Sheppard was deliberately straggling behind his team. He was tired and over aware of his surroundings, lending credence to the fact that exhaustion had finally caught up with him. He yawned, rubbed his eyes, and tipped his head back into the rain, just to coerce some semblance of wakefulness back into his weary body.

He checked his watch, the hands blurring before his eyes, and was relieved to see that they would only be on this planet for another three hours or so. As soon as he got back, he planned to have a long hot shower and then crawl under his covers to sleep for at least a week.

It had finally become too much.

The past, he feared, had caught up with him.

A twig snapped to his six, pulling him out of his personal reverie.

His team stopped, their backs stiffening.

"What was that?" King whispered.

"A bird?" one of the men asked.

"Have you seen any birds here?" Adams asked in an acerbic tone.

Sheppard stopped, his mouth curled into a smile and he slowly began to turn, "Lorne," he whispered and with a shake of his head added, "I'm going to kick your ass."

He held up a fist and knelt down, knees squishing into the sodden mud, paintball gun at the ready.

"Sir?" King asked from beside him.

Sheppard indicated with a flat palm for him to kneel also and he turned back, smiled manically, and then returned his gaze to the underbrush. Fleetingly, he feared it might not be Lorne and placed a free hand on his P90 just in case.

"Let them come out into the open, get them exposed and then hit them with everything you've got. No way Major Lorne is going to beat me," Sheppard whispered.

Dizziness.

He blinked a few times; convinced it was merely drizzle hindering his vision.

"Okay," he said pushing through his tiredness, "One…"

The figures were coming out of the darkness from the cover of the trees. They were moving slowly and uncertainly. There was a distant noise, a grumbling sound, as if one of the men were speaking repetitively.

"Two," Sheppard said as his finger gently began to depress the trigger on his paintball gun.

A rookie mistake for Lorne.

"Three!" with the figures out in the open they pressed their individual triggers and unleashed a rain of red paint.

After a few seconds, Sheppard stopped shooting and he stood dumbfounded in the rain.

Realisation kicked in.

He stood deathly still even as a smile tugged at his lips.

"Stop!" he said turning to his men and holding his hands up, "Quit shooting."

The steady plops of the paintball guns ceased and Sheppard turned back to the paint covered figures.

He pursed his lips and swallowed down the laughter that bubbled below.

"Mckay? Ronon? What the hell are you doing here?"

Mckay looked down at his uniform and flicked some of the red paint off it with a long-suffering sigh, mouth opening and closing like a dying fish.

Ronon merely shook his head, looking thoroughly annoyed, his hair covered in thick red paint.

"Well," Mckay began as Sheppard's men sniggered behind him, "Thank you."

Sheppard turned to his men. Hiding his smile from Mckay and Ronon he said, "Okay, keep going. You have an hour to find Lorne and his men. And…..make sure you reload," he said turning back to Mckay.

His men disappeared into the bush.

"What are you guys doing here?"

"Getting shot at apparently," Mckay said in a derisive tone.

"Hey, how was I to know it was you two skulking about in the shadows?"

"We were not skulking," Mckay said.

Mckay was annoyed. The little vein on his head was pulsing angrily as he limped towards Sheppard. He stopped, turned back to Ronon and then said, "Ronon, say something."

"We were not skulking," Ronon contributed as he walked over to Sheppard and plucked his paintball gun from his hand.

"That really hurt," Mckay whined.

Ronon was holding up the paintball gun and examining the contents.

"Ow!" Mckay said as he rolled up his sleeve, "See a bruise."

Mckay prodded the area and emitted a few other ow's for good measure.

"Oh come on Rodney. It's just a little-OW!" Sheppard exclaimed jumping back and holding his leg.

"Gun works good," Ronon said handing the weapon back as Sheppard massaged his leg.

"Funny," Sheppard groaned.

There were the sounds of noise in the background, men shouting, and shots being fired.

"What the….?" Mckay asked in an irritated tone.

Sheppard turned quickly, a strange fear escalating in his gut, the dizziness returning in a sickening swathe of motion. He felt himself pitch slightly and a hand gripped his elbow roughly.

"Well, sounds like the games over anyway," Sheppard said in a weak voice.

"Are you okay?" Mckay asked as Ronon released his elbow.

Sheppard looked down at the floor and reached for his radio, "Lt King? Status?"

"Did I speak?" Mckay asked Ronon, "Because my mouth opened, sound came out…." Frustrated he shrugged.

