There were many things John Sheppard hated and the inability to make his own choices or have a say in his destiny were high up on the list. He appreciated his team's loyalty and their friendship, but it was hard to swallow when other people made decisions for him.

Even when his freedom had been threatened by a court martial, he'd been willing to accept the consequences of his actions. He had disobeyed direct orders and they had dumped him off in one of the most remote parts of the world. But he still relished what they hadn't been able to take away; being allowed to soar the empty skies over arctic wastelands.

Flying was his escape, the ultimate act of autonomy. Being wheeled down the halls of Atlantis; tethered to a gurney and surrounded by Marines and his friends in order to lock him away for his own protection...

Not so much.

"Do I have any say in this at all?" he grumbled.

"No," Ronon said in a tone that wasn't to be questioned.

The Satedan took up the rear of the gurney while Rodney led the procession, his eyes glued to a motion detector as they headed towards his quarters.

Lorne exited McKay's quarters. "Everything's clear."

"Good," the runner answered.

Ronon helped situate the bed next to the east wall in a position that would still allow enough room to walk around in the cramped quarters.

"If I'm being hauled off and imprisoned then why can't it be in my own room?" Sheppard asked, trying to muster up some power in his weakened voice.

"Stop your moaning. This is a pretty big inconvenience as it is." McKay spun around after picking up a box that had opened, dumping files onto the floor. "May I remind you that the invisible assassin knows where you sleep?"

"And you don't think he knows where you do?" Sheppard challenged.

The scientist paused as the words sank in. "Maybe, but at least my room doesn't smell like bleach."

"My quarters do not smell like bleach."

"Blood, Colonel. Your floors were covered in it. What do you think was going to clean it up?" McKay shot back, still tidying up after the Marines' inspection.

Sheppard settled his head back against his pillow without an argument. He really did loathe feeling like this.

Rodney pointed a finger at Lorne after fussing with something on his desk. "Could your Neanderthals try to be messier next time?"

"We swept the place for potential threats. Or would you prefer to stay in an unsecured location?" the major responded as he walked over to Ronon. "I'm going to grab some late chow and then resume our work at 2100 hours. Colonel Caldwell wants us to begin using a new search protocol that might flush out our target. "

"I'll be there," Ronon answered.

Lorne came near the bed railing. "We're going to catch this Voulsh, sir. He's not going to get a next time."

Sheppard despised what this situation was doing to his people. "I want you to be careful out there. Don't take any chances, that's an order."

"Yes, sir."

Rodney scoured his work area in annoyance. "I left my lap top behind. I need to grab it."

"I don't need a babysitter, McKay."

"Carson's going to drop in as soon as he's done with some minor surgery. One of his nurses is coming by after you're settled in to check on all your stuff," Rodney explained, eying the numerous tubes and oxygen with trepidation.

If he hadn't felt uncomfortable before, reminders of his "stuff" sure as hell did it for him, but at least Carson had promised he could get rid of some of it the next day if he "continued to improve". He tried to relax, but his leg had grown more vocal with every movement and the poisoning had led to even more needle sticks, above and beyond the daily blood donations he was already making.

Focused as he was on laying still and fighting futilely to get comfortable, he failed to notice that Rodney had left. His only clue was how the room had grown quiet but for the sound of Ronon's steady breathing.

"I grabbed this for you."

Sheppard looked over and propped himself on his elbow to snatch his Berretta from the Satedan's hand. "About time," he sniped, checking the clip and flicking the safety on.

"You should be armed, but I'm right. You're better off here." Ronon stood there, daring him to argue.

Sheppard stuck the gun under the mattress within easy reach, glaring at Ronon to express his unhappiness, even if it didn't affect the big guy. "I'm not going to act like a sitting duck for the big bad wolf to find me."

"I don't know what birds and children's tales have to do with anything. I do know what it's like to be hunted down and powerless to stop it."

Sheppard didn't share heavy emotions and he knew Ronon wasn't usually a wealth spring of such openness either. He felt shame that he'd even begun to compare his current situation with Ronon's seven years as a moving target and puppet to an unrelenting master. Sheppard didn't know if he could have done that; could have endured that type of servitude for only the slimmest chance at revenge.

