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Sheppard clenched his teeth, breathing heavily with each step. Rodriguez and Radek were under strict orders not to wait for him if he slowed them down, and Sheppard refused to fall behind. Crouching behind the foliage, Sheppard kept a look out for wolves, zombies, or anything else that might want to inflict more pain. What was it Zelenka had suggested? That this place was a manifestation of Rodney's mind? Implausible as it seemed, it would explain the gravestones and the creatures of this world. And they were in the Pegasus Galaxy, so anything was possible.

If it did turn out to be Rodney's mind doing all of this, Sheppard was going to have a long talk with the scientist when they got back. He'd avoid mentioning the graveyard, though, because…well, there were things Sheppard just didn't need to know.

"Sir," Rodriguez spun sixty degrees, kneeling closer to the ground while aiming his P-90 at a clear target.

Sheppard did the same, catching a shadow in his periphery. A cloaked figure made his way through the trees, barely visible but for the moon's light. Sheppard motioned for Rodriguez and Radek to stay low and cover him, before standing up.

"Hello," Sheppard called to the figure.

It stopped, but said nothing.

"My name is Colonel Sheppard. I'm in search of an injured friend. Can you help us?"

Again the figure did not answer. It remained still, its head bowed beneath its hood.

"We won't hurt you. We just need some help." Sheppard didn't like the way his gut was sinking. He held tight to the P-90, ready for use in a moments notice.

The figured whispered in a frightening hiss, "Is that so? Forgive me, John, if I fail to believe you. It is John, isn't it?"

"Who are you?"

The figure didn't answer. It did not move.

Sheppard glanced toward his companions, still hidden behind the trees. Rodriguez stood firm, ready to fire at the first sign of trouble. Zelenka, on the other hand, cowered low. He was visibly shaking, holding his weapon as closely as one would a teddy bear.

The figure had yet to speak again. Sheppard could hear his clock tick with each passing second, even if the sound was only in his imagination. He didn't have time for confrontation. "I'll just be on my way then," he called, taking a tentative step forward.

The figure swept closer. "John Sheppard? Is that right?" It laughed, shaking its head. The laugh dissipated as fast as it came, silenced by its angry voice. "I suppose you'll have me believe Rodney's the one injured, or perhaps you came from an Ancient city. You know what, though? I'm not buying it. Who are you really and what do you want?"

The figure's voice was eerily familiar as was the hiss. The words registered slowly in Sheppard's mind as he tried to dissect their meaning. He forced himself to move forward, needing to have a better look at this stranger. "Are you going to tell me who you are?"

The figure took his own step forward, removing his hood as he walked. "It would appear that I am you. Or rather, that you are me."

John gasped. He raised his P-90, holding firm to his position. The face before him was indeed his own, but not as it was now. Blue encrusted skin covered every layer of his face. The eyes were those of a predator, and the teeth were those of a Wraith.

"What the hell is going on here?"

The figure swept forward, opening its mouth, turning its head, and hissing. "What indeed, Colonel Sheppard. I wonder which one of us is real? I remember telling Carson to kill me before allowing me to become a Wraith, and then I appeared here with no other reasoning. And you? Do you know how you came to be here?"

"The gate." Sheppard wasn't sure why he hadn't fired yet. It was a Wraith before him sure as those were zombies back in the graveyard. Did it matter that it bore his face?

"I suppose that does explain some things," Wraith-Sheppard said. "In a way, I'm kind of glad to hear it."

"Are you now?" He shouldn't be talking to this thing. He shouldn't be wasting time. He should just fire. But he couldn't.

The figure moved back, its yellow eyes staring forward. "Kill me," it whispered.

"Excuse me?"

"I said kill me! Right now, I want to feed. The need grows stronger in me every second that we stand here. Kill me, Colonel, before I kill you."

"Listen, I love this little chat we're having, but Rodney is the one that is injured. If you really are some version of me, then you care what happens to him. We need to find him and save him. Have you seen him?"

The figure didn't answer right away, lowering its hood once more over its hideous face. "No. I had a dream that the skeletons took him away shortly before I appeared here. Of course, if we're placing bets, I'd say I was still dreaming."

Sheppard seconded the idea, albeit silently. Thinking that this whole mission was far too surreal for his taste, Sheppard asked, "What skeletons?"

"They own this land, I think. Don't ask me how I know, but I do. How long does Rodney have?"

The figure seemed honestly worried, so John answered, "Not much," if any. "We need to find him."

The Wraith stepped back. "My need to feed is too great. If I guided you there, you would never make it. Kill me, now. Kill me and you can go and save Rodney."

"Which way is the mansion?"

"Not far. Just keep walking toward your two o'clock. Now kill me!"

