Author's Note: I think I have a curse that makes it nearly impossible for me to follow a schedule. Sorry that this wasn't put up as scheduled; real life got in the way. Here's to hoping I'll get the next one up on time - the Buick Open starts tomorrow, so we'll have tourists galore. (I swear, going to the store that's usually five minutes away takes twenty. Not to mention that nearly everyone in this county is out of power. Consumer's Energy can't keep up with all the AC, I guess.) Anyhow. Enough of my rambling. :) I hope you enjoy!

Next Update: Saturday, August 5th.

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The Last To Fall

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Teyla sat up immediately the moment she heard it through the misty haze of sleep. The sharp click that a silenced gun made when it fired. She swung her legs over the side of her cot and stood quickly. Her mind was working a mile per minute and her body was on autopilot. She grabbed her jacket and aimed to run out of the door, but a figure blocked her path.

She froze, her entire body tensing into a fighting stance, her jacket dropping to the floor. "Declare yourself," Teyla ordered, adrenaline coursing through her system. Her rational thoughts told her it must be a colleague, but she trusted her instincts, and right now an alarm was blaring inside of her that sent the hairs on the back of her neck rising.

"I always thought well of your people's manners, Teyla," the figure stepped into the tent, the faint light from the single candle left burning illuminating her face. "Have you forgotten those ways so quickly?"

"Sora."

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"Sir, I have the leader."

"Good work. Take her to the center of the camp and tie her up there. Teyla is being taken care of as we speak. Rodney McKay is your responsibility."

John Sheppard's eyes snapped open at the first sound of the low murmur of voices from outside. Their words had been indistinct, but they were becoming louder and easier to distinguish as the minutes slipped away. The speakers must be moving toward his tent. John tensed. It was probably just the guards, he assured himself. He was just being paranoid.

But better safe than sorry, he reasoned.

"Yes, sir. But what about Ronon Dex?"

John had clutched his gun in his hand even before he rolled off of his cot. He landed in a graceful crouch, his ears straining to hear more of the conversation.

"The Opalian guards can be quite…forthcoming," there was a low chuckle. "Ronon Dex did not make it through the Wraith invasion."

He froze. Paranoia was no longer on his list of concerns. These weren't Opalian guards outside his tent. Creeping toward the door flap, he tightened his grip on the weapon. He was centimeters away from the door and formulating a plan when something struck his face.

He stumbled backward, his vision disappearing for a moment. When it returned he saw that one of the men had ducked into the tent, pistol in hand. John immediately adjusted his aim, taking a few cautious steps backward as he did so. His lip was stinging, half of his face was strikingly numb, and he tasted blood in his mouth.

"Not as quick as the last time I saw you, Major Sheppard," the man observed, slightly bemused.

"Lieutenant Colonel John Sheppard," John corrected acidly as he squinted in the dark, trying to figure out who this man was. There was something about him; his voice, his silhouette…

"My apologies, lieutenant colonel," he replied sardonically.

"You're dead," the words fell from John's lips before he could stop them. He'd finally remembered why this man was so familiar; where he'd seen him before…

"Is that what Ladon told you?" he scoffed.

"Speaking of...where is Ladon?" John questioned, raising an eyebrow.

"He had an unfortunate accident a few months ago," the man said, in a tone that suggested that the accident was most definitively not an accident, and it was just as fortunate. "There's a new leader of the Genii people."

More death. John swallowed tightly and pushed it to the back of his mind.

"You're their new leader, then?" he questioned, and received a thin grin that told him all he needed to know. There was a long pause filled with tense silence.

"Did you really believe me dead, Colonel?"

"Not really. Though I can't say I wasn't a little disappointed when I heard. After all the things we've been through, I really hoped I'd be the one to finish you off," John replied.

The man chuckled. "How is the City of the Ancestors, anyway?"

John did not answer him.

"You need not answer. I already know what has occurred. Actually…" he paused, and then shook his head. "that's a story for a different day, I'm afraid."

"Commander Kolya, sir!" Neither man batted an eye at the young soldier who walked into the tent, giving a brief bow to the other Genii. "All other subjects are being removed as we speak. Shall we begin neutralization, sir?"

Kolya's eyes glinted in the night. "Whenever you're ready."

"You son of a bitch!" John brought his P90 to his shoulder, aiming for Kolya immediately. He'd let his guard down; let his curiosity control his actions. It was something he couldn't afford to do.

"I'd put that down if I were you," Kolya told him dismissively.

"Now why would I do that?" John questioned. His knuckles were white from gripping the gun so tightly. He had already lost so many of his people…no more were going to die. Not on his watch.

"Because," Kolya smiled. "I have Doctor Weir at gunpoint. If you shoot me, she dies, as does everyone else in this camp. I don't think you want any more blood on your hands."

"Only yours, Kolya," he spat.

"I trust you'll make the right decision."

John's eyes moved over the tent. Kolya's gun was pointed directly at him. He wouldn't be able to neutralize both of the other men before he was shot down. John knew that Kolya wasn't bluffing about Elizabeth.

If he attacked, she would die, along with everyone else.

He had a nagging suspicion that even if he did, the outcome would be the same.

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