Ode to Angela: You are magnificent, all shall bow down when faced with such an intellect...(TBC)

Notes: You guys are absolutely fantastic! Only a few more chapters to go, unless I go all out for the lengthy resolution :)

Division

The room fell silent if only for Teyla's whispered inquiries regarding Ronon's condition. He would have quite the headache but as he was conscious, she was not excessively worried. She eyed Rodney warily. The tallest guard, standing by the door, was the one to allow sound back in the room.

"We must accompany you to the Ring. Please, follow."

They moved as one; the guards, Teyla, Ronon. Only Rodney seemed to be oblivious to his surroundings. Teyla put a hand on his arm and he looked down before raising his sight to her. Upon recognising who was standing so close to him, he frowned and wrenched away from her touch. She supposed she had deserved it but it broke her to see that they still stood on opposite side of a too wide river. With John gone, it was doubtful they would cross it.

They walked in heavy silence, Teyla positioning herself behind Ronon as to assure herself the guards were careful with their priceless load. Not completely incognisant, he realised what was happening, realised that, once more, they left without Sheppard. Left him in the hands of these people, subjected to a horrible process. Ronon ached to go, to run and get him away from here, but he couldn't; he could hardly walk.

Of course, in this forsaken galaxy, things could only go from bad to worst and so it is that they found themselves with an unconscious Rodney. He had felt it coming, felt his heart lose its constant rhythm, felt his brain slow to a sluggish operation, his hands shake, his brow moisten with sweat. He had waited for it, unable to face the world. John was dead and he'd rather face a medical problem than grief. He couldn't handle it. Had to wait until he was alone to allow his feelings to escape his control. Anger couldn't help him this time, his body had to shutdown; he had to flee this sense of utter despair.

"RODNEY!" Teyla hurried to his side, hopeful that he had simply stumbled and lacked the strength to rise. Finding it wasn't the case, she attempted to wake him by gently tapping his cheek, then more forcibly and lastly by shaking him, letting his head thump roughly against the ground. Ronon, aided by the guards, reached them and made an effort to speak through the haze of his thoughts.

"Teyla…stop…hurting him…"

She stopped after a few seconds and turned pleading eyes to the guards. "Please, we must hurry. He needs immediate medical attention. Please, take him and precede us to the gate."

Sensing the urgency, two guards hoisted Rodney up and started for the gate at a run. The remaining guards did the same albeit more slowly as Ronon's weight was considerable.

Teyla stayed between the two groups, wishing that this day would not bring more loss upon them.

Interestingly enough, walking away at a perfect 90º angle from Teyla's position, John Sheppard worried about them, amongst other things, least of which was the severance that would shortly occur. He hoped they would get to the gate safely. Once there, they would be tended to; Carson was a gifted doctor, he'd fix them up in a minute. Rodney would be moody of course, disputing the treatments, but he would do as he was told. A gentle voice but a strong hand was Carson's way. John allowed himself a chuckle as the scene played out in his head. The exasperation from both men, the friendly baiting… provided Rodney was conscious. He had been incredibly pale and John couldn't help but think he should've requested food for them before leaving. He'd never taken the man's claims of hypoglycaemia seriously until he'd had the unfortunate experience to see him in the throes of a reaction, not once, but twice. The second and most distressing time had been on a mission, where Rodney had grown increasingly discombobulated, to they're great surprise. Ford had still been with them at the time and it was thanks to him that they had thought to feed the scientist. Poor man had been babbling worst than ever…

John sighed. Ford. God! He kept losing his people! He was always there, putting others in danger, unable to save anyone. This time, they would be safe from him. He looked up and saw the Sancta in the far distance. Lokas walked a few steps ahead of him in what appeared to be amicable conversation with the guard, Jusyta who had thrown the body over his shoulder. How strange was that? Ah, he supposed it was only mildly intriguing when you were about to have your soul sucked out of you, and seriously, what was it about this place! What was up with all that sucking the life out of people! Couldn't they leave it alone! He sighed again. This hurt, tremendously. No matter what doubt he harboured about his life and self, he wanted to be going home with his team. It always came back to them. His people.

"Damn it!" He angrily wiped his eyes, where moisture was steadfastly forming dreaded tears. He was not going to cry over this! Yes, he'd been having a hard time lately but it was no reason to cry. Hadn't he been on the edge of death only a few days earlier? He hadn't cried then had he! No! No reason to do so now!

