Stargate Atlantis: Sleep Before I Do

By: Shadow Chaser

Disclaimer: Stargate SG-1 & Stargate Atlantis and its characters are the property of Stargate (II) Productions, Showtime/Viacom, MGM/UA, Double Secret Productions, Gekko Productions, AcmeShark Productions, and Scifi Channel. This story is for amusement only and I didn't get any money for it. No copyright infringement is intended.

Category: Action Adventure, Drama, H/C

Pairing: Hints of Shep/Weir, hints of Ronon/Teyla, and hints of Shep/Teyla.

Notes: Sheppard's hallucination is very fluid and motion like. For a good frame of reference, see SG-1 Season 3's "The Devil You Know." Fans of SG-1 may be very familiar to the Blood of Sokar (and its more potent cousin running through the poor Colonel's system at the moment) and the memory device used in tandem to torture SG-1. This is my Atlantis tribute to that excellent episode. One more chapter to go!

Story:

Chapter 11 – Hallucination

John thought the candles were a nice touch, their flickering flame dancing in the darkness, illuminating and casting shadows so random of a pattern that he thought McKay would probably have an aneurysm trying to figure out a pattern. That was a beauty of fire and oxygen consumption – there was no singular pattern. Random as the universe itself…

Well, aside from the usual Wraith attacks and the probability of Asuran attacks now that they had managed to piss of one of the most advance civilizations in this galaxy that even the Wraith wouldn't touch with a ten foot pole. Did they even have ten foot poles, he wondered. He could imagine something of the sort, perhaps long, squishy, slimy, all kinds of disgusting and would probably want to squish it with a finger of sorts before really grabbing onto it to poke something.

Come to think of it, why did everything in this galaxy had something squishy related? Even the Ancients had their own squishy thing, especially with some of the Puddle Jumper's controls, the Drone Chair… Okay, not everything in Atlantis herself or even remotely Ancient was squishy, but it was still some kind of level of squishiness. The Wraith just took it a few steps too much, organic tech, really, really slimy labs, prison cells… Sometimes, he caught himself thinking that the Wraith were like the Borg from Star Trek, or even the Shadows from Babylon 5.

McKay had scoffed at the idea when he had mentioned it randomly to him, muttering something about how Star Trek writers couldn't write techno-babble without it being blown up the next episode, but surprisingly complimented at least the creator of Babylon 5 had the decency to consult with NASA at the time. John had stared at his friend with a new found sense of respect for him for the rest of the day, who knew that their resident pessimist enjoyed some science fiction shows. But that feeling was killed when something in the East pier blew up once more, sending McKay back into his endless spiral of pessimism and how they were all going to die.

Some things in life could be predicted, McKay for one, and some things, like this little flame on a candle, danced its random dance. The corners of his lips twitched up in a smile at the thoughtful beauty of it.

"You're not even listening to me, are you John?" her voice snapped him out of his thoughts and his eyes slid from the candle to her cream-colored face.

There were accents of rosy blush on her cheekbones, a bit of bronzer and dark eyeliner. He thought he saw the part where her hand had shook just a little, breaking a slight line of the eyeliner across her eyes. Her lips, however, were their natural color, absent of any lipstick she wore since they had sat down to dinner at L.A. Prime, a fairly expensive steakhouse on the thirty-fifth floor of The Westin in Los Angeles.

It had been eight days since he was granted leave and he had six days left. He had already received orders for his next posting and had requested leave before going on his mission. He wanted to at least see Nancy before leaving again. So they made most of their limited time and he had spent the past eight days helping around the house, cleaning it up as best as he could, seeing a couple of old friends, and generally trying to enjoy his leave, but it had been hard. For one thing, Nancy was constantly working in Governor's office in San Francisco, heading a new initiative for the California Department of Homeland Security and thus was rarely home.

