Ok, here we go. Sorry for the small delay but work and real life get in the way sometimes! Thanks to all my lovely reviewers who continue to encourage me.

The silence was disturbed only by the gentle spatter of tiny stones shifting back to their homes accompanied by an eerie creaking that appeared to rise up from the ground itself and an 'Oh, my God' from Rodney. The team were frozen in shock, in the nanosecond before the inevitable burst of activity which would surely follow. Teyla was the first.

'John! 'She shouted in panic. 'I cannot see him. Did anyone see where he disappeared? Rodney?'

Rodney dared a glance at the life-signs detector and swallowed the lump that appeared in his throat. It had all happened so suddenly. One minute his friend and team-leader had been snarking away as usual, the next he was gone and, this time, it appeared that there was no likely miracle rescue from certain death. He hesitated, taking hold of the emotion that threatened to silence even him. 'He's gone. There's no life-sign at all. None.'

Ronon was in Rodney's face straight away. 'You mean you can't detect him? Find a way, Mckay. He has to be here somewhere and we don't have much time.'

'You don't understand.' Rodney stood tall against Ronon's anger, knowing that it was born of fear and worry for John. 'There is no life-sign.' He didn't want to say the word, but Ronon's persistence forced him to spit it out. 'He's dead, Ronon. Sometimes there's just nothing we can do.' Ronon had started to desperately dig into the sandy topsoil with his bare hands, looking for any sign of John, but the sand just fell back uselessly into the holes he dug. Rodney shouted, tears threatening to well up as he did, the emotion now clearly showing in his voice. 'Ronon! It's too late. There is no life-sign to find. Ronon! Stop! You'll bring the whole lot down and we'll go with it.'

The tall Satedan stood up stiffly and reluctantly staggered towards the gate, followed by a weeping Teyla and a silent Rodney. They just couldn't believe it. As they moved, the ground beneath them shook again, holes opening up in the ground around them and, as one, they sped up, Rodney dialled the gate and sent through his IDC, and then they were back in the temperate warmth of the Atlantis gate-room, shocked and silent.

Richard Woolsey watched the sad trio from the balcony. 'What happened? Where's Colonel Sheppard?'

Ronon strode from the gate-room without even a glance at Woolsey and it was left to Rodney to give the bad news. 'He's dead, Mr Woolsey. There was an earthquake almost the moment we went through the gate. The ground just swallowed him up. Within seconds his life-sign was extinguished. We couldn't even stay to find his body because another tremor caused the ground to become unstable around us.' Rodney paused, momentarily unable to continue, then took a deep breath as if answering the unspoken question from all the shocked faces around him. 'There was just nothing we could do.' With one last miserable look at Atlantis' commander, he followed Ronon from the gate-room, needing to find Katie and hold his daughter in his arms; let out the deep grief that he was feeling elsewhere than in public.

Teyla had stood in silence, quietly weeping, the only one able to let out what they were all feeling. 'I need to go to Cat. She must not hear from anywhere else,' and bravely walked out to find her friend, not sure how she would break the devastating news, leaving a stunned control room, every person in deep shock. Colonel John Sheppard was greatly loved and respected by every member of the Atlantis community and all felt the loss in ways personal to each.

Cat was still at her desk, cataloguing a strange artefact similar to an Incan statue, when she heard soft footsteps behind her. Immediately she turned, and saw in Teyla's face what she hoped never to see, in a moment grasping the news that was coming her way. Disbelieving, she allowed herself one word, 'How?' for the moment dry eyed and logical, needing but not wishing to hear the dreaded words.

And Teyla told her everything that had happened. Teyla wasn't sure what reaction she expected: numb disbelief maybe, desperate sorrow, crying, resignation, a total collapse. What she did get was a look of horror at first and then a strange calm seemed to spread across Cat's features, leading Teyla to press her point again, placing her hands on her friend's shoulders. 'Do you understand, Cat. John is gone. His life-sign was extinguished. We cannot even return to find his body, at least not yet. The planet is too unstable.' She fought hard to keep hold of the great sadness she felt at the loss of one of her closest friends, someone who she loved more than she had ever admitted.

'No, you don't understand, Teyla. John isn't dead. He promised to come back to me, to us,' and she pressed her hand on her belly, 'and he will come back. I know it.' For Cat it was that simple. Like John's favourite film, 'The Princess Bride', she felt the power of 'true love' and believed that he would return home. She couldn't say how or why she felt so sure. It was as though the unborn child inside her was shouting out the impossible: he was alive. She simply packed away her work and returned to their quarters, needing to be away from all the doubters and the sympathetic looks.

