Chapter 40

Thalaezin announced their arrival to the owners of a home on the western outskirts of the occupied areas of Traginta Duo, and as the elaborate gates of the property drew back, Lorne steered their ship in and set it down gently outside the ornate frontage.

'I think it would be appropriate for you to go to the door, Colonel Sheppard,' Thalaezin told him. 'I am sure they will be pleased to see you.'

He nodded, and pushed up stiffly from his seat, annoyed at how quickly his body seized up whenever he sat still. Carson threw him a look that told him to be patient with himself, one that left him wondering if the doctor was related to the afflicted himself. The man certainly had an uncanny knack for knowing exactly what he was thinking at any given time.

Teyla caught his arm as he passed her. 'Perhaps one of us should come with you, Colonel.'

'No...it's okay. I think it's better if I break this news to them alone.'

He headed out the back of the jumper, squeezing past their precious cargo, both men now encased in impressive coffins. Thalaezin had been more than accommodating as far as burial arrangements went for the two pilots, pulling the strings his position allowed him to put everything in place for the service to be carried out without delay.

The door was just opening as he reached it. Raelzine was the first person he saw in the opening, her jaw dropping in shock, then a smile transforming her face as she ran the few paces separating them and threw her arms around him. 'Ja...John!' she corrected herself, gathering him into a crushing hug he didn't want to break even though it hurt. Thankfully, she let go of him quite quickly, pushing him back and holding him at arm's length. 'Look at you! You look so well! The last time I saw you...' she choked, covering her mouth as she struggled to find the words to express herself. 'I...I thought I should never see you alive again,' she finally managed to sob out, tears of joy and relief slipping down her lined cheeks.

Behind her, Sheppard spotted Lanae watching them, a broad grin splitting her face. Remembering she was there, Raelzine stepped aside and let her approach. She, too, hugged Sheppard and cried into his jacket, telling him how pleased she was to see him again.

'So...a new home, huh?' he said as they separated, gazing up at the magnificent entrance.

'The owners are good to us here...not that the Tranaedans were as bad as some...at least not to us.' Realzine looked back over her shoulder and Sheppard realised he could see two figures loitering further back down the corridor that lay behind the door. From the way they were dressed, he assumed the man and woman were the new owners she'd mentioned, but when he looked their way, they ducked out of sight, giving them privacy.

Thalaezin had spoken to the householders there personally via the jumper's communication system and explained what they were planning. As a result, Raelzine's and Lanae's new owners had agreed to give the two of them time off from their duties to spend time with the Atlantis team. So it seemed not all of the householders in Traginta Duo were unreasonable people – he'd just been unfortunate enough to stumble into the paths of those who were. Of course, the fact the request had come from the first minister had no doubt held some sway, but whatever the reason for their co operation, he was glad of it.

'You look so different in your uniform...so smart. Quite the important man you told me you were,' Raelzine smiled proudly, brushing at his jacket front. 'I always knew you were more than just a slave.'

'We're all more than just slaves,' he pointed out. 'You should never forget that.'

'I've heard whispers that times are changing,' she said, dropping her voice so her owners would not hear. 'I've heard the magister and his wife here say we are to be given more rights. Is this your doing?'

'Been listening at doors, Raelzine?' he quipped, and the sudden florid hue of her cheeks told him he'd hit pretty close to the mark. 'Well, it's not all down to me...but yeah, hopefully things will be even better for you guys soon. It's no more than you deserve.'

She hugged him again, and Sheppard, though uncomfortable, put his arms around her, too, happy for her to demonstrate her joy. There had been so little of it in Raelzine's life from what he'd seen, it killed him to think he was about to bring her spirits crashing down again. But this was something he had to do, and hard as this news would be for her to take, it would bring her some closure and help her move on in this new phase of her life.

She let go of him again and wiped the tears from her cheeks. 'Now I understand why the magistra told us to wear our best clothes this evening. So, now you have satisfied yourself that we are well and happy, I suppose you plan to fly back out of our lives and forget all about us?' she joked.