Sheppard didn't pull the trigger. It was one thing to kill a Wraith on the prowl. It was another to kill another version of himself.

The creature sensed his reluctance and lunged forward with a Wraith cry.

John pulled the trigger. Wraith-John spasmed with each bullet, before it fell to the ground and did not move again.

Catching his breath, Sheppard watched as Rodriguez ushered Zelenka up. They moved toward his position with a restrained calm.

"Are you okay, Sir?"

Sheppard nodded, answering, "Yeah," but he wasn't really sure. He didn't have time to sort out any of the surreal scene, much as he might need to.

"What was that thing, Sir?"

Radek hugged his arms to his chest, despite the 9-mil in his hand. His pallor was almost as bad as the zombies'. He shook his head, "It is a very long story. You are sure, Colonel, that you will be okay?"

Sheppard looked down at the body—his body—covered in red. He could smell the blood as sure as he could feel the coldness of his P-90 despite the gloves. Holding his nausea at bay, Sheppard nodded. "We should get moving again. I say we try and find this mansion."

As he spoke, a single snowflake waved through the sky, landing on his nose. It was followed by many more, each carried by the howling wind, pushing the opposite direction from which Sheppard and his team were traveling. If he didn't have his weapon, he would huddle into his jacket. He continued despite the frost building on his face. It was difficult to tell the ice outside from the cold of his skin. Still, he was determined to find his friend, so he trudged forward into the growing storm.

Dr. Grimes enjoyed the cold, but the bustling blizzard was a bit much. She sat by a fire concealed in the cave's mouth, watching flakes bombard the forest outside. She missed the snow more than she had realized, but she would have given it all up for a cup of hot chocolate and the knowledge that she was safe.

She had volunteered with the Red Cross back when she first earned her medical degree, and as such had spent much of her time surviving in bad situations, but there had always been someone there with her. Now she was alone on another planet and she was afraid. She poked at the dying embers of her fire, entranced by the sparks flying into the air.

A barrage of P-90 fire sounded from close by. Grimes jumped, her arm racing toward the 9-mil at her feet. She cursed her stupid ankle for trapping her here.

"They left me behind too, you know."

She whipped around to where she had heard the low, monotone voice. Behind tendrils of orange and red flames was a man—or maybe a zombie. She gasped, aiming her weapons at his head while backing further against the rocky wall. Blood poured from his wrinkled, pale face. He was covered in cobwebs.

"Don't worry. I won't hurt you," the man said. "I'm Gaul, by the way. Brendan Gaul."

"What do you want?" She held her chin aloft, her back straight, determined to show a confident face.

His glossy eyes bore into her own. He spoke quickly, mumbling, as though speaking more to himself than to her. "Considering I don't even know how I'm here, seeing as how I should be dead and all, I don't really know. I don't suppose you'd mind sharing your fire would you?"

Grimes couldn't think of anything she'd want to do less, but found herself nodding anyway. She found herself speechless as she watched his shadow dance on the cave's wall. She had seen Gaul's name before on a plaque—the one that honored the Atlantis dead. Holding her weapon close, she stared at him and he stared back. Neither moved nor spoke.

Teyla stepped through the doorway, sweeping the hall with the P-90's light. "Hello?" It was slightly warmer in the mansion if only because of the flame-lit torches. Spiders crawled over stone walls, their exaggerated shadows waving in the torches' glow. "Rodney? Is anyone here?"

"Over here." It was a soft voice no more than a few meters away. Another child?

A door hung ajar to Teyla's right. Cautiously, she brushed it open. Huddled against the wall was a little girl with blond curls. She held her knees tight to her chest, rocking back and forth in a slow, rhythmic pattern.

Carson ran forward, kneeling next her. "Hello."

"Hi." Bright blue eyes looked up into Teyla's and then Beckett's. The girl didn't say anymore. She hid her head once more within the comfort of her arms.

"Are you hurt, lass?" Beckett released his bag from his back, placing it in front of him. He reached in slowly as though afraid of startling the child.

Teyla could see drops of blood on the floor, scattered between puddles of melting ice. "We are in search of a man," she asked as Beckett began examining the child. It was not that Teyla wanted to be callous, but Rodney was still out there. He still needed her.

"You shouldn't be here." The girl's lips were a light purple, her face white. Ice crystals gleamed on her cheek and nose. She spoke in a low whisper. "None of us should."

"What do you mean?" Teyla stepped forward, feeling the weight of each passing second.

"I'm not sure. I…" The girl sniffled loudly, a whimper escaping. Tears turned to ice as they traveled down her white face. "I was with my brother and then the blizzard started. I remember falling. I remember him leaving. I don't remember what came next. I passed out? I was taken by skeletons? I don't understand?" She sobbed softly, curling her arms closer to her chest. "Nothing makes any sense. We shouldn't be here."

