A/N: Thanks again to all of you who read this story and reviewed. I'm sorry you had to wait for this last chapter, but I wanted to really finish what I had started. Hope you enjoy the conclusion. I split it up in two parts, but will post both today.
Faint noises and a vaguely familiar smell brought Sheppard back to the land of the living. It took a moment for the noises to become discernable. There were hushed voices and a regular beeping sound next to his left ear. With some difficulty he managed to pry his eyes open to confirm what he'd already suspected. He was in the infirmary. A small groan escaped his throat.
The smiling face of one of the nurses appeared in his line of sight, just before his eyelids closed again on their own volition.
"Colonel Sheppard? Are you awake?" she asked.
"Mmmhh," he mumbled, finding it hard to get out more than that sound.
"That's great. I'll get Doctor Beckett."
Sheppard imagined she smiled again. But before he'd opened his eyes enough to check, she'd vanished. He fought hard to stay conscious, but he found himself drifting off again. Something was nagging in the back of his mind, something important. But he couldn't quite grasp it and his whole body felt so heavy and lethargic that he didn't really care. He had no idea how much time passed after the nurse had left him.
He noticed that save for the steady beeping next to him, the infirmary was eerily quiet. Right now, he seemed to be the only patient. That wasn't all that surprising since he'd ordered the evacuation of Atlantis.
Eventually, he heard steps approach.
"How are ye doin', lad?" a male voice with a thick Scottish brogue asked.
"C'sn?" Sheppard's tongue was stuck to the roof of his mouth.
He opened his eyes once more and saw the smiling face of Atlantis' Chief Medical Officer. Beckett seemed to be reading his mind, because he was already picking up a glass with a straw and held it out to him. Sheppard managed a smile and carefully took a sip. He was beginning to feel better already. Vaguely, he remembered what had gotten him here.
"The damn chair zapped me again, didn't it?" he asked. "How long was I out this time?"
Beckett nodded. "Not as long as the last time. About ten hours."
As if someone had suddenly switched on a light bulb, everything returned to Sheppard with bright clarity. He jolted up, feeling a strange tug at his left arm. Looking toward it, he found that he'd ended up with yet another i.v. Just great!
Sheppard winced and put his arm down again. "Where are the Wraith ships now? Do we still have time? Did we get the ZPMs?"
"Yes, thanks to you," Beckett replied. "According to Dr. McKay we should have a few hours left. That's the last I heard, anyway. You should get some more rest while ye still can."
Sheppard let out a breath he didn't realize he'd been holding. He looked at Beckett, another question on his lips. Part of him wanted to know how he'd gotten back to Atlantis, though in truth he dreaded the answer. He really didn't want to imagine that Ronon had likely carried him hunched over his shoulder like a sack of potatoes.
As if Beckett was able to read minds, he winked at the Colonel. "Don't ye worry, lad. We managed to convince Lorne to send a jumper through the gate to get ye back."
"That's… that's good," Sheppard muttered quietly, a bit embarrassed that Beckett was able to read him so easily.
A sympathetic smile twitched in one corner of the doctor's mouth. "I figured you'd been through enough humiliation for one day."
"You can say that again," Sheppard growled, not able to quite face the doctor.
He vividly remembered the second time Mathar had attacked him. How she'd touched him right before Beckett's eyes. Sheppard tried to push those thoughts away and lock them up firmly in a corner of his mind. He didn't want to think about what might have happened to him if Teyla and the others hadn't come in time.
"Thank you," Sheppard said quietly.
"Ye're welcome." Beckett patted him on his shoulder and turned to leave.
"Where are Ronon, Teyla and McKay?" Sheppard asked. "Where is Tarhan?"
Beckett stopped his tracks and returned to the Colonel. "McKay is setting up the chair with the two ZPMs while Tarhan keeps an eye on him." A brief smile flashed across his face. "After everything that happened, Ronon and Teyla keep a very close eye on Tarhan. It's really hard to tell who of the two is more scary at the moment, Ronon or Teyla."