On the days that she did get home there were strained talks between the two of them. That had blown into an all-out shouting match between the two of them just two days ago, him accusing her of not even taking the time to spend with him, her accusing him of keeping so many secrets, even about his latest mission which had been deemed Top Secret.

He had left the house in a fit of anger, driving down the six hours to Los Angeles to crash with one of his friends for the night. The next day, he had tried to make amends with her and offered a night out in Los Angeles with dinner included. He did not want to leave for this upcoming mission with such anger in his heart…especially since he had a nasty feeling about his latest posting to Afghanistan.

He had been pleasantly surprised when she had accepted and had taken the day off to join him. They now sat in the dimly lit restaurant, the skyline of the city spread out before them with their window seats.

"I'm listening," he replied, "just…"

"You were staring at the woman behind me for the past ten minutes," Nancy frowned.

"No," John quickly realized that where the candle's flame danced was in fact in the line of sight of a very beautiful, voluptuous, and leggy-blonde hair woman. Probably an up and coming actress he realized, judging by how much makeup and sexed up of an outfit she wore. Oops. "I was staring…" he trailed off, gesturing to the candle when he realized, that no matter what, his wife was going to see it as a lame excuse. He sighed and rubbed his chin, feeling the day-old stubble rough against his palm. "Never mind, you wouldn't even buy it…"

"Really?" Nancy looked at him; an eyebrow rose skeptically, "is that how little you think of me John?"

"No," he shook his head, "no, I don't- It's just that…well…look I don't want to turn it into an issue today, okay? Can't we just eat, chit chat, you know, talk in peace? Like a date?"

She looked down at her half-empty plate and snorted bitterly, "I think we're long past that."

John winced, knowing how right she was and it hurt. However, it was another dull hurt in his heart. He loved her, no question about that, but in the past couple of years, they had been fighting, so much…little spats, and sometimes full blown arguments. Neither one of them compromising with the other. Most of the time, it ended with him walking away from the argument, to let the bitter anger simmer and fester like an infected wound until the next thing flared it up angrily.

"Listen," she looked up at him and he met her gaze squarely, "there's a reason why I came here today…"

"Not because of my charming good looks?" he tried, the joke falling limply at the sad shake of her head.

She gathered her pocketbook and pulled out a fat white envelope and immediately John felt his world plummet. "Those aren't…what I think they are, are they?"

She smiled timidly at him, a sad heartbroken smile and nodded, pushing the envelope across the table. "I'm sorry…"

He tentatively picked it up, his dinner long forgotten as he picked at it and hefted it in his hands. "No, you're not," he finally replied after a long while, staring at the stark whiteness which seemed unusually bright even in the dim darkness. Must be trick of the candlelight he mused silently to himself. "Divorce papers…"

"I'm…sorry, I…didn't want to do this on your leave, but-"

"Don't," he found that his own voice had gotten hard, cold, trying to bury the stabbing pain of betrayal in his heart. She wanted a divorce from him…she didn't love him anymore…she…

"I still love you," her voice broke at the word and he looked up from the stark whiteness and saw a couple of tears fall down her face, staining her bronzer and blush. He wanted to believe her words that she still did love him, and maybe she did, but it wasn't the full blown passion that they had for each other five years ago. No…she may still love him, but she did not love him.

He stared down at the envelope in his hands. He thought it would work for a time, thought that she would be loving and supportive. They had been so in love, a whirlwind romance many of his friends had called it. He had been so happy then, finally finding his anchor and even one that his father had approved to his surprise. His surprise had been furthered when his father made an unannounced appearance at their wedding, though he had left immediately afterwards.

"…John…John?" her voice was so distant that it took an effort for him to pull himself away from his thoughts once more and he looked up and suddenly sat up in surprise.

What had been the dim restaurant was now the dim darkness of Atlantis, more specifically on mess hall's balcony overlooking the East pier. He blinked owlishly, looking around, a bit bewildered.

"John, are you all right?" Teyla's warm and concerned voice along with her hand pressing into his made him focus his gaze on her face and he looked down at his hands to see them empty, the envelope gone.

