Major John Sheppard screamed.

While ordinarily that would be a bad thing -especially a blood-curdling staring-the-putrid-haze-of-death-in-the-face scream like that- it was an incredibly bad thing when hiding with nothing between you and a host of technologically-superior evil-incarnate life-sucking blue bastards but a flimsy wall of thorny brambles. Granted, it could be worse - Sergeant Bates could be here. Lieutenant Annette Parker couldn't think of a time she had been more thankful of whatever Gods she knew not to be Goa'uld than when Major Sheppard had decided not to assign Bates to her team (well, there was that one time in that hotel in Colorado Springs, but everyone knew that anything said in the throws of passion didn't count).

She hated that narrow-minded misogynistic asshole almost more than she hated anyone - except maybe the nightmarish figures currently whirling around to face their now-exposed hiding place -not to mention whoever was responsible for making the major scream like that. Annie liked John Sheppard. He wasn't all spit and polish, but he still had his ways of letting you know he meant business, in a friendly dopey-grin sort of way. And on top of that, he definitely wasn't a chore to look at. And she wasn't going to let anyone stop him from smiling or her from looking - not if she could help it.

With that in mind, Annie let out a volley of fire, her companions exploding to action beside her. The lead Wraith let out an angry growl as one of his footsoldiers fell to the ground in a cascade of bullets. The other guard fired a stun-weapon into the bushes, and Annie heard someone beside her fall. "Fall back!" she yelled, turning her head slightly as she continued to fire. The light was fast fading from this world, worsened by the shadows that screeched across her vision -the phantasm the Wraith made you think were truly there- but she could still make out Aiden's retreating back as he muscled his way through the back wall of the thicket, yelling at Simpson to follow him and leaving shattered brambles and drops of his blood in his wake. If Aiden was one thing, he was definitely tough, though innocent often came in a close second.

She spotted Bulter's prone form on the ground. Just what I need. Markham and Teyla were already pulling Sheppard -now moaning quietly in their arms- to his feet. Stackhouse was busy firing beside her, and she needed them both to cover their flank.

"Kavanagh, Lin, grab Bulter!" she ordered as she turned her attention back to the battle, taking out one of the two footsoldiers that just joined the scene. It was their experience that Wraith traveled in teams of five - she hoped this meant that they had two down and three to go. She landed a solid shot to the lead Wraith, but he continued to stalk forward menacingly.

She turned to check that everyone had made it out alright before they withdrew, to find Lin struggling with Bulter, a dead weight that outweighed the small Asian by about 50 pounds - Kavanagh had retreated to save his own hide. Now Annie Parker was not one to indulge in stereotypes - after all, there were a lot of things said about women in the military, ranging from sluts to bull-dykes, and she didn't care for a single one of them. Still, she was beginning to think what some of those meat-head marines said about scientists was true. They were a liability, only worth their cost because of the weapons they might one day procure. I am going to kill that sniveling bastard! she thought. I'll wring his neck!

"Help Lin!" she yelled to Stackhouse. She could see him pause, obviously wondering if she could protect their retreat on her own. Stackhouse was a good soldier - Annie was glad to have him under her command, because he did think orders through, but quickly. In a moment he had Bulter lifted over his shoulder and was running through the bushes. "Go!" she ordered the soft-spoken anthropologist.

The Wraith approached her position, and Annie had to drop to the ground to avoid a blast, feeling the scatter of shattered brambles on her back as she raised her head. The two remaining footsoldiers had disappeared. She feared that they had discovered an alternate path through the maze and found the others. The splattering of gunfire in the distance confirmed it.

She needed to get back to the group: to help defend them, and to make sure she wasn't cut off herself. One of the first rules of command: you're no good dead. Actually, it was more part of Annie's personal rules - she had resisted the temptation to be just a pretty face, obviously it was to be expected that she would resist the military imperative to turn yourself into cannon-fodder.

Unfortunately, the lead Wraith was making Annie's personal rule rather difficult to fulfill. He was tearing what remained of the shot-up thicket aside with his wide claws, hissing at his prey, a wide smile on his face. Annie rolled onto her back and raised her P90 to fire. It picked that time to run out of ammo.

The Wraith was almost upon her now, smirking in victory. Annie did not scream, but leapt to her feet, unholstering her handgun and emptying the clip point-blank into its chest. The creature spasmed with the force of each impact but continued to stalk her as she stumbled back against a wall of thorns. It felt as though there was no escape - that she would die here.

She ducked a claw that made a grab for her arm, tearing through the thick cloth of her uniform to rip a gash in the supple flesh beneath, but not gaining purchase. Annie Parker never shirked her responsibilities - she had put long hours into physical fitness and training at hand-to-hand combat, but she was no match for this seemingly-immortal being, one that drew its strength from the very life-essence of countless others. She raised an arm to deflect its attack, but only succeeded in falling against the once-protective growth that trapped her - the force too much for her small frame.