Carson injected something into the girl's arm, but she seemed oblivious. She rocked slightly, mumbling faster.

"Mer didn't want to leave me. But he had to. So he could get help. I couldn't move. But it was cold. And I kept waiting and waiting and he didn't come."

Teyla realized the girl was partly hysterical, partly in shock. She continued to mumble, the tears flowing faster with each heavy breath. This must have been the girl the boy had been looking for. She called him Mer…?

"Listen," Teyla tried once more, "have you seen a man come by here? He is dressed much like we are."

The girl shook her head.

Carson patted the girl's arm before standing up and motioning for Teyla to follow.

"How is she?"

"She's in shock and hypothermic. As far as I can tell, she shouldn't even still be alive much less moving about. If we're going to help her, we need to get her back to Atlantis now."

"Rodney is still out there." Droplets of water fell from Teyla's ponytail onto her shoulders. Brushing her hair back with the gloved hands, she looked to Carson, "We can't give up on him."

"Teyla, I know your team has a tendency to survive the impossible and I concede that your reluctance to give up on each other has a lot to do with that, but given what you've told me, I don't see him still being alive. This girl is."

"Yes, but you just said she shouldn't be. There is something…strange…happening here, Carson. We both know it. That boy for instance…" Teyla closed her eyes a moment, praying for guidance from the Ancestors. "I do not believe that Rodney is dead and I will not abandon him."

Carson surveyed her appraisingly before nodding. "Aye, I wouldn't have expected any different." Carson gazed back to the girl. Teyla could see the hurt in his eyes at having to make this decision—as though whichever he chose would destroy another part of his soul. "We'll be back shortly," he called to the girl, approaching her once more with the same cautious step. He shifted through his bag, taking out a few items. "This should help you with the cold. Here's another bandage for your leg if it needs it, okay? As I said, we'll be back as soon as we can."

The girl glanced up, hurt emanating from her brilliant blue eyes. "I understand," she whispered.

Rodney huddled further into his cape, sniffling loudly and smearing his makeup in the process. His hands stung and each step took more effort than the previous. He wondered if it was possible for a person to freeze in place. Sneezing loudly, he moaned from the cold, pain, and unease. All he wanted was to go home and rest by the fire with Jeannie. Jeannie…Rodney had screwed up before, but never before like this. What if his sister died? What if it was all his fault?

Tears streamed down his frosted cheek. He sneezed again. Great, just what he needed: another cold.

The one called Lorne stopped mid-step, leaning down to look at Rodney with a worried smile. Rodney didn't smile back. These people seemed nice enough, but they were still strangers.

"I'm going to carry you the rest of the way if that's okay with you," the soldier said. Despite himself, Rodney nodded. Lorne squatted lower, allowing Rodney to crawl on his back. "Hold on tight now. We're going to be moving quickly."

It had been years since Rodney had had a piggyback ride. His dad said he was too big. Rodney missed riding on his dad's back, though, almost as much as he missed seeing his dad smile.

Lorne's hair was white with snow. Rodney latched onto the Major's vest, resting his head on the wet hair while shivering violently. He sneezed again but he was afraid to wipe his nose for fear of falling. Through stinging eyes, he watched the white landscape pass by, wondering why it wasn't as he remembered. Where were the houses and streetlights and roads? He didn't remember wandering into the forest. No, he had just gone to get Jeannie help.

"The skeletons have her." His own words echoed in his mind. Skeletons? It seemed such a strange thing to say and yet he did believe it at the time. He understood it. Even now he knew undeniably that skeletons had taken Jeannie to a mansion. What mansion? His memories were a jumble, more confused than an abstract painting. Was he dreaming? Was he hallucinating? It couldn't be real. None of this could be…

His cape flapped in the wind. He clung to it as tightly as he did to Major Lorne. He sneezed again, watching as green phlegm flew into the air, landing on Lorne's shoulder.

A hand came to rest on his back. "Are you okay?" Emily asked. Rodney's response was to moan softly.

A sharp, jabbing pain roiled within Rodney's stomach, forcing him to wake up once more. "Rodney?" he heard a voice call from what seemed impossibly far away. He blinked, trying to remember where he was and how he had gotten there. "Teyla? Is that you?"

"Awake again, Master?" the witch asked.

Witch? Oh yeah, there had been a witch, hadn't there? And a skeleton? No, that didn't make any sense. It must have been a dream A strange, vivid dream. His mind assaulted him with more images. Cats and pumpkins. Gaul. Jeannie. He tried to shake them away but failed.

"Still unwell, Master? But I have repaired your injuries. You should be feeling fine soon, yes?"