Ronon didn't look at him directly, lost in scarred memories. "You feel worthless. Powerless. So angry at your own inability to change anything. And if someone comes along and offers to help, you push them away for their own good."

"You gave me another alternative. I was given a chance at redemption. But more than that... I gained something much more than I expected." Ronon leaned closer. "You will heal, Sheppard. I won't let you die at the hands of a coward that hides in shadows."

"And I can't stand by and watch others go into harm's way for me."

Ronon stared at him hard. "This would be the part where you'd tell me to accept my weakness."

Sheppard grinned. "Then you'd tell me to buzz off."

The two stubborn men could probably have argued the point all day but Sheppard felt the overwhelming need for his body to recuperate dragging his eyes closed. Ronon smiled and declined the next jab, folding his body into the chair and putting up his feet at the end of the bed. Sheppard grinned at the concession and made his own by nodding off five minutes later.

Elizabeth's responsibilities as expedition leader were numerous and stressful but she thrived on the daily challenges thrown her way. Her people skills gave her strength and she had honed her ability to broach sensitive subjects and mediate conflict. She was good at it, and she generally enjoyed the hell out of it.

But she also knew there would be days when she really despised her job. All her skills- her calm, rational logic and tightly reined emotions- flew right out the window. And she sat, literally pounding on the keyboard of her laptop, as she filed the report of her visit with the Narthions.

Caldwell entered her office. "I'm sorry I'm late."

She slammed her hands on the desk so hard the vibrations shook her cup of coffee. It was an uncharacteristic display of hostility, but his presence made him a target for her fear and anger; the colonel would just have to endure the brunt of it.

"What have been doing to improve security?" she snapped.

Caldwell matched her intense glare. "The Marines guarding Colonel Sheppard are equipped with motion detectors. Dr. McKay is reasonably certain that whatever cloaking technology is being used, it can't conceal movement."

Elizabeth knew she was projecting but she found what had happened to John while she was away inexcusable. "Are you sure? Security was breached at the infirmary without a problem."

"Look, I'm just as disturbed about what happened as you are." He held up his hand to hold off her retort. "I was there and the suspect was probably right under my freakin' nose the entire time."

"I left to go help the investigation on your urging, only to find out Sheppard was poisoned hours after I was gone."

Caldwell exhaled loudly. "If you want to blame someone then blame me. I'll accept it."

Elizabeth ignored the little part of her that wanted to take him up on that offer. "No, there's only one person to heap that on. What I want to know is, what are we doing about it now?"

"We're taking no chances. The infirmary wasn't secured enough and we can't very well shut it down. Only Dr. Beckett and two of his staff are approved to enter where Sheppard is recovering and every ounce of liquid, food, and medication is checked and scanned. "

Elizabeth nodded. "Good. And the search?"

"Major Lorne and I put together a method for tracking the suspect. We have four teams searching every section systematically which should hopefully force the guy out in one way or another. You next. What did you find out with the Narthions and Councilman Dobluis?"

Now it was her turn to feel inadequate. "I took Dr. Cole with me to perform a brief autopsy with the Narthions' permission. The councilman's throat was slit."

"Murdered?"

She nodded. "Exsanguination, but as the body had been pulled from the river there was no other evidence found- it was too badly deteriorated. Dr. Cole estimates he had been killed about five days ago."

"That puts our time line at the councilman's death, followed by the ambush and the attempt on the colonel's life the day after. Were there records of these meetings?" Caldwell pressed.

Elizabeth rubbed at her eyes. "None. Also, there's no indication that any member of the Genii visited the Narthions. Right now, the only connection we have lies with Ladon Radim." She allowed a moment for her words to sink in and hoped Caldwell caught on to all that she was saying.

"There something else you want to discuss?"

"While I waited for you, Ladon sent out another message. He would like to continue diplomatic discussions. He's even willing to share the results of his own investigation into the assassination plot."

"How forthcoming," Caldwell muttered. "And when and where would he like to meet?"

Elizabeth didn't bat an eyelash. "In a few days. Here in Atlantis."

"What's the rush?"