'Not exactly,' he confessed, chewing his lip as her eyes fixed on his, full of questions. 'I've come here...'He stopped, realising he really hadn't thought about how to word this. 'I've been to the Tranaedan house and...' He cursed himself and took a deep breath, starting over with a more direct approach. 'I found your son's body, Raelzine. I'm here to give you the chance to lay him to rest.'

Lanae was the first to react, a pained sob escaping her lips before she could contain it. Without looking, Raelzine reached back and groped for the girl's hand, grabbing it and holding it tight.

'Manstaen? You found him?' she clarified.

He nodded, biting down on his lip as her eyes dissolved into watery pools in front of him.

'They didn't bury him?'

He shook his head.

'Whe...where was he?' she asked, trying to stay strong enough to get the answers to her questions.

There was no need to burden her with the full truth, so he simply said, 'He was in the house...I guess they planned to move the body out some time, but didn't get round to it.'

She nodded, her eyes dropping to the ground. 'All that time he was so close by...and I never knew.'

'Well, he's here now, and it's time to lay him to rest where he should be.'

'Here?' She looked puzzled, then gazed out beyond him to where the jumper sat. He turned and saw that everyone on board the jumper had disembarked and now stood in two lines either side of the open rear hatch, forming an isle leading to where the coffins lay.

'We found him and Faraenal. We're taking them both to the burial grounds.'

She barely seemed to hear him, already heading toward the jumper a few paces still clutching Lanae's hand and taking the girl with her, her steps faltering and shaky. She stopped and looked back at him, and he knew she was looking for him to lead the way. He responded to her unspoken request immediately, striding out toward the jumper with the women just behind him.

Everyone there bowed their heads as they passed, even the first minister, which Sheppard took as a moving sign of respect for the two dead men. He led the way inside the jumper, standing to one side as the two women entered and gazed open-mouthed at the two coffins.

'He's in the one closest to you,' he said. He'd arranged it that way so they wouldn't have to climb past Faraenal to reach him.

Raelzine at last let go of her grip on Lanae, kneeling beside the coffin and tentatively laying her hand on top of it, trembling as she did so. 'My poor boy,' she whispered, so quietly he almost couldn't make out what she'd said. 'My poor, poor, boy!'

She stroked her hand across the polished metal box, with finely cast birds decorating the sides. Thalaezin had insisted Sheppard accompany him into the casket maker's workshop to help him choose suitable coffins for the two men, and somehow birds had seemed the most appropriate decoration for two men who loved to fly. Because they were hand-crafted, the caskets were individual, the birds a different breed on each. Manstaen's casket bore something resembling eagles, whereas Faraenal's box had much smaller birds moulded into its surface, but each was beautiful in its own way.

'Such a fine casket...I could never have hoped to give him this kind of send off,' Raelzine told him, her voice cracking with emotion.

Lanae knelt the other side of it and laid her palm on it, too, tears sliding silently down her face as she allowed Raelzine the greater measure of the grieving. The older woman rocked slightly as she gazed at the polished casket, stroking it and quietly singing something that he took to be a Haraendon lullaby...it had that kind of cadence to it.

Sheppard backed out down the ramp to give them some privacy. Everyone else had already moved away, giving the women space to mourn their loss, an opportunity they had previously been denied by their heartless former owners.

'How are they coping?' Elizabeth asked, her large eyes glistening in the fading light of the setting sun.

'About as well as you'd expect,' he told her, looking around at all the people waiting there. Every one of them looked moved by the experience of these two women, and he supposed he understood why. Death was something inescapable – it touched every life. They had all lost someone, and seeing Raelzine and Lanae's pain brought back painful memories for each and every one of them.

'That poor woman,' Carson sighed, hearing Raelzine's sobs echoing out across the enclosed yard. 'It's not natural for a mother to bury her child.'

'In a galaxy such as ours, it is not as unusual as you would wish it to be,' Teyla told him sadly. 'For most, the Wraith bring death indiscriminately, but here, man has turned his hand against his fellow man in cruelty...that is the saddest thing of all.'

