtly.

Sheppard touched his radio. "Russell."

"They've broken the outer defenses, Major. We've fallen back to the commissary. They're just beaming more and more into the city."

"Hold your ground there, Sergeant." He glanced at Bates for a second time. "We'll get you back-up."

Bates nodded, and spoke into his own radio. "Airman Purlow, you read me?"

"Aye, sir."

"Take your men and head to the commissary. Sergeant Russell's holed up with some Wraith."

"Aye sir, on our way."

Sheppard nodded, and turned, moving back towards Weir. She was stood beside a scientist he didn't recognize, watching a computer screen flicker in the space above the console. On it was displayed a schematic of the city, the outer edges trimmed with red, the inner corridors speckled with blue dots, some moving, some clustered together and static.

"We're running out of time," she said, softly.

He said nothing for a moment, watching the dots shift and change on the screen.

"You should go through the Stargate."

"Not going to happen, Major." She lifted her head and looked at him. "Not before everyone here."

He thought about arguing, about forcing her, but realized the futility of it, and cut off his reply. "Alright."

"I'll need a weapon," she added, deliberately, a crooked smile on her face.

He clenched his jaw, hesitating. Elizabeth had been the first to volunteer for training, leading the way for the other civilians. McKay had, predictably, been the most reluctant. The thought of either of them taking on a Wraith prompted a wave of revulsion.

"Alright," he conceded, reluctantly. "But don't use it unless you have to. My men will protect the doors."

"I know." Her smile widened, but it felt brittle. "I have complete faith in you, Major."

There was a sudden, loud explosion from the corridor behind the locked door. Elizabeth's smile fell, and she turned towards the door, confirming it had held. Sheppard watched her for a moment, then looked back towards the computer.

On the screen, the small blue dots grew ever closer towards the city centre.

Aiden's arm had started to ache. Vibrations from his P90 traveled up from the gun, past his elbow and up to his shoulder. Shifting his right foot back another inch, he adjusted the balance between his body weight and the pressure of the gun as it fired round after round into the Wraith ahead. Five had turned into ten, and though Stackhouse's call for back-up had been heeded, the team still found themselves retreating, forced closer and closer to the city's center.

He lifted the weapon higher and caught one of the tallest through the forehead. The Wraith crumpled to the ground, its black coat folding around it, dead or merely injured Aiden couldn't be sure. Its companions simply stepped over its body, wearing sharp toothed, hungry grins as they advanced upon the soldiers.

Another figure fell, but this one was dressed in greens. Airman Broderick, a Texan with a deep tan and a love of horses. Stackhouse and Golder grabbed the man by his shoulders and hauled him across the floor, as the group fell back further. Glancing at the stunned solider, Ford hit his radio.

"Teyla? Teyla, can you hear me?"

"I hear you, Aiden. What is your position?"

"We've got ten Wraith on top of us, Teyla. We won't be able to hold them off for much longer. How far behind us are you?"

"Several corridors."

"Can you use a transporter?"

"They are not working."

He swore, softly, and released another round into a Wraith that was about to fire on Stackhouse. "See if you can move any quicker. We're not going to…"

A stunner blast clipped his left side and, suddenly numb, his arm dropped away from the radio, his left leg threatening to fold beneath him. Managing to press himself against a wall, Ford fumbled with his right hand, torn between lowering his weapon and trying to reignite some feeling in his left side. Another blast answered the question for him and he hitched the weapon up onto his hip and fired. A Wraith to his right fell, body twitching against the floor.

There was an alarmed yell from the side and he turned, forcing his deadened body to cooperate. Denton was pinned into the corner between two walls, his gun clicking empty, pointed uselessly at a Wraith advancing upon him. With supreme effort Aiden managed to wrench his P90 around and sloppily aimed at the Wraith, squeezing the trigger. Several shots slammed into the alien's torso and made it stagger backwards, allowing Denton enough time to slip away from the corner and smack the alien across the back with the butt of his gun. Patel, seeing the man in trouble, joined his side and together the pair neatly took out the Wraith, battering it to the floor.

Satisfied that for the moment both men were holding their own, Ford gave his numb body another shove against the wall so he could face the other way.

A Wraith, its hair braided into a long ponytail, stood barely inches away from him. It slammed its hand against Aiden's chest and pressed him back against the wall, bending low over the human.

Futilely he tried to struggle, to raise the P90, to operate his numb left hand and grasp the knife in his belt. His hand refused to cooperate, and the weapon dropped to the floor. Its face pressed close to his, the Wraith grinned, revealing two rows of glittering teeth and an oozing black mouth. A cold, harsh pain spread across Aiden's chest, crushing all breath from his lungs and spreading into his arms, his legs, his face. His skin felt as though it were aflame, crackling under an invisible heat. Distantly he could still hear the sound of weapons fire, and a loud, pathetic rasping in his ears, the sounds of his own labored breath.

So this is what it's like, he thought, above the pounding in his head and the ice in his chest. Aging, hair growing gray, skin wrinkling, cataracts forming. It hurt, more than anything he could ever have imagined, driving all thought from him until only one image remained – his home, his grandparents, his cousins.