She reached for her knife, swinging it wildly and slicing a long gash down the Wraith's chest. It looked down and gave a harsh hiss of a laugh as the gapping crevasse seemed to sew itself up. Annie took the pause to push herself from the bush and run, following the path her companions had carved earlier, glad -for once- to be much smaller than the men. The Wraith was on her heels. She could hear the snap-crackle of twigs and thorns flying in its wake as it pursued her. She could see the clear darkness beyond the depth of the thicket before her, the just-risen moon, looking down upon the battlefield with an unfeeling serenity. Her lungs burned as she pushed harder, faster, fleeing the nightmare.

It wasn't just an aversion, a fear of death, a base instinct to run from monsters such as these that pushed her onwards - it was also the knowing that her death could only serve to make this ... this thing grow stronger. It was death - the absence of memory, of possibility, of love and hope and all things she knew to be good in the world - a darkness beyond the slow easing of years from the supple flesh of youth.

Just as she reached the freedom of the open night air, her foot caught on one of the gnarled roots that supported this twisted maze. She fell face first into the lifeless gray dirt, glowing eerily in the moonlight. She coughed as the cloud of dust invaded her lungs, feeling the sickening grip of a clawed hand on her arm, flipping her over. She expected the Wraith's breath to be warm, like a predator - so many faceless creatures felt but not seen in nightmares. But its breath was cold, sending a chill up her already tingling spine. So this is how it would end.

Then she heard the ring of gunshots - a sound she had always linked to destruction, now her salvation. She saw the catlike eyes of the Wraith widen as it released her. Annie leapt to her feet and ran, limping on her twisted ankle but swallowing the pain, ready to put up with anything to get away from that. She could barely make out the form of her rescuer in the darkness - only the determination in the darkness of his pupils, set menacingly against the white of his eyes.

Annie Parker had never been 'girlish' or weak - she was a soldier, after all. And she was feared for her skills at argumentation, but she fell into the figure's arms like a dove coming home to roost, not caring who or why or how, just for the comfort of another human touch. Soldiers did not behave like this in the heat of battle -it was even one of the reasons those idiots over at command had for the ridiculous DADT regulations- but no one at command -no one in that galaxy- had ever faced a terror like this. Human comfort was the only thing that stood between them and the hopeless despair of a world where evil like that existed. She just barely stifled a sob of relief, releasing the warm body before her to turn on shaky legs to see the Wraith rising from the ground.

Her companion flashed her a tense smile, and in the smile -not the eyes- she knew it was Aiden. He drew something from his vest and sent it flying through the air. The dry bushes -the perfect kindling- exploded into a wall of flame as the grenade blew the monster into a thousand tiny pieces, fire burning like passion through even its chilling empty breath.

Aiden wrapped an arm around her and she involuntarily clung to his warmth as she limped off down the path back to the jumper. "Thanks," she said simply, knowing that she could not hope to compress the overwhelming tide of emotion in that one word, but trying valiantly.

"My pleasure." His voice was rough - not the grinning farmboy she had once known, the man that used to leave his banana peels in her pack or tease her about the latest in her string of failed relationships. Perhaps the Wraith can steal from us even without touch, she thought wistfully. Aiden sounded ... well, he sounded angry, desperate, almost. Perhaps it was the shock of having those slicked slimy hands on her, but Annie couldn't bring herself to feel anything but simple relief.

She stumbled, letting him guide her as if in a dream. When would this end? They ducked through the brush, eyes alert and searching for the two soldiers still at large. Aiden clicked his radio twice, and a voice resounded in the darkness loud and clear. "Stackhouse."

"Status?"

"They've stopped firing, sir. We're almost at the jumper."

"We'll meet you. Ford out."

Annie felt the adrenaline pounding in her veins, making her skin crawl. She had never wanted the comforting warmth of the soft lights of Atlantis so much - even if they were alien. She felt her reserves waning as Aiden quickened their pace. God, her ankle hurt. Part of her hoped that Aiden would simply lift her up onto this broad shoulder and carry her, though the diehard feminist in her would never allow it. She panted a gasping breath.

"Not much farther," he encouraged.

It was as much as she could manage to nod, knowing he felt it in her ponytail brushing against his cheek. Then a bluish wisp obscured the darkness, coiling around them as if trying to choke them into firing - giving away their position. She placed a restraining grip on the tensed muscle on the arm the held his raised P90.