Sheppard felt a strange mix of discomfort and satisfaction. He grimaced and averted his gaze. The doctor once more patted his shoulder, before he left to give Sheppard some much needed space. For a moment, the Colonel looked after him. Then he leaned back and rested his head against the pillow. It occurred to him that he hadn't asked when he could get out of the infirmary. He was already opening his mouth to call for Beckett, when he thought better of it.
Now that he was awake again, he realized that his stomach growled more vigorously than ever. And he'd have preferred to spend some time in his quarters.
But some part of him dreaded leaving the infirmary and running into McKay, Teyla, Ronon or Elizabeth – all the people he'd rather not face until he'd managed to put a firm lid on all those feelings that had been running through him in the past few hours. The real nightmare was over, but he knew that he'd be forced to relive some of it during the nights to come. But considering that he was going to face the Wraith sometime soon, a couple of nightmares were a rather small price to pay if they managed to survive.
Sheppard allowed himself to drift off for a while. Like Beckett had said, he needed as much rest as he could get if he wanted to win a fight against the Wraith. He was startled awake, when he heard someone next to him.
Dr. Weir was carrying a tray of food and looked at him rather sheepishly. "I'm sorry. Carson told me you were awake."
"Now, I am." Sheppard said bluntly.
"I didn't mean to wake you," she muttered. "I figured you were probably hungry. No one has seen you eat anything in the mess hall the day before yesterday."
Sheppard frowned. Had it really just been two days ago when he'd fallen out of his bed, entangled in his sheets? That seemed to have happened in another life.
"I can come back later, if you want to sleep some more," Dr. Weir offered.
"No, it's okay, I could eat." He sat up and forced a smile on his face.
Inwardly, he winced. Never before had talking to her felt so awkward. There seemed to be an invisible wall between them, one that he'd drawn up. He was awfully aware of that. And for the moment, he felt unable to lower it again and let her get within arm's reach.
Dr. Weir put the tray down next to his bed. Automatically, Sheppard reached out and grabbed a sandwich. He unwrapped it and started to eat. She watched him, a myriad of emotions flashing across her face.
Sheppard felt a lump in his throat, the sandwich suddenly tasting stale as he wondered how much she already knew about what had transpired on MX-650. From the way she looked at him, it was quite obvious that she wanted him to talk to her. He set his jaw firmly, willing her to understand that he would rather be left alone. And once or twice, her muscles tensed in such a way that he thought she'd gotten his message and would walk away. She didn't, though.
"John." Her voice was soft. "I'm sorry. I should have paid more attention to your concerns."
"Yeah, you should have." He couldn't quite meet her eyes, but his gaze surreptitiously darted toward her every so often.
She didn't reply. A heavy silence settled between them. Sheppard could see pain in her eyes. It mirrored her expression when he'd stepped out of the jumper after he'd been rescued from Koyla, shortly before she'd realized that he wasn't going to die of old age anytime soon. It tore at his heart to see her stricken like that. His anger dissolved.
"Look, it wasn't your fault, none of it was," he said gently.
She didn't seem convinced. "But you got hurt because of me." Her eyes came to rest on his upper leg that was currently covered by a blanket. "Why didn't you tell me that they wanted you for your gene?"
His stomach curled into a tight knot. "You know?" he rasped. A sense of betrayal took hold of him. "Who told you? McKay? Beckett?"
A weak smile twitched at the corner of her lips. "Neither of them did. I kind of figured that would have to be the reason after Beckett asked my permission to give the Rahelians the artificial gene."
Sheppard swallowed hard. He hadn't thought about that.
"Am I right?" she asked. He merely nodded.
She took an audible breath. "What did they want you to do?"
This time, he looked at her straight. "In a non-technological society? What do you think?" She opened her mouth again, but he held up his hands to stop her. "Look, I'd prefer if we could skip that particular topic. What's in the past is in the past and there's no reason to dwell on what happened."
"But I was asking too much of you," she whispered.