The Wraith continued to smile, pressing itself over Aiden, darkness creeping around his vision. Two slits of yellow eyes bore into him, and as Aiden felt his body wither around him, his mind screamed.

"Lieutenant Ford? Aiden, please, come in!"

Teyla paused, listening intently to the radio. She heard gunfire, the sounds of someone - possibly Stackhouse - shouting, but Aiden did not answer her and after several seconds the radio cut off completely.

Shaken, it was only when Facaros spoke that Teyla could bring herself to turn around.

"We need to move. If the Wraith have got past Stackhouse and Ford then they'll find us next."

She nodded, stiffly. The silence from Ford seemed deafening, and she was still haunted by the cries of Carson.

Sharel stood beside her, looking intently towards the corridor before them. She spoke softly, her voice barely above a whisper.

"Do you feel them?"

Teyla hesitated, reaching out with her mind, aware of whispers, of a prickle down her spine, like expecting thunder after a bolt of lightning. She looked towards the corner of the corridor and caught a glimpse of something moving. A shadow, a play of gray against the walls. A flicker of something cold and dangerous, the air sighing.

A stunner blast took out the soldier to her right, the man crumpling bonelessly to the ground. Facaros released a volley of gunfire and a figure, dressed in black and surrounded by a halo of white hair, fell lifelessly to the floor.

Teyla was suddenly intensely aware of the people behind her. Women, children, and scientists, huddled between the front line and the back, Facaros instructing his men to forge a path while they covered the group's rear. She could feel their fear, adrenaline pumping through her veins, making her hyper aware of every stifled gasp, every twitch of movement from the corridor. Facaros had stilled his weapon and for several long moments the space was silent, expectant.

Again she reached out with her mind. The whispers were louder, but coming from all around, and she was unable to pin them down to a specific direction. The Wraith were still there, she was certain of it - the one dead on the floor had not been alone.

Silently, Facaros directed his men to start leading the group of evacuees towards the city center. With one eye he watched them move away, slowly, keeping the rest of his attention trained on the corridor.

Teyla watched him take a step forward, and opened her mouth to protest. He cut her off with a wave of his hand, then dipped the weapon towards the corridor corner.

The whispers changed, like the tide, a subtle but deadly difference. She tried to reach out to Facaros, horribly aware of what was about to happen.

The soldier wasn't. The look on his face as the Wraith slammed him into the wall was one of pure shock. He had no time to aim his weapon, the alien turning the corner so quickly Facaros was denied any chance at defense. Teyla was quicker, releasing three bullets into the Wraith's head and neck, the creature falling back with a spray of green blood and an animalistic cry. Facaros slipped to his knees, his face white but un-aged, and he shook as Teyla hauled him to his feet.

"What…"

"Get back," she told him, pushing him towards the group and turning back towards the corridor, releasing another volley of weapon fire. Sharel grabbed the man by his arm but he pushed her away, rubbing a trembling hand across his face before visibly gathering his strength.

"Teyla…"

"There are more," she told him, taking a step backwards. "This was just a scout. We have to move quickly."

He nodded, snapping hand gestures at his men before resuming his position at her side. "Thanks."

She nodded but didn't reply. Around them the city rumbled, as though in protest at the invasive force swarming through its halls.

Sharel looked about at the walls around them, distressed. "The city does not want us to abandon it."

"The feeling is mutual," Facaros said, fervently.

Teyla only half listened to them. She considered radioing Ford again, felt the sudden desire to speak to Sheppard, to hear McKay's familiar babble. They had gated back to Atlantis when they should not have been able, proof, Sheppard claimed, that they were still trapped in the computer. But this did not feel like a game. Her inner doubts had gone, replaced by fear - for her people, for Earth, for the soldiers and scientists who fought to protect their home. For the future of the Pegasus Galaxy, without the City of the Ancestors to protect it.

And fear for herself. Again she felt the desire to turn and run, but she clamped down on it, knowing that she couldn't. Knowing that given the choice, she wouldn't.

Behind her the group of evacuees moved further away, and Facaros' men moved with them. They were still too far from the Stargate, at risk of attack from both sides. If they were to reach safety…

"They are coming," Sharel breathed.

There was a flash of something dark flitting across the corridor, but Facaros had learnt his lesson and didn't even twitch. He was prepared when the first Wraith rounded the corner, and fired a round into its chest, sending it staggering backwards into a second.

Teyla took out a third, but not before a fourth had flown across the corridor and slammed into Sharel. The Athosian defended herself with a flurry of sticks, moving faster than Teyla had ever seen, knocking the Wraith to the floor where its skull was smashed against the ground. A fifth and sixth leapt upon two of soldiers, too close for a single shot to be fired, slamming the men into the walls. She heard bones snap, heard muffled yelps and a scream of agony but had no time to seek the origin.

Another Wraith tried to launch itself at her. She shot three bullets into its chest but it continued to lurch forward, towering above her, its white hair pulled back from its forehead revealing glittering yellow eyes. Temporarily lowering the weapon, she grabbed for her knife, pulling it free of its sheath and slashing from left to right, through leather and flesh. The Wraith howled angrily, and struck out with one arm, smacking her against the wall. Winded, Teyla pushed herself upright only to be forced back, the Wraith pressing against her chest with an elbow, so close she could feel its blood drip against her face.

