Sheppard woke to the soft lights of Atlantis, the wounds in his side and thigh a dull ache. His head was pounding and he was feeling sick to his stomach. The familiar confusion was there, but this time, he pushed it aside. The mission came first.

He kept his eyes closed, listening for movement. Moving subtly, he found restraints at his wrists and ankles, but this time they weren't quite as tight as before.

Cracking his eyes open and peering through the lashes he saw no one nearby and deftly twisted his left wrist, folding the thumb and smoothly popping it out of place to slide the hand out from the cuff. Reaching over and unfastening the cuff on the other side, he popped the thumb back into place, barely aware of the pain as he carefully sat up and unfastened the cuffs at his ankles. His stomach roiled but he swallowed, keeping the bile down and focused on the pounding in his head instead.

He was alone behind the privacy curtain, but he knew as soon as he detached the pulse monitor and anything else sticking to his skin the alarms would blare. Thinking carefully, he mapped out his plan, then moved, pushing the pain and confusion in his head away. He had heard McKay say that the Stargate was surely activated by now and he had a mission to carry out.

The blinking and beeping machines alerted the doctor and orderlies, but Sheppard was already flying through the infirmary, heading to the doors and out into the hall beyond. He barely felt the twinge in his thigh as a rush of adrenaline flowed through his body. He heard an angry shout from Ronon behind him.

"Too slow, big guy," Sheppard grinned.

In the hallway he came across two Marines. They hesitated when they saw him.

He did not hesitate.

Swiftly disarming and knocking the men out, Sheppard kept moving, surprising himself at how easy it had been. A quick and carefully placed blow to the temple of one man and a forearm wrapped around the throat of the other to cut off the oxygen flow and they were down in less than a minute.

As he entered the transporter, he saw Ronon limping down the hall, blaster raised. He gave the Satedan a salute as the doors closed. A moment later, they opened on the 'gate room.

There had barely been enough time between his escape and emergence into the control room for those manning the 'gate to react. He used every second to his advantage, moving swiftly through the control room and knocking out personnel on his way to the controls for the 'gate.

The Marines stationed at the bottom of the stairs were barreling up towards him when he slammed in the address he needed. He met them head-on, wrenching a P-90 out of the nearest man's grasp and using it like a baseball bat, swinging it into the man's head and then flipping it around to aim at the man behind him. The Marine froze and slowly placed his gun on a nearby console, putting up his hands.

"Turn around, Sergeant," Sheppard ordered.

"I can't do that, Sir."

Sheppard aimed the gun at his fallen comrade. "Turn around or I shoot him."

Slowly, the man turned, and Sheppard slammed the butt of the gun into the back of the man's head, knocking him to the ground. He didn't want to kill anyone after all, but they didn't need to know that. It was always the last resort.

Discarding the P-90, he started for the stairs and heard the transporter doors open behind him.

"Freeze, Sheppard!" Ronon's voice boomed across the control room.

Sheppard didn't freeze.

Racing for the stairs he leapt down, feeling the numbing blast of Ronon's gun catch him squarely in the back. As before, it didn't even slow him down. He hit the bottom stair as another blast caught him, and he stumbled, the numbness spreading through his body.

"Sheppard!" Ronon roared.

The event horizon was just there. Just a few more meters.

But the third blast took him to his knees. It took great effort for him to press forward, trying to drag himself to his feet. The pounding in his head suddenly returned. The confusion suddenly began to overwhelm him. The mission was all that mattered. Or was it home that mattered?

The fourth blast left him numb and nearly senseless, and he collapsed, hand outstretched. Two more meters and the confusion could be taken away.

The fifth blast sent him into dark oblivion.

Ronon stood over Sheppard's unconscious body as the event horizon collapsed, keeping his blaster on the man — although this time he was sure Sheppard was out cold. The Colonel's hand was outstretched, like he had tried with every part of his being to get to the open 'gate and beyond to wherever he had dialed.

Woolsey, McKay, and Teyla stood over Zelenka who was furiously typing on a control panel.

"I have the address," Zelenka said, breathlessly. "I can't believe it worked. We can deactivate the 'gate now."

"I can be a good actor when I want to be," McKay protested. "I'm just glad Sheppard overheard us in the infirmary so we didn't have to leave the 'gate activated any longer."

"Yes, it's a shame that the computers storing the addresses were destroyed in the initial attack," Woolsey mourned. "But now? Where did he want to go?"

Zelenka frowned. "It isn't in our database."

"What does that mean?" Teyla asked.

"It means the Ancients didn't explore that planet, or it's something else entirely," Zelenka explained. "We have a theory that the Ancients erased some addresses for a reason. Perhaps a sinister one."

Woolsey looked grimly down on Ronon and Sheppard. "Sinister or not, we're going to have to figure out why the Colonel so desperately wanted to go there."

Ronon nudged Sheppard in the side with his boot and the man began to stir. "Dammit," he cursed softly, then called up to the control room, "Someone have some restraints? He's waking up."

A couple of Marines marched forward, cuffs in hand. Ronon helped them twist Sheppard's arms behind his back and fasten the restraints as the Colonel groggily lifted his head, blinking in confusion as the Marines hauled him to his knees in front of the Satedan.

"Ronon?"

"Sheppard."

Sheppard looked around, then, upon realizing where he was, cursed. He should have known his escape had been too easy.

"Where were you going?" Ronon demanded.

Sheppard glared at Ronon. "Home."

Perplexed, Ronon glanced up at the control room where Teyla, Woolsey, and Zelenka were looking down in concern.

"Atlantis is home," Ronon retorted.

Wincing as the Marines pulled him to his feet, Sheppard said, "Not anymore."

"Take him back to his holding cell," Woolsey commanded. "I don't want him escaping again."

On hearing that, Sheppard began to struggle, pulling back even as the Marines hauled him forward. So Ronon shot him a couple of times for good measure.

Looking up at the balcony to see Woolsey's disapproving look, Ronon shrugged, then followed the Marines. Sheppard was much easier to handle when he was unconscious.