There was static over the radio as Sheppard wandered away to collect himself.

"King?"

Finally, a voice came over hurried and panting hard, "Sir, they got us."

Fear again.

The wraith? Or……he shook his head. No, he was talking about the paintball game not the wraith. You're not on that ship anymore Sheppard, pull yourself together.

Sheppard answered gruffly, "Damn. Okay, well I'll be with you in a minute."

"Great. The team are detaining us now," King said and there was the sound of laughter in the background filtering through his headset.

Sheppard signed off.

"We lost," he said as he clipped his paintball gun to his vest and gripped his P90.

"Great," Mckay muttered again as he rubbed at the paint.

"Oh, it'll wash out," Sheppard said as they moved towards the raucous laughter up ahead.

"Give me the paintball gun!"

Sheppard looked back over his shoulder at Mckay and narrowed his eyes, "No."

Mckay was rubbing his arm where a painful red welt was erupting, "Come on, you shot me. Let me shoot you."

"What are you five Rodney? No."

"Oh come on." Mckay pleaded, "Ronon was allowed to shoot you."

"I didn't allow him to shoot me," Sheppard said as he rubbed his leg. It was throbbing slightly from the direct impact of the paint pellet and it was stinging more than he cared to admit.

Ronon simply shrugged as he moved, not wanting to become embroiled in another of Sheppard and Mckay's famous arguments.

The rain was beginning to fall harder, when they emerged from the trees. The sight that greeted them had Mckay and Ronon looking at one another in surprise and Sheppard's blood pressure rising.

His men were tied up to a tree and Lorne's team were standing around them laughing. In fact, they were all amused.

"We got them," One of Lorne's team members shouted with a triumphant fist pumping in the air.

Sheppard looked from his team to Lorne's team as he approached them, stopping briefly to shake his head.

He marched over to them and looked around, "Where's Lorne?"

"He's helping Jacobs. He fell and twisted his ankle. He said to go on." Jarnson of Lorne's team stated.

Sheppard stared at his men. Tied up. Defenceless.

He closed his eyes and tried to breathe in steadily as a vision from his past invaded his mind. The special Ops team, tied up, old, decrepit, dying. He swallowed thickly, the ever present, ever pervasive illness wrenching and spreading through his gut.

He coolly opened his eyes and found strength from his anger.

"What the hell do you think your doing?" he said as the rain fell harder, helping to punctuate his every word.

Jarnson looked shocked, "You said to…….detain them once we'd got them."

Sheppard felt like slapping the guy on the back of the head.

"Get them down now."

"Sir, it was just a bit of fun," Adams started to protest and he was one of the men tied up.

Sheppard was too tired by now to see reason. Cocky, arrogant, know alls. Was this why Stark was so bitter? Was Sheppard going to become like him?

"Get. Them. Down."

Mckay and Ronon stepped up behind him.

"Oh ha ha very funny," Mckay said as he watched the soldiers.

He crossed his arms over his chest and shook his head, "See this is what happens when you leave the military to their own devices. Asinine."

Sheppard shot him a look that could kill. Weariness and anger were tugging at his final nerve.

"People do stupid things," Ronon noted in an emotionless voice.

Sheppard stalked over to the tree and looked Adams in the eye, "This isn't funny," he stated as he grabbed the rope and started to untie them, "You of all people. I told you to tow the damn line and you………are you even listening to me?" Sheppard asked.

He suddenly noticed how Adams, how all of the men were looking up at the sky.

"Uh Sheppard?" Mckay said in a quivering voice.

Sheppard felt the bile rise in his throat as he looked up at the sky.

A whining object cut across the grey.

Sheppard opened his mouth and shouted, "Wraith!"

-------------

Sheppard had given Laraby as long as he could to get away.

It was time.

He pushed himself out from under the console and examined his handiwork. A series of shredded and inadequately cut wires were spewing out of the console as if it had just vomited. Sheppard paid a lot more attention to Mckay than he knew. He knew that he had managed to isolate the tendrils responsible for overloading the drive pods within the hive ship and he knew that by simply and crudely sparking two gooey wires together, he could create a catastrophic explosion to rival that of the standard self destruct.

He licked his lips and made his final peace before gripping the wires in his hands and slowly edged them together.

This was it.

It was over.

The fat lady was singing.

Time to leave this world and find the next.

He held his breath.

----------------------

Rule three: Never leave a man behind.