She was aware of a muffled explosion, close to her chest, and felt a spray of something warm across her abdomen. The Wraith staggered backwards, looking down at the exit wound in its belly with an expression of confusion, before dropping to the floor, dead. Turning, Teyla caught Facaros' eye and nodded her thanks.

"Just returning the favor," he told her, with a grin. Then a stunner blast took out the man next to him and he turned away, weapon firing.

Teyla could hear her people scream, could hear footsteps running away down the corridor behind her. The space was too small, the going too slow. Several children were crying, and she could hear both male and female voices, crying out in their panic. The soldier's numbers were decreasing, eight men down to four, including herself. She counted four Wraith dead, but the corridor was filling with more and they continued to retreat, pressed backwards, struggling to keep the tide away from the city center.

Without help, the Wraith would finish them off, and continue on to devour the evacuees.

A swell of hot rage suddenly flooded across her, Teyla's fingertips tingling as they gripped the metal of the P90. Taking a step forward, she fired into the oncoming Wraith, hitting several in the chest or arms, before the chamber rattled and made an empty sounding 'click.' Grabbing another chamber from her belt, Teyla briefly dropped her gaze from the battlefield only to have something cold and heavy knock into her side and force her to the floor. The bullets lost from her fingers, she released her grip on the gun and lifted her knife, swiping blindly at the dark shape pressed on top of her. It delivered a sharp blow to her chest, breaking a rib, and gasping she fought back, driving the weapon forward with greater force. A second later she was rewarded with a howl and the body slumping over hers, its blood mingling with her own. The sudden pressure against her injured ribs almost caused her to pass out, and it was only in a final battle against the gray that she managed to roll out from under the Wraith's body, gasping and twitching against the floor.

Shakily pushing herself upright, Teyla paused, turning. Sharel lay on the floor several meters away, her neck twisted at an unnatural angle, her eyes open and staring.

Behind her, someone screamed. The voice was young, and fragile, and broke off abruptly. Not a soldier, she realized. Not a warrior. The Wraith were attacking the evacuees.

There were footsteps, making the floor vibrate behind her head. She twisted, ignoring the protest from her ribs, sweeping the knife low and slicing into ankles. The Wraith staggered backwards, allowing her time to get to her feet, one arm wrapped supportively around her chest, the other holding out the knife defensively.

Pulling itself forward, the Wraith moved towards her, its face twisted into a snarl. Gasping a little, Teyla stepped back, aware of a flurry of movement ahead. Of Facaros, the only one left standing from his men, pressed against a wall by a Wraith, hungry for its second chance at feeding.

She saw him stare at her, his eyes wide, his hands desperately struggling against the Wraith's attack before falling limp. Something small and dark fell from his fingers and rolled across the floor towards her.

Tearing her gaze away from the Wraith, Teyla swiped ahead of her, forcing the alien to step backwards to avoid the blade, and used the moment to slip past and scoop the object up from the floor.

Down the corridor, she saw the last of her people disappear around a corner, guarded by two lone soldiers and hounded by a single Wraith.

"You!"

It turned and stared at her. Desperately, Teyla made one last attempt to reach out mentally and touched the hive mind, forcing the Wraith's attention on her, challenging the cold, even as tendrils of something rotting and foul wrapped itself around her.

The Wraith behind her had recovered enough to slam her into the wall, so hard she could feel her ribs grinding against each other. She tasted blood, but felt triumphant, aware of the second Wraith turning away from the fleeing evacuees. Still she touched the hive mind, luring it closer, allowing the darkness to close over her.

On the other side of the room, the withered corpse of Sergeant Facaros dropped to the floor, nothing but ash and bone.

The Wraith crowded around her, trapping Teyla into the corner between two walls.

Her fingers curled around the pin of the grenade.

She smiled.

"Another explosion in the east section of the city," Grodin reported tersely. "A couple of blocks down from the Jumper Bay."

Sheppard looked across at the display of the city silhouette. The area highlighted by Peter was shaded in red, joining a third of the city map in color. Both the north and south towers had fallen, Wraith darts taking suicide runs at the structures. Two of the generators were down, with power loss to most of the west side.

"How many people are still out there?"

Elizabeth looked up from where she was speaking to a blonde haired marine. "Twelve of the science crew is still unaccounted for, and I'm not sure how many Athosians the last puddle jumper brought. What about your men?"

He glanced at Bates, who was still trying to secure a door on the top deck. "We've lost contact with Blake and Rusby."

She nodded, her jaw clenched tightly. "The others?"

Sheppard tapped his ear piece. "Sergeant Facaros, come in." He paused. "Sergeant Stackhouse. Lieutenant Ford."

He was aware of Elizabeth watching him intently, and he tried again, refusing to allow desperation to enter his voice. "Lieutenant Ford. Teyla, can you hear me?"

Peter had paused in his attention to the computer, looking up at Sheppard expectantly.

"If anyone on the outer defenses can hear this…"

A sudden, impossibly loud explosion burst out from the deck above them. Sheppard turned in time to see Bates and several marines thrown back by the force of the blast, the doorway consumed by smoke and flame. Through this appeared several tall, dark shadows.

