Angela, where would I be without you? Probably curled up in a corner, twitching and eating the paint off the wall, so thank God you're around!

Notes: Light is not always better. Cream, chocolate mousse and the ending to this fic don't do so well when they're light. They're not bad, but the heavier stuff is a lot more satisfying…

Chapter 8: We all fall down – Take 2

Scream. All she could do was scream. Just this once, away from her responsibilities, here, with her men – brothers – she could release the horror. Just feel without worrying about the implications of those feelings.

Back on the scene of the crime is what Rodney had whispered as he stepped out of the jumper. Teyla believed them to be fitting words.

So much blood in the sand, in her mind, on her hands; deaths, too many deaths.

One scream, the release. Now, she had to forget about herself and free the souls that lingered.

She let the handful of sand she held fall, slowly, trickling through her fingers in a rain of golden dust.

Ronon held out a hand to help her up. He had followed her when John and Rodney had watched her go. He had followed because she needed him to; the weight of her guilt would send her crashing to the ground was he not there to support her.

Ronon watched Teyla walk around the sanded area, taking care to avoid the remains of their kill, what had been left by the forest's beasts. While he knew guilt and had felt its presence before he could not regret these deaths, Sheppard and McKay's absence would've been much harder to bear. A life of kill or be killed had been his for so long, and would never cease to be. Friends were few, enemies were everywhere and a man had to choose; do what felt right, or do what was right. Subtle nuance: what you thought right or what you should think right.

Teyla returned to her backpack. She took out the tea set she had cautiously wrapped and settled it on the grass, not far from the communal grave they had created. The leaves from the leather pouch were carefully measured and the hot water from the flask poured. The oil was set to burn, releasing its spicy scent, the one she hated to inhale. She sat down legs crossed, back straight and gestured for Ronon to join her. He sat beside her, not opposite as she had expected, and she handed him a small cup. He took it, cradling it between his hands, and waited.

"Wish that the Gapho people forgive us and find their place in eternity," was all she said. She did not lift the cup to her lips for some time, simply staring away, thinking.

Ronon watched her, and did as instructed. He wished the Gaphos a secure place in the continuing life. He did not think of their end further to avoid a flow of uncharitable thoughts through his mind. Instead, he imagined the beautiful people as they had been before crossing their paths. Long, lean, glowing. Good fighters, smart in their movements. He imagined them climbing the Honoured Steps, those of his mother's stories. It had been so long since he'd thought of what came after. So busy staying alive, he had no time to contemplate what might happen once he was no more. The Gaphos could climb the Honoured Steps; Ronon had taken their sins and would carry them until he died.

He wondered who would take his, since it was unlikely anyone from Sateda would witness his last moment, would welcome the sins and make them their own. Perhaps…perhaps he would tell Teyla, or Sheppard, of his people's belief and they would allow him a sinless death.

Teyla drank the bitter tea. It was tepid against her tongue, but she did not grimace. She savoured the ritual; asking for forgiveness, giving a part of her soul to gain it.

This gesture had always meant so much, brought peace to her. Not this time. She felt it a travesty. How could she ask forgiveness for what had been taken from this world? Precious life had been wasted; men…women…

No children. Had there been children? She could not remember. Perhaps they had escaped through the woods. There was no one here, the village looked as it had the last time they had come, but the huts could have been emptied. She had not ventured further than the centre ground. The thought of children forced to the forest in order to flee from her was heartbreaking.

She finished her tea and placed the set back in her bag. She shouldered it before following Ronon, returning to the lives that had been saved at the cost of many lost.

--OOOOO--

Where they sat, slightly removed, away from the scene, they could hear the scream, long and steady. It spooked the birds away.

To Sheppard, it sounded like anger, disgust, horror. It sounded like something too big that couldn't be contained anymore. He wished he could go there and stop the sound, not only to avoid hearing her pain, but also to prevent her from feeling it. He had always wanted to achieve the impossible.