'Too true, love. Too true,' the Scot nodded. 'But whatever the cause of death, it never gets any easier.'

Eventually, after Raelzine's cries became more controlled, Thalaezin took it upon himself to approach her and speak quietly of their plans for her son. Sheppard watched the back of the jumper, only Thalaezin standing in the ramp actually in view, and waited for their cue to act.

After a few more moments it came, Thalaezin turning and gesturing for them all to return to the ship.

Sheppard hung back and let everyone else pass, he and Thalaezin sitting beside the two women to accompany them on the short journey to the burial ground. As the craft lifted, Raelzine reached out and grabbed Sheppard's hand, gripping it so tightly all his bones ground against one another. He supposed she might never have flown before, her position in the house would never have required her to travel anywhere with her owners. He smiled, wishing her first flight hadn't been under such tragic circumstances. On any other occasion he would have tried to fill her with the kind of enthusiasm and wonder he felt when flying, but here...now...that would have been completely inappropriate. Or perhaps it was simply the magnitude of what they were about to do that made her seek out his hand, he couldn't be sure. So he just held her hand and hoped she got some comfort from that, whatever it was that troubled her most.

They'd flown past the burial grounds on the way there, so Lorne was able to take them back there without further guidance. He set the ship down at the back of the cemetery, and the marines, Lorne, Ronon and Beckett, all took one of the four handles on the two caskets and carried them slowly and carefully from the back of the jumper and on down the gradual slope that led to the graves that had been hurriedly dug for them.

It was growing dark now, and several phosphorescent lamps burned on the top of staffs that had been jabbed into the ground around the graves, bathing the area in a sickly yellow hue. The graves themselves weren't as deep as was traditional for Earth burials, but Sheppard supposed that might be the way they did things here on Haraendon...either that or they simply hadn't had time to dig them any deeper. Two men loitered to the side of the walled grounds, leaning on a transporter. The fact they both leaned on shovels told him they posed no threat. They were just waiting to complete their job once the service was over.

As they approached the graveside he heard Raelzine begin to sob again, and he freed his hand from hers to wrap his arm around her shoulders for additional support. He felt her trembling against him, the reality of her son's death suddenly so much the harder to bear now she had an actual body to bury. At the instruction of a man standing beside those graves, the coffins were lowered onto what looked like cushions within the holes, resting there while the preacher gave them a blessing from the Ancestors. Sheppard zoned out during the words, his mind wandering to the horrific nightmare after Tranaedan had beaten him senseless, the one where, for a moment, he had been inside Manstaen's body and suffered the same fate the young man had endured. It sent shivers through him as he looked at the casket, this burial still so much less justice than Raelzine's son deserved.

To their left, he noticed several recent graves, a thick, white mist hanging over one of them. As he watched, it gradually seeped into the ground, disappearing slowly through the soil. It struck him as odd, but then it was forgotten as the service moved on, and both Raelzine and Lanae were handed a single white flower, another one passed to the first minister.

The preacher pulled a long, fine needle from a sheath and prodded holes into the thick, airtight material of the cushions, the air slowly releasing and gracefully lowering the caskets into their final resting places. Following that, he chanted various prayers, and after each one, the women and Thalaezin dropped a single petal from the flowers they still held onto the caskets. Once the petals were all gone, the service was over, and the preacher stepped away to give the women time alone at the graveside.

The first minister approached the man quietly, keeping his voice low. 'Thank you for attending such a late service, Praedicatio Ulraedin. Under such special circumstances, your co operation is very much appreciated.'

The man waved his thanks aside. 'Well, I hope not to have to make a habit of this, but everyone deserves a proper burial. It would not have been appropriate to refuse.'

Sheppard wandered a little further away, heading over to the grave where the mist had been sitting a little earlier. Although all the graves around it, even those either side of it, bore small plaques with names on them, that one was unmarked. He felt someone arrive beside him, and looking up found Thalaezin staring down at the grave along with him.

