Surprisingly enough, this is where Angela reads she is the greatest!

Notes: This is the evil spawn of all chapters. Annoying thing, die! Die beast! Die! Oh...sorry...right, well, in regards to Elizabeth; her actions here might not be in accordance with what she would ultimately choose to do, but I find it hard to tell what motivates her, so...if you disagree, and can shed some light on that character, I'd be grateful! Thanks for reading and commenting :) It is much appreciated!

Release

They dragged Rodney through the gate with the last ounce of their strength. Even pride couldn't keep them from collapsing to the ground alongside the unconscious man. Carson and his medical team were already swooping down on them, checking breathing and pulse and moving them in a ballet of gurneys, weakened bodies and strong, focused medical personnel.

Elizabeth had let relief flood her when she saw Ronon walk through the gate and silently thanked anyone who cared to listen. However, when the gate shut down and her eyes scanned the area immediately before it, her body froze, her breath itched and she silently cursed anyone who cared to listen. She rushed down the steps, unintentionally getting in the way of the medical team.

"Colonel Sheppard?"

Ronon attempted to sit up but was none too gently pushed back. He glared at the tiny nurse who, to her credit, glared back. He gave up the fight, this time, as Elizabeth came to stand beside him. "He stayed. Send teams, he's probably still alive."

"I can't do that." She wanted to but couldn't risk being at war with these people over one man. No matter who it might be.

"Do it!" He would not accept her answer. They had to send someone and get Sheppard the hell out of there! What good had it done to save him once to have him end up in the same position!

"We're no match for them."

"We know where he is, we'll show you!"

Carson let out a small huff. "You'll not be going anywhere, I can assure you!"

"Ronon, we cannot risk so many lives." It wasn't something Teyla liked to consider. Was it reasonable to value John's life above the others that could be lost were they to force his removal from the Sancta?

Reason, she had lost it over the last few days and she was glad that it was slowly creeping back, simply by being on known territory.

"Sheppard!" Ronon didn't need to say anymore. His name said everything; it would be interpreted differently by everyone that had heard it, but they would surely realise it was unacceptable that he be left behind! Ronon wondered if they were in some sort of…what had McKay said…a…time loop. History could simply be repeating itself over and over. But, no, not a time loop since it was not exactly the same situation. It might feel just as terrible to lose Sheppard, but these were completely different circumstances.

"We are aware of whom we have lost, but there is nothing to be done. You saw how well they can fight!"

The conversation was cut short by Carson who, having assured himself they would survive to see the infirmary, had moved to Rodney. The nurses had been busy, taking his pulse and arranging him on a gurney but he had yet to wake, despite their efforts. "What's happened to him?"

"He had not eaten in quite some time. He collapsed only minutes ago."

"Let's get them to the infirmary, glucose drip."

They saw only a blur of ceiling as they were rushed through the fair city, Elizabeth trailing behind.

Once they were settled, Elizabeth took a moment to speak with them, to be informed of the events preceding their return.

"When we arrived, he was in the…Sancta I believe is the name of the device. He was bleeding quite profusely and –" Teyla was interrupted by Elizabeth's lifted hand.

"I know, Lokas was here and explained. What I need to know is why did they take Sheppard? I'm glad you were freed Ronon but…"

"Volunteered."

"What?"

Raising an eyebrow at Ronon as he sank gratefully on the bed, Teyla took it upon herself to answer. She did not miss Elizabeth's surprise, though she was unsure whether it was from Ronon's comment or his action. He never allowed himself to allude to even one iota of limitation and yet, there he was, lying back and allowing a nurse to cover him and generally do her job. Returning her gaze to Elizabeth, Teyla continued relating the earlier happenings. "He asked Lokas if he could take Ronon's place. The Colonel has been greatly affected by the knowledge he is a carrier. He…seems to think his life is of no value…"

"Told McKay he was already dead."

"He did…he was not quite…uh…"

"Sane."

"In a way, yes…" It was correct; Sheppard had remained the same in actions but it had been obvious that his thoughts were those of a man who had lost certain faculties.

Seeing Teyla's eyes flutter, Elizabeth decided that this conversation could wait until they had slept. Evidently, Carson entertained the same thoughts, for he was at her side, where she stood between the beds, and placed a hand on her shoulder.

"They need rest, Elizabeth."

She looked at him, his eyes filled with understanding and she knew if she asked to stay, he would allow it. They'd lost them or thought they had, so many times. She didn't ask, only nodded and smiled at Teyla and Ronon, the latter whom had already succumbed to Hypnos' insistence, and moved to Rodney's bedside.