"You were," he confirmed. "But would there have been another choice, if I'd told you what was going on?"
She bit her lip, when she quite obviously couldn't think of any better options.
He nodded grimly. "I didn't think so. You should leave for the Alpha side now. The Wraith might be coming soon."
"John," she said quietly.
"It's okay, Elizabeth," he replied. "Really, it is. Things looked pretty bad for a while, but nothing untoward actually happened. I'll be fine, once the Wraith are defeated. Now leave the city, while you still can."
He could see that there was much more she wanted or needed to say. But reluctantly, she followed his advice and left him alone. While Sheppard watched her leave, he reached for another sandwich.
Sheppard was barely done eating, when his comm activated. Sheppard spotted his ear piece lying on his bedside table. He picked it up and plugged it into his ear, so he could listen.
"This is Sheppard," he replied.
McKay's voice sounded alarmed. "The Wraith just dropped out of hyper space. I need you in the chair room, now."
Sheppard jolted into action. He brushed the blanket aside and swung his legs out of the bed. Beckett materialized by his side, just as he noticed that he was still attached to the i.v.. With a grimace, Sheppard pulled out the port.
Beckett pressed a wad of cotton to the now bleeding skin. "I knew ye would nah wait till I arrived." He frowned slightly as Sheppard gingerly stood up. "Try not to pop any of those stitches."
"I never actually try to pop them," Sheppard quipped.
"We should get you a wheel chair," Beckett stated.
"I'm good," Sheppard growled.
He gave Beckett a stern glance. The doctor replied with a resigned sigh, but said no more. He just watched Sheppard, who tried very hard not to wince as he put weight on his bad leg. Beckett quietly held out his hand, offering his assistance. Sheppard's first impulse was to tell him that he didn't need the help. But as his injured leg protested against the strain he put on the limb, he reconsidered the offer and laid his arm around Beckett's shoulders. The doctor put his arm around Sheppard's waist.
Beckett eyed him carefully. "Are you sure you're ready for this?"
Sheppard raised his brows. "Do I have a choice?"
He winced. "I'm sorry. That was a stupid thing to ask."
His lips twitched in a slight smile, before he once again concentrated on making it to the chair room as quickly as he possibly could. Already his legs were trembling with the effort it took to carry his weight. It was obvious that he was still suffering from the after effects of the ancient supporting device. Thankfully, operating the chair mainly was a question of mental control.
Sheppard gritted his teeth, not willing to give into his fatigue. He strongly suspected that, if he did, Beckett would leave him no choice but to make the ride in a wheel chair after all. While that might have been the wise thing to do, his whole being rebelled against losing even another ounce of control after this day from hell. Instead, he locked his knees more firmly and concentrated on getting to the nearest transporter.
Though to Sheppard it seemed to take ages, they couldn't have taken more than a couple of minutes to reach the chair room. Sheppard was surprised to find a very nervous looking McKay sitting in an already reclined chair. Tarhan was standing on the far side of the room, staring at him with trepidation. Ronon and Teyla stood beside him, watching Sheppard's every move.
The physicist's hands were fumbling on the interface, a slight tremor running through him. "Where the hell is Sheppard?" McKay shouted.
Sheppard removed his arm from Beckett's shoulder, taking the last step to the chair on his own. "Right here."
McKay breathed a sigh of immense relief and opened his eyes. "Oh thank god. The Wraith are already starting to release their darts. I was afraid that I had to try and stop them."
As he removed his hands from the interface the chair started to powers down. But before it went back into the upright position, Sheppard placed his own hand on the blue glowing gel-like substance. The chair remained activated and the familiar welcoming tingle of the city's embrace spread though his body, temporarily letting him forget about all his pains and aches.
Blinking in slight irritation, McKay awkwardly climbed out of the reclined chair. "Someday you've gotta tell me how you do that."
Sheppard didn't reply. With grim determination, he took McKay's place and sank deep into the connection with the city. Around him, Atlantis came to life. It was intense to the point of becoming overwhelming, something like he'd never felt before. His breath caught and it took a conscious effort to let it flow again.