"Top deck!" he screamed, running from Grodin's station, up the stairs to Bates' position. The marine was lying on the floor, unconscious, stunner fallen from his grip. Behind him, Sheppard heard the booted run of several soldiers joining him, aware of a rattle of gunfire and fired his own weapon towards the Wraith.

The first two fell, but there were two more behind them, one falling to weapons fire but the other taking out a soldier with a stunner. Sheppard flinched from the blast and took a step back, unable to stop two more Wraith from slipping through the doorway, using the cover of smoke to avoid being hit.

A second explosion on the lower deck had him turning, looking back toward the 'gate. The Wraith had penetrated their defenses at another spot, soldiers instantly taking up position across from the smoking hole.

Near the computer the scientists were ducking, clinging to their stations and consoles determinedly. Elizabeth stood amongst them, looking across to Sheppard with an expression of something approaching defiance.

"Get everyone to the 'gate," he shouted, "the center's been breached."

She nodded and turned away, directing the scientists. Grodin continued to sit at his station, and Sheppard turned quickly, finding Airman Morris and sending the man to guard over the scientist.

He ducked behind a console, hitting his radio. "McKay! You'd better be ready with this virus because we've run out of time!"

There was a pause before the scientist answered, and for one horrible moment Sheppard faced the idea that McKay was dead, that their hope for saving Earth was lost.

"You know, you should really warn me before shouting down the radio. You nearly deafened me."

He sagged in relief, and allowed some of his fear to well over into frustration. "Not the time, McKay. We've got Wraith near the Stargate. If we're going to sink the city…"

"I know, I know," the scientist interrupted. "I'm in position."

There was another explosion from the upper deck. Someone had dragged Bates and the other unconscious soldiers out of the way, and the area now paved way for a battleground, an exchange of weapons fire between Wraith and humans. The air around the space rippled, shadows and light drawing attention away from the fight.

"Keep your eyes on the hole," Sheppard ordered, loudly. "They'll make you see things that aren't there."

His warning came too late for one marine, his identity disguised by smoke. Sheppard caught a glimpse of green camouflage moving after a flicker of shadow but before he could stop the younger man, the soldier had walked into the path of a Wraith and was slammed against the wall, the alien's hand flat on the man's chest.

Three bullets from his gun killed the Wraith, but Sheppard was unable to save the marine. His aged body crumpled to the floor, sliding behind a console and out of sight.

"John!"

He turned. Several Wraith from the lower decks had made their way up their staircase and were now trying to attack the fleeing scientists. He caught a glimpse of Elizabeth, dark hair and red uniform, in the midst of the melee and forced his way back down to the group, yelling for back-up. Three soldiers pulled away from their guard of the perimeter to join him, P90s blazing. Several of the lights had gone, the room descending into a semi darkness filled with smoke and shadows.

A console, exploding from a misaimed stunner blast, temporarily lit the scene. A tall, leather clad Wraith with long, braided hair had Weir pushed up against a railing, close to pushing her over the edge. Desperately Sheppard fought forward, trying to get a clear shot but having his view blocked by smoke and panicked scientists. He saw her struggle, saw her flail uselessly against the alien's strength even as it pressed one hand flat against her chest.

There wasn't time. Sheppard screamed for support, screamed for the Wraith to turn and face him but his words were lost in the overwhelming noise of battle and when Elizabeth cried out, her face contorted with pain, he never heard her plea.

Forcing aside a scientist roughly he managed to reach the balcony, but meters were as good as miles. Elizabeth was aging before his eyes, her hair turning gray, then as white as the Wraith's, her body curling in on itself, her skin withering and darkening in seconds. He was aware of her eyes, looking up at him, staring at him across the space just as Sumner had, a brief moment of recognition and then desperately begging…

He fired a single, clean shot. It skimmed the Wraith's shoulder and hit Elizabeth in the forehead.

Sheppard shut down.

Ford wasn't responding, likely dead. The explosion near the Jumper Bay had come from Teyla's position. McKay was trapped in the lower levels of Atlantis and even if protected from the Wraith, he had no way of reaching the Stargate and escaping the sinking city. Elizabeth…

Elizabeth was gone, her body tossed aside by the disgusted Wraith.

Fighting continued on the upper section. The three soldiers that had joined Sheppard's struggle to protect the scientists had managed to take out their remaining attackers and were now ushering the group down the steps to the glimmering event horizon.

The Stargate. Sheppard was aware of the ripple of light it cast on the floor and walls, reflecting off the computer displays even amidst the smoke. There was no way, he told himself, no way they could have gated home with Grodin dialing out. No way this was possible.

But his gun was still warm from the shot he had used to kill Weir. And the smell of gunpowder, and smoke, melting plastic and blood… that was real.

And the look she had given her, the desperate plea, the fear and pain… the brief expression of blissful relief as the bullet had passed clean through her brain…

Peter still sat at his station, concentrating on his console as the battle raged around him. Sheppard spotted Morris struggling with a Wraith barely meters from the Englishman's position, and forced his way back up to the scientist. A stunner blast took out a glass display to his left, sending shards into his hip and side. He turned, firing a round into the perpetrator, a shorter Wraith with a wide smile on its face. Blood trickled warmly down his leg but he ignored it, concentrating on reaching Peter, on protecting the only thing he had left – Earth.