McKay listened, the note never changed. One flat sound, sad and hurting. He knew Ronon was over there, but John and he had stayed behind; it was strange, how easy it seemed to be sitting here, back against a tree, listening to Teyla's innermost feelings, spilled out, riding on a note.

"We shouldn't be here," Rodney said, because he couldn't quite let go of his inhibitions. He still felt like an intruder, a voyeur. It seemed easy, but it wasn't.

"Should've gone with Ronon."

"No. I mean, we shouldn't have come at all."

Sheppard turned his head, leaving it resting against the bark. The dark glasses he wore hid his eyes, but McKay could guess what he would find there: some curiosity, an attentive gaze and a lot of concern.

Sheppard didn't speak. He waited. McKay was more than capable of conducting this conversation on his own.

"This is a little personal; she wouldn't want us listening to her, would she?"

Sigh. John had to answer this, make it all better for Rodney. It was what he did. "I don't think she minds. She might not want us beside her, but she still needs us around."

McKay was silent for a long time.

Sheppard listened and thought he should've done more, said more. He should've been up to the job, but he hadn't, just wanting to forget. If he didn't think about it, if he didn't face it, he could pretend it had never happened. It didn't work that way, because here it was, staring him in the face. If he walked about two hundred feet he'd see the centre ground, see the pyre, the empty, desolate village. Teyla, kneeling on the ground, her fingers digging in the sand. Screaming.

"Do you think…we were worth this?"

Damn. Rodney never did things in half. He was too honest, too eager to get to the truth of the matter. He wanted to know, wanted to see, to prove. Sometimes, like now, Sheppard hated that about him. What was he supposed to say? "Maybe."

Rodney huffed impatiently. "Can't you just answer?"

"I did."

"Maybe's not an answer."

"That's all I can give you."

Rodney pulled on the grass. A few blades were dislodged and he played with them, rolled them between his fingers, stroked his palm with the tip. "I need more."

"What for?" John didn't really know what Rodney wanted to hear. He'd say it, if he had some hint. He'd say what they all wanted to hear, just so it would go away. The reports, Teyla's shamed face as she recounted the events during the last debrief. Elizabeth's indecision over the correct way to handle this. He said he'd take care of it, but he didn't want to, didn't know how. He wished it would just go away, wished he had some sense of the correct behaviour. He wished he could do something for his team, for his.

"I just do," Rodney said, shrugging.

"It doesn't matter. Not really. What's done is done, you know that. We lived, they died."

"All of them."

"Yeah, but thinking about it isn't going to bring them back." Sheppard felt a sharp stab of disgust for himself as he spoke those words. Taking the easy way out, John? He ignored his own question.

Rodney looked at Sheppard, intently. "I don't understand. How do you do that? Not…not be human anymore, about things. You turn it all off, you go away and leave a soldier boy behind."

"That's what I've been trained to do." Sheppard had the knack of forgetting what didn't feel good, disregarding events that upset his ordered life. It happened, he put it away, and it stayed there. If it snuck back, there was always a distraction, or, as was the case in Pegasus, a crisis. It never truly worked, he always found a random memory lying around, but quickly scooped it up and put it back where it belonged without too much thought. He never spoke of it.

"You do things and say things, and I don't know who you are. You're telling me you've been trained to become somebody else at the first sign of trouble? That's not wholly comforting, Sheppard."

"I know, but I can't do my job if I think about it."

"What…" Rodney let the blades of grass fall back to their previous home as his arm swept out, gesturing in the direction of the centre ground. He breathed in deeply before continuing, "What you wanted me to do, you ordered, was in the not thinking category, right? You become stupid, that's what not thinking does. You can't do your job if you're stupid, and you didn't do your job, either. You're supposed to protect me, and you couldn't do it."

"I tried," Sheppard cried out in frustration. "If you'd only listened, just done what I told you to do, none of this would've happened, we wouldn't be here. Teyla wouldn't be grieving like that for a bunch of people who were going to kill us!" It wasn't McKay's fault, not really, but Sheppard couldn't stop the blame; it landed at his friend's feet by itself.