They crept forward as quietly as they could and almost tripped over a crouched figure as they rounded the bend. Annie felt rough hands on her shoulder, pulling her down. Her instinct was to scream, but the hands were human. She turned to see Markham's face, a blur in the darkness. She could see the oblong structure of the jumper silhouetted in the clearing up ahead, nose rammed into another cluster of bushes. In order to make it, they had to cross an open clearing, and judging by the phantoms she and Aiden had witnessed, Annie figured the Wraith were about.

She reloaded her P90 and looked around, taking stock. Bulter was still out for the count. All three scientists were safe, though Kavanagh seemed busy trying to hid behind Simpson - not that there was much of her to hide behind. Lin had Sheppard propped up against him, mumbling something over and over again. Annie could not make out the words, but she gestured for Lin to quiet him. She felt the hairs on the back of her neck stand on end - knowing that she was watched.

"What are we waiting for?!" Kavanagh hissed. And Annie whirled around to gesture for him to shut the hell up when she felt the odd ripple of air, the result of one of the Wraith stunners, go flying over her head from behind them. The idiot had given away their position. She stifled the overwhelming urge to slap him and tried to focus on how to get out of this. The shots were coming out of the darkness, barely visible even. She saw Aiden toss another grenade, lighting up the scenery, but the shots continued to come through the wall of flames.

They lay down a sheet of fire, Aiden and Annie taking pointed and the rest of the soldiers falling into a line behind them. Then she heard Markham's panicked shout, "Kavanagh!"

Annie turned around to see Kavanagh running for the jumper, tall form crouched over . "Kavanagh! Stop! The jumper's rigged for explosives!" But he was either too deep in his own cloak of fear and adrenaline or too pigheaded to listen (she voted for the latter).

Well, he's asking for it, she thought, turning on the laser sight on her weapon. She could let him blow himself up opening the door that Ford had rigged with explosives, that would be oddly appropriate, but that jumper was everyone's way out. She'd just have to shoot the daft bastard. Shame. She went for the shoulder blade, away from any major organs (he was still a useful mind, after all).

Kavanagh crumpled on the ground screeching like a chicken getting plucked alive. Annie ran towards him, dodging the blasts that continued to fly overhead, calling over the radio. "Aiden! Disable the C4!"

Kavanagh was moaning and rolling around in the dirt when she reached him. "Oh god! I've been shot! You shot me, you bitch!"

"Yeah, yeah, I know." She rolled her eyes, dragging him to his feet. The man might appear lanky, but his height only gave the illusion of thinness - she definitely couldn't support his weight, especially not on a twisted ankle. "I shot you in the arm. Move it!"

Her radio crackled to life, "All clear, Annie. We're right behind you."

Annie released Kavanagh and dove for the hatch control, narrowly missing a shot that flew over her shoulder to the place she had just been standing. The second it took for the hatch to lower felt like an eternity, exposed by the controls. She dove inside just in time, pulling the still-whimpering scientist with her. "Shut the hell up and fix this thing."

"I'm bleeding."

"Look, do you want to wait for the Wraith to mobilize more troops and come get us or do you want to whine like a ... " well, a lady didn't use that kind of language. "Fix it."

Kavanagh gave an entirely unnecessary sigh and pulled out a palm device. Shit. If she had known he'd kept that with him they could have saved themselves a whole hell of a lot of trouble. Now I regret not shooting him somewhere much more painful. Like in the balls.

Annie went to guard the entrance, nearly crashing into Teyla and Stackhouse as they dragged Sheppard through. He looked even worse than before, blood dripping unnoticed from a gash on his cheek, hair damp with sweat. Annie rushed to help them lower him comfortably onto one of the benches at the back of the jumper. "Major?" she asked, hearing Lin and Markham drag Bulter through and dropping unceremoniously into a pile on the floor.

"Teyla, watch the door. Markham, Stackhouse, try to get us out of here!" She shouted over her shoulder, reaching out to take the major's pulse. His heart was racing, the beats almost erratic. Not good. Not good at all.

"Metta," Sheppard groaned.

"What's he saying?" She hoped it wasn't important.

"Metta." She ran her fingers through his sweat and dust caked hair. Despite his pallor, he was burning up. He squirmed away from her hand. "Don't wanna remember."

"Remember what, Major?" Something in the way that he said it told her that it was very important ... perhaps the key to it all.

"It's not working!" Someone yelled in the background.

"Dunno. It hurts," he groaned.

She gave his arm a squeeze. "It's okay, Sir. We'll get you help." She tore her eyes from the ailing man and barked out an order. "Kavanagh!"

"I don't know what's wrong! It should work! This is not my fault! I ..." Annie ignored the rest of his babbling and returned her attention to Sheppard.

"Major?" she shook him gently. If Kavanagh couldn't figure it out, with his own ass on the line, then the major was definitely their only hope.

"Uggggh."