"Uh…yeah, sure," he replied, "just…daydreaming."

"I believe it is night," Teyla replied dryly before her expression turned a bit more serious, "so have you given Elizabeth's proposal some thought?"

"Erm, what proposal," John hated when he felt out of the loop and he strived to pay attention, but even he was confused by Teyla's question.

"The one to save Lieutenant Ford?" she looked appalled at him, "you are the one who first brought up the proposal when we found his signal."

"Signal?" John was getting even more confused. Wasn't he on a different-?

"John!" Teyla's brows furrowed as she said his name sharply, "I cannot believe you would forget the signal we found on M3R-154? The signal along with the Wraith bodies all with the enzyme cut from their bodies?"

"Oh, yeah, that," he decided to humor her if not to calm her down, "I'm sorry…just a lot of things on my mind."

She nodded, squeezing his hand gently before rising from the table, "I understand. You should talk to Elizabeth to finalize the plan before we head back to the planet."

He nodded and expected her to release his hand like she always did; but instead, she drew it closer to her before she suddenly leaned down and kissed him fully on the lips. His eyebrows rose in surprise as he stared at her for a second then the warmth and gentleness of her kiss made him instinctively close his eyes and savor the moment. She tasted like simple honey, not too sweet, yet surprisingly aromatic.

There was no working of lips or the need to deepen it, but just the simple taste of her lips on his. However, it had startled deep within him, the feelings he had buried for so long, the gnawing hunger, the ache, unfettered passion that had been unleashed once when he had not been himself. Pinning her to the wall, bruising her lips with his own, he had been so alive back then, so free; he could do anything he wanted, get anything he wanted. And he wanted her, all to himself, wanted her badly that he had thought those simple sticks she played with were just mere toys.

He would take her; fuck her until neither of them could feel a single thing anymore, their union complete. He could do that, right now, he rationalized. After all, she was the one who initiated the simple kiss, the little hints of innocence washed away, all doubts, everything-

Whoa there…

John forced his own eyes to open and pushed his chair back, the screeching sound even loud to his ears, breaking contact from Teyla. His chair halted against the railing and he gasped, breathing the cool oceanic-Lantean air, trying to calm his raging hormones, his racing thoughts. This was Teyla…this was-

Honey sweet kisses, her golden-cinnamon hair. The way she had looked at him-

He stared up at her, noting a neutral expression on her face, the slight disappointment in her eyes. Had she wanted him to…?

No, this wasn't right, he realized. Teyla would never…she was strong willed, courageous, and a damn good fighter. She was a leader, a compassionate woman, and most definitely in control of herself at all times. She would never, ever, allow herself to be used this way, to even think of kissing him.

But good God, she could kiss…and he swore he could feel her passion behind it-

This is Teyla we're talking about, he rationalized as he stared at her warily, his own breaths calming down somewhat. As far as he remembered, Teyla would never compromise the uneasy boundary between them. She would never allow herself to lose such a control on her emotions.

He looked down and rubbed his eyes tiredly. "Listen, Teyla, I think we-"

"Colonel, I believe I do not look like Teyla," Elizabeth's sharp rebuking tone startled him and he looked up, shocked as he found himself now sitting in the familiar green-blue hues of Elizabeth's office. He instinctively sat up straighter as he looked around and saw a very pronounced frown on Elizabeth's face. She was angry about something…at him? About him? About the mission?

"I, uh," for the first time John was at a loss for words, "I'm sorry Elizabeth. I didn't-"

"I believe it is proper for the military commander to refer to his expedition leader as Dr. Weir, not Elizabeth?" her lips thinned into a pencil-thin line, "especially since you are now responsible for the loss of over twenty of your own men, including your second-in-command, Major Lorne."

"I-I'm sorry?" now John felt really out of the loop.