There was a flurry of activity as the whining darts hazed overhead, their scouting beams scanning the ground to suck up prey.

Sheppard was trying to untie his men as Lorne's men discarded their paintball guns and reached for real bullets. Mckay ran over to help Sheppard while Ronon unholstered his blaster and pointed it upwards.

"Well I'm glad I decided to take this little day trip, "Mckay moaned as he ripped fingernails off trying to pull the rope loose.

"Shut up Rodney," Sheppard hissed as he worked.

"Sir?"

Sheppard could hear Lorne over the radio.

"Lorne, get your ass over here. We need to get these men out now."

"Jacobs has twisted his ankle pretty badly."

"Okay," Sheppard said as he pulled on the ropes, "Get him to the gate, dial Atlantis, and bring reinforcements."

"Yes sir."

As if Sheppard had somehow been transported back in time he felt the all too surreal sensation of déjà vu. He only wondered if there would be a similar outcome.

His men still weren't untied from the tree and they were now frantically scrambling to get out.

"Hang on!" Sheppard said as he tried to pull the rope free.

The rain was falling in sheets now, plastering his hair to his forehead, and leaving his fingers slick with water and the rope soaked and taut.

"Wraith!" Ronon called out firing off a few blasts with his weapon.

Lorne's team was firing too, trying to hold back the impending threat.

"I'm going to die on my lunch break!" Mckay said as he helped Sheppard pull on the rope.

"You're not going to die," Sheppard said quickly. He looked up at the men tied to the tree and repeated, "None of you are."

Sheppard turned and squinted through the rain, "Fallback to the gate. Try and draw their fire away."

Lorne's team nodded and started through the undergrowth, a plethora of wraith breaking off from the main group and following them in earnest.

"Come on, come on, come on," Sheppard could hear Mckay saying as he pulled on the rope, "Why won't this rope come off?"

Sheppard was about to answer when something shoved him off balance. He skidded to the floor, his fingers clawing in the mud and managed to get onto his back and work out what had just happened.

Ronon was fighting hand to hand with a wraith and one had got loose, tossing Sheppard to the side.

He managed to get up to his feet and run back over to the tree, slamming the wraith to the ground as he went. With Mckay's help, he yanked the rope and his men were free, instantly reaching for their P90's and firing on the enemy.

Sheppard sprayed bullets into the wraith that had attacked him and watched him crumple to the ground.

"Fallback!" he shouted.

Ronon dispatched of his wraith and started ushering men towards the thick cover of the trees.

Marks fell over, sailing backwards in the mud, his head connecting hard on slippery impact. Sheppard ran over, was pushed backwards, and he watched from his knees as Markswas fed on by a wraith.

Slow motion.

There was nothing he could do.

"Move!" Sheppard shouted to his men.

They had taken care of most of the wraith, and with one final shot, the last one fell to the ground.

"We need to get out of here."

"But Sir…..they're everywhere," one of his men cried out.

"They're not really there," Sheppard said as he pushed on a few of his team members.

Adams was holding his gun up despite there not being anymore wraith in their vicinity.

"You coming?" Mckay asked Sheppard, gripping his 9mil with white knuckles.

"I'll be right behind you," Sheppard said as he waved him on and ran over to Adams.

Ronon, Mckay and his remaining team took off.

Adams eyes were wide and manic and Sheppard recognized this reaction, "There's nothing there."

"They're all around me," Adams said in a hysterical voice.

"The wraith can make you see things that aren't there."

"No," Adams said in a small voice.

"Just give me the………"

--------------------------------------

A shot rang out in the distance and Ronon stopped dead in his tracks.

"What's wrong?" Mckay asked as he nervously looked up at the sky and watched a dart fly over them.

Ronon licked his lips and shook his head, "Something's wrong."

"What?" Mckay asked running over to him with his gun pointed at the ground.

"We're going back," Ronon stated.

------------------------------

The wires were nearly touching, death imminent, when something struck the back of Sheppard's head. He fell backwards disoriented and dizzy, hands reaching for a weapon.

A face appeared over his, the supposedly dead wraith, with its scorched features and burnt hair.

"Guess…….you didn't like that…" Sheppard rasped out.

The wraith sneered and tore Sheppard's tactical vest open in one violent move. It was slow to engage him though, it's finger tore into his t-shirt and made contact with the bare flesh underneath.

It was relishing in seeing Sheppard squirm.

