No Way Back

by Eirian1

Teyla learns that Michael is in Wraith hands and hoping to bring herself peace, returns to Atlantis to ask for help. Sheppard and the team join her in the mission, but things go wrong Teyla's struggle is ended in a way no one intends. VS5 Episode 9 NC17

1. Act 1

Author's disclaimer: I do not own Stargate Atlantis and its associated characters. MGM does, for which, for the most part, they have my utmost respect. No copyright infringement is intended in writing these stories.

My deepest respect also goes to the talented actors that brought to life the characters we see in Stargate Atlantis. My portrayal of the characters here is based on my perception of the work of Joe Flanigan, Jason Momoa, Rachel Luttrell, Paul McGillion, David Hewlett, Robert Picardo, Connor Trinneer and Christopher Heyerdahl. Without these people and those that came before them, there would have been no Atlantis as we know it today.

With the exception of personal interpretation and expansions, extracts from existing episodes of the series remain the copyright of the story and teleplay writers: Joe Mallozzi, Paul Mullie, Brad Wright, Robert C Cooper, Martin Gero, Mary Kaiser, Damian Kindler, Peter DeLuise, Jill Blotevogel, Carl Binder, Kerry Glover, Sean Carley, Treena Hancock, Melissa R. Byer, Joe Flanigan, Don Whitehead, Holly Henderson, Ken Cuperus, Scott Nimerfro, Alan McCullough, Alex Levine, and David Schmidt.

Other assorted original characters (i.e. those that don't really appear in the show) are my own creation, and they, along with the original material presented here are © Eirian Phillips 2009.

Story is rated for mature readers, according to whatever rating system is adopted these days for Fan Fiction. It changes on a site by site basis… It was so much easier way back when…

There may be other virtual seasons of SGA out there in cyberspace. Some may even be unofficially official. However, as a writer, I don't believe that this should discourage others from having their own ideas about things. Mine are presented here.

I can be reached at Feedback is always welcome and emails are usually answered.

Characters and events are purely fictitious, and any similarity to anyone living, transformed, dead, cloned or in any alternate universe or timeline is entirely coincidental.

Stargate Atlantis

No Way Back

When All Else Seems Lost

"I would like to be your friend. I would."

"You expect me to believe that?"

"You may not understand this now but making you human ... I believe this could make your life better."

"Really? Because from what I was told, you made me human in order to make your lives better. So tell me then: what makes being human better than being a Wraith?"

"They are evil. They kill us, feed on us, show no mercy, know nothing of compassion…"

"And humans are different?"

"Yes."

"So what you did to me -- that was done out of compassion?"

Teyla and Michael – Michael

Previously On Stargate Atlantis:

Sheppard reached out, his eyes locked with those of the doctor, blue to blue as they shared a silent communication of concern for Teyla. He gripped Carson's arm and told him not to worry.

"Colonel, you bring her home, now, y'understand?" Beckett said, his voice barely above a whisper, nodding his head slightly as if to underline the importance of his request.

"Count on it," Sheppard told him seriously as Beckett moved on, coming to stand before the towering, sorrowing figure of the man he'd come to regard as a friend, from their unlikely beginnings several years before.

"This is exactly what I was afraid of," Ronon told him, his voice husky, and Carson knew the stoic Satedan was fighting to keep his emotions in check.

"I know, big man," he said, taking a breath. "I'm sorry."

Ronon stepped forward, and embraced him briefly, before straightening up, and almost immediately walking away.

Beckett turned then to McKay – Rodney McKay – a man with whom he'd spent so many hours in friendship; who he knew was a true friend that would stick with him through everything… death itself if he had to.

After a brief nodding contact, however, McKay couldn't meet his eyes, and inside, Beckett knew that this process was a painful one for the scientist. He moved past his friend to step into the stasis pod as McKay said, trying to sound businesslike, but with a voice that was splintered and fragile, "Right, well, you won't feel a thing – aside from a cool burst when the pod first activates."

Beckett turned so that he was facing out; out into Atlantis, into the city that would now be his salvation.

"Now, your life signs will be monitored on this machine here, twenty-four-seven, so…" McKay went on, and when Beckett glanced his way, he saw the pain that was eating the man up before his eyes.