"Colonel!" she shouted, banging her hands on her desk, making him jump involuntarily before he scrambled out of his seat and stood ramrod straight. If he had lost Lorne, twenty of his men, why the hell had he been sitting down?! "I will excuse your need to sit down and sort your feelings, but I will not excuse your denial of events!"

John opened his mouth to say something, anything to protest her harsh words, but nothing came out. He stared at her, his face uncomprehending, "Honest I swear, Eliz-Dr. Weir, I don't know what you're talking about!"

She gave him a steely look, "I have the bodies of all of those who died under your reckless plan to save them from M3R-154 in the infirmary. Some are whole, others, are without heads. What do you have to say to that?"

"But Teyla said that Ford-"

"Obviously, Lieutenant Ford tricked you into thinking that he was on the planet," her voice dripped with uncontained sarcasm and he fidgeted slightly, "you have been deluding yourself for far too long Colonel, thinking that you can save Aiden from himself and from the Wraith enzyme."

He snapped his head up at her words and took a half step forward, "I can save him. I haven't given up on him yet!"

"At the expense of your men? What am I going to tell Stargate Command, hmm? Should I tell them that you ordered all of them on a wild goose chase, tell them that you had completely lost your mind pursuing a mindless goal?!" Elizabeth gestured to a stack of a papers on her desk, "Look at them, Colonel! These are the death certificates I have to sign off on! These are the papers that will go home to their families because these bodies cannot go back! Not after what they've been through!"

She leaned forward and stared at him, anger evident in her eyes, "You failed, Colonel. Just like you failed Colonel Sumner."

"W-What…?" John reeled, taken aback at the harshness of her tone, the fury in her eyes. Elizabeth had always been a constant source of comfort, even though he did not voice his feelings to her on missions that had gone south. But the first time after he had returned to Atlantis following the rescue of the Athosians and his men from the Wraith, she had been there, lending a supporting shoulder. It was soon after their initial party to welcome a new alliance and settle into Atlantis as their new home that he had found himself in her office, neither of them saying much, just drinking some tea, and enjoying each other's company.

He had shown her the dog tags then, the ones he had taken off of Sumner and told her to hold on to them so she can return them to his family. Instead, she had shaken her head and said that they were his to keep, reminding himself not of his failures and the fact that he had mercy killed his commanding officer, but that it was his salvation and hope. That he would realize the difference he was making day by day.

That was his first hint and sign that he thought he could allow himself to maybe, just maybe, have some more-than-friendly feelings for her. Of course, he knew that she had a fiancé back on Earth so he did not make anymore gestures towards her, but that did not stop their blossoming friendship – even though they more than often butted heads.

So to hear such unforgiving words out of her mouth shocked him to the core.

"You failed him, you failed Lieutenant Ford, you failed everyone, Colonel," her voice was soft, but frozen. She slowly drew herself to her full height and crossed her arms across her chest. "I'm sorry Colonel, but as of this moment, you are relieved of your command. Stargate Command and the IOA are expecting your immediate departure back to Earth where you will be charged for the deaths of your men…"

Her voice faded from his ears as he stared at no particular spot on her table, the eerily silent void of incomprehension filling him up. It was like hearing white noises all of the sudden. A court martial, his command taken away…probably a demotion along with a dishonorable discharge from the Air Force. He couldn't believe it…he had been contemplating contacting his father for a while now, ever since he had received his promotion to Lt. Colonel – to prove to him that he wasn't a rebellious son and that he had made his way in the world. But now, with so many deaths, the blood that wouldn't come off of his hands.

He lifted his hands and thought he could see the blood on them. Oh God, Teyla, did she know this was going to happen? That the night that seemed so clear in his mind, her gentle soft kiss…had she been trying to give him one last comfort before the mission?