His attention had not gone unnoticed. One Wraith, its right eye gone and its face marred by a deep scar running from jaw line to forehead, stood in the space just outside Weir's office and lifted his stunner. Sheppard was unaware, running for the scientist, his hand reaching for his radio to call McKay…

The Wraith shifted its stunner a fraction, aimed, and fired. A burst of red energy enveloped a startled Peter and he pitched forward, face first, into the console.

An explosion made the ceiling above McKay's head rattle. He glanced upwards instinctively, but when the sky didn't fall on him he pressed onwards, running down the corridor and picking up speed.

Adams and O'Brien were dead.

He'd seen the Wraith, waiting in the corridor between himself and the room housing the control backup. Four dots on the life signs detector. Adams had been confident, relying on the element of surprise over numbers. Instructing the scientist to remain behind them, the two soldiers had crept up on the unaware Wraith and taken out one, injuring two more, before a single return shot had been fired.

It wasn't enough. McKay couldn't shake the image of O'Brien, thrown against a crate, his head hitting metal and leaving a smear of bright red blood as he slipped to the floor. With one soldier down, likely dead, McKay had pulled out his own gun and started firing, indiscriminately - at the Wraith, at the walls, at the lights, the corridor descending into darkness.

He hadn't seen Adams die, but the man's scream had been loud enough. Suddenly alone and outnumbered, two to one, McKay had panicked and burst through the small space to the corridor beyond. He thought the lights off and moved on memory only, stumbling occasionally over unseen boxes and corners. He had no idea whether the Wraith were following, or whether he had lost them in the dark, terrified of using the scanner in case its light betrayed his whereabouts.

In his haste he almost missed the door for the lab, and had to turn back on himself, hitting the door panel and ducking inside. He thought the door locked, and watched it slide shut, the process seeming to take forever. It was only once safely inside the lab that he switched the lights on, blinking in the sudden brightness.

A single Wraith stared at him from the floor beside his feet.

McKay released a short scream and leapt backwards, hitting the wall. His breath coming in short gasps, he stared back at the Wraith, taking in the pool of green blood, and the misshapen lump which had once been its arm. It was dead, but killed recently. There were scorch marks on the floor around the body, pieces of blackened glass and the sour smell of a Molotov cocktail.

"McKay!"

He yelped for a second time, and bumped into a burnt computer console.

"You'd better be ready with this virus because we've run out of time!"

Shakily, Rodney hit the talk button on his radio, still staring at the dead Wraith. "You know, you should really warn me before shouting down the radio. You nearly deafened me."

"Not the time, McKay," Sheppard growled, warningly. "We've got Wraith near the Stargate. If we're going to sink the city…"

"I know, I know." He pushed himself away from the wall and stepped over the Wraith, desperately trying not to notice the way its blank eyes seemed to follow him. "I'm in position."

"Rodney," Grodin spoke, "Let me know when you're ready." Weapons fire and explosions could be heard over the radio.

"Will do," McKay responded, swallowing hard.

The main server providing memory and processing power to the central computer core stood in a bulky, square block of plastic moulded into the wall. Ahead of it sat a shorter, waist high console, its surface set with the hardened clear squares of Ancient design.

And a laptop.

McKay stared at the computer for a moment, before his gaze drifted to his own laptop, clutched under one arm. Hesitantly, he took a step forward, then another, his breath held, his feet ready to run.

A figure lay slumped beside the console, chin resting on his chest, eyes closed, so peaceful McKay might have believed he were sleeping had not half of Zelenka's face been splattered across the metal wall behind him.

He thought he should feel nauseous but was too tired, and said, wearily: "Of course."

Something glinted in the man's lap. Glasses, miraculously unbroken. McKay crossed the room on autopilot, leant down and picked them up with gentle fingers, folding them neatly and slipping them into his jacket pocket.

If anyone had asked, he couldn't have said why.

"So." He turned away from the ruined remains of his friend, and looked up at the mass of the command server. He took a deep breath, and heard it shake in his chest. "You never listen to me. Thinking you can do this so what, I can head to the 'gate?" He shook his head, dropping to his knees. His fingers found the edge of a panel lining one side of the server and slid beneath it, prising the metal cover away.

Sat behind his shoulder, Zelenka watched him work, his eyes unblinking.

"You always have to contradict me. If I tell Elizabeth we can get something fixed in thirty minutes, you'll ask for an hour. If I think we can reinitialize the purifiers with fifty percent power, you'll always want seventy five." Zelenka's laptop trailed wires onto the floor, cables already prepared by the Czech. Rodney picked up a yellow one and connected it to a silvery blue crystal in the depths of the computer bank.

He felt oddly detached, his fingers moving on autopilot, picking up the red wire, then the green, attaching them to the memory crystals easily. The laptop provided the interface; it was now only a matter of hooking his own computer up to the network and releasing the virus through the two into the server.