"How is he?"

"He'll be fine, his blood sugar was low, but it was exhaustion that took him under. They've had a rough time of it, these last days." Carson let his sight wander from one patient to the next. The two men were sleeping soundly and Teyla was only minutes from slumber herself. He sighed. So many trials and tribulations for such kind people. Oh, sometimes they didn't look it, but each one of them had a good heart, a good head.

"That they have. Contact me if anything changes. I'll need to speak to them about…" She didn't know how to quantify this. She needed time to think; Sheppard was gone. How could a man die, or appear to, so often and never let the resulting feelings change. The same unbearably tight chest, the same thoughts shouting at her that he was lost, the same overpowering need to lock herself in her room and cry enough tears to submerge the city once more.

"You'll be the first to know."

They stood a moment, side by side, watching Rodney's chest rise and fall in reassuring breathing. Carson needlessly arranged his blanket then pressed a hand to Elizabeth's upper arm before heading to his office. Elizabeth followed suit, reintegrating her role as leader. She made it to her office before her legs gave out and she sank in the chair facing her desk. She took a moment to collect herself but couldn't allow her mind to delve on the miserable past. Resolutely, she stood, walked around the desk and sat in her chair. Attempting to lull her heart, she worked past the witching hour.

In the semi-darkness of the infirmary, Ronon found sleep eluded him. He'd had what might be characterised as a nap earlier, slept just enough for his body to crave more. He rubbed a hand over his face and turned to the left. Teyla's eyes were fixed on him and she smiled. He sent a grin her way because, yes, they were home. Regardless of what had happened and of the loss that left a gaping hole in their lives, they were home, together.

"Sleep?" He didn't like words anymore, had found they were more effective than weapons; left no lasting visible mark but the wounds were deepest.

"Yes, you?"

"I did."

They fell silent for a moment, both unsure of what should be said, what could be said. Teyla decided to take the plunge, risk it all. John was gone and Rodney had withdrawn from them completely, keeping his eyes resolutely shut, though they knew he was awake. There was only Ronon left and she would rather try to mend bridges with him and fail than let this friendship decay.

"How are you?" Weak question if there ever was, but one had to test the waters. She winced at the saying John had explained in the days when Aiden had been here, still a lovely young man; innocent yet deadly.

"Good."

"Are you?" He was obviously lying and Teyla couldn't see the point in letting him. They were past hiding now. It had been their mistake, none of them wanting to be the one to break, to allow the cracks to show. Foolish, they'd been so foolish. If only she had reached out to them. John still wouldn't be here with them, but Rodney would…

"No." He wasn't trying to be difficult. He knew what she was doing but was not ready to talk about this. Sheppard had died for him! A life for a life. He knew it had been wrong, had heard it in McKay's voice as he pleaded, had seen it in Elizabeth's face. They were not sorry he had lived, but that Sheppard had died; the Colonel was the soul of this city. Ronon let out a long, deep breath. The soul of the city was scattered across the universe by now. He wondered if Atlantis would know that he child was gone, if she would resent them as he did. They had done nothing to prevent this.

"Neither am I."

"Give it time." Ronon almost winced from voicing such worthless advice.

"We have not the choice to do otherwise." It amazed her how she could be so calm. She felt the wave of emotions floating through her; the anger, the horror, the despair and the devastating misery. They were just quiet, most likely lulled by the sedative the lovely doctor had administered. She couldn't help the wistful sigh that escaped; Atlantis and her people had remained the same while they were away, but their world had changed.

"Are you going home?" The mainland, away from this place, away from the hopelessness he felt. Staying in Atlantis would only heighten Sheppard's absence. They saw each other frequently during the day, whether it be training, meeting for a meal or any inane activity with which to occupy their time.

"Soon, I hope." She wondered if he would ask to join her or leave his desire unspoken. Theirs was a precarious position; unease had settled, like a barrier between them.

"Beckett should let us go soon, nothing more he can do."

Ah, he wouldn't ask. "Would you like to accompany me?"

"To the mainland?"

"Yes. I believe it would be beneficial for us both."

They looked at each other, for a thought-filled second and Ronon nodded. "You might be right."

The rustle of cloth made them both turn their head to the third occupied bed. Rodney was slowly swinging his legs on the left side of the bed, letting his feet rest against the ground.

"Rodney?" Worry tinted Teyla's voice. Seeing the scientist attempt to get up, swaying as he was, made her want to call out to the nurse on duty.

"Don't you say a word." McKay wasn't even looking in their direction; he'd simply raised a hand and pointed a finger at her.