Over the next day, several friends attempted to talk to her, to convince her of what they knew to be true. Richard Woolsey was keen to hold a memorial service as soon as possible. The smooth running of the city needed a swift closure to the grief that seemed to ooze from every pore of it and life needed to continue. He needed to appoint a new military commander and maintain the strong position so hard fought for, not allowing the Genii any foothold. There were still factions vying for Laden Radeen's position and many were keen to cut all ties with the old enemy 'Atlantis' especially those who had long memories of the events six years ago when so many Genii lost their lives in the failed attempt on the city. Over the last six or seven years, John Sheppard had become the figure head representing the power and dignity of the Atlantis expedition and was respected and mostly trusted by the majority of civilisations in the galaxy. Woolsey reflected sadly upon the loss of such a man both personally, as he now counted him among his very small circle of friends, and as a military commander of great strength, intelligence and integrity whose early 'black mark' had been well and truly wiped out since he came to the Pegasus Galaxy. Indeed, he had recently recommended a long-overdue promotion to a full-blood colonel, an honour which was now likely to be posthumous. It seemed impossible to imagine how they could hold a service without Cat, though, and she was in complete denial about his death. He finally decided to contact Stargate Command, hoping that General O'Neill might be able to talk some sense into her. After all, he had played a small part in the pair hooking up in the first place and had always been a strong supporter of John Sheppard, recognising his talents where others could not, and the General was on his way, although it would be several weeks before he arrived on The Apollo.

Cat spent the days that followed trying to go about her normal day: working, sleeping, eating in the refectory. That was the most difficult to bear, watching the distraught figure of Chief Maria Johnson, John's greatest fan, who had cried enough, by the looks of her puffy face, for the two of them. It was not even possible to go to the main bar without constant reminders of John's supposed fate. Harry Burt had taken the 'John Sheppard' cocktail off the list, replacing it with a rather sombre looking beverage based on coffee liqueur and Bourbon whisky which he simply called 'Lost Hero'. In the end, she took to rising early, running through the empty corridors of the city and eating a quiet breakfast in her room. Teyla brought lunch to the Archive Room and Amelia and Katie would visit her in the evening, although by then Cat was ready for bed and certainly didn't want conversation. And this is how life continued in the city of Atlantis, treading water in a strange limbo, uncertain of the future and what it might bring.

***

The last thing John remembered was the ground falling away beneath him and a distant shout from Rodney and then he was here, in a cold cell, God knows where. His head felt like someone had bored a screwdriver into it and the tingling in his limbs was definitely the all too familiar sensation of being hit with a stunner. His chest felt like he's swallowed sand-paper which wasn't surprising given the sand he must have swallowed as he'd disappeared under the surface of the desert. How he had escaped from that one he couldn't possibly imagine, but being locked up in here was so not a good sign. Gingerly, he tested each limb. 'Well, at least nothing's broken,' he concluded, trying to find solace in any grasped positive as was his long standing habit.

Painfully he tried to stand, but his legs gave way beneath him and he decided that discretion should be the better part of valour right now. He'd wait and see who was holding him and why. It didn't take long. The iron door which opened into the ante-room the other side of the bars was shoved with a loud clang and a grizzled soldier in a very familiar uniform entered, followed by two younger men.

'Well, that answers one question, anyway,' he thought. Though why the Genii should want to take him prisoner in so dramatic a way he couldn't imagine.

The older man held what looked suspiciously like a cattle-prod, while the two younger aimed their weapons at him. With a small surge of pride, John realised that they were nervous of him, though he quickly reminded himself that 'pride comes before a fall'. 'Come with us,' demanded the man.

'Where do you want me to come?' He earned himself a nasty jolt with the cattle prod and the two younger men grasped his arms so tightly that he was certain they'd left their fingerprints etched into his skin. Half-conscious, he was dragged along the corridor towards another large, rusty metal door which opened heavily into a dingy, dark room. In the middle was a solid-looking chair and John was shoved unceremoniously into it, iron straps clasped tightly around his wrists and a metal hoop fastened so firmly around his chest that he had to gasp for breath. Through his haze he half-registered a tall form loom before him.

'Colonel Sheppard,' a deep, but unmistakably female voice whispered into his ear, 'It's an honour to finally meet you.' The voice paused and the shadow moved away. John's vision began to clear and he saw the source of the voice. The woman must have been over 6ft tall, with short cropped brown hair and, though slender of outline, it was clear that there was great strength in her arms and shoulders. 'You are probably wondering what you are doing here, although I have no doubt that you recognise the uniforms of our soldiers. I have waited a long time for this moment.' The voice was soft and gravelly, with an ominous and threatening note lurking just beneath the surface. He had been here before and had no doubt what was coming, although he didn't want to imagine the details. Last time he sat in a chair in a room such as this, Kolya had allowed Todd to feed off him, the memory of the pain still vivid and clear to this day.

'What do you want?' The words sounded distant through the woolly veil that was trying to smother his head. 'Can't I even know your name?' John tried to smile confidently although he wasn't entirely sure if his lips were obeying his command.

'Well, John. I can call you 'John' can't I? You see, I work for the new leadership of The Genii. Commander Radeen has been deposed and we are now in control. It is fascinating to watch all those little planets rushing to be in our good graces, running away from the tyranny of Atlantis. So, you see, your precious alliance is no longer in existence and The Genii can finally assume their rightful position in the galaxy.' The woman pushed her face close to his. 'Oh, and you can call me Charel. You and I are going to get to know each other very well.'

