It was John.

He was unnaturally pale, his dark hair had lightened considerably. He was also thinner, his hands long and thin like spiders. His eyes had changed to a dark color, but they were human again. The scariest thing was how he looked at her: like he did not know her at all. Elizabeth was sure, in the instant when their eyes locked, she heard her heart shatter into a million pieces.

Choking back her tears, she shoved herself up from when her knees had buckled. Taking a deep breath, she let her fists clench and her nails dig into her palms. In her head she ticked off all the zillion reasons to be angry. How he kissed Teyla and strangled her instead, how he flirted with her but never made a move, how he took her heart with him and refused to give it back. Focusing on the rage she drew her fist back and slammed it forward, hearing it ram into his jaw with a satisfying crack.

Pivoting she brought her other fist around. He grabbed that one, and the other when she swung it again. With a low growl, he rammed her against the wall and stepped back as she crumpled. The spots dancing in her eyes obstructed her view but she still grabbed his wrists, digging her nails in as he slammed her again, praying that he would figure out what she was doing or get so annoyed he would act before she went unconscious.

'Come on,' she thought furiously. He did not disappoint her for once.

The next instant Elizabeth found both her wrists pinned above her head and dark eyes boring into hers. She sucked in air, finding it increasingly harder to breath. At the sight of her face, a look of confusion crossed his before he hid it and brought a hand forward. She met his eyes squarely.

His hand went around her neck as the confusion re-surfaced. His fingers fit perfectly on the marks Elizabeth was sure were burned into her skin. His hand trailed down the hollow of her throat, down to her breastbone where his palm lay flat against it. She met his eyes squarely, trying to stop her hammering heart.

Then they were connected.

Elizabeth saw memories of everything in John's mind, just as she was sure he saw everything in hers: High School, Grad School, Diplomatic Relations, Simon, Atlantis and himself. How she felt when he came back from that stupid suicidal mission, how he made her laugh and feel alive. How she wrote that letter to Simon telling him it was over. She saw memories of places she didn't know, of deaths she hadn't caused. She saw a string of women, as nameless as the next. She saw his anguish at kissing Teyla and at hurting her.

Elizabeth whimpered at the rush of memories and feelings. She couldn't breath or move, all she could do was stare into his eyes as he kept her upright. She felt completely helpless and once again only John could save her. Even in his Wraith state, his brow furrowed and his hands around her wrist dug into the wall behind her.

Then, time stared again and she found herself looking into familiar hazel eyes. His hand was still firmly against her breastbone and his body was pressed closely against hers. He looked up to make sure his nails didn't dig into her wrists before his eyes were on hers again. Suddenly he pulled her against him, away from the wall slightly and Elizabeth did not have to fake the gasp that came from her lips.

"Don't look," he whispered to her before throwing her aside and turning on the Wraith.

Too bad she never obeyed orders. With blinding speed John managed to take down the Wraiths before the Queen grabbed him. There was a flash of red as Ronon made a considerable dent in the Queen's stomach. Teyla was next to Elizabeth, gun drawn. Ronon and her eyes connected and he gave her a small nod before firing again into the Queen but making sure he missed John.

The Queen tightened her grip on John's neck and he gagged, grabbing at her slender wrist. She snarled and Elizabeth heard Teyla's sharp intake of breath. Dragging her eyes away from John she looked at the Queen's stomach and gasped. The wound was healing, skin pulling together just as the blue was rapidly fading from John's skin. His hair shortened and darkened, the blue ebbed away until Colonel John Sheppard was grasped in the Wraith Queen's clutches.

She threw him aside where he lay horribly still. Elizabeth scrambled over and rolled him on his back. He lay horribly still. She pressed two fingers to his neck and felt a pulse, but no oxygen. Bending over him, she titled his head, pinched his nose and breathed air into his lungs. She got no response. Furiously, she breathed into his lungs again.

'There is no way in hell I am letting you die like this,' she thought heatedly. Repeating the action, she glanced up to see Ronon fighting the Wraith Queen. She was yelling something but Elizabeth's focused mind could not figure out what. Breathing in again, she pushed air into John's lungs and prayed silently in every one of the five languages she knew that she could save him for once.