There was movement coming from John's left. McKay's arm brushed against his as the man stood.

"Asshole," McKay muttered, heading toward the jumper.

Sheppard jumped to his feet. "You're not so great yourself, Rodney McKay! You're an A-class asshole and conceited know-it-all! You think you could've done better? You want to lead this team? You're welcomed to it! Screw-ups and near-deaths and fucking emotional trauma; you want them? You want to go face Teyla and shoulder the responsibility of mass murder? You go and do it!"

"ENOUGH!"

Teyla walked out from the shadow of the trees, her chest lifting and falling with fast breaths. Ronon stood beside her, impassive, just watching, but Teyla had anger on her face. Waves of fury came from her, wrapped around Sheppard and suddenly he was ashamed. What had he been saying?

"Teyla I –" he began, only to be interrupted.

"I am not interested in your input at the moment, Colonel." She threw Sheppard's rank at him, saying it as if to feel the word in her mouth left a bitter after-taste. "I asked to return to this world in order to accept my guilt and what we have done here. I hoped I could…" She closed her eyes, breathed in deeply. Ronon's hand landed on the back of her neck, strong, supportive. "I believe the soul needs help, to go to the light. I came here to provide that assistance…and I have, I did. I believe the souls of the Gaphos can now reach a better existence."

She took a step, less furious, more saddened. "How can you come back to this, and still find it in you to fight?" She turned to Rodney. "After what we have done and what has been done to you, why are you using petty insults? I will never fully understand your ways, your reserve, and I accept that. It is not hard to look beyond our differences and see the similarities, but today it seems like the width of both our galaxies separates us. Their combined breadth has come between us, at a time when we would benefit from one another's understanding."

McKay hung his head. Sheppard turned his and looked away. He wanted to be there for Teyla, for his team, his family, but even after all this time, all they had seen together, he couldn't let go, unwilling to add to their worries.

"We live cruel lives. Death and violence is all around us, and the only way to counter their effects is to turn toward the good life offers us. We have each other, and I will give anything to keep you all. Anything." She turned, walked away, looking at something only she could see. "The Gaphos…we disposed of their lives to preserve yours. I cannot fault it; I would do it again…" Her hand went up to her cheek and she brushed a finger under her eye. "I would do it again," she whispered, "and I cannot be certain I agree with that. I cannot hold myself proudly knowing that."

Sheppard looked at McKay, stricken face, hurting, sad blue eyes. He looked at Ronon, a little lost but strong and proud. He returned his gaze to Teyla, who had turned toward them, eyes wet, cheeks moistened by fallen tears.

"I would do it again, and I do not want this bloodshed to drive us apart! I will overcome it, only if you are there to help me."

Sheppard felt his breath stutter, his chest tighten, his throat constrict. He stepped forward, looked in her eyes and whispered, "I should've been there–"

"You are here now," Teyla said. "We are all here now."

Sheppard let her guide him to the jumper, Ronon and McKay following quietly. The clanging of metal under heavy boots was welcoming. He wanted away from this place and the existential questions that might arise if he stayed. You live to forget, and if you do not, you might forget to live.

Sheppard took place in his seat, heard the others do the same. Each in the correct place, but something was not right. The jumper did not lift.

"John?" Teyla's gentle voice made him turn to her. Concern on her face, no trace of the earlier animosity, she looked at him as she always did. The sadness she carried had lessened a fraction, but not enough, never enough.

He shook his head, returned his thoughts to the jumper and his sight to the window before him. She stood from her seat, placed a hand on his shoulder.

"I can't fly," he said, before clearing his throat. "I can't fly with you looking over my shoulder, it makes me nervous." He tried for the carefree smile, but missed.

"You do not need to fly."

"We won't get home if I don't, and I don't want to hear Rodney moan if we walk."