'This is where Magistra Tranaedan now rests,' he told him. 'Her husband would not allow her to be buried with his name or even in the burial grounds for our upper classes. This is the slaves' graveyard...after what we now know about her, she's lucky to even be buried here. But we have no idea what to call her.'

For a moment or two, Sheppard was too lost in thinking about the significance of the mist he'd seen hanging over her grave for the first minister's words to sink in. 'Lucky? What do you mean?'

'The afflicted aren't allowed anywhere near our cities. They were believed to be damaging...poisonous somehow. The fact she lived among us for so long undiscovered has proved that theory to be wrong. It's shown us that people like her can be part of our society without wreaking havoc.'

Sheppard looked over to the two open graves, not sure he agreed with that hypothesis. Poisonous was a damned good way of describing what Magistra Tranaedan was, and she'd wreaked havoc in the lives of the two pilots and the two women now mourning them. The woman had completely changed herself, denied what she was and betrayed her own kind to be accepted into this society and become one of its great women. It seemed suitable somehow that she now lay in an unmarked grave, the sum total of her efforts amounting to nothing.

'With the changes now afoot for us, her demise has come at a critical time. It has opened our eyes to the fact the afflicted may not be as dangerous as we thought. So I suppose her death may not have been completely in vain,' Thalaezin told him, rubbing his arms against the cold Sheppard noticed seeping though this own clothing now, too. With the sun now gone, the cold night was setting in, and the phosphorescent lamps gave scant heat, certainly not enough to keep them warm at this distance.

A thin wisp of mist curled up from the ground and carried away on the slight breeze now ruffling his hair. Sheppard sighed and looked back at the women again, both of them still kneeling beside Manstaen's grave.

'We will have to move them along soon. The diggers need to back-fill the graves before they can go home tonight.'

Sheppard nodded, his heart aching for them, especially Raelzine. 'Let me speak to them,' he said, starting out in their direction. Thankfully, Thalaezin had the good sense to give him space to do that.

Sheppard crouched beside Raelzine, and waited for her to look his way. She did, her eyes red from crying. 'I loved him...just as any mother loves her child. I lied when I said it was different for slaves. It isn't. I've missed every one of my children. But Manstaen...Manstaen was the one who stayed with me for the longest. I saw him grow up from a scrap of a child into a fine young man...I loved him...but I never once told him that.'

Though her words broke his heart, he knew he couldn't show it. He needed to be strong for her, just as she had been strong for him when he'd needed her. 'I think he knew, Raelzine. Mothers have a way of showing these things without needing to say it.'

'But I should have...I should have said it...I should have been there for him.' She dissolved into tears again, rocking while Lanae tried to comfort her.

Sheppard couldn't help but be glad she hadn't been there. The truth of what had happened to her son was likely to haunt him for the rest of his life; he doubted there was any way a mother could get over such brutality committed against her flesh and blood.

'Did he suffer?'

It was the question he'd been dreading her asking, but he'd been thinking of how to answer it all the same. He didn't hesitate. 'There was no sign that he did,' he lied. 'I imagine his death was instantaneous.'

'That's something...that's something,' she whispered, gazing down at the beautiful silver casket, the lamplight reflected in its surface.

Though it was a lie, Sheppard couldn't feel bad about it. It was what she needed to hear. The truth would have done no one any good now.

'We have to leave,' he told her, seeing the reaction first in Lanae's face, then in Raelzine's as she looked up at him with pleading eyes.

'I can't leave him...I can't go. He's all alone out here...he doesn't know these people. I have to stay with him!'

