‘Please, God, let him be here,’ Aiden sent up a quick prayer before charging through the Gate, weapon at the ready.

Aiden was no longer particularly devoted in his church attendance. He’d done so every Sunday as a child, escorted by his grandparents to the large Methodist Church just down the block. He’d gone less in High School. He’d wanted to, but he was usually stuck at home trying to get through his math homework (no matter how hard he tried, he could never seem to get Algebra). And of course when he went to work at the SGC, it wasn’t like alien invasions took days of rest. And in Pegasus . . . well, with so many atheists (also known as pretty much everyone, especially the scientists) it was hard to even suggest the idea. Of course, Major Sheppard probably wouldn’t have said ‘no’ to the idea, even if he thought Aiden crazy for asking.

And then there was always all that sinning. Aiden hadn’t done anything big . . . sure he’d killed, but always out of necessity. And he wasn’t exactly saving himself . . . but he didn’t do one-night stands. He respected women. He certainly would never commit adultery or sodomy or any of the other ones that got you one of the warmer circles in hell. On a whole he was honest and respectful and nice . . . all the things you were supposed to be. And saving the world had to help things, right?

Aiden bit his lip. He hoped that God was still taking calls from him, even if he’d been a little lax with his Sunday worship. He really needed this one . . . he really needed to find McKay. Not just because the guy was his teammate and sort of his friend or because the city needed him or because it was his duty or even because Major Sheppard would be disappointed in him if he didn’t. No, the main reason was that if this mission didn’t succeed, then he would’ve cut an entire civilization off from the Gate for no good reason at all.

But, then again, Aiden didn’t believe in coincidence. Everything that happened had a purpose. Sometimes it was punishment. Other times it was temptation. It could even be a test of faith or resilience or something else that only God knew. Of course, with the Elians, he believed wholeheartedly that it was punishment.

And perhaps, if what Zelenka had said was true, getting captured was Sheppard and McKay’s punishment. Aiden certainly wouldn’t have wished it on them. But if it somehow let them atone . . . then he was glad that they were given the chance.

And then they were on the other side of the Gate, standing at the ready in a thick green field, grass coming up to their knees and wildflowers all around.

There didn’t appear to be any Genii here, but Aiden didn’t really trust the long grass not to be hiding something nasty. It would be just like the Genii to have invented landmines without C4 or other plastic explosives.

Aiden stepped forward cautiously, lifting up his casted arm to direct his team to spread out. Zelenka trailed so close behind him that he almost tripped over Aiden’s shoes as they made their way slowly forward.

“I don’t see Rodney,” Zelenka whispered nervously.

Well, that made two of them.

Aiden rolled his eyes and made a soft shushing noise. For all they knew, the Genii were nearby.

But, the further they walked, the less they found. If there was nothing on this planet but daisies, Aiden would have to kick something. He was worried about McKay, after all. The man could get himself into so much trouble, even without Major Sheppard there to exacerbate it.

They were approaching a ridge in the distance – dark black rock jutting out of the sea of color, like a lighthouse looming in the fog.

Well . . . it was the only thing visible from here. If they’d stayed near the Gate (which would make sense, if Kolya was planning to meet them on the other side) then that’s where they would be.

Aiden made a slightly-frantic gesture to his men, who came dutifully trotting along. They didn’t actually have to make it there for before the rock got close enough for him to see the huge cavern slit down the middle of it, and by that time, Zelenka was panting from exertion.

“That’s odd,” the Czech mumbled, pushing his glasses up his nose.

“What?”

“The rock shards just outside the base . . . that crack does not appear natural, yes?”

Aiden only needed a second before he jumped to the most hopeful conclusion – that it was manmade, and that it was where they’d find McKay.

He moved his pace from a trot to an all out run, trusting his men to divide among themselves who was going to follow him in and who was going to stand guard alongside. Surprisingly, Zelenka seemed to want to be counted among those who wanted in.

“You don’t have to, Doc . . .”

“You forget; I am Rodney’s friend too.”

Dedication in geeks – it was such a strange thing.

Ford gave a complex set of hand motions, signaling to Waterman and Parsons that they were supposed to follow him after a three count. Zelenka nodded back at him. Yet another surprise today – Zelenka knew the military hand signals. Aiden was impressed.

