Thanks for Lady Anne for the beta work. I am, however, a compulsive fiddler and any mistakes remaining are mine and mine alone. I also wanted to say a really big thank you to everyone who has left a review – this is greatly appreciated and I do try and get back to you all personally but as I said before, the bots hate me. I think I forgot their birthday or something…

Part 10

Sheppard stared blankly at the man in the mirror.

"She's not dead," he stated flatly.

"Oh shit, don't tell me you believe this fairy tale do you?" asked McKay incredulously. "It's not real, damn it."

Sheppard was slowly shaking his head. How could what McKay said be true? Then he remembered his feeling that something about this place didn't ring true; the hallucination he'd had where he'd seen Amy, pale and sick, lying in a hospital bed. He looked up and met the eyes of the man in the mirror.

"She can't be dead," he said. It was almost a plea.

The undertone of pain in his team leader's voice temporarily silenced McKay. He stared aghast at his friend and colleague at a loss as to what to do. After a few minute he regained his voice and said bluntly, "Look, we don't have time for a freak out, Major. You have to remember where we are, what we're doing and focus on how to get the hell out of here."

"She's dead?" This time it was a question.

McKay could see the pain and devastation in Sheppard's face but he knew the man couldn't afford to break down, not now. If he was going to save the man's life McKay had to get him to remember, to fight, no matter how much it would hurt.

"Of course she's dead, you moron!" he yelled at him in frustration. Sheppard's eyes flashed with anger. "Now just snap out of it and focus on helping me save your ass!"

Sheppard considered McKay's words and after a few moments he asked him, "How?" The Major had a hard look in his eye.

Relieved, McKay started to explain rapidly what they needed to do, "Well, you need to get to the interface of the VR, it's like the control room…"

"That's not what I meant, McKay," interrupted Sheppard coldly.

"What?" spluttered McKay thrown off course.

"I meant how did she die?" The American's voice was low and dangerous.

There was silence in the room as McKay stared at Sheppard for a long moment looking like a rabbit caught in the headlights of car. His mouth opened and closed a few times. Then he took a deep breath and said quietly, "You told us she died of cancer."

"When?" demanded Sheppard holding his anger in check.

"It was six years ago, Sheppard. Your wife has been dead for over six years. She died of breast cancer. You have to believe me." McKay was begging now.

Sheppard considered the Canadian's words and searched his memories – looking for something that would give him a clue – was he mad or was this reality? And then, with sickening clarity, he remembered.

Grief wrenched at his gut and his knuckles turned white as he his hands tightened spasmodically on the sides of the sink as memory assaulted him.

She was fighting for every breath, holding onto life. He knew she was fighting for him, to be with him. She struggled to speak but managed to say only his name. He wanted to scream at the unfairness of it all. They should have had years together, it shouldn't be ending like this.

He pulled himself together, gently shifted on the bed and lay down next to her. He laid one hand on her pitifully thin shoulder and with the other gently traced the contours of her face. He leant forward and buried his face in the silk scarf she'd asked him to wrap around her head to disguise the damage inflicted by the chemotherapy on her beautiful, beautiful hair. He held her like that for a moment that seemed like an eternity. He blinked away the tears in his eyes and, around a lump in his throat so large it threatened to stifle him, he said, "Honey, shh, it's OK. Just sleep now, you don't have to fight anymore. I'm here, I understand. I'm holding you." He gave her a gentle squeeze, nothing too hard or else it would have caused her pain.

He felt her relax and saw her brow clear. Slowly her breathing became less laboured and after a few minutes, in a voice that was the merest of whispers, she said, "I'm sorry, Shep." Then she smiled and slipped into sleep. Fifteen minutes later she died.

Afterwards, he thought it was as if he had given her permission to die.

McKay could see the stream of Sheppard's emotions; denial, anger, grief, loss, despair. He watched, horrified, as the laconic Major's face twisted with pain and tears sprang to his eyes.