Sheppard felt his lip begin to tremble, so he sucked it in, trying to control the moisture building in his own eyes. He remembered watching his mother buried when he'd been just a child, having to be dragged away from the side of her grave because he couldn't bear to be parted from her. When she'd died, the house had fallen into chaos, his father veering from terrifyingly angry to pitifully tearful without any warning. He and Dave had spent days hiding out in their rooms, hoping it would blow over while trying to deal with their own overwhelming sense of loss. When the coffin had been brought home the day before the funeral, calm had descended along with it, and even though they couldn't actually see her, it felt as if her spirit was amongst them again, her love giving them strength and normality just for that brief time. Leaving the graveside had been like losing her a second time, as if she'd died all over again. And then, two days later, a terrible storm had hit town, and he'd snuck down to the umbrella stand, taken his father's biggest golfing umbrella and walked the four and half miles to the cemetery to sit over her grave and shelter her from the worst of it. She'd always hated thunder, so he'd stayed with her and talked to her to let her know she wasn't alone.

So, though he knew Raelzine's feelings weren't rational, he also knew they weren't unusual. It was hard to think of the living suddenly unable to see, hear or feel anything. Grieving relatives still imbued their lost loved ones with all the qualities they had possessed in life.

'He has Faraenal. They can swap flying stories,' he said gently taking hold of her shoulders and guiding her to her feet.

'That's true...that's true,' she nodded, grasping onto his words and the small amount of comfort the thought brought her. 'When he was younger, he used to love going to the transport store and helping him clean the ships. They got on well until Faraenal disappeared...but he went two years ago. Where did you find him?'

'That's not important now,' he said, unable to explain that away. 'All that matters is he's where he should be now, and Manstaen doesn't have to be alone here.'

'He came to us from another household after his owner died of old age. I remember him as a mere slip of a lad, but he would probably be your age,' she reminisced, and Sheppard again thought it best to let her hold on to those happier memories of the man. There was no need for anyone else to know how much he'd suffered.

'But this is the last time I'll ever be near Manstaen, isn't it?' she croaked, her chest hitching as she struggled to speak through her tears. 'Once I return to the house, I'll never be allowed to come here again.'

'That's not true. Things are changing, Raelzine. You heard it yourself; you're going to get more rights. You'll be free to move beyond the house. You can come here whenever you want to.'

Through her pain, she somehow found her smile. 'That would be good...' Then she pulled him into a fierce hug. 'You've done so much for us...but this...giving my son back to me...I can never repay you for this.'

'You don't need to...you were a good friend when I needed one. I'm just returning the favour.'

She buried her face into his chest and cried some more and he just held her, letting her get it all out. For now, she was still a slave, and once she returned to her owners, she would be expected to perform her duties without fuss. So, this was her one and only time to cry her heart out. He couldn't cut it short.

Teyla moved in and took charge of Lanae. Although she had been fond of Manstaen, Sheppard got the impression their relationship had been newly discovered and their feelings had not reached their full potential depth. She clearly missed him, but her pain was not as keen as Raelzine's, not by any stretch of the imagination.

Eventually, Raelzine summoned up the immense strength it took to accept she had to leave. 'I'm ready to go back now,' she told Sheppard, pushing away from him. 'I just need to say goodbye one last time.'

He nodded and walked a few steps away to give her space to do that, looking back in time to see her kneel beside the grave, kiss her fingers and reach down to pass the kiss to her son, touching her fingertips to his casket. After that, she stood up again, instructed Faraenal to take good care of her boy, then walked confidently back to the jumper.

Sheppard smiled to himself as she passed him, a mask of composure now sitting on her tear-stained face. He knew then that Raelzine would get through this, just as he had got through his own loss, but he promised himself he would not fly away and forget about her. No matter how uncomfortable it made him, he would come back and see her sometimes.

oooOOOooo

By the time they had all got back to Atlantis and gone through their post mission check-ups, Sheppard was exhausted. It was all he could do to stagger his way back to his room and collapse on the bed. Taking of his clothes was unthinkable.

He lay back and let all the tension of the day drain from his body. His old injuries nagged at him, telling him he'd pushed himself too hard, but he already knew that. Still, it had felt a necessary thing to do, and he was glad he'd done it. Faraenal and Manstaen were finally at peace, and Realzine and Lanae could at last begin the difficult process of moving on. Somehow, those two things alone made everything he'd been through just that little bit more worthwhile.