Aiden jumped over the crumbling piece of rock before him, stumbling into the dark confines of the cave, Zelenka still on his heels. It was distracting.

But then he saw the blue shirt clad figure lying on its side in the middle of the room. With a cursory glance over his shoulder to make sure his men still had his back, Aiden let go of his weapon and ran to McKay’s side.

McKay flinched. “God, Ford, don’t sneak up on a guy like that!” Well, at least McKay was still all right enough to be talking. A fact Aiden was sure he’d regret later on. McKay would probably go straight into the most annoying of his panic-babble modes.

“You all right, Doc?” Aiden asked, hauling the chair McKay was tied to into an upright position.

McKay heaved a put on sigh. “I’m lying on my side in a half-blown up weapons room after having been captured by evil villains. What do you think?”

“I’ll take that as a ‘yes.’” If there was something majorly wrong, he would’ve heard about it by now. “How’d you get here anyhow?” Aiden asked casually, moving to untie McKay’s bindings.

McKay yelped. “Ow! Careful with that . . . I think I might’ve broken my collar bone or something in my heroic dive from the explosion.”

Aiden had trouble picturing McKay diving from anything while tied to a chair, but given the whole post-capture circumstances, he figured he’d cut the guy some slack. He pulled out his knife to cut through the bindings instead.

“Watch it with that thing! I swear, Ford, if you slip and cut me . . .”

“Stop being a big baby, McKay, and tell me what happened.”

“The idiots wouldn’t untie me, so I tricked them into waiting in front of what is essentially the barrel of the giant squid-missile gun, and let them pull their own trigger.”

That was actually rather brilliant. Except something had clearly gone wrong . . . . “So you forgot that you were tied to a chair, huh?”

“Well . . . I had a lot on my mind – like the whole ‘I’m about to die, die, die, right now!’ thing.”

Aiden sighed. “Relax, Doc. You’re safe. We found you.”

“Yeah, yeah, my hero.” This phrase seemed to remind McKay of something, because suddenly he was shrugging off the arm restraints and bending to get at his legs. And doing it with a ‘broken collarbone’ and all. Then he asked, almost nervously, “And Sheppard?”

“He made it back to Atlantis with Kolya.”

“Oh, thank god,” McKay let out a huge sigh of relief. Aiden doubted that he was sincere about the statement – at least not the ‘god’ part.

“Was he . . . does Beckett say . . .”

“He’s going to be fine, Doc. Now, is there anything to salvage here, or are you ready to go back through the Gate?”

“Oh, god, yes.” Again, the man said God’s name in vain. It would be just that he should be punished . . . if only just a little bit.

Elizabeth pulled herself back further into the Jumper, up against the hatch the way Teyla had described Major Sheppard during his ordeal with the Wraith-bug. Elizabeth wasn’t an overly paranoid person, but right now, there wasn’t anything in the world that would get her to turn her back to these people, despite the fact that they hadn’t even bothered to bind her.

Elizabeth had Teyla’s unconscious form pulled into her lap, reflexively stroking her thick hair. Teyla looked so peaceful as she slept. Her features were so different – the golden skin, the strong bone-structure. She was beautiful like this, without all the masks she normally wore – warrior, leader, foreigner. She hoped that she did not hold herself as tense in her own position as Teyla seemed to.

Elizabeth shifted, pulling Teyla closer to her while watching the figure seated facing her on one of the benches warily. He was clad in the same dark suit as the other Magi that had attacked them. The suit was indeed mud-covered and frayed, now that she looked closer, but there was something regal about him. He was confident, unhurried in a way that reminded her uncannily of John. Perhaps those with that strong a showing of the gene possessed more of their Ancestors traits.

“I am Mushak Aman,” the man said, his voice gravely and rough.

“Elizabeth Weir.”

“We do not wish to harm you, Elizabeth.”

“Then why were you trying to . . .” God, she was weak. She couldn’t even say it.

He spared her the indignity, finally looking away, as though he, too, could not bear the thought. “An unfortunate mistake. We have been looking for those who came through the Great Ring, you see. Another division . . . one in charge of politics, found you first.”

“You call that politics?” Elizabeth said, coldly aghast.

“Politics is a show of power without military might.”

“On Earth, where I come from, we normally think of politics as diplomacy, as the mechanics of the states, as the forming of coalitions, of leadership.” Or, as some had theorized, as the defining of us verses them.