He blinked, as he stared at his hands. He remembered her, lying on the ground, bleeding heavily from the wound. He couldn't do anything then, he had been helpless as the light faded from her eyes, the whisper of his name on her lips before she passed away. She had died in his arms and he had not been able to do anything. She had been one of the many lost under his own command, his own incompetence. His own laziness. He shouldn't have agreed to Elizabeth's proposal of joining the Atlantis Expedition, nor should he have been badgered by General O'Neill during that fateful helicopter ride back to McMurdo.

He had been a menace to no one else but himself. He should have just stayed on Earth, in his own exile in Antarctica. Didn't he say he liked it there when O'Neill had asked him? He remembered the stark skepticism and critical eye the General had leveled on him throughout the ride. He was sure then that O'Neill knew of his record, his disobedience to rescue two of his fellow soldiers and friends. How he had been shot down by the damned Taliban and how he had failed in that rescue mission. How he had been captured himself by the Taliban only to be released a couple of weeks later when Special Forces had attacked the village they were at, all by happenstance.

He knew he should have died then. Died in Afghanistan doing his duty…he shouldn't have lived…

Or was it back when Nancy had handed him divorce papers, maybe even before that when he had gotten into a huge fight with David…driven out into the road and nearly died when some jackass drunken driver decided to play chicken for the sheer hell of it. Maybe he should have died then, because as far as he was concerned, he was already dead…

"There is one way out of this, Colonel," Elizabeth's voice lost its previous venom and he looked up to see her staring at him, her face expressionless. She pushed forward a manila folder and he picked it up, opening it to see a large colored photo of a Furling. Flipping to the next page, he found more photos of Furlings, all different colors and facial structures.

"One of the prisoners we captured told us the gate address to the Klisan'thus homeworld," she continued, her voice a monotone, "we sent a UAV to scout the location and found the leaders who had captured our people before executing them. These are their photos."

"How did you…"

"Dr. McKay was able to configure a workaround using the cloaking technology in the jumpers to cloak the UAV. We were able to get these photographs," she replied.

John finally realized why she had handed him the folder with the photographs in it. He swallowed, his throat feeling incredibly dry all of the sudden. Forcing himself to remain steady and standing at attention he flipped the folder close and stared at her. "You realize what you're asking me to do?"

For all of her beauty, Elizabeth's face looked like it could have been carved out of stone, "Yes."

John slowly nodded, hearing the finality in her voice. She knew him well indeed…he would have no life back on Earth if he were to return and face his court martial. Nancy had left him a long time ago, his father and he weren't on speaking terms. He would probably have another stint in jail before being kicked out onto the streets. His pension would not be there because of his dishonorable discharge. He understood the compassion, if it was that that Elizabeth offered to him.

Finish the job he had started. Finish it and perhaps then he would be forgiven. Perhaps then he would forgive himself. The bitter irony of it made him want to laugh out loud at the absurdity. Here he was, over a year and half ago; about to do the same thing, commit suicide by saving others…

Yet…

"How long do I have to think about it?" he asked, suddenly feeling his own mortality quite clearly.

"We dial Earth in about an hour," Elizabeth replied neutrally.

He nodded once before straightening once more and saluting, "Ma'am. Prepare to dial in forty-five minutes."

The corners of her lips twitched up in a smile as she understood his orders. "Dismissed, Colonel."

He finished the salute and spun on his heel, walking away from her office and towards his quarters. In forty-five minutes, he would rectify his mistake. He would make sure that his men, Lorne, Teyla, and the others hadn't died in vain. In forty-five minutes, he would walk through the gate and kill the Furlings in the photographs.

In the brightly glowing control room of the Wraith'gul, Taethos smiled as the long forgotten killing machine of the Ancients slowly rumbled to life. Touching his left temple with a cylindrical device, he adjusted the settings of the small memory device he had implanted to the right of his temple.

He had found the device amongst the initial ruins of the Wraith'gul and had been curious about it before he realized the advantages of having one. The device always traveled in pairs and its twin was currently feeding his own transmissions into the Colonel's subconscious. Aided by the potent hallucinogen that he had injected in him it made for a formidable combination indeed.