"Time can mend old wounds or make them worse. With knowledge that a few of his people are involved in treachery against us, he wants to show support. He desires the opportunity to build a relationship by letting us know that his leadership is worth our trust."

"And you think it is?" Caldwell asked skeptically.

"No, I don't. That's the point of rebuilding ties. It's the key to diplomacy and I know as a military man you don't see it the same way, but I do."

"I'm not keen on the idea of beginning a new road map with the Genii during our current crisis."

Elizabeth was torn about the situation; an alliance with one of the more powerful peoples in the Pegasus Galaxy was a keystone in the plan to defeat the Wraith.

"If we are to prove to others that we are up to the task of defeating the Wraith and we are more thanoccupiers of the city of the Ancients, then we should hold the meeting- especially during this current situation. It only demonstrates to other potential allies that we are capable of dealing with conflict on several fronts."

"And you want to take that chance?"

"Yes, I do. I'm sure Ladon thinks we'll decline. It will only show our resolve and gravitas."

Caldwell snorted. "Is that your diplomatic word for balls, Dr. Weir?"

Elizabeth smiled. "What do you think?"

"What I think will probably not persuade you one way or another."

Elizabeth picked up her PDA with a response typed up and ready for transmission. "Good. Let's demonstrate to the Genii what we're truly made of."

She wasn't about to sit back and twiddle her thumbs. Her worry for John was great, but she'd find a way to channel all that anxiety and help Atlantis in her future battles.

He heard the bodies hit the shield, one after another, the screams silenced as flesh collided with the unstoppable force. He searched the darkness until his ears filled with familiar voices. He swung his P90 around, only to witness Rodney's skull get blown apart, his blood splattering Elizabeth's uniform. The faceless Genii pointed the gun at her next and before he could react, the soldier pulled the trigger.

"No!"

Sheppard bolted awake, thrashing his leg in the process. Blinding hot pain ripped through him causing moisture to well up in the corners of his eyes. He curled up on his right side and attempted to draw his legs up to his chest but that only intensified the spasms. He buried his face in the pillow, letting out a muffled scream, but his pain was unmerciful. He didn't realize he was shaking until a set of hands tried to hold him still.

"Whoa... Jesus. Take it easy."

He bit down on his lip, breathing rapidly through his nose. The raw anguish mapped out every nerve bundle in his leg in Technicolor.

Rodney's panicky voice penetrated the white noise in his head. "Talk to me, Colonel. God, why did I volunteer for this? Can you breathe all right?"

Sheppard tried to rein in the torment, unable to budge from his fetal position and incapable of communication yet.

"How do you work this damn machine? Oh, yeah, here's the switch. You'd better not be dying on me."

The increased flow of oxygen offered some comfort and, after waiting for the fire to fade away, Sheppard concentrated on breathing. Just in and out until his hands uncurled from the fists they'd formed and he rolled his head over revealing one side of his face. He opened his eyes to the distressed blue ones leaning over him.

"Hey," he said, his voice ragged and broken.

Rodney's features slackened in relief, then wrinkled in anger. "Don't do that to me again! You almost gave me a heart attack."

"S'rry," Sheppard slurred.

"Well, your nightmares are going to give me some now." Rodney ran a hand through his frazzled hair. "You okay?"

"Yeah...no." Sheppard clenched his teeth. The pain had never been this bad before and it wasn't dissipating.

Rodney walked away and returned from his bathroom with a damp washcloth. "You're sweating like a stuck pig."

He hesitated, the damp rag clutched between his fingers until Sheppard yanked it away in embarrassment with a muffled 'thanks'. The injured man's hand trembled with the effort of wiping his face and he tried to hide it, agitated that he was so pathetically debilitated.

"You're not on any of your happy juice. I don't know if you remember or not. Carson wanted to make sure your lungs remembered how to do their job."

"Oh."

"You were asleep when that nurse... um...what's her name? I don't know but she did her stuff, changing all your... er... things and fiddled with the monitors. She warned me you'd be grouchy when you woke up until Carson came over and deemed you fit to go back to La La Land."

Sheppard wanted to get out of his semi-fetal position without igniting the inferno in his leg. Ripping a band aid off fast always did the trick so he grit his teeth, rolled onto his back, and straightened out his legs. He couldn't hold back a groan and had to pant for breath.