“Yes, but how can there be diplomacy or states or coalitions when they will not even speak with us?”

Elizabeth narrowed her eyes. “And why won’t they?”

“Because they fear us.”

“They seem to have a reason to.” Elizabeth was intimately aware of all the reasons.

“Fear is, by definition, irrational.”

“I’m not sure I find fear of what your men tried to do to me irrational.”

“But to act out of fear . . . to respond to a horror before the horror has been done is indeed illogical. Genocide based on fear of power is the essence of irrational.”

Genocide? Sheran had never . . . but, yet he had. They were going to fight this war until the Magi were extinct. That was the fundamental nature of genocide. She had just refused to see it because what she had seen of the Magi suggested that they did indeed deserve it. But then again, was genocide ever justified? Was it ever right to deny a whole race the chance to live worthy lives, no matter how many times you were proven wrong?

Elizabeth would do it to the Wraith in a heartbeat.

“So you didn’t start the war?” Not that anything he could say could possibly convince her.

“No . . . no . . . they began it. They started with killings in the night . . . with disappearances of those of us that lived and worked with the common folk, shared their lives. And then it spread, riots and destruction of businesses, of artifacts. And then attacks in our neighborhoods, kidnappings . . . killings - women and children as much as men.”

“But why would they do that?” Elizabeth knew much of the history of genocide. She knew enough to know that Aman was right . . . that fear of a closed off minority . . . fear of the power could lead to so many horrors.

“They did it because we were too far beyond them. We abused our gift – we made it seem as though we were sorcerers. We grew wealthy on other people’s need. To operate a healing device or a shield or use one of these Great Ships requires no specific chant, no particular intelligence. It is a gift given to some of our descendents, passed from parent to child. It allows us to use technology that we do not understand. Perhaps it is a gift from the Creator himself, but it is not magic.”

“So you pretended to be using magic . . .”

“Yes, we were greedy. We should have seen this kind of revolt coming. But we didn’t. We were too complacent in out luxury. But there is no great wrong in taking advantage of one’s skill. People do not attack artists for their fine works or doctors for being able to save lives.”

But it was justified to attack dictators that profited at the expense of their people or imprisoned men for unfair business practices. Political power, economic power, power of skill . . . in the end, what did it matter, when there was tyranny involved? Mobsters were tried and imprisoned for abuses of power. People thought some CEOs should be. Slavery was wrong . . . dictatorship was wrong . . . but it could take so many forms. Where could you draw the line?

“So you’re saying that it was not justified?”

“When is bigotry and genocide ever justified?”

“But you’re trying to kill them too. Your idea of politics . . .”

“We’re trying to survive . . . to break this rebellious spirit so that we may go about living our lives.”

“Why don’t you just leave . . . you controlled the Stargate. There are many other worlds where I’m sure they would accept people such as yourselves who carry the gene.” Atlantis too, could use more gene-carriers, though Elizabeth was not sure that she herself could function knowing these people were roaming her city, with all its technology at their fingertips. But her fear was not bigotry . . . her fear was justified by experience.

“What if I asked you to uproot yourself from your home? From your way of life? From your people? What if I told you that you could never return?”

Elizabeth actually managed a soft laugh. “I left more than you could possibly know.” She’d left a promising diplomatic career, a world she loved, whose history she knew well and admired. She’d left family – her brothers, her parents, her dog. She’d even left Simon, the one man she could’ve seen herself actually making it with. She’d left them all without even a face-to-face goodbye.

“I think . . . if it were just that . . . if we had to choose between our war-torn world and some other place, we might choose to form a new society elsewhere. But we cannot abandon our people to the Wraith. We fight for their own good.” It was a popular argument. Elizabeth was not sure she believed it any more than she’d believed it the many times she’d heard it on Earth.

“So you can actually protect your people from the Wraith?”

“We are able to mask our planet’s appearance on long-range Wraith scanners and we are not along any well-traveled routes. Our spies have deleted its address from all known databanks. We have not traveled to another world for centuries. They cannot find us. It is a wonder that you have found your way here.”

“We were running from an enemy. They set off an explosive device that temporarily deafens and blinds. I dialed a random address in hopes that it would connect. We came here.”

Aman smiled. “It seems almost fated, does it not?” His smile was intimate and slightly seductive, so much like John’s. Elizabeth flattened herself a little more back against the Jumper wall.