It was only now, with his entire role in the situation over, that he realised how lucky he had been to leave Haraendon alive. Risking life and limb was all part of the job, but when he'd signed up to the air force all those years ago back on Earth, he'd never imagined he would face the kind of horrors that assaulted them out here in the Pegasus Galaxy. He took a deep breath and felt himself relax a little more, the welcome fuzziness of sleep beginning to envelope him already, only moments after lying down.

Just as he was about to succumb, his door chime sounded. Too tired to open it himself, he called for whoever was out there to let themselves in, hoping it wouldn't take long.

It was Teyla. She edged into the room, clearly concerned by the subdued lighting and his lack of movement. 'Are you feeling unwell?' she asked, approaching his bedside.

Not wishing her to worry, he immediately dispelled her fears. 'Nah...just tired.'

'Then I probably already know the answer to my next question. Ronon, Rodney and I are about to go for some supper. Would you care to join us?'

He rubbed his face hard, considering it for a moment, but realising food wasn't all that important to him right now. 'I'll take a rain check. How about breakfast?'

She smiled warmly, nodding. 'I will call for you in the morning. Sleep well.'

'I'll do my best.'

Once she was gone, his mind started ticking over with thoughts of the people he'd left behind on Haraendon. He wondered how Raelzine was coping tonight, knowing where her son was at last. At some level, it was probably easier for her now she knew, but it would take some time to come to terms with the reality of burying her child.

And his mind drifted to Dezrin. He hadn't thought about the boy too often because he was desperately trying to put the whole creepy experience with his owner out of his mind. Still, Ashnael was out of the boy's life now, and locked away for the moment where he couldn't do anyone else any harm. Hopefully, by the time he was a free man again, the rights of the subclasses would have improved to the point that his behaviour would be considered a criminal act and he'd find himself back behind bars the very first time he tried something unsavoury. But that didn't change what had happened to Dezrin, or the terror Ashnael had instilled in the young boys serving in his house, all the time wondering when they would become his "favourite". They had to do something for them. So he decided that tomorrow he would go talk things through with Heightmeyer. They needed to put some kind of programme of therapy together for abused slaves as well as those people who had been part of the government's breeding programme. Thalaezin's talks with the Dalmarians appeared to have had a positive effect on his thinking. He seemed like he might be open to that kind of help now, and if he wasn't, they would just have to negotiate it in there somehow.

Unfortunately, all that thinking had him more awake now. So, he decided he would take a shower to try to get more relaxed again, hoping the heat would help him feel sleepy.

It was a struggle to get upright, but once he was on his feet he was glad he'd made the effort. Meeting up with Tranaedan and Ashnael on Haraendon had left him with an overwhelming desire to shower that he hadn't been able to do anything about until now, and he knew he would enjoy a much better night's sleep if he got cleaned up and into more comfortable sleeping gear.

He switched on the shower and left the water to adjust to the right temperature as he looked at himself in the mirror. His eyes were circled with dark rings, his face a little drawn from the weight he'd lost while recovering from surgery, but it was nothing rest and some food wouldn't fix. He reminded himself again that he was lucky to be here to even think about whether he wanted to eat or not, lucky to have scars to show what he'd been through. Faraenal and Manstaen hadn't been as lucky as him. The magistra had lured them in and her husband had disposed of them in ways he didn't even want to think about right now. It was over now. He had to stop thinking about it or he would drive himself insane.

He slipped out of his uniform, leaving it in a pile and promising himself he would sort them out in the morning. It could wait until then; it wasn't like he was on duty tomorrow so the crumpled gear didn't really matter.

The shower brought welcome warmth to his body, and for a while he just let it cascade over him, closing his eyes and letting it hit his face and run the full length of his body. He'd spent so long feeling filthy and unkempt on Haraendon that having his own shower now seemed like the most luxurious thing in the world. After a while, with the warm air in his lungs making him feel a little short of breath and light headed, he decided to wash himself down and get into bed for the night.