"His friends are coming for him," another voice said. It was familiar. The skeleton? That sounded right? His subconscious was definitely intent on this strange nightmare.

"He is right, Master, they have made it into the castle. They come for you."

"Teyla?" McKay found himself mumbling, trying to think past the haze. It was hard to process anything but the terrible pain. And the cold. It was so cold.

"Yes, yes, I do believe that is her name. Her faith in you is strong, Master."

"Teammate," Rodney mumbled, wondering why gnomes were tap dancing on his head. Or at least it felt like some were.

"We can't let her get here, Master. You know that right?"

Rodney shook his head, wondering why he'd sleep on such a concrete floor. If this was a dream, surely his brain could have come up with something more comfortable. What was the witch saying again? So hard to think…

"Skeleton," the witch called, "rally up your crews. No one is to arrive here. Understood?"

"Yes, Witch."

Rodney found himself drifting again. He couldn't help but feel that he had missed something important—that he should say something. He was exhausted, though, and eventually the need for sleep won out.

Snow struck the ground at an attack velocity. Sheppard could feel the frost build on his stinging skin. Despite all of the warm clothing, he shivered. Trudging through packs of snow, he held his P-90 aloft, images of the fallen Wraith-Sheppard flashing through his mind. He could imagine Rodney similarly lying on the frozen landscape, blood seeping onto the white ground beneath him. Or worse, his unconscious form buried beneath growing layers of frost. He wished, he prayed, he hoped that it was not reality, that somewhere out there Rodney was alive, well, and safe.

"Rodney?" he called desperately into the night. There was no reply from Rodney or otherwise. Sheppard glanced at the life signs detector once more, cursing at the blank screen.

Beside him, Radek had given up holding his weapon. Both of his arms were curled around his chest. His teeth chattered. "Rodney does this on purpose, I tell you. Making us wade through this mess."

"Sir."

Sheppard followed Rodriguez's motion. Cascades of snow assaulted his vision, but he could still make out the distant shape of a hill. Billowing smoke emanated from the summit, clashing against the raging storm. "I take it that's our mansion up there?"

"Onward and upward?" Radek adjusted his pack, his glazed eyes staring at the hill with trepidation.

Among the howling winds, Sheppard could hear a distant voice call, "Colonel!"

Sheppard swung left. Two dark figures approached, masked by the intense blizzard. As they drew close, Sheppard relaxed the grip on his weapon. "Major?"

"Yes, Sir," one of the figure's answered. Sheppard could now see a kid attached to the Marine's back.

"Who's that?"

"Long story, Sir."

"Teyla and Beckett?"

"They continued forward, Sir. Apparently there is some kind of mansion around here with…um…"

"With what, Major?"

"Skeletons, Sir. Or so I've been told."

Sheppard wasn't sure if Lorne was trying not to laugh or just not look foolish. "Skeletons?"

"Yes, Sir. I'm not the one making this stuff up."

"Relax. We've heard the same."

Lorne raised an eyebrow at this but didn't comment further.

The kid was big, maybe nine or ten. He stared at each of them with wide-blue eyes. He sniffled loudly as Lorne lowered him to the ground. "Who are you?" he demanded.

The kid moved toward Deschutes, hiding himself behind her. Deschutes grabbed onto his shoulder, coaxing him back. "Don't worry, they won't hurt you. These are our friends."

Lorne gazed at the kid warily, distrust shinning in his eyes. "His name's Rodney, Sir. We've been helping him find his sister Jeannie."

"Rodney?" Zelenka moved closer, examining the kid with scrutinizing eyes. Little Rodney backed away, clutching Lorne's side as if the kid were five years younger than he actually was.

"That's right. Rodney and he's dressed as a vampire and enjoys Hershey's candy bars, Sir." Deschutes explained.

"Is that right?" Sheppard moved forward, brandishing his hand. "It's nice to meet you, Rodney. My name is John." The graveyard was creepy. Meeting himself…unnerving. But staring at this young version of McKay—for he could tell that was exactly who this was—well, it was chilling, alarming…disturbing.

The kid backed away, his cape swinging around him. "We need to find my sister. Now." He pouted, but still looked wary.

"Best we can tell, Sir, both our Rodney and his sister are in the mansion. We were just on our way to meet up there with Teyla and Beckett."

Sheppard forced his gaze away from little Rodney and back on Lorne. "We were on our way up there, ourselves."

Sheppard began walking again, knowing the others would follow with or without a command to do so. The snow crunched beneath his feet, frozen orange and red leaves left in his tracks. He could see little Rodney wipe his eyes before resting his head on Lorne's shoulder. His small eyes drifted closed. Sheppard watched all of this with a heavy heart, convinced that all of these figures were products of Rodney's mind. But why and how still eluded him.

TBC