“Or it could just be a result of chance.” Elizabeth hoped that she had not done anything to deserve this fate.

“I choose to believe that it’s not . . . that you are here for a reason and I need only divine it.”

“I don’t know what that reason might be.” Actually, she could think of many. A society of gene-carriers, Puddle Jumpers, Ancient technology – those were all traits that they might find very useful.

“Why were you fleeing this enemy, Elizabeth?” Her first name grated even on his smooth tongue, but she let it slide. It was best not to antagonize one’s captors.

“They were trying to steal from us. Or perhaps gain hostages with whom they could trade.”

“And what do you have that they want to steal?”

“Technology. Now, please. We need to return to our world. Two of our people were captured. They still have them back on that planet. We need to help them.”

Aman stood, coat flapping out behind him. Especially from where she sat on the floor, he seemed almost inhumanly tall, daunting, all dark wild hair and green eyes.

“We would certainly be willing to help you to return. But if we did so, what would prevent you from disclosing our location?”

Elizabeth sighed. “I don’t even know the Gate address that I dialed to get here.”

“And trade?”

“I can offer you medicines and information, but I’m afraid that we possess nothing that could win you this war.” Though the Magi could probably be of invaluable help on Atlantis. “We can offer you refuge, on the other hand.”

Aman shook his head. “We cannot leave, I’m afraid. There is nothing you could say that would convince me. This battle is ours to fight. It is necessary. I wish you could be of more help, Elizabeth. But we will help you to return to your world as an act of reparation for how we have wronged you.”

“That would be wonderful,” Elizabeth forced the smile.

They could probably do a lot to help these people win their war. They might even be able to help some of Carson’s gene projects in return . . . share their knowledge of Ancient technology. But was it worth it? Did she really want to get involved in this deadly sort of war when she was still unsure of whom to trust?

Elizabeth had studied the persecution of privileged minorities. She’d also studied the overthrow of vicious governments. She did not know which these Magi were. They showed remorse. And yet they were willing to do things Elizabeth would never condone for victory. In the end, all she really knew about their world was that she wanted to leave it far behind.

Perhaps it was selfish, but Elizabeth chose the part of silent complicity, chosen by neutral nations and religious bodies and ordinary citizens that she had always condemned. It was neither wrong nor right, but for her, there was no other choice.

John came awake gradually, muscles weary and mouth sticky from whatever sedative Beckett had slipped him. He hated this feeling, especially when he didn’t need it. In fact, he would’ve put up a fight if it hadn’t been for the fact that he’d really deserved it. He’d had no right being up and about with the injuries he’d sustained. He knew that now. He had no business being in that cell with Kolya drugged and pained and worried.

But he couldn’t blame the medication or the pain. He couldn’t just write it off the way Parker had clearly wanted to. Because he had been conscious of his actions. He had been in control. Some part of him, at least, had known that it was wrong even as he was doing it. And John found the idea that he was completely out of control and irresponsible for his actions far more frightening than the idea that he had that sort of darkness in him. That was a trait John had always been aware of. Channeled properly, it was a useful trait in a soldier.

If it got Rodney back, it would be worth it. If it got Rodney back, he’d do it again with no regrets.

And then . . . in the distance, beyond the steady rhythm of the heart rate monitor and the rustling of nurses going about their business, he heard it - an acerbic but familiar voice. “You’re sure he’s okay. You’re not, you know . . . measuring blood loss in milligrams instead of kilograms or anything?” It was music to his ears.

“No, Rodney, I purposely try to murder my patients with my incompetence.”

“Ha! I knew it! I knew it was just some medicine-ball waving voodoo conjuring!” John smiled a little at Rodney’s protectiveness, still not feeling strong enough to open his eyes and turn around to look at them. He was no longer feeling any pain, but swimming deep in an ocean of painkillers, unable to move through the tide.

“I assure you, Rodney. Major Sheppard is receiving the very best of care.”

“Which means what, exactly? You have real eye of newt instead of Pegasus knock-offs?”

“I understand your concern, really I do, but . . .”

“No, Carson, you don’t. You couldn’t possibly . . . you weren’t there, okay? You didn’t have his head in your fucking lap as he bled through rag after rag. You weren’t there . . .” Rodney’s voice trailed off. Even in his drugged-numbed state he could still feel Rodney’s sadness.