"I'm sorry, Major," McKay said weakly.

Sheppard dropped his head forward and stared down into the sink. He forced himself to breath slowly and deeply against the unbearable pressure that was building inside him.

"No," he said through gritted teeth. "I don't believe it." But it was more denial than a true questioning of the truth. "She can't be dead, I WON'T believe it. I don't want to believe it." Tears were clouding his vision and he shook his head violently. He wanted to howl with grief, to rage against the world that had done this.

McKay watched impotently at Sheppard's shaking shoulders stunned at the loss of control he was witnessing. McKay had to snap him out of it - there was no other way out of this VR than to get the Major to switch it off from the Chair itself; something he wouldn't be incapable of if he was a grief stricken wreck.

"Snap out of it Major. She's dead, gone and you're here with us in the most crazy mixed up galaxy there has ever been. You remember the expedition don't you? You remember me? You remember what Elizabeth said when we left? That this expedition might be a one-way trip? Remember that?"

Sheppard had tears running freely down his face. He couldn't speak and so he nodded.

"Oh Christ," murmured McKay to himself as he realised that the Major was crying. "Sheppard, just pull yourself together – we can't let the programme find us!" McKay snapped and then nodded in approval as the shaking lessened and Sheppard seemed to get himself more or less under control. He continued to talk – throwing memories at Sheppard, demanding responses, trying to pull him out of his grief. He could see from Sheppard's reactions that he was getting through to him but he needed to be sure so, as the coup de grace, he demanded, "And do you think for one second, that if your wife was still alive you would have EVER signed up for this crazy goddamned expedition in the first place?"

Sheppard mutely shook his head but that wasn't enough for McKay who relentlessly pushed more and more. "For Christ's sake, Sheppard, don't you remember why you were in Antarctica?" demanded McKay. "You disobeyed orders to go on a half baked rescue mission that you thought would kill you!"

Sheppard stared dispassionately ahead, barely seeing the court martial. He felt a peculiar detachment, a dislocation from reality.

"Major Sheppard, the Court finds that your actions were reckless. You were acting in full knowledge that you were outside of the chain of command. Furthermore we find that your actions could have cost you your life or provided enemy forces with a valuable hostage, valuable equipment and valuable intelligence."

Sheppard stared into the middle distance and let his mind wander barely registering the drone of the sentencing judge.

"I would like to inform you that in considering your sentence we have taken into account your service record which has been, up to now, exemplary." The Judge paused and gave Sheppard a long apprising look before he continued. "We are also taking into account your commanding officer's plea for leniency which he entered on your behalf. He has suggested that your actions can in part be attributed to your recent loss."

Sheppard flinched at that. He couldn't stand it if they mentioned her name. He didn't think he'd be able to maintain the unemotional façade if they did.

"So, taking everything into account we have decided against a dishonourable discharge. You will be assigned to McMurdo Base Antarctica indefinitely. Dismissed."

He'd given the requisite salute and turned smartly on his heel.

McKay's voice dragged him back to the present.

"Don't you remember? You told us all about her. You told us that in the year before she died you took all the leave you could and you guys went everywhere- Paris, London, Rome, Tokyo. That was why you liked Antarctica even though you were exiled there – you'd never been there together so there was nothing to remind you of her." McKay could see the distress his words were causing but he pushed on – he had to convince the Major that this was true and get him to fight his way out of the VR. "Come on, Major, look at me. You can't just stand there, you've got to do something."

Eventually, without looking up, Sheppard asked him, "So, none of this is real?"

"No, none of it. I'm telling you, it's a smart programme but it is completely screwed up. It's a defence system that the Ancients were working on – something like using the Wraith's own weapons against them. It's been running for thousands of years. It seems to pull things from your memories and build scenarios around it. It even managed to drag up Kolya a moment ago. You're in the chair that controls the system – it has full access to your memories and that's where all of this has come from."