"Thank you, Rodney," he said, trying to sound reassuring, but there was no reassurance for this, and he knew that as well as everyone there. He looked around at them all and said, "I want you all to know that seeing you again these last few days – it was all worth it, no matter what happens."

"You know, I was toying with the idea of programming dreams into these things. Interested? I could have you fishing in the Highlands…" McKay said, emotion streaming from him even as he tried to be light-hearted. He leaned a little closer, the parody of a smile on his face as he continued, "…with a couple of tall, blonde massage therapists?"

"No, Rodney," Beckett said, nervousness beginning to eat at the edges of his resolve. "I'll be fine."

McKay forced a larger smile onto his face and said, "That's right. You will be, you know? 'Cause this is not 'goodbye,' this is… this is… er… this is 'see you later,' that's what we agreed."

"Did we?" he asked, fearfully.

"'S'how I remember it," McKay said.

"All right, then," Beckett said, trying to make the brave smile he fixed onto his face look convincing, as he glanced around at his companions one last time and took a deep breath. "See y'all later."

**

McKay watched as his dearest friend straightened himself up and faced straight ahead. It was now or never, but still he looked at the others, as if searching for a reason not to have to activate the stasis field. Not one of them could give him that reason. He saw it in their eyes. Reaching down, he began to type the code into the activation device, ignoring, at first, the cool blue light that shone on the side of his face. He could not bear to have to see Carson like that, not at first… not until, eventually, like all the others, he sadly raised his face to gaze on him in silent farewell.

**

The Second shrugged then, and began to move the syringe toward his arm. Michael took another breath, bracing himself.

"A pity," the Hive Second said, pausing again. "Not at all worthy of the Wraith I remember you to have been."

"You remember nothing," Michael spat, hatred and contempt colouring his voice, "and know even less."

He turned as he sensed the additional presence in the Queen's private chambers, completing fastening his belt as he did. The appearance of the Hive Second did not alarm him. It had been he that the scientist had summoned after all.

Even when the Second's eyes narrowed and Michael felt the press of that one's mind in his, he remained calm, and pocketed the small bottle of deep purple fluid, making no attempt to hide it from the Second's eyes.

"No," he answered the unspoken communication. "I was the one that summoned you. There will be no new queen from this union, but she will have needs. You will see to them."

Neither did he possess qualms at giving orders to one technically his superior in the Hive hierarchy. He glanced behind him to the prone form of the Queen, still breathless and semi-conscious on the soft pillows of her sunken bed to clarify who it was to which he referred.

"The Hive Commander—" the Second began, his physical voice carrying no reprimand.

"The Hive Commander is an ineffectual fool. I know this, as do you," the Queen's Scientist Consort replied. "Do not trouble me with threats of his reprisals. By the time he comes to know that another has taken his bitch from him, I will be long gone from here. I doubt I shall ever return."

The memory surfaced from nowhere, and Michael knew that the Hive Second had brought it forth in him.

**

The closer Michael came to the site, the more he felt the tentative searching put out by the developing consciousness. It was merely the whisper of a touch against his mind, a request for direction, designation, - for contact.

Overnight there had been a massive increase in the mass, and in the structure of the Hive organism, fuelled by the thermal vent over which the foundations of the cradle had been built. The growth was rapid.

Briefly he laid his hand onto the tensile hardness of the support beam that was already wrapped in the spreading bio-polymer. At once, sensing the touch, several tendrils reared up, snake-like, striking toward him.

-cease- -cease- -cease-

As if suddenly paralysed the tendrils hung, mid-strike, allowing him ingress toward the cradle he knew lay at the centre of the tangled mass…

…He took a breath and let it out as a sigh as he looked at the pale likeness of the girl, Lisstha's, face barely recognisable under the infection of the Hive organism. A momentary and unexpected flurry of sadness touched him and he asked, "She is gone?"

//Her life functions are minimal.//

With another sigh, he nodded. He did not understand his sorrow. He had not felt anything for this girl; had not even known her – not like before…

An almost burning anger; resentment bordering on hatred flared in his gut. Michael gasped, and blinked, shaking his head and fighting to bring his breathing under control. It was a simple question he felt from the Hive Organism before him…

//She has hurt you//

…and yet it encompassed so much the Queen had done.