"I know your plan," he continued, conversationally. "You're like Scotty, from Star Trek, always quoting double the time so Elizabeth thinks you're a genius when you have it done in half." He paused for a moment, his hands coming to a standstill, hovering over the cables. "Not a bad idea, actually."

There was no reply from the Czech. McKay checked the connections one final time, oblivious to the slight electrical zap the server sent through his fingertips. "Most of them are idiots. But you – you're not as bad as the rest. If we'd had military ranks – well, I always considered you my second in command."

He paused again, his hands dropping to his knees, his head bowing. Taking a ragged breath, his voice broke. "I'm sorry, Radek."

The mechanical hum from the room's equipment seemed to mock him, underscored by rumbling from the city above. Taking another breath, McKay pushed himself to his feet and moved towards the desk, ignoring the smear of blood along its side. He pulled his laptop towards him and opened it up, fishing out a wire from its back and plugging it into a port on Zelenka's machine. Then he switched his on.

The second laptop chimed happily, a message appearing on screen to cheerfully announce it had recognized another computer on the network. McKay allowed himself a small smile.

"McKay! McKay, can you hear me?"

His grin faded. "Major Sheppard?"

The soldier sounded panicked, having to shout over the noise of gunfire. "Grodin's been hit by a stunner blast. He's unconscious."

McKay shuddered, his fingers clenching the edge of the bench. "Wake him up!"

"Which bit of 'stunner blast' did you not understand, Rodney!" There was a loud explosion of noise, almost deafening, a burst of static followed by a frantic Sheppard: "Can you do it?"

He shook his head automatically. "It has to be done from Peter's station, the others have been disabled. Is the console alright?"

"What?"

"The computer, Major! If the blast hit the computer…"

"No," Sheppard interrupted, quickly. "The computer is fine."

McKay licked his lips nervously. "Good. Tell me what you see."

"What?"

"You'll have to do it, Major."

"McKay, in case you haven't noticed, me and computers don't play well together."

"It's fine," he snapped, "I'll walk you through it. Now tell me what you see!"

There was a slight pause. "There's a number of blue boxes on the left hand side of the screen. I think it's a computer menu, but it's all in Ancient."

"I always knew Elizabeth should have made those classes compulsory," McKay muttered. He closed his eyes, trying to recall an image of Grodin's station. "What does the top one look like?"

"A square, with a horizontal line through the middle. Then a circle with a triangle in it. Then a…" There was another burst of noise, and McKay heard Sheppard curse. "There's no time for this!"

"It's alright," he replied, sounding more confident than he felt. "I know what you're looking at. You want the third box down, the one with the three horizontal lines over a circle."

"Got it." Sheppard's voice seemed tight, through pain or desperation McKay couldn't tell. "The screen's changed – I've got four blue boxes now, in the center."

"Click the top left," he said, carefully, then immediately panicked. "No! Top right, top right!"

"McKay…"

"I'm doing this by memory, Major, so cut me some slack!" He panted, heavily. Sweat slicked his hands and ran in a small rivulet down his back. He lifted his chin and glanced at the doorway to the lab, expecting a Wraith assault at any second. "You should see a schematic of the city basement. There are six stabilizers, but you only need to disable the four on the western end to tip the city. They look like square boxes, but with a semicircular piece on one side."

"I've got them. I…"

Again Sheppard broke off, and this time the interruption came from a staccato rattle of gunfire. McKay had to fight the urge to rip the radio from his ear, wincing at the volume and holding out until a breathless Major returned.

"Sorry. Wraith on top of me. Four on the eastern end?"

"Western end!" he squeaked. His hands ran across his laptop's keyboard, bringing up a sensor measurement of the city's position in the water around it. "Just click on them, and when the computer prompts you, click the right hand option. This cuts the power to the stabilizers."

"Right. How long then until…"

"Until we're all finding Nemo? Five minutes, maybe six. It depends how long the city can withstand the pressure."

"Then you'll release the virus?"

"Yes, Major." He paused, imagining Sheppard trying to operate Grodin's machine, trying to visualize the Wraith, attacking the gate room. He was struck by a cold thought, his gut clenching in grim realization. "Elizabeth?"

"Dead." The answer was terse and emotionless. "A few scientists have made it through the 'gate but we can't get any more through the inner perimeter." He paused, briefly. "I've got the first pair of stabilizers done. Just doing the third…"

"Right. Good." McKay watched the readings on his computer fluctuate, warning signs flashing across the screen in red. "So, still think this isn't real?"

"Third done." Again Sheppard paused. "I don't know, McKay."

"No." He sighed, deeply. "Neither do I."

A sudden thump at the laboratory door made his head jerk upwards. He could hear something moving behind the entrance, something heavy hitting the wall.

"Ah, Major…"

"Yes, McKay?"

"It's been fun, hasn't it?"

"This?" There was another burst of weapons fire. Someone in the distance screamed. "Yeah." Then, "Fourth stabilizer going offline…"

The radio cut off, abruptly. McKay ripped the device off his neck, holding it up to his face and pressing the talk button desperately. "Major Sheppard? Major Sheppard, come in!"