That explained why it had chosen Amy then – she'd been at the forefront of his mind as they'd started to get ready to leave Planet Hellhole. He'd promised himself that he would be back for their anniversary dinner – a ritual he'd performed every year since she'd died and this one would have been their tenth anniversary. No matter where he was it was always the same. He'd get some food and head off away from the crowds to spend the evening with her. He'd planned to take a tray from the mess, head out to one of the piers and sit with his memories watching the sun go down. He scrubbed the unshed tears from his eyes.

"How long have I been here?" he asked in a low voice.

"About 36 hours," replied McKay.

He thought back to this morning; waking up next to Amy, her good natured jibes, their tender lovemaking in the night and his deep seated feeling that something was desperately wrong. He felt violated; his memories of his wife had been violated. Rage built up inside him. He was trembling with the effort of controlling his anger and his breaths were coming in long shuddering gasps.

Seeing this, McKay began to panic. "Listen, don't lose it for God's sake. We need you to turn this damn programme off."

McKay's voice penetrated the red mist in Sheppard's mind. With a visible effort he got himself under control and looked up. McKay almost recoiled from the blank killing face that met his anxious gaze.

"Why is it doing this?" demanded Sheppard indicating the room behind him with a sharp jerk of his head.

Relief flooded through McKay and he replied, "It's not doing anything on purpose, Major. As I said, it's a programme that has been left running for 10 thousand years. It's random and totally screwed – it's kinda firing on automatic and we need to shut it off. Now are you gonna help me get us out of this? I can't do this alone and we need you."

"What do you mean 'we', McKay? Who the hell else have you got into this mess?" demanded Sheppard.

McKay was still savouring the relief that the Major seemed to believe him so it took him a few moments to pick up the accusation. "Hey wait a minute, this was not my fault!" he retorted angrily.

"Just answer the question, McKay," ordered Sheppard.

McKay scowled deeply at his accuser and then answered, "Well there is you and me, obviously, and then there's Teyla and Ford. I brought Radek too and, once we'd figured out what the hell was going on, he helped me get in so I could turn the programme off but I can't, I've tried. Oh and Carson's here too. He came along to keep an eye on me."

"Why? You need a baby sitter now, McKay?" drawled Sheppard, sounding as if he was nearly back to his old self.

Giving him a dirty look McKay replied, "That's not important."

"Look, McKay, just tell me why Carson is here to keep an eye on you," interrupted Sheppard in a threatening tone. Then he added, "And I ain't budging from here until you tell me."

McKay's scowl deepened further. "Look, it's just a concussion OK? I hit my head and the deal I made with Elizabeth was that I could come back here with a team, find you, turn off the programme if I promised to go back with one of the marines and Carson so he could tuck me back into bed in that prison he calls an infirmary as soon as I was done. The situation changed when we found you sitting in the damn chair! And why the hell did you do that? I told you not to!" McKay's last few words were delivered in a shouted whisper.

Sheppard ignored his question although he noted that McKay was sick. He focused on the facts. "You have marines with you?"

"We brought some marines, but they are not going to be any use in here. It's you and me, that's all we've got." McKay hesitated for a moment and added awkwardly, "Oh, and, er, we had to shoot one because the hallucinations got him."

"You shot one of my men?" asked Sheppard incredulously.

"No!" denied McKay vigorously. "It wasn't me, it was Ford and anyway, he's not dead – it was with a tranquiliser dart. And will you remember to stop acting suspiciously? We don't want the damn programme to find us," he added struggling to regain the high ground in the argument.

Sheppard acknowledged McKay's admonishment with a tilt of his head. He picked up his shaving kit from where he had dropped it continued to shave. After a few moments he asked in a low voice, "So, McKay, what do I have to do to get us out?"

Um, I know I said this last time but this time I mean it - only one more part and an epilogue to go. Hope you are enjoying this and if you have any feedback or comments I would really appreciate it if you could pass them on. I will try and reply (if the bots let me) and will at the very least think warm thoughts about you.