"It was a long time ago," he said at last, "and my retribution is at hand."

//That is what I am for.//

"You will be my flagship," he said. "The time of the Wraith; the reign of the Queen, the arrogance of the Lanteans – all of it… will end."

**

Todd could almost taste the anticipation as the Cascade Beam raced across the distance between his cruiser and that of the Abomination. He mentally counted the seconds until with an almost snarling hiss he watched the shields of the other cruiser flare brightly. Any moment they would collapse inward. The energy of the beam would feed back through the nodes that generated the shields and would disable them and the comm. array and would send a cascading overload throughout all the systems of the ship, destroying it from the inside out and there would be nothing to be done to prevent it.

Seconds passed and a frown, born of confusion, found its way to his face as his sensors failed, the chatter of Dart telemetry falling silent on the bridge. He grasped the controls, letting his mind fall into oneness with the cruiser's interface and ran a diagnostic program to try and find the cause of the failure. As the answer came to him the blood in his veins chilled and slowed.

"That's not possible," he said aloud, and abandoned his position to race to the forward viewing port. Even before he saw the leading edge of the approaching wave, he felt the cold touch of a thought inside his head that did not come from any one of his brothers.

-Did you think I would forget?-

**

The Queen's annoyance melted to curiosity, and then anticipation as the Wraith guards approached the middle of her chamber, dragging a semiconscious figure between them. Quickly, but sure to appear unhurried, she rose from her throne, and began to descend the steps.

Frowning she turned her head to watch the approaching scientist, tilted her head on seeing the rapidly healing scratches and bruises that marred his face. Sudden realisation of the truth filled her with a thrill of excited hope.

"I made a promise to you, My Queen," the scientist said softly, inclining his head in a small bow. He gestured toward the prisoner.

The semiconscious figure, suddenly unsupported, staggered a few steps before the strength in its legs gave way and it sank to its knees, in spite of an obvious effort to remain upright. It began to slump forward, but caught itself, leaning on a torn and bloodied arm.

She tightened her mental grasp, and relished the sounds of his physical discomfort, watching the tendons straining on the side of its neck as he fought her; relished the sound of the cry that came from its throat, past clenched teeth as it finally began to succumb and raised its head toward her….

…and she shivered as, at last, the eyes, slowly rising from the floor of the chamber, met hers, and she saw the cold, hard fury of hatred burning in the Wraithlike golden orbs that captured hers as she finally came face to face with the Abomination.

**

The man that stepped through the Gate was tall, and dark, and not at all handsome. His face was scarred on the one side, and the story was that one of his former patients had covered him with gasoline and set him on fire. His blue eyes were completely devoid of warmth as he swept his gaze around the Gate Room, and the dark suit that he wore only accentuated the impression of a brooding, crow-like presence.

"Richard Woolsey," he greeted the man, and though he sounded glad, and held out his hand for the requisite handshake, the coldness in his eyes did not change, and Woolsey remember the brief conversation with the IOA.

"An unfortunate misunderstanding," she interrupted smoothly, "A senate committee delivered their findings very recently on the subject of the alleged incident and he was cleared of all wrong-doing."

"Professor Varnerin," Woolsey said, shaking the man by the hand and gesturing toward the interior of the city. "Welcome to Atlantis."

**

Sheppard had spent the better part of the day trying to persuade Teyla that she should stay; that their differences could be worked out, and that they needed her. Perhaps that last part was the truth, but Teyla doubted the rest.

For just a moment, she turned away from the Gate to look around the city one last time. It had been her home for a long time, and to be away from it, and from the friendships—

She swallowed hard, blinking back tears, and Sheppard stepped forward, joking a little, she knew, to try and lighten the atmosphere, he said, "Hey, we have your address, we can always write."

She gave a faint smile, but said sadly, "I do not think so. If we meet again, it will be a long time… to allow the hurt to heal. I fear we need that – both of us."

"Yeah," he said, and nodded, looking at the ceiling.