"Are you a masochist? I would have helped, you know. Now you match the color of the sheets, hope you're happy," Rodney muttered. "Idiot."

"I—I heard that."

"Good," Rodney said, stalking away towards his desk.

Sheppard reached out and ran a reassuring hand across the handle of his gun, drawing reassurance from its presence as Rodney tapped a mile a minute on his keyboard. He was clear-headed for the first time since his encounter with Ugly and stared at the unfamiliar ceiling, trying to ignore the clacking in the background.

The pulse in his leg beat in time to his heart and he was unable to ignore the spike being driven into his flesh while his mind tried to fast forward past images and fears that haunted him.

"I want the report." There you go, John. Nice firm, commanding voice.

"What are you carrying on about now? I'm busy."

Sheppard felt his patience splinter. "I want to know everything about the investigation."

"Wouldn't you prefer more light reading? Maybe a Playboy or something. I hear the articles are very interesting."

"Just give me the damn thing," Sheppard growled as he raised the bed higher. He gnawed at his bottom lip again when the movement whipped up the flames and burning sensations.

"Why?"

"Because I'm trapped in this bed and I don't have anything else to do."

Rodney didn't even look up from his computer. "You can borrow my Tetris game. I think your brain is a little too mushed for any real words. Little dancing cubes of color might be more your speed."

"McKay..."

Rodney stood abruptly, hands gesturing wildly when the door opened up suddenly. The physicist's hand went to the gun on his hip and he spun around ready to face the threat.

Sheppard whipped out his Berretta, thumbing off the safety.

"Sorry I'm late. My simple procedure got more complicated," Carson's voice filtered in.

Sheppard released a breath and stashed the weapon back under the mattress just as Rodney wavered on his feet before quickly recovering. It was the first time Sheppard had noticed that his friend carried a side arm now and realized exactly how screwed up this whole thing had become.

Carson rolled another piece of equipment into the room and brought it over to Sheppard's bed. He parked the device next to the IV pole and took a minute to study the monitors, tutting to himself.

"I hope you brought him some narcotics because he's being a royal pain in the ass," Rodney declared, walking over to inspect the new machine.

Carson checked a chart clipped to the bed and flipped through the pages before taking out his stethoscope. "Let me take a listen, lad."

The physician undid the strings to the top of Sheppard's gown and warmed up the end before he placed the metal object to his chest. "Just breathe in and out for me."

Sheppard did what he was told, any respiratory difficulty from his bout with the killer cobbler nearly gone, except for some soreness when he took deeper breaths.

Carson wrapped the instrument around his neck, eying him. "Your pressure is a bit high and your pulse is faster than I'd like. The pain been pretty bad?"

"What do you think, Carson? Deal with many deep gouges in your leg without any pharmaceutical relief?" Rodney snapped.

The Scot sighed, addressing his patient instead of the agitated roommate. "I'm sorry, lad, for that. I came by to administer a dose now that the toxin is completely outa of your system. I just didn't want to take any chances but your newest blood tests came back clean."

"Its okay, doc."

"I'm goin' to hook you up to a PCA machine. I'll deliver your dosage tonight, then you can manage your own pain by pressing the button on this device." Carson attached the machine and added another line to his current IV. "Now, I'm trusting you to use this, Colonel. No bucking up and all that rubbish. My staff will take turns keepin' an eye on ya, but this whole bloody seclusion thing means you won't be as closely monitored as I'd like."

The doctor turned to Rodney. "I'm putting you and Teyla in charge of making sure he stays medicated." He faced his patient. "You're goin' to hurt, so use the bloody thing."

Sheppard knew his threshold for pain had reached its limits a while ago. "Could we begin now?"

"Oh, of course. I'm sorry."

Carson grabbed the device and almost released the lever, but hesitantly scrutinized the pump.

"What are you doing? Waiting until he gnaws through his bottom lip?" Rodney barked.

Carson fiddled with the button. "I know we inspected it before entering the room to make sure it wasn't tampered with. It's ---"

"Just do it, Carson. We can't let this guy win," Sheppard said, gritting his teeth.