There was no response. His gut clenched, a shiver creeping down his spine. Dropping the radio to the tabletop McKay stared at the computer screen, willing it to change. A new red warning appeared, outlined in black and covered in exclamation marks. He used the mouse to close it, and stared at the readings, his breath held.

The readout monitoring the city's balance against gravity slipped into the negative. There was a sudden creaking sound, and McKay felt the ground shift beneath him, the movement threatening to knock him off balance and sending a pen and an empty glass beaker sliding off the tabletop to smash onto the floor.

Hauling himself upright using the bench as support, McKay dragged his laptop back around to face him and thrust his hands over the keys, his fingers flying. Into the laptop hard drive to access the virus, into the network between the two laptops to pass it from one to the other. Around him the city continued to creak and groan. In its basement four of the great, churning wheels which served to float the enormous ship ground to a halt. Slowly, but with increasing speed, Atlantis started to sink.

McKay ignored it, his attention captured by the virus and its movement from Zelenka's laptop into the heart of the command center's memory server. He quickly switched displays on his own laptop, watching the readings for the city as the virus did its work. Warning after warning filled his screen, corrupted files, deleted data, conflicting storage. The statistics flickered and grew before his eyes; thirty thousand files corrupted, one hundred thousand, one million. Stargate addresses, gone, the transporters failed.

He experimentally though the lights 'off.' They extinguished immediately, but refused to switch back when he told them to, leaving the room shrouded in shadow and the dim glow from the computer. He looked back towards the screen; heating gone, DHD control lost, stabilizers collapsed, the city sinking like a stone and rattling hideously. Metal groaned around him, threatening to break under pressure. A sudden bang from behind him signaled a burst air vent, water spraying into the room.

Back to the display screen: life signs detector gone, mission files wiped, the shield destroyed, the doors…

"Oh, crap."

McKay turned in time to see the door to the laboratory slide open. It caught halfway and stuck, but was enough to allow a single Wraith through and he had to dart back behind the computer console to avoid being hit by a stunner blast.

He cowered against the console, fumbling as he pulled a gun from his belt. The Wraith stalked into the center of the room, pausing over the body of its fallen brethren. He could hear it breathe, a harsh, rattling sound, underscored by the soft chafing of leather against leather.

Around him the city continued to shake. He could hear distant crashing, muffled sounds of windows smashing and metal twisting and bending beneath the sudden weight. He imagined it as seen from the outside, the great, silver city of Atlantis sinking beneath the waves, its balconies submerged beneath green and gray, its lights sputtering and dying.

The Wraith had stared to move, scouting out the room in a clockwise direction. Slowly McKay levered himself onto his knees and looked across to the half open doorway. Water continued to spray into the room from the burst vent, creating a lake on the smooth marble floor. Sparks bounced onto its surface from the burnt remains of a computer console, hissing and popping loudly.

He stared at it, mesmerized.

The Wraith had stopped moving again, and was silent. Rodney considered looking behind him, then thought better of it, pressing his back against the wall and readying himself to move.

Not all of Sheppard's training had been wasted. He listened carefully for the tread of the Wraith as it took a step forward, for the swish of leather as the alien hefted the stunner upwards. Adrenaline filled him, making his senses sing, his muscles taut in readiness.

There was the very faint sound of an energy discharge as the Wraith closed its hand over the trigger.

McKay pushed himself onto his feet and ran, lunging for the pool. The stunner blast hit the wall he had been pressed against and he heard the Wrath utter a growl of annoyance.

"There is no where to run to."

He sank to his knees behind another lab bench, aware of water soaking through his pant legs. "No," he admitted, over his shoulder, panting heavily. "But I think that's the same for you, too."

"Perhaps." The Wraith took a step toward McKay's hiding place. "Unimportant. I will feed on you before your end."

McKay swallowed, his throat dry and tight. "I don't think so," he managed, then shot out from behind the bench.

The Wraith followed, running after him, stunner discarded. He heard it cackle, a low, animalistic sound and McKay restrained himself from a hysterical laugh. He caught a glimpse of black leather swirling behind him, almost slipped on the wet marble and reached out to grab a power cable leading from the memory banks to the wall.

With supreme effort, McKay yanked the cable from its grounding and plunged it into the water by his feet.

Above the sound of his own flesh burning and the pain of being consumed by an electric blue fire, McKay heard the Wraith scream.

He smiled, before darkness took them both.

"So, still think this isn't real?"

Sheppard paused, watching the image of the city shift and change as the third stabilizer went offline. "Third done." He took a breath, listening to the scientist pant down the radio. "I don't know, McKay."

The control room was filled with smoke. Several consoles were ablaze, victim to stunner blasts and explosives. Most of the scientists had escaped through the wormhole but others lay dead or unconscious amidst the ruins, joined by the fallen bodies of soldiers. Men and women Sheppard knew, liked, respected. Some he knew less well, all that he had great pride in. Wraith continued to struggle past the defenses, held back by only a handful of survivors. Desperation tinged the air and tasted sour.

"No. Neither do I."

He curled his hand briefly into a fist before reaching for the final stabilizer and touching the screen. It flashed a warning at him, which he dismissed, his fingers pressing against the screen.

"Ah, Major…"

Sheppard closed his eyes for a second, listening to the sounds of gunfire around him. "Yes, McKay?"