"Goodbye, John." she said softly, and walked to where Ronon was waiting for her by the Gate, to escort her back to her people.

**

The serum flooded into him like icy fire. Michael could track its progress as it burst as an ache inside his head and down to squeeze his heart as if some massive bellows worked to crush him. After only a laboured breath, the pain of it began.

He clenched his teeth against the bubbling and churning that began deep inside him, but all too soon the intensity of the agonising change that was sweeping over him, and through him, overcame his resistance. He cried out, "I will kill you for this… all of you!"

But even the defiant cries became wordless as the agony took hold, as his transformation accelerated, and even above his own screams he could hear the crackling and popping of his bones, sinews and flesh.

**

Todd held his breath as the Renegade's features sharpened, becoming more Wraithlike with each moment that passed; as the familiar features of his ages-old rival began to reform before his eyes.

**

Teyla paused for just a moment before she pushed the torch into the dry kindling at the centre of the pyre and stepped back. Another deep sigh escaped her as the flames and heat blurred her vision.

The heat melted the canvass that the people of Atlantis had used to wrap Kanaan's body before they had delivered it from M7S-445, and in the rising temperature of the flames, his head fell slowly to the side, almost as though he had turned it.

As she watched, Kanaan's hybrid features distorted and sharpened; changed, becoming more pronounced – the illusion melting away to reveal Michael amid the devastating flames.

…Michael…!

She took another step forwards, but was again restrained by Halling and Kara.

"But—" she began, a sickening fear and worry replacing the sorrow.

"Let him go, Teyla," Halling said, barely above a whisper. She knew he did not understand.

"Teyla…!"

The vision of Michael persisted, however, and he reached for her through the flames and the haze of heat.

"Help me, Teyla, plea—"

-forgive me, Teyla- -forgive me- -forgi…-

As though a cloud had lifted from the sun on a dark day, as though the smoke was suddenly borne away on a breeze, the vision came to an abrupt end…

The vision came to an abrupt end and Michael was gone.

Though her son was still missing she knew that she would find him. It should have been a comfort… but did not reach to warm the sudden, dreadful cold within her heart… or to banish the thought that it had all come at some terrible price.

**

"You clearly wish to cling to some…pointless principle and starve yourself – and for what?"

The Renegade did not answer, save to fix him with a most baleful stare that would have withered lesser Wraith. The answer suddenly came to Todd as if someone had clearly spoken it to him.

"Ah – of course, your precious… Teyla." He drew out her name as a growl, as if rolling it around on his tongue; tasting it. He knew he was right when The Renegade's stare turned to scarlet fury in his eyes and he began to struggle in the grasp of the drones. Fixing his face into an expression of regret, Todd said, "You need not concern yourself with her." Before he turned away, he saw The Renegade's muscles tense; the look of desolation and panic that came over him. Beginning to walk toward the door of the laboratory, Todd added, "Not any more."

"What do you mean?" The Renegade cried out after him as Todd moved further away. "What have you done to her!"

**

"I didn't think you were ever going to wake," Varnerin said sourly as Woolsey opened his eyes. He was lying on the ground in what seemed to him to be a cell, though the bars looked more like a spider's web than real bars. "Thought maybe he'd done more damage than I imagined; broke your neck or something."

His head ached and he felt sick to his stomach. "What happened?" he answered the professor.

"Wraith."

"What do you mean, Wraith?"

"I mean, more Wraith arrived. They didn't wait to find out what was going on, they just stunned us," Varnerin said.

"Another Wraith faction, do you think?" Woolsey asked.

"How the devil should I know?" Varnerin snapped. "More importantly: how the hell do we get out of here?"

"You don't."

=don't= =don't= =don't=

**

Burning… The whole of his flesh was dissolving in the fire of a bitter maelstrom that had taken root inside of him. His dreams were dark and too confused to even grasp the edges of any sense to wrap around them.

He moaned and turned his head first one way and then the other against the pillow as though seeking to escape the weight of disorder that beset him. Perspiration beaded on his forehead and his cheeks, a testament to the cold sweat that had him in its grasp. His breathing, rapid and shallow, reached a sudden crescendo in the cry that tore from his lips as he shot upright, waking from a terror he could neither name, nor remember.