Sheppard manage to get his hand free and slammed a flat palm up into the wraith's chin. It gasped, it's head rocked backwards, but it retaliated immediately by pinching Sheppard across the mouth.

Sheppard coughed and tasted blood as it colored his lips.

"I am…going to enjoy this," the wraith hissed and slammed it's hand down onto Sheppard's chest.

Sheppard was expecting to feel his life pulled from him, ripped out by the wraith, but was surprised when he merely felt the wind being knocked out of him.

The wraith angrily looked at its hands and let out a growl of frustration. Sheppard caught a glimpse of them and could see that they were badly scarred and bleeding. Mangled almost from the force of the earlier explosion.

It had been too close.

There was no way that he could feed through his damaged hands.

The wraith wrapped his hands around Sheppard's throat, "I will enjoy watching you die all the same," it shouted.

Sheppard tried to push away, but the wraith held him down, pushing hard, his vocal chords constricting with the pressure. He was struggling to get his breath and he could feel the veins in his forehead bulging painfully.

Sheppard blinked away the darkness edging into his vision.

Seconds later, Sheppard watched in muted surprise as Laraby depressed the trigger on his handgun. A single bullet ripped it's way through the wraith's skull. Sheppard and Laraby caught it before it had a chance to fall and toppled it to the side.

"What the hell are you doing here?" Sheppard asked Laraby as he coughed into his fist painfully. The air he had previously needed was now choking him, burning his lungs and making him dizzy.

"They're dead," Laraby said with a shake of his head, "Both dead."

Sheppard nodded in understanding as he tried to pull in oxygen, "I told you……. to get out of……. here."

"Forget about that," Laraby said as he helped Sheppard to his feet, "I'm here now."

"Against orders."

Laraby sighed, "I would never have made it out, even if our men had survived."

Sheppard bent over and sucked in a lungful of air.

"Yeah well, look…." Laraby bit his bottom lip and sighed uncomfortably, "I still….don't like you."

"Gee, thanks," Sheppard said as he rubbed the back of his neck and fought against compelling giddiness.

"But….i guess….." Laraby was struggling, "…I think I get you now. That doesn't mean I forgive you for what you did before but…right now….right here….I get it."

Sheppard clapped Laraby on the shoulder, "There's no backing out now," he said.

Laraby looked down at his watch, "The air strike will be here in five minutes."

Sheppard stumbled over to the console, tripping over the dead wraith in the process, and reached for the dangling wires, "Let's….." Another cough, "….. do this before Stark gets a chance to."

Laraby stepped up beside him and took one of the wires, "There's one thing I want to know."

Sheppard grit his teeth, "We don't really have time for this."

"Hey, it's my funeral," Laraby said.

Sheppard was wracked by another cough. "Okay."

"What was that…wraith going on about before, about you being…different?"

Sheppard looked away. He could taste metal again.

"Hey, look, we're going to die right? So what does it matter what you say."

When he was right, he was right, "I once turned into a creature similar to that of a….wraith," Sheppard disclosed in a pained voice, "It's possible the wraith can detect it in me."

Laraby's eyes widened.

"Or it could be my ATA gene," Sheppard added with a pained breath in, "It helps me use certain alien technology."

Laraby snorted and looked amazed, "Damn. I wish I knew more about this……what was it?...Atlantis place."

"Certainly something to miss," Sheppard said.

Laraby looked down at his watch, "Two minutes."

Resolute silence descended over them.

"Let's get this over with. We need to destroy this ship before the air strike goes over otherwise we'll be taking out a few more men that we intended."

Laraby said nervously, "Better just two huh?"

"And any lingering wraith," Sheppard said as he felt his heart rate quickening.

"Okay," Laraby said exhaling quickly.

"Ready?"

"As I'll ever be."

"Okay."

Sheppard licked his lips.

"Now!"

The wires sparked when they touched.

The explosion shook the ship, the fire tore through the corridors, and Sheppard and Laraby saw white.

--------------------------

Adams had run off.

Leaving Sheppard on his own as the wraith flew over his head.

They were almost pretty. The way they spiraled and dipped leaving a thin wisp in their wake.

Delirious.

Sheppard slowly looked down at his side, moving his hands away from the wound as if he were revealing some new and amazing discovery. This wasn't new and it certainly wasn't amazing. This hurt, coursed pain through his stomach in spikes, and made him feel weak.