"It's been fun, hasn't it?"

He opened his eyes to see a Wraith stood on the steps, taking aim with his stunner. Lifting his P90, he fired several rounds into the creature's chest and watched it fall down the stairs.

"This?" The Wraith hit the bottom of the floor and lay still. Sheppard smiled, grimly. "Yeah."

The computer screen bleeped a warning at him, another flash of red. He could feel its urgency, Atlantis protesting at this treatment, at the damage done to her shell, at the virus already ripping through her insides, at the act of betrayal Sheppard had taken in sending her back to the sea.

"Fourth stabilizer going offline," he said, into the radio. It continued to flash at him, a burst of red across the blue, a burst of red…

The powerful, bright splash of a stunner shot hit the wall just behind his head and another computer console fizzled into darkness. Pushing his weight onto his injured hip Sheppard staggered forward, narrowly avoiding a second shot. The sound of gunfire was fading, consumed by the loud shriek of a klaxon as Atlantis proclaimed her doom. Pushing another clip into the gun, Sheppard took aim at the Wraith chasing him and managed to clip its shoulder, temporarily stalling it but not taking it down.

Around him the lights flickered and went out. The Stargate, sat at the base of the stairs, now provided the only light source. The silvery glow from the event horizon spilled across the room, promising salvation. Sheppard stared at it, watching as it winked out of existence. The chevrons surrounding it glowed briefly, then faded, powerless.

The virus, he realized, belatedly. McKay had slotted the final piece into the puzzle and taken out the core systems of Atlantis – including 'gate control.

Blood soaked his pant leg, his left side burning with pain from the shards of glass still embedded into his skin. He ignored it, pushing it aside ruthlessly, staggering down the stairs. It no longer mattered where he was going, it was no longer necessary to protect the Stargate, to keep the Wraith on the other side of the door. They had come from Earth to discover the city of the Ancients, to use all its secrets and make the myth of Atlantis a reality. He had come to protect the civilians in their mission of exploration. Now the civilians were dead, or had fled, and Atlantis was sinking, torn apart by the pressure of the sea beneath which it had hidden for thousands of years.

Smoke was filling the room, making it near impossible to see, but the white hair of the Wraith stood out clearly. He lifted his P90 and took out another target, not pausing to see where it fell. Leaning heavily on the rail of the stairs, Sheppard made his way down to the Stargate, almost stumbling as he stepped onto the ground.

Behind the Stargate a tall, irregularly shaped triangle of material had been cut into the wall, and filled with a blue glass portioned by thin slices of metal in a pretty, church-like effect. On a clear, warm day sunlight spilled through the glass and filled the room with a tranquil, sapphire blue. Now, with the city sinking into the depths, the glass was a murky dark green color, with flashes of black as something drifted past the plummeting city.

A crack had appeared on the bottom edge of the window and was creeping quickly across its surface. Sheppard stared at it, and smiled.

Around him Atlantis continued to groan and creak. He heard air ducts above him burst open, heard metal struts bend beneath the weight. Sheppard could feel the pressure on his body, pressing down on his shoulders and ribs, across his head and neck. The floor trembled beneath him. Even the Wraith had noticed, breaking off from their assault to peer through the smoke at the city around them.

"You."

Lazily Sheppard turned, his back to the glass window. A Wraith faced him, seven foot tall, with translucent gray skin and white hair swept back from a high forehead. Its yellow eyes stared at him, a smile on its face, revealing sharp teeth and saliva.

"Me," Sheppard said, casually, hefting his P90.

The Wraith glanced at the weapon and snorted, contemptuously. "You have lost. We have the city."

"In case you haven't noticed," he replied, leaning slightly to the right to relieve some of the pain on his left, "the city's not going to be around for that much longer."

The Wraith's smile widened. "Fool. It does not matter if we die, or if the city is lost. You will give up your home to us, and we will give this knowledge to our people. We will have a new feeding ground."

Sheppard yawned theatrically. "Yeah, yeah. You guys always love to play the pantomime villain."

"When I am done with you," the Wraith hissed, "you will give up everything you have to make me stop."

Thinking of Sumner, Sheppard lifted his chin and replied, coldly: "Probably. But you're not going to get the chance."

"You cannot escape."

"Oh," he breezed, "I wouldn't be so sure about that."

The glass behind him split, and burst open. A torrent of water and broken metal erupted through the opening and forced its way past the Stargate, sweeping Sheppard of his feet and consuming him in a raging current. The noise of water was horrendous, a thundering that filled his ears and head and sent him tumbling. Water filled his mouth, his nose, his ears; everything was gray, blue, gray. He hit something hard, lost his grip on the P90, choked instinctively against the cold seeping down his throat and into his lungs.

"Still think this isn't real?"

He smiled, weakly, at McKay's voice, as his chest heaved and burnt, gasping for oxygen that wasn't there and filling with only seawater. Salt lay thick on his tongue and there was a pounding in his ears, gray filling his vision.

"I don't know, McKay."

"No. Neither do I."

A/N: Again, sorry for the delay. I think there should be another two chapters to go on this, and then we're done. No character deaths, remember!