Carson mumbled an apology and sent a flush of warmness through his veins. It only took a moment before the tension in his back and in about every muscle in his body loosened from the blissful injection.

"I'm going to get you on your feet tomorrow, son. I think I'll spare you that for tonight, since you've had such a rough time of it."

"Just plan on some nightly...reading," Sheppard said quietly.

"I don't think you can focus on anything right now," Rodney scoffed.

Sheppard forced his heavy eyelids to stay open. "Try me."

"Maybe you should hit the button again," Rodney grumbled to the physician.

"There's an additional small dosage for an emergency in-between intervals." Carson lingered longer, using every excuse to stick around.

Sheppard adjusted the bed so he could sit up at a better angle. His limb was nice and numb and a pleasant hazy feeling began creeping over the rest of his body. "I'm fine, Carson. I have one babysitter already."

He missed the soft exchange between both docs while thoughts slushed around in his mind and his eyelids grew heavy. "Th-the report," he demanded, slurring his words.

A PDA was slapped into his hands. "Here. I'm not reading you a bed time story. Now, if you don't mind, I'm gong to try to grab an hour or two before Teyla comes for her shift. If you don't mind being a good little patient and going to bed."

Sheppard tried to focus on the tiny print of the screen before him. The text blurred into senseless lines of nonsense no matter how hard he concentrated. He buried the piece of equipment under his pillow in frustration, knowing he could examine it in the morning as long as no one tried to kill him in his sleep.

He patted down the side of the bed, tingly fingers clumsily searching out his weapon. After a few tries, he got his hand to obey his command and pulled the Berretta out and tucked it under his pillow.

The steel vibrated above his head as five pairs boots marched over the platform. Voulsh rested his head against a metal beam that help support the elevated walkway above and peered down into the depths below. His body didn't twitch as the soldiers passed, despite his aching side. The wound had grown pinkish around the stitching and the extra salve only kept the infection at a standstill.

During his first day in the city he observed the structure above as an out of the way place for some of the soldiers to run laps in the outskirts of the city. The underbelly was another tight fit, but it gave him enough breathing room to reflect upon his actions.

He had never failed before. It burned a hole in his soul, the shame of defeat overpowering. He clutched Sheppard's metal identification, imagining the scowl of his Master's face and he pledged to make amends to his memory. If he made it back to his world, he would heat up the jewelry and burn the name and rank into his flesh as a reminder of his mistakes.

He would offer to cut off his left hand as a token of his remorse for his latest method...

Poison.

A child could poison people. It was a tool of thieves, scum, pirates, and betrayed lovers. It required nothing! He'd even been denied the beauty of watching the outcome, of the resulting death.

The place of their medicine had been too busy and occupied by others. Every attempt to get close to his target was thwarted by Sheppard's caregivers. The women helpers tended to him regularly, the healer shadowed often and his friends were constantly around. The target was never alone enough to be finished off with a quick slice to the throat. Even then, the risk of discovery from the many machines that monitored the life of Sheppard's body would give him away.

The presence of his target's favorite food had been an opportunity that he couldn't have dismissed, no matter how much it caused him anguish to stoop so low.

Another set of boots clanked above him; the 'Lantean numbers had increased and their patterns were more focused. Were they seeking vengeance?

He needed to see the dead body for himself. Voulsh flexed his fingers, knowing that a mechanical replacement would not be the same, but he'd gladly pay the price to absolve him for using the nerve agent.

He carried around the powder as a last resort and only used the method once; many years ago to kill a spice trader. The tyrant had surrounded himself with the offspring of his many wives. The children slept in the same bed as the target, played with him during free time and were used as shields out in the open. Tainting his alcohol had only been approved when faced with the prospect of killing young ones.

The overhead walkway was silent again and still he waited... just in case the runner was near by. He had caught the Satedan on his trail a few times, and avoided many close calls. The line between predator and prey was blurring as more time went by.

He tested one of the metal beams that ran all the way under the catwalk and used every outcropping and foothold as he maneuvered under the metal structure to avoid being spotted above it. Voulsh backtracked before re-entering the city where more guards patrolled with their hand held machines. It was time to tap into their computers and find out the news of Sheppard's death and learn if his mission had been completed.