It was disappointing that the idiotic half-breed could not operate the Wraith'gul. Otherwise, dragging out his memories would have been exquisite for him; to make Apollo see the death of his father over and over again, perhaps in so many different ways before he finally drove him insane. But alas, his men would have gotten rid of him by now. Time was of the essence, especially if the Tau'ri were now involved.

Taethos closed his eyes and saw the brief images of what Colonel Sheppard was doing, preparing himself for his seemingly suicide mission to kill the specific Furling images he had been given.

"That's it Colonel, only a little more to go…" he whispered.

They ran quickly and quietly through the dense underbrush, Major Lorne and Ronon on point, Teyla and Rodney in the middle, Captain Pearson and Lieutenant Brown on rear guard. Each one of them, Rodney included carried a za'kutus, finding it easier to wield while conserving ammo for their P90s.

They had already encountered a patrol as they rushed towards the Wraith'gul and had dispatched them with a concentrated fire on the four-Furling group catching them off guard. Teyla knew the next group they encountered would probably be harder to defeat. Nonetheless, she was determined to rescue John and the Furling that had helped them, Apollo.

Suddenly Lorne held up a fist, and Teyla stopped, pushing Rodney behind her and downwards as she looked around for any signs of the enemy. She looked out towards the woods and stared at particular spot that didn't quite look…right, to her. In fact, it looked like-

"They have invisibility cloaks!" she realized what she was seeing and lifted her weapon and thumbed the trigger. Golden bolts spat out of the end in a rapid fire pace and impacted the area as she tried to track the ripple in the woods. She grinned as one of her bolts hit its mark and the howl of a Furling echoed through the woods just as the large alien rematerialized and suddenly the air filled with more za'kutus blasts.

Teyla ducked as a few impacted the tree behind her and put a hand protectively over Rodney's, instinctively shielding him just as three more Furlings appeared out of thin air only to take cover behind large tree trunks.

"We have to get to cover!" Rodney shouted and she nodded as the two of them scrabbled over the dirt and rocks before finding a suitable hiding spot on the other side of a fallen log and Teyla climbed over it just as three bolts spat into the trunk, inches away from her hand.

She winced as a few splinters embedded themselves into her hands, but shunted the pain away and grabbed her za'kutus.

"Teyla, McKay, you all right?!" Lorne's voice crackled over the radio.

"We're fine," she replied back, "three o'clock from your position. I think there are three Furlings firing on us."

"Copy," Lorne replied, "Ronon's headed your way, I'm going to Pearson's and Brown's. Prepare for ambush on my mark."

"Ambush, what the heck does he mean-"

"Rodney," Teyla chided a bit harshly. There were times the brilliant man tested her patience and in battle, she knew it could be fatal.

"What, all I'm saying-" he suddenly stopped talking as he stared down at his tablet and Teyla felt a rumble pass through the ground. "Oh no, no, no, no…"

She stared at him as he looked up at her, dread written all over his face, "The Wraith'gul, it's being activated right now."

"Teyla, McKay, mark!" Lorne's command barked over the radio and she popped her head up from the tree trunk as Rodney scrambled for his weapon and joined her. Together, they fired their weapons towards where the three Furlings were hiding and saw three more groups of concentrated fire also lash out.

The Furlings scrambled out of their hiding spots as the fire was too much and Teyla smiled grimly as the crossfire took all three of them out. As soon as the last one fell to the ground, she stopped firing and tapped her radio, "I think we are all clear, Major."

"Roger that," Lorne replied just as Rodney tapped his radio.

"We need to get to the Wraith'gul now."

"McKay, we're doing that-"

"No you don't understand, the Wraith'gul is being activated. I think either Sheppard or Apollo, Akiesios, whatever his name is, is stuck in there, working the machine!"

"How much further?" Teyla asked and Rodney glanced down at his tablet for a second before pointing in a vaguely southerly direction.

