How many more times did he have to explain to Sheppard that he had to be released to somehow travel home? The Hunger, after about five weeks stranded on Earth, was starting to gnaw. He'd survived considerably longer within Kolya's cells, but that didn't make it any less irritating. This served to only shorten his already prickly mood at finding himself a prisoner of his 'brother' again. Even the knowledge that they were on Earth, the one place him and his brethren had been striving to find, had lost its allure. With a huff, he ceased his irritable pacing of McKay's spare and probably un-networked laboratory and set to work. He'd requested to be given something, anything, to do to occupy his mind. And so the scientist had given him the task of data crunching, analysing it all for any mistakes and organising the mass of numbers and information into categories. All of it would be checked before being put into the base computers of course. The Atlanteans, after some years in the Pegasus Galaxy against various adversaries, had learnt the benefit of double-checking everything. Eyeing the mug of coffee, he raised the beverage before sniffing at it. It was different, to say the least. He took a sip after deeming that it was safe, and then wrinkled his nose up. Too strong for his liking. Whoever had made it clearly didn't want to go to sleep for quite some time. That was when a voice crackled over the radio – John's.
"Todd, meet me in Woolsey's office."
That was it. No explanation, just another demand without even so much as a 'by your leave'. Sighing heavily, he saved what data he'd gotten through in the hour before allowing the guard to shackle on the leather glove as soon as the door had been closed behind him once he'd stepped over the threshold. It was, probably not intentionally, a mockery of the metal one he'd worn during his time of enslavement. It fitted comfortably at least, and he could almost pretend that it wasn't restricting him in any way if he tried hard enough. With a barely audible sigh, he made his way with brisk strides towards the office. While he hadn't been allowed out of his guarded room and the laboratory much, save for the odd sparring session here and there, he knew by guesswork and fleetingly glimpsed memories from Sheppard that their once Queen's office was one of the rooms closest to the Stargate. He allowed himself an inward smile as he was proven correct, before the guards took up flanking positions on either side of the glass. Woolsey was sat across from him behind his desk as he suspected was the norm, and Sheppard was occupying one of the three leather seats set in the room. Todd, unwilling to sit unless gestured to do so, moved to stand in the free space out of the main walkway. This movement then allowed him to register the stranger. Petite and pale, the human seemed almost borderline unhealthy to his eye. Certainly not what he'd choose as a meal, but it'd suffice. Her head, under his scrutiny, then slowly tilted up to meet his gaze. Her features were youthful, innocent almost if he was willing to use such a word. No signs of hardship seemed obvious, save for the dark shadows around the eyes hidden behind a pair of half-moon spectacles. Her lips were set into a thin line much like mimicry of an expression he often pulled when forced into something he had to comply with. All in all, not a human that stood out or blended in. The staring between them resumed for a moment before Sheppard finally cleared his throat.
"She's not for you to eat. She'll be collecting the life force you require."
Woolsey tapped his fingers thoughtfully on the wooden desktop, switching his eyes between the three. This might be an alternative solution that might possibly fail to sate his dietary requirements, but if successful, it'd prove to be near harmless for any humans involved. Spotting Todd's confusion in a heartbeat, he decided to explain. He felt like the third wheel almost, given how it'd all been John's idea after doing a little internet browsing – securely one way of course. Todd looked between them, arching up a hairless 'brow before finally, reluctantly, taking a seat. The Commander spoke first, his growling voice almost frosty.
"I do not need someone to collect humans for me..."
"She doesn't collect humans. Just the life force."
John seemed almost smug at the wraith's expression. It made him feel good to see Todd thrown for once, and he eagerly drank in the moment before finally clearing his throat and making a gesture for her to take up the mantle of explanation. Sighing quietly, she gave a half-nod before finally starting to speak. Her voice was muted, but held strength to it that the whispery undertone didn't conceal.
"Humans have chakras. These are energy points within the body. Your kind, the wraith, feed by connecting on a biological and metaphysical level with the heart chakra, the central point of the life force. I feed from it as well, but with no physical side-effects and I never take enough to kill my victims. I can also ambiently feed, taking in what life force people naturally give off as auras."
She waited for it to sink in, and was silently content to see Todd's expression minutely changing as he attempted to grasp what she was saying. A feeding method that would allow the victims to remain alive, that left behind no physical trace. Perhaps if he could harness this, it would be a safer route than the retrovirus disaster.
"I will be away for a week. When I come back, I'll channel what life force I've collected into you."
His attention was jerked back, a faint look of surprise registering in his near skeletal features. Among wraith, sharing life force was done only between brothers, worshippers and mates. And yet here was a human, willing to share such with him to ensure his survival amongst the Atlanteans until they decided to either let him rot or return himself to his own people. After a pause as he found the other two watching him like hawks, he finally lowered his head a little in a nod.
"Very well..."
He had to fight to keep the enthusiasm from his voice. What would this mean if she was successful in transferring it to him? What would the Atlanteans do to her? He knew from observation that their security measures were iron-tight. Days off were few and far between, and excursions to Earth were often on a monthly basis. So, he spoke this.
"Why have they chosen you, and not someone more recognised in your community?" He looked briefly surprised then as her first response was a giggle of amusement.
"I'm a hermit among my own kind, dear Commander. I do not associate with others, and only those who need to know are aware of what I require to supplement my diet. I presume that Shepherd thought this was a good thing. An Elder might be tempted to make it widely known to gain depth and experience. I am doing it because it gives me a chance to further detach myself."
It made sense, now that he mulled it over, even if Woolsey looked something close to baffled.
"So that's sorted then. She'll be back in a week," John stated, slapping a hand momentarily on his leg before moving out of the chair. Without a word or gesture to either of them, she followed him towards the Stargate down the steps. Todd watched them leave, his expression torn between a reluctance to be reliant on any but himself, and a sheer wellspring of interest at this capability. If it was something learnt, or written into her genetic code, could he harness it for his own kind to use? He shook his head, momentarily watching the weary Woolsey before wordlessly taking his leave and making his way under escort back to the laboratory. People no longer jerked out of the way when he came down a corridor, or muttered in corners. He honestly didn't know whether to be content or disappointed at the fact that the residents of Atlantis seemed to have gotten used to him. He shouldn't even be here, dammit. With a growl under his breath as he slammed the door behind him, he waited to hear the satisfying click of the lock before throwing the teabag from an earlier drink across the room. It'd been the first thing he'd grabbed in his need to hurl something, and he then looked at his damp palm with a look of disgust. Christ, would he go mad here?