Quickly, he threw back the soaked covers, and turned to put his head into his hands, as the familiar darkness of his quarters, and the bubbling hum of the city of Atlantis wrapped her comfort around him… and when he could stand, he padded to the bathroom to remove the evidence of his night terrors.

**

Still, as he sat, his mind churned over all the facts. He could tell that something was bothering Jennifer – terribly so – and he couldn't help but think that it had something to do with the altercation he had witnessed that afternoon. The argument, the atmosphere, it was all too chillingly familiar.

He tried to dismiss it, put it down to how stressed and tired they all were, and he could see very clearly that Jennifer was more than a little tired, but something kept the warning bells ringing in his head.

"Why don't you take a break," he said quietly. "You've been at it for hours."

"There's a lot to do, Rodney," Jennifer answered, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear, and yawning into the back of her other hand. "We have to take these results back to the Hive, one of these people might hold the key to… well, to—"

"To getting you away from Todd so that he can't play games with you any more?" Rodney had said the words almost before he realised he had spoken. "I'm not blind and I'm certainly not stupid. Ever since we've been on Todd's Hive there's been something wrong – something you're not telling Sheppard and me, and now with this thing in the alley back there, I think I understand what. Jen, if Todd's making improper advances o—"

"Don't be so absurd!" Jennifer spat, a little breathless, and as she freed her arm from his grasp, she raised her hand to press it against the high collar of the lab coat she wore. "If you must know, he was angry that I hadn't done as I was told and stayed with the drones. He was trying to intimidate me; whispering threats."

He saw her shiver, and she wrapped her arms around herself. As she did, her lab coat shifted and he caught sight of the bruise on her neck. It didn't seem to be any better. In fact, it seemed to be more livid than ever.

**

Keller could barely keep her hand steady enough to avoid opening a huge gash in the blood vessel raised by the tourniquet as she took her blood sample. Her mouth was alternately desert dry, and sickeningly wet with bile as the thought, the terrifying possibility entered her mind again and again.

Bracing herself against the bench, as her legs barely held her upright, she moved to place the blood sample she had taken into the scanner that would analyse the biochemical contents, providing her with a full blood panel. She would feel better when she had answers – when she knew.

Feeling suddenly faint, and trembling with the effort to hold on to consciousness she hooked the nearby stool with her foot and drew it closer so that she could sit – head in hands, trying to make sense of everything, before she grabbed a surgical directive sheet and in handwriting she was sure would be unrecognisable, wrote up the order, before she finished getting herself ready for the procedure she had just sanctioned.

"God, Jennifer!" Doctor Meronine's exclamation made her jump. "Jennifer, what's wrong?"

"Leave it," she craved desperately and handed her the written order. "I need this procedure. I need you to do it… do it now."

"Jen?" Meronine frowned, her voice full of concern as she cast her eyes over the written sheet. "Jen, are you sure? I didn't even know you were—is this even necessary? We should… we should get you under the scanner first, it might not even be necessary, something this drastic, I mean a D an—"

"No," Keller almost shook the other doctor. "It's the only way, it's been too long already. Please, Angela, don't make me find some way to do this myself."

**

Halling kept a hand on Ronon's shoulder, turning him and beginning to walk with him away from the busy community centre and further into the gathering darkness at the outer edge of the village. Once they were clear of prying eyes and ears, Halling said, "You are looking for Teyla?"

"She's not here, is she?" Ronon asked. It was obvious to him anyway.

"No, she is not," Halling said and shook his head. "The Wraith came. Teyla barely had time to warn us before they were upon us."

"And Teyla left because of it?" Ronon asked.

Halling nodded. "We tried to persuade her otherwise," he explained, "but she blamed herself; said that in her dreams… that the warning was clear…"

**

"Professor Varnerin informed me that you have been out looking for Teyla – that she's not with her people," Woolsey said.

"I've been looking for Teyla, yeah," he said, giving Woolsey a challenging look, all but daring him to ask why.

"And did you find her?" Woolsey asked instead.

"She's nowhere, Woolsey," he said, "Not even news of her. No word."