John shut his eyes against tears that suddenly threatened. He’d told himself he wasn’t going to cry from this. But the only thing that truly made him want to was that Rodney’d had to see all that. He shouldn’t have. He didn’t deserve it.

“Aye, I wasn’t there. I wish I could’ve been. But he’s strong, Rodney. He made it back in time. We stopped the bleeding, stitched him up, gave him a few transfusions. He’ll be fine.”

“Scarring?” Of course Rodney would care about that. He only wanted John because he was beautiful. He’d said it so many times.

“I’m afraid that’s unavoidable, lad,” Beckett said with a sad sigh. Why the hell did they pity him? He deserved those scars. Didn’t he? He’d killed those people. So what was there to pity? That someone chose a strange way to honor their dead?

“I know. Can I see him?”

“I’d like to do an x-ray of your shoulder first.” Shoulder? Did those men hurt Rodney? Those bastards. If he could move he’d . . . well, he’d so something really nasty to them.

“No, Carson, it’s fine. Probably just bruised . . .” Well, if Rodney was admitting to it being not that bad, it was probably nothing.

“I’d like to take a look, anyway. And set that nose of yours.”

“That’s going to be horribly painful, isn’t it?”

“I could give you a local.”

“Whatever. Look, I just want five minutes with John. And then you can toss chicken bones at me however you want.” Rodney never seemed to tire of the voodoo thing.

“Fine. Five minutes. And don’t wake him up. I had to sedate him after his little sojourn, but it should be wearing off now.”

“Little sojourn?”

“Well . . . er . . . he , . . so how about we get you in there?” Beckett was an even worse liar than Rodney.

“Carson!”

“Fine. He snuck out to go down to the holding cells and interrogate Kolya.”

“He what!? That stupid flyboy with the hair that ate Tokyo! I’m going to . . .”

“Relax, Rodney. He didn’t do more than rip a stitch or two.”

“So that’s how Ford found me?”

“No, I’m afraid Ford and Zelenka found you on their own.”

“Where’s that bastard?! I want to see him! After what he did to John . . .”

“Um . . . well . . . er . . . we don’t have him anymore.”

They what?!

“You what?!”

“He’s . . . well, he’s escaped.” Escaped? How the fuck could Kolya have escaped? He was in the Ancient holding cell. The Wraith couldn’t even escape that damned cell unless someone let them out . . . unless someone let them out . . . Parker. Of course, Parker. He never should’ve let her see that. The anger flared again, but John was paralyzed by drugs and weariness.

And it didn’t even save Rodney. It wasn’t fucking necessary. It was just rage and darkness and some sort of fucked-up form of revenge. That had to be it. There hadn’t been any reason after all. No justification.

“God damnit, Carson!” Rodney said. It was too simple. It wasn’t the long pissed-off rant he was expecting, just a pained gasp. John felt something broken inside him clatter.

And then he heard footsteps, the sound of a curtain swishing closed around him.

A troubled sigh. “John.” His name, like a whisper. And then, warm fingers in his hair, tracing his jaw. “John . . .”

He wanted to stay like this, silent, hanging in this drugged limbo where he knew that Rodney was safe, but didn’t have to face him. Here, he didn’t have to accept a love he didn’t deserve. He couldn’t tell Rodney . . . couldn’t break him when he already sounded so broken. But he couldn’t let Rodney love him in ignorance either. He could just enjoy Rodney’s hands in his hair this one last time.

“Please tell me you’ll be okay, John.” Except he couldn’t ignore that plea. Rodney was the one person he couldn’t refuse. He hadn’t even been able to refuse Rodney’s advances when after all these years, all this strong resistance of temptation after temptation, he’d finally given in.

John opened his eyes slowly, saw Rodney’s hand . . . the one not in a sling, his hands still covered in John’s blood. And then Rodney leaned down, clear blue eyes clouded with concern, set deep within bruised eye sockets.

“John?”

“’M okay,” he managed.

“Hey, John. I’m . . . it’s good to see you.”

“Yeah.”

Rodney looked around and then brushed his lips over John’s briefly. “I love you.”

John wanted to object . . . wanted to tell Rodney that he didn’t deserve it. But Rodney gripped his hand and said, “Get better,” instead.

John wasn’t even sure he could do that.