"John?" She had never called him that before, but she didn't know if he even remembered he was a major in this feverish state. "I need you to come back to us." She tapped his cheek.

His eyes cracked open just a fraction, though she couldn't imagine what he was seeing. "Oma?"

Annie frowned. What was he talking about? "John. I need you to pay attention."

"Mmmm."

"We're in the jumper. We're under fire. Kavanagh says there's nothing wrong, but the controls don't work." She didn't need to try to make it sound urgent.

The slits of his eyes opened into wide circles, allowing her to see how bloodshot they were, one with a thick vein of bright red slipping toward the iris. "Parker?"

She didn't bother hiding her sigh of relief. "Yes, sir."

"Get me into the pilot's seat."

"Sir, you're in no condition to ..."

He ground his teeth together, closing his eyes in the effort to order her. "I know, Lieutenant."

"Yes, sir." She hoped he knew what he was doing - that this wasn't one of those egotistical hero-complex things she saw in some of the commanders at the SGC. Why couldn't they just admit that they couldn't all be Jack O'Neill?

Lin helped her heft Sheppard to his feet. He wasn't as heavy as Kavanagh and he was making an attempt to help them, but the pain in her ankle flared up yet again. Markham stood from the pilot's seat and took her CO's weight from her.

Sheppard slumped back in the chair with a sigh, reaching out a hand to touch the controls, lighting up the entire jumper.

"That's it!" Kavanagh exclaimed. "It was a software problem!" Annie couldn't really figure that one out ... perhaps it was like when you accidentally ejected a disk you were working on and the computer froze until you reinserted it.

Annie allowed herself another sigh of relief, only to realize that they were far from out of the woods yet. Where was Aiden?

She limped to the door and out, ignoring Teyla's protests. Blasts were still coming, but she couldn't see anything but the inferno of the burning landscape creeping slowly towards them. She could see neither Aiden nor Simpson.

A shot crashed against the side of the jumper, a few feet from where she stood. Annie reached for her radio. "Aiden?!"

The seconds ticked by with nothing but the warping sound of stunner blasts and the crackle of scenery going up in flames. Then, finally, Aiden's voice, strained and out of breath: "Annie? Simpson's down. We're cut off by the fire."

Annie didn't know what to do. None of them were in any better shape to run through fire than Aiden. She couldn't stand the silence, so she radioed back. "We'll come to get you."

She ran back inside the jumper, "They're pinned down by the fire."

"Fire?" Sheppard asked dazedly, slumped back in the chair, eyes unfocused. A display popped up on the dash, but he didn't seem to be looking at it. His eyes were closed in concentration.

Then the hatch shut itself and they were airborne. Annie couldn't see any of the action below her, but she was confident that Sheppard -eyes still closed- knew exactly what he was doing. The spinning bright mass of a drone spun out into the darkness, like fish dancing through the deep sea. Sheppard sighed heavily and the jumper began to sink down through the flames. Annie could not hear them licking at its metal walls, but she was confident that if it could withstand the descent into a planetary atmosphere, then it could withstand this. The hatch opened to a blazing heat, and Annie and Teyla struggled out into the murk, searching for signs of their companions.

"Aiden?!" She shouted, afraid for once, that she would never see his wide smile ever again. Sure, Annie had lost friends and colleagues, but never anyone with so much promise - so much wonder at life.

Then she saw them, a strangely lopsided form, silhouetted against the raging firestorm. She rushed forward, ignoring the pain in her much-abused ankle. Teyla grabbed Simpson's limp body from Aiden's shoulder and Annie helped support her friend back inside. Aiden coughed and his hands and part of his boyish face seemed singed, but he gave her a reassuring smile. With that look her heart didn't seem to know whether to speed up or slow down, but she didn't allow that small spark that tightened her chest to develop. They were in the middle of a war. Now was not the time.

"Thanks," Aiden coughed as he slumped beside her on a bench at the back of the jumper.

"Just doing my job," she smiled, surprised she could managed it in the midst of all this mayhem. But neither of them could rest. They still had to make sure they all got out of this.

Annie forced herself to stand yet again, and walk to the cockpit. "We've got them, Major."

Sheppard was slumped even further down in his chair, breathing heavily, eyes still closed. "I think it's time someone else took over." He said it almost as a sigh, releasing the controls and promptly passing out.

Aiden appeared beside her and they hoisted the major from his seat, letting Stackhouse slide in. As they left the flames now spreading across the planet in a quilt of maze-like designs, the two lieutenants watched their commanding officer lying against the wall, the sadness of years written upon his face. She reached for Aiden's hand, giving it a squeeze. "He'll be alright."

They stood in silence, until they heard Dr. Weir's comforting voice over the intercom. Only then did Annie believe her own statement to be true. It would be all right. It had to be.