"Well… I suppose we'll have to assume that no news is good news," the base commander said with what Ronon supposed was supposed to be a reassuring smile. In this instance, however, he rather doubted that the Earth Human's idiom would hold. He had a very bad feeling lodged deep inside his heart.

**

"So, Scientist," The Abomination spat, turning his narrowed golden eyes Todd's way, "you have come to torment me still further. Inject me with your retrovirus to see how much closer to Wraith you can drag my DNA."

**

He braced himself for another stab of physical agony from whatever instrument of torture this scientist – Queen's pawn – would decide to try and use to loosen his tongue. After several minutes, nothing came but the soft tones of the other's voice.

"Tell me something… Michael…"

He could not have prepared himself for the wash of emotional pain that came with hearing that name on this one's lips. He felt the shock of it bubbling inside of him, tight against his chest as though trying to escape...

"…all those centuries ago… when you took the Humans of this galaxy to experiment on… Did you use your own DNA then as well? When you began the line of manipulations that resulted in your little… natural hybrid playing…" The Scientist purred, "…your… Teyla…"

Anger joined the pain, intensified triple fold by the mention of her name, and still chuckling, and though restrained, he sought to lash out. He would kill this poor excuse for Wraith.

The Scientist paused by the door, though he did not look back. He merely spoke softly one more time, damning Michael with his words.

"…idle curiosity… for the lost."

***

"What I am is not a disease you can cure."

Michael - Misbegotten

Act 1

Carson Beckett closed his eyes, took in a shuddering breath and opening them once more, fought to keep his anguish in check among his companions. He knew that each of them was grieving. He only had to look around at their sallow faces and blotchy complexions to know that many of them had shed more than a single tear in the last twenty-four hours.

His eyes met the red rimmed orbs of Colonel Sheppard, standing tattered and bruised, but immaculately dressed in full military dress uniform beside the neatly trimmed figure of the base commander whose black suit and tie stood stark against the crisp white of his shirt.

The civil and the military, side by side now, finding an uneasy peace in this death, but still warring within the heart of the physician led astray, ethically, professionally – God alone knew in his right to call himself a compassionate Human being – for the sake of trying to take the short route to solving an imbalance their presence had caused in this galaxy.

They didn't need to know that he blamed himself for this; for the price that Teyla had paid for all of them.

He tore his eyes away from Sheppard's as the man began to move toward the podium that had been erected in front of the Stargate, their movement dislodging the tears that had gathered in his eyes, and even his best friend's hand closing on his shoulder did nothing to bring comfort to his aching heart.

"Rodney," he whispered, turning his head to look at the man, as McKay squeezed his shoulder again.

McKay's eyes were full of understanding, and of worried sorrow, and Carson closed his eyes again, to try and shut out the absolution he thought he saw there. He didn't want absolution; didn't deserve it. Instead he gathered to himself the cracked and painful words that began slowly, softly, to pour forth from John Sheppard's lips.

"Two days," Sheppard said. "Forty-eight hours… two thousand, eight hundred, eighty minutes," his voice cracked then, and Carson opened his eyes again, to look across the woven pallet on which Teyla's possessions, including the little hand carved crib, had been reverently placed, waiting for the time when – in lieu of her body – they would be carried through the Gate to the settlement of her people, to lie in state, before the pyre would take them all; reduce them to ash and dust that was all that remained of the woman herself, floating endlessly in the vast cold of space. He found Sheppard's eyes as wet with tears as were his own, and somehow managed a nod of support to the man he knew had loved her. They all had, but Sheppard…

Sheppard cleared his throat and continued, "One hundred, seventy-two thousand, eight hundred seconds… since we lost Teyla… and I've lived… every single one of them in a darkness… deeper for knowing the absence of her gentle presence in this galaxy…"

**

Ten days earlier…

"You sure we should have left her on her own like that," Ronon asked as he, McKay and Sheppard trudged up the slight incline toward the Gate.

"She's not on her own," Sheppard reasoned, "Warsh and his team have got her back. Keller knows how to look after herself. She'll be fine."