As he lathered himself up the steam thickened around him, growing opaque and claustrophobic and leaving him gasping for air. Overwhelmed by the need to get free of it, he stumbled back out into his bathroom, the cooler air beyond the cubicle immediately refreshing him and giving him the air he needed...the air his panic attack had deprived him of. He wrapped a towel around his hips and leaned back against the wall, gathering himself. He'd never felt that way in the shower before, not even since his surgery, so he doubted it was anything physical. It was most likely because he was emotionally drained and he'd thought too much about things he really needed to put behind him now.

The steam within the cubicle continued to swirl in thick plumes as he watched it through the gap in the glazed units. Then something odd happened, a line appeared in the steam on the inside of the glass, a clear straight line, one that couldn't simply have been cause by a water droplet making a course down the glass. After that another appeared and, then still more marks, each of them scrawling through the steam at the same speed and making definite marks for him to see in the condensation. When the surreal process stopped, he saw something written there.

Halaeni.

He frowned, his heart thumping against his ribs as if it was actually trying to fight its way out. He edged forward, reaching out and touching the glass. The writing had definitely been done on the inside of the cubicle, but it was empty now he was out here, filled with nothing but steam.

Halaeni...so what did that mean? Was this another message from the sensory? Had he really not finished with him yet?

A tendril of steam plumed its way out, curling in the air in front of him and forcing him to back away from it. Then a face emerged, just for a second, mere millimetres from his own.

'My name,' a voice whispered, barely audible, and then the mist, the word and the sound was gone, leaving him alone and trembling, the water now chilled on his raised follicles.

He knew now what it meant. It hadn't been the sensory at all, it was the magistra, and she'd wanted to tell him her name. Well, he was damned if he was going to share that name with anyone else, even if it meant she would plague him for the rest of his life. She deserved to be nameless...it was right that she be forgotten. She'd forgotten everything she was, all the values that made her people different from those in the cities, so, no, he wouldn't help to immortalise her, even if it would only be in a paupers' graveyard.

He staggered through to his bedroom and slumped down on the edge of his bed. But what about her family? Didn't they deserve to know the truth about her, just as Raelzine had deserved the truth? Perhaps...if they were still alive. Maybe he would do that much, trace her family and let them know, but the grave would remain unmarked. From the corner of his eye he thought he saw the mist again, but it was gone when he turned to check. With no evidence any of it had really happened, he chose to put it down to a hallucination created by his exhausted brain, deciding to waste no more time on it. The Pegasus Galaxy already housed enough scary things without him worrying about ghosts, too.

But his room felt suddenly too quiet, and the air too cold. He ordered the heating up while he dressed, along with the lights so he could be sure nothing was lurking in the shadows. Once he'd pulled on a sweatshirt and jogging pants he decided he might be hungry enough to eat after all, and radioed through to Teyla to see if she was still in the mess.

She was, and assured him she and the rest of his team would wait for him to join them, something that made him feel instantly better. A hot meal and the company of sane, rational people would soon chase away his childish fears, he told himself as he headed out the door for the nearest transporter.

As he rode the transporter a voice once more whispered, 'Halaeni,' very close to his ear, setting his skin prickling.

Again he chose to tell himself it was his imagination, the product of days of mistreatment and nightmarish threats at the hands of a cruel race he was now helping to fix. In time he would be fixed, too, and the voices and nightmares would cease to plague him. That was all he needed, more time...

...and perhaps that quiet word with Dr Heightmeyer Elizabeth had been suggesting.

The End

A/N: So there it is, all finished. I'd like to take this opportuntity to thank my two beta's once again - Sterenyk Strey for her suggestions for added extras that helped make some of my chapters really shine when I felt they were falling short, and also lizlou57 whose sharp eyes caught all my leftover typos and discrepencies once I was too word blind and tired to see them anymore! I really appreciated the help. :D

Finally, thank you to everyone who took the considerable time involved to read this story. If you enjoyed it enough to read it right to the end, please leave a comment to let me know what you think. :)