The accusatory finger did not deter her from voicing her opinion. He was in no shape to be standing and yet he did, keeping a hand on the bed as he made his way to its foot. "I don't think you should –"

"In case you missed it earlier, I'll repeat myself. I. Don't. Care. What. You. Think."

The monotonous tone and failure to look at her as he spoke was a clear indicator of his state of mind. She and Ronon would be able to progress, to move on from this intensely difficult time, but Rodney... She feared she had undone their friendship with one fist. She understood him better after all they had been through, after listening to him speak to John, that night. It was useless knowledge if he refused to at least try to mend their relationship.

"McKay! Go back to bed!" Familiarity, tried and true methods couldn't fail them, could they?

"Piss off." Rodney was sweating heavily, the exertion from attempting to stay upright playing tricks on his body. He would get out of here, no matter what. Couldn't stand it anymore, being stuck with these two idiots. He wanted to be alone. Solitude was a haven, always had been. It was so hard to come by here that he had gotten used to being surrounded, so rarely left truly alone for any length of time. He had come to enjoy company; hated it now. To have Teyla and Ronon's presence forced upon him continually had certainly soured the whole concept.

Right foot. Left foot. Right foot. Left foot. Each one slid forward, barely lifting off the floor. He reached the door and it parted noiselessly. Home free! Rodney grabbed the doorway and pulled himself out of the room; made his way through the corridor leaning against the wall to stay upright. Reaching the transporter without encountering anyone, he breathed a sigh of relief.

Resting his head against the wall, he chose his destination.

"Gotta love these things." He patted the closed door affectionately. Science was his true love; Ancient technology his mistress. He exited slowly, still using the wall as a guide, his eyes closing of their own volition. He was tired, bone deep tired, but he hadn't been able to stand another minute spent with people! People! Urgh! They only brought trouble! Rodney McKay neither wanted nor needed anyone. He enjoyed his own company tremendously, thank you very much.

"Much simpler. I know me. Just me and my city, right beautiful?" Once again, he laid a caressing hand on the one what would never cease to amaze. He continued on his trek, the shuffle of his feet and the rustle of the ugly scrubs the only sounds he heard. Carson did it on purpose; any lengthy visit in the infirmary got him in the pea green scrubs. It amused the physician to be able to spite him like this, knowing Rodney despised the green coloured ones. He'd never said why and Carson continued to hand them over with a gleam in his eyes. Bad memories were just that, memories, and despite it all he understood Carson's motif; a complaining Rodney was a living one. He'd only woken up once in blue scrubs; after his stint in a sunken puddle jumper. He didn't care for blue scrubs much anymore, nor for white ones; scrubs were generally bad.

The corridors were completely deserted, as expected. No power was routed to this section but Rodney knew it well; knew the way to his hideout by heart, he'd been there much too often. His sanctuary, where he found a reprieve from life, or rather from death.

"Too many. Too many." The litany started as he neared what he thought had been a common room. Tall windows stretched from the floor to the ceiling; a padded area on the floor before them. He could lay, perpendicular to the windows and, tilting his head back slightly, see the sky and lose himself in the names, the faces, the people he had lost; before Atlantis and during the past two years.

He lowered himself slowly to sit, his back to the window, then lowered further, his head bumping slightly on the wall. He shimmied down to find a comfortable position. Once that was accomplished, he raised his sight to the heavens.

He thought of faces and voices he would never see or hear again. He looked at the sky and provided a name for a constellation. This one was officially known as A01, but would be Sheppard, to him. It seemed fitting, it was the centre one, the one upon which they had based their system. Rodney took in the others he had named, running the back of his hand over his eyes. He must've been more tired than he thought, his vision was blurring. He continued to lie on his back, admiring the night sky.

When they came, he was startled. One escaped him. A harsh exhalation, a pitiful sound. He fought, breathed in deeply and hoped they would go away.

They didn't

Pain-filled drops of salty fluid fell from his tightly shut eyes. Grief was translated to physical pain and he recoiled on himself trying to keep it at bay. His stomach contracted, his chest tightened, his nose leaked, his eyes drowned in watery manifestation of the sorrow he felt. He had to turn over, fearing he would choke on the sobs he tried so hard to contain. His arms, crossed on the floor, pillowed his chin and he lay on his stomach as it contracted with the effort of holding on to control. He watched the starry sky and the wavy ocean and remembered his dead.

When it had passed, the well had dried and memories had returned to their hiding place, he spoke. "Damn you, Sheppard." Exhaustion besieged him and he submitted to slumber with a bitter and heavy heart.