For a moment, he thought she was about to kiss him and he pulled back in disgust. He only just had time to register her almost imperceptible nod before he felt the band tighten around his chest, a loud crack and a stabbing pain signifying yet another broken rib in a long line of broken ribs. Just as he was about to pass out, the band loosened and he desperately tried to grasp some oxygen from the stale air. Pain sparked his forehead as his body tried to compensate for the lack of air and the blood returned with a rush.

'That is just a little taster, my sweet.' Charel's voice had a cloying and sinister edge with told of worse pain to come. 'You see, you are quite a prize. You want to know why you're here? We must have time to cement our alliances and we needed you out of the way. You look surprised? You shouldn't be. With her military commander out of the way, believed dead, Atlantis will take time to recover some semblance of order again and we will take advantage of that temporary blind spot to 'win over' the last few planets that will give us the power and strength we require to become the largest military force in the galaxy.'

'I...don't...understand.' John forced out the words. 'Why would having me dead make any difference?'

'You underestimate yourself, John. Many Genii might hate you and what you represent, but we all recognise your worth and the importance you have for Atlantis.' She paused menacingly. 'Oh, and if we can tempt you to give us a little information, that's a nice bonus, especially as by now your friends and colleagues think you are dead, so don't be expecting any rescue soon. You must understand, my dear John, that my superiors and I are more than happy just to see you suffer. Any intelligence would be nice, but we don't need it. There is no getting out of this one.'

Charel snapped her fingers towards the older soldier and John heard a clanking sound behind him and the unmistakeable buzz of a generator, followed by a shock of cold. Looking up to the ceiling, he saw a ancient shower like mechanism which was pouring orange, rusty and metallic tasting water over his skin. Strong hands tore his shirt and before he could get out a cheeky 'Eh, leave the shirt alone' electricity poured through the skeleton of the chair, causing him to convulse violently, stiffening against his tight iron bounds, stopping his breath at every pulse. His skin felt on fire, he was vaguely aware of throwing up and an unasked question attempted to pass his lips and failed, before blessed darkness overcame him and he passed out. 'How did I get here?'

John had no idea how long he had been unconscious, but the stiffness in his back from lying prone on the hard floor told him it must have been several hours. Cautiously, he gritted his teeth, the gums tingling numbly with the after effects of the electric shock and he could taste blood in his mouth, probably from a bitten tongue, if past experience were anything to go by. He tried to sit up but the sharp pain that banded his chest reminded him of his other injury and he pushed himself carefully to a half-slumped sitting position against the wall of his cell. It was time to take in his surroundings and consider his position.

'Well, John, you could be really screwed this time,' he muttered to himself, a habit he was in when in trouble. How he had got here he's no idea. He could be anywhere in the galaxy if the Genii had managed to get him to a gate, or he could still be on that hellish desert planet. He also had no doubt that Charel meant what she had said about his friends believing he was dead. 'So, I guess I'm on my own with this one.' The thought caused his stomach to take a sick-inducing lurch. Cat would think he was dead and she'd be going through hell, thinking that their child would be born fatherless. More than his own suffering, more than the pain he felt and would feel, the idea of her grieving was almost more than he could bear and the idea of not seeing her again or ever holding his child in his arms struck him with such a force that it obliterated any physical discomfort he was feeling. He leant his head back on the cold wall and allowed himself to shed a tear for what he had lost and what he would never have, before he mentally shook himself. 'Buck up, John. There's always a way out. They'll come. Somehow, they'll come.'

The days, or at least he thought they were days, that followed were surprisingly uneventful, including the aggravating non-event of a serious lack of food. A grisly, orange water and the once-a-day treat of some grey, mucus textured gruel was all he had to sustain him, pushed through a grate at the bottom of the door. Occasionally, he's hear footsteps coming in his direction, expecting the next phase of his so-called interrogation, but he was left in almost total isolation and allowed his thoughts to drift to more pleasant places, comforting himself with memories of Cat: their days and their amazing nights together. It was sometime into what he thought must have been his third day, just after he had drifted into a fitful reverie, remembering a very special night on the East Pier and his wife, then about to be fiancée, serving him in a maid's uniform, that he woke with a start. He must be going mad, but he was as certain as he had been of anything that he'd heard a familiar voice speak to him. It was so real that he had looked around eagerly anticipating its owner to be in the room with him but the damp and dismal wall had just stared back at him.

'John, my darling. If you can hear me, know that I believe you are still alive. I will not give up until I've found you. Please hang on, wherever you are. You have a wife and child to come home to and you will come home. I love you.'

***

Back on Atlantis, Cat sat bolt upright too. She had felt him, she was sure of it. She wasn't a mystical person but she just knew. John was alive.

TBC

I felt a little mystical when I was writing this, but consider the possible reasons for the telepathic link...? Please R & R. You know it makes me happy!