"There is no need for us to do anything. We can sit; wait until we wish to leave."

"They'll be waiting for us back home." Sheppard put his hands to the controls and the jumper lit up.

Teyla took hold of his hands and placed them on his lap. "No, John. There is nothing outside this jumper, no one but us."

Silence penetrated the jumper and settled comfortably. Teyla returned to her seat, turned toward Ronon who smiled gently at her. Rodney was slouching in his seat, seemingly attempting to disappear.

Hurt. They were aching, all of them. Aching for the inhabitants of this world that were no more; aching for themselves; aching for each other.

Ronon bent forward, his arm coming to rest on the back of Teyla's seat. Rodney looked furtively their way. The expected pang of loneliness never came. He straightened in his seat. This, he might be able to do; after all, he successfully defied death on a weekly basis and faced his fears daily.

"Family," he whispered shyly.

Teyla and Ronon turned their gaze to him. Rodney was hiding in plain sight, eyes downcast, shoulders rounded, linked hands pressed between his knees.

Sheppard turned in his seat, curious. The look on Rodney's face gave him pause. A little bit of fear, a little bit of vulnerability, but a lot of defiance. What the body language said, the face contradicted. Conflict. Sheppard knew that look; it meant Rodney was doing something he did not want to do, was not sure he could do, but would certainly try his best.

"We're family. Good or bad, we do it together. I'm not fully competent in that domain; family was never anything like that to me, but that's what you said, John. Good or bad. This is…bad, very bad. I can't think about it, I don't understand how we came to this. All I know are facts. That's simple, and facts are we're alive and we're together. I don't see how we can go further. We can regret what happened, or the way it happened, but we can't…change it."

"No. We cannot," Teyla agreed.

"I wouldn't take it back." Ronon sat back in his seat and crossed his arms. He knew it wasn't right, but it was his truth.

Sheppard's fingers dug in his knees. He wanted to take it back, make it his choice, but couldn't. He hadn't been able to protect them, had failed at his job, as he was failing at this, whatever it was. He needed to take a stand, make them understand. "Off-world; we were on a mission, it was my responsibility. When we're out, I'm in charge." He was in turmoil, but couldn't allow it. He needed to be the leader, never doubt, always move forward and take responsibility for his command. Away, it all needed to be put away.

"We saw how well that turned out." Rodney's voice was too gentle for words to sting.

But they still did. Sheppard turned to him. "What else was I supposed to do?"

"I don't know, but not that."

"I had no choice! There wasn't a good and a bad there, ok? There was just bad on bad on bad. I was just trying to keep you safe! I was just trying…" He broke off, sending his gaze outside, before admitting softly, "…to keep you all safe."

"We made mistakes," Ronon offered.

Sheppard ran a hand through his hair and let out a mirthless laugh. "Yeah, you can say that again."

"We made mistakes," Ronon repeated.

Teyla was surprised, that is how she explained the laugh. She tried to smother it, but it broke free. The memories of the past few weeks retreated slightly. The debriefing, Elizabeth's horror each time she heard the events of the rescue mission. The men that had come to the planet, too young, too new, afraid of losing those who many said were the heart and soul of the city. The pending evaluation from Earth, their opinion on the way to handle the situation. Death, destruction; people that were no more fell away from the forefront of Teyla's mind. For one short moment, Teyla felt the veil of shame lift. Her laughter, light and bright, filled the jumper.

Ronon followed in her path, as he always would. Rodney was not far behind, shaking his head but not denying himself this moment.

John looked at them all, a smile lifting the corners of his mouth. "How about a spin around the planet? We don't have to go home just yet." He couldn't help them, but he could do this. Take them up and away into the bright blue sky, where they could be free and safe until it was time to go back down.

Good or bad, they did it together, and maybe someday the good would take away some of the sting the bad left behind.

Fini! I hope…

(Much thanks to those who nudged. I hope there will always be someone to point at my, let's say, lesser ideas. One can only improve. :))