"Stop it!" Muttering under his breath to the lump in his throat wasn't helping. He wished he'd died without seeing them again. He could've held to the thought that they were nicely ensconced in Atlantis' safety, happily going on with their lives. Now he knew better; they were fighting, breaking apart. He'd managed to destroy the bond they had formed. It was true, he was useless! He should've died in the Sancta, should've never allowed them to take him with them. He'd been so happy though, so damn delighted that they'd come!

"What the hell is wrong with you John? Snap out of it!" What was wrong with him! He lifted a hand to his neck and scratched absently, concentrating on this new and bizarre behaviour he exhibited. He lifted his chin and squared his shoulder in an effort to hide from himself. There was no one watching so it made perfect sense that this was for his benefit. He supposed he'd already done the life evaluation activity; therefore, he should entertain vacuousness, like the good little mechanical soldier he was meant to be. G.I. John!

He let out a self-derisory snort. Yet another thing he had messed up. Unable to take orders, headstrong and convinced he was right; he did what he had to do regardless of his superior's opinions. Even Elizabeth, whom he held in the highest respect, had needed to reprimand him repeatedly; he never learned. Unfit for his own life, on the path to death once more.

He made a conscious effort to halt his thought process. He needed to forget about everything and wait for the moment when he truly wouldn't have to remember anything, ever again. He hoped the afterlife was a fantasy, he could settle for a deep, dark, depressing void. Nothing to his nothingness, releasing him from these disturbing ideas. No thoughts; refreshing concept. No worries nor doubts; no sadness nor fear; no pressure.

"Jusyta, is you could deposit the body here and leave us?" They had reached the Sancta, and Lokas was gesturing to the guard.

"Am I not meant to stay, Sir?" Jusyta wasn't sure about Lokas' order; the severance could be a long and tiresome process. He'd been his guard for many years and had seen the signs of fast approaching death in the man he looked to as a father. Wary of leaving him, he had defied his training and voiced his opinion.

Lokas smiled at the young man. He was a good soul, made to train for violence and conflict, though they rarely appeared on this world. "I assure you, Jusyta, we will be safe here. I will come find you near the edge of the city once it is done. Please, leave us, I am sure you can understand the importance this event holds for me."

Jusyta nodded and turned to leave. He understood; the man who stood near the central Sancta was the reason Lady Oblee had died, indirectly of course but the reason nonetheless. He hadn't known Banee, but was told the resemblance was uncanny.

Standing still, Lokas watched him leave until he disappeared through the woods, toward the city. Suddenly, he became a whirl of motion. Gesturing to John, he invited him to come forth. "Help me. We must put the body in the Sancta. Quickly, quickly!"

"The body? This one?" John pointed to his corpse, strangely unaffected by the terminology. That's all he'd ever been, wasn't it? A body, just a body carrying someone else's soul.

"Yes! Unless there is another…I see only one body here. Quickly!" He was divesting it of his clothes.

"Hey! What are you doing!" He had been curious to find out what he might've looked like to the women he had known, but hadn't really wanted to see it!

"As you are aware, we cannot allow anything but life in the Sancta! The veil would otherwise never form!"

Considering demanding an explanation, John decided to wait as the man did look rather distressed. He moved forward and took hold of his, the legs, and realised that they were rather skinny. He wished Rodney was here so he could apologise; he was truly a skinny bastard.

At Lokas' insistence, they moved the body to the Sancta. Sheppard watched as the clear material moulded itself to the cadaver. A thought, pernicious things, marched to the forefront of his mind and he was hard-pressed to stop himself from blurting it out. "If the veil doesn't form with clothes, how come my team were in it fully dressed?"

"Oh…that is the doing of my sister Oblee. She had a fair amount of time to understand the workings of the Sancta and was able to manipulate it at will." The older man turned to John. "I am truly sorry for what you have been made to suffer. She was not well…"

"Yeah, well, too late now."

Lokas eyed him intensely before smiling softly. "Yes, perhaps it is, though we have a few moments to spare. Are there any interrogations you have regarding the severance?"

John shrugged and shook his head. "I'd rather not know." He lowered himself to the ground, his living body needing the respite. Conclusion Doctor Sheppard; you are one damaged individual.

The two men fell silent, lost in regrets.