"We should be there soon. I don't see any patrols, but then again, this thing can't pick up cloaked enemies," he gave a small bark of worried laughter.

"Do you know how to shut the machine down?" she asked.

"Yes, yes, I think I can," he nodded, "I just need to get to a control panel and hopefully override it."

She looked up just as Ronon tromped through a bush and appeared before them, looking a bit disheveled and dirt-streaked.

"All right, new plan," Lorne's voice crackled over the radio again, "we'll run you guys through the gauntlet in case anyone else is around. Ronon, Teyla, get McKay to the Wraith'gul and shut it off."

"Needn't be told twice," Ronon muttered as she stood up from her position and started off, keeping a wary eye out for anymore cloaked Furlings. She jogged at a brisk pace, hearing Ronon prodding McKay on as he yelped a few times and tried to not stumble upon the brush. A few minutes later she heard the zap, zap sound of za'kutus being fired and then Lorne's shout for covering fire and realized that the three soldiers had run into yet another patrol but had succeeded in distracting them and pushed on.

They reached the clearing to the catacombs of the Wraith'gul in no time and Teyla slowed down as they approached, dropping her za'kutus and lifting her P90, pointing it warily around her. She saw Ronon do the same, but draw his gun out and pointed it behind them just in case anyone dared to ambush them. Suddenly a rustle in the fern-trees to her left made her point her gun towards it before a familiar and welcomed voice filled the air.

"Teyla Emmagan, Ronon Dex, don't shoot! It is I, Apollo!" the familiar handsome man stepped out of the woods, holding a za'kutus and wearing a tac vest. Behind him emerged many more humans, most of them she did not recognize, but all wore the same body armor as Apollo. Furlings…human-formed Furlings a part of her realized.

Behind him was a tall and beautiful female that was nearly Apollo's height. She had the look of authority about her and exuded confidence and command, but oddly did not seem to be giving the orders.

Instead, she turned back to Apollo and smiled a greeting, "How did you learn our names?"

"The soldiers from Atlantis and from the Daedalus were kind enough to tell me after I managed to escape with some help and met up with them," Apollo smiled tightly before glancing into the deep catacombs, "I have felt the rumblings and stirrings of the Wraith'gul. I presume that is why you are here too? Having Major Lorne and his men draw off an ambush?"

"Yes," she nodded before gesturing to Rodney who had briefly looked up at the troops before looking back down at his tablet, making a few calculations and muttering mostly to himself. "Dr. McKay says he may be able to shut it down if we can get to a control console."

"Taethos has his position in the control center heavily fortified," Apollo looked grim just as Major Lorne, Captain Pearson, and Lieutenant Brown emerged from the woods along with the familiar face of Major Hicks and some of Atlantis' marines.

"Do you know of a back-"

"Grenade!" one of the Furlings shouted and Teyla turned slightly to see an object similar to the ones Ronon had showed them in the armory rolling to a stop by the entrance.

She immediately reacted on instinct, diving to the ground, covering her head. She barely saw Ronon shove Rodney to the ground, one arm on the scientist's head protecting his own head, the others on his own just as the explosion rocked the entrance, showering them all with dust and debris. She coughed a few times, expelling a wave of dust and rolled to her side, her ears ringing from the concussive force of the blast.

"Firing positions!" the beautiful woman who had been further away suddenly shouted, or at least that was what she thought she shouted as her hearing was still ringing a bit.

Suddenly she was yanked backwards and scrambled to her feet just as the area she was lying in was peppered with za'kutus blasts and she glanced upwards to see Apollo pulling her to her feet. Together they ducked behind a large boulder near the entrance and readied her P90 once more. It looked like they were going to have to fight their way in.

Teyla bit her lip in frustration just as another tremor shook the ground. If Apollo was out here, it meant that John was the one who was operating the Wraith'gul, and knowing him, he was probably doing it under extreme duress. Hold on John, we are coming, she silently thought as she peered out of her cover and fired into the darkened entrance.