Atlantis showed him the hive ships. There were indeed four of them.
He felt the nervous anticipation that accompanied every fight. Strangely, the same kind of emotions seemed to radiate from the city itself. Sheppard took a steadying breath, trying not to dwell on the strange notion that Atlantis might have feelings of her own. He concentrated on strengthening the shield, while preparing to attack the darts that were quickly approaching the city.
Something about operating the chair was decidedly different. Usually, Sheppard just enjoyed the connection, the certain sense of belonging and peace. Today, he almost felt like he was the city. It was impossible to tell where his body ended and the systems began. Atlantis was around him and inside him in a deeply unsettling way. It was a strange invasion of his privacy, but for some unfathomable reason he didn't mind much.
Sheppard had no time to analyze his reaction, as the Wraith launched their attack on Atlantis. A fleet of darts closed in from all sides at once, too many to count. Their buzzing resounded in his ears, and for a brief moment a surge of panic washed over Sheppard.
"Sheppard, now would be a good time to launch some drones," McKay cried.
He couldn't have agreed more, but something stopped him, fueling his panic. He wanted to launch those darts, too. He wanted to blow all those Wraith ships to smithereens, though he knew very well that he just couldn't take them on all at once. But the fear in his heart was suddenly replaced by calm serenity. Was it Atlantis' idea or his own? He really couldn't tell the difference, he just knew what to do.
Under his command, the city's shield flickered, seemed to break until it failed.
Mutedly, Sheppard heard McKay's panicked gasp. "Good grief, what are you doing, Sheppard? We have two working ZedPMs. The shield should be working just fine."
Sheppard ignored him He wanted the Wraith, and everyone else really, to believe that the shield had failed. In reality, it had just attached itself to the countless towers like a second skin. His breath caught and his chest tightened with it. The darts moved in, following the unspoken invitation. Within the blink of an eye, the shield expanded back to its former size, crushing the darts with the force of a Tsunami.
A startled cry was ripped form Sheppard's lung as he felt each and every impact of the Wraith darts hail down on him as if his skin itself was the shield. It didn't hurt, not really. The sensation was more like a very muted echo of the real impacts. Still, he was panting by the time all Wraith darts had been destroyed. The connection to the city had slipped from his grasp and though he still felt Atlantis, it was less clear.
"What the hell was that?" McKay muttered.
Sheppard had neither the time nor the breath to reply. He felt Atlantis pull him back with an irresistible force that knocked any remaining wind out of him. For a moment there, he felt like he was drowning, but somehow managed to regain control with a gasping breath.
The hive ships were approaching the city now that their dart fleet had been blown to pieces. Sheppard concentrated on them and felt a tremor run through the city as he launched the drones. He could almost feel their heat sizzle his skin as each headed for their intended target. Unlike his efforts on MX-650, it was no problem at all to keep them on track. Another set of drones launched just as easily.
The Wraith ships began to fire, trying to destroy the drones and the world around him slowed down. What Sheppard witnessed next, could only be described as the strangest kind of dance he'd ever seen. Gracefully the drones evaded the Wraith weapons, moving over the skies in slow motion, always anticipating the next attack. Was it really him steering them? Again, Sheppard couldn't have told. As the first two drones hit their targets, Sheppard once more had the strange sensation of drowning. Something seemed to pull him under. He couldn't breathe. More drones hit their targets, hit him, swallowed him and finally jolted him out of his connection to the city.
He gasped for breath, a buzzing in his ears muting everything around him. The chair was once again upright and the world spinning around him like crazy. Sheppard closed his eyes against the sudden, unexpected onslaught of a blinding headache. What was happening? Had he managed to defeat the Wraith? He wanted to check, but he felt strangely disconnected to his own body. Some part of him tried to get up. Pain shot through his leg, dispelling any residual numbness with a forceful jolt. His legs crumbled underneath him and he fell to his knees with a pained cry.