"Yeah, but—" Ronon started, flicking a glance at McKay whose mouth was set in a think line, and lines of worry creased his brow like the furrows in the field they had just passed.

"But what, Ronon?" Sheppard asked, sounding a little more irritated than the Satedan expected. He blinked in surprise and hurt, and Sheppard turned to face him, running his fingers through his hair as if at a loss for what to do. "Granted, she looks a bit… under the weather, but I tried to talk to her and she just blows me off. Says she's tired from working all the hours Godsend, and which of us isn't right now."

"But you could—" Ronon countered, once again interrupted by Sheppard.

"She won't. Talk to me, big guy," he said and sighed, "What else do you want me to do?"

"She won't talk to anyone," McKay answered, before Ronon could open his mouth. "This is the first time she's come out of that lab in three weeks. I know we brought back a lot of data from Todd's Hive, and from Michael's lab, but…"

"She'll talk to us when she's ready," Sheppard said, in a tone that Ronon knew meant that he was more worried than he was trying to let on. "Dial the Gate, McKay."

McKay was standing by the DHD, and Ronon looked past him as he glanced back the way they'd come, toward the settlement where they'd left the others, where Jennifer was trying to help those that had greater needs than those with which their own herbalists could meet though thankfully none of these, according to Jennifer, seemed to be stricken with the onset of the Hoffan syndrome.

His contemplations were shattered by McKay's warning.

"Sheppard," he said, pulling back his hand from the DHD as the symbols began to light up to show that someone was dialling in.

"Oh Crap," Sheppard hissed and unslung his P90 from where it rested loosely, to check the magazine and flick off the safety. "Get to cover," he told both Ronon and McKay. "If it's trouble, we'll head back to the village. Go!"

Ronon looked around them, there was scant little cover, and what there was couldn't hope to conceal him. The best cover he could give himself was distance. He set off at a run, grabbing McKay by the shoulder of his jacket and sending the two of them skittering back down the rise they'd just climbed, as if running from the almost harsh liquid sigh of the wormhole stabilising into existence.

It was closely followed by the mosquito whine he had anticipated, and feared.

**

"Warsh, we've got company!" Colonel Sheppard's voice sounded urgently in his ear, "Get everyone under cover. Get Doctor Keller out of there!"

"Negative, Sir," Warsh called back, and glanced over at where Keller was kneeling beside one of the low beds, on which a woman was straining to bring her child to birth. "Doc can't leave right now."

The woman chose just that moment to let out a terrible cry of anguish and pain, and Warsh was sure it would leave the colonel in no doubt as to why the doctor had to stay where she was.

"Easy," Keller crooned to the woman, "I know, I know… but you're doing fine."

In spite of her words, the look that the doctor shot the captain in the next moment did not fill him with confidence.

"We're coming to you. Stay put," Sheppard ordered instead.

"Yes, Sir. Warsh out," he answered, and went to crouch at the doctor's side. "What do you need, Doctor Keller?"

He saw the Doctor's hand tremble, as she lifted it to brush away the hair that had fallen across her eyes. "Unless you can get me an OR, Captain, I don't think there's anything you can do," she said.

"Sorry, Doc," he said, "Even if we could get a detail to carry this lady to the Gate it'd do us no good. We've got Wraith inbound, and Colonel Sheppard just told us to hang tight."

Even as he spoke, the first of the explosions from the incoming Darts rocked the ground beneath them.

"What's happening?" the labouring woman's voice was shrill with fear and pain, and she reached out to grab the material of his jacket with fingers that were already slick with her own blood.

**

Ronon stumbled, the ground under his feet uneven and went down hard enough to make Sheppard wince in sympathy. Neither man gave pause, however. Ronon rolled onto his back and with his blaster fired time and again at the Dart overhead that was streaming toward the village.

Sheppard, too, raised his P90 and fired on the agile craft, before reaching down to grab Ronon by the shoulder of his shirt, and haul him to his feet before taking off again, running and firing, making a vain attempt to save the village.

He cursed himself as he ran. He should have known, the minute Keller's screen had revealed no traces of the Hoffan protein in the blood of these people, that this was a prime target for Wraith culling and made adequate provision for their protection. Now he was faced with the