He could feel sweat wetting his brow, hear his heart roaring in his ears. His knees buckled beneath him and he pressed his hand over the wound. Out of mind, out of sight. Or was it the other way. He shook his head. Out of sight, out of mind. Yeah, that was right.

Blood was trickling through his fingers, spattering to the ground almost rhythmically.

His head began to swim, he fell forward, one hand planted onto the ground, the other still trying to staunch the blood.

He had to take his hand away to activate his radio, "Guys," he rasped out through the pain.

Al he could think was that his men were hopefully nearing the gate and they would soon be safe.

A voice came through quickly and clear, "Colonel?"

"Adams…..ran off," he gritted out.

The rain was so loud. He could barely hear. Barely think straight.

"What? Oh this is all we need…" Mckay said over the radio.

"I kinda need some help," he managed to get out before he crumpled forwards onto the ground.

He managed to get onto his back, breathing in slow pained increments as his heart raced and his body grew weak.

"Colonel?" The voice was desperate and filled with emotion.

He couldn't answer; he was so tired, and he wanted to submit to his exhaustion. Darkness was creeping into the edge of his vision as he felt his blood rush out of him.

------------------------

They found him lying on the floor of the forest, rain spitting down from the skies, making them trip on their own feet as they skidded to reach his pale and bloodied form.

He was only just conscious, eyes staring vacantly up at the sky; one hand flopped out on the ground, the other feebly trying to staunch the blood.

Ronon was first to reach him, removing Sheppard's hand and groaning when he saw the extent of his injury.

"Adams…" Sheppard swallowed, "………thought he was firing at the wraith."

Mckay looked at his wound, eyes widening with fear, "We need to get him out of here quickly," he said as he scanned the skies fearfully.

"The wraith…..just made him see it," Sheppard continued to ramble in a weak, disassociated voice.

He was confused, his mind wasn't connecting to the reality of his situation; all he could connect with was the pain in his side.

"Forget about Adams," said Ronon, "No time."

"He's out there," Sheppard snapped as his eyes roamed lazily and unfocused, "You can't leave a man behind."

"He left you behind," Mckay said in a high pitched voice. He held his gun up and scanned their surroundings "We need to get out of here," he repeated.

Ronon used his body weight to press his hands down over the wound.

John bit down on his lip, clawed at the ground with his free hand and mumbled out a strained curse, "Son of a-"

"Come on," Ronon grumbled.

Rodney and Ronon each took an arm and slowly started to extricate John from the ground, leaving a visible patch of blood on the muddied earth. The water was quickly mingling with it; removing the evidence, but not removing the memory.

"Adams!" he shouted.

"He's gone," Mckay said as he looked around, hoping maybe to catch a glimpse of the soldier.

"Adams! Come back here!" Sheppard continued.

"There are wraith everywhere," Ronon said, "Time to go."

John's legs went from beneath him and he gasped weakly as his two friends grappled with his limp form.

"I can...walk," he panted out.

"No you can't!" Rodney squeaked out in a panicked voice.

John tried to get straight, forcing his body to comply with his simple command, but he just couldn't do it.

Being upright meant the blood was coming out faster, slicking his stomach and catching in the waistband of his pants.

He chanced a look down as his head wobbled giddily and watched his blood drip and dribble to the ground, falling onto his boots and staining them with every drop.

"I'm exhausted," he mumbled.

He blinked. He felt so incredibly dizzy and weak.

"Got to get them…out," he slurred.

--------------------------

Getting Sheppard to the gate was difficult; his legs kept going from beneath him as the terrain moved from gentle to ridiculously sloped, and as Ronon glanced back, he couldn't help but notice the trail of blood that Sheppard was leaving in his wake.

Sheppard was being stubborn and insisting on trying to walk despite his physical injuries.

"Colonel?"

Sheppard jerked his head up at the voice in his ear, "What?"

"What?" Mckay asked as he gripped Sheppard's arm.

"It's Lorne," Sheppard informed him curtly.

"We've got a problem sir," Lorne stated in a flat voice.

"What is it?" Sheppard thought as he pushed off Mckay and Ronon and sank to the ground.

Mckay reached into his tactical vest and retrieved a field dressing, intending to patch Sheppard up himself.

"The gate, Sir."

"What?" Sheppard asked as Mckay prodded at his side and Ronon kept him upright.

"The wraith have dialed out, so we can't dial in. Looks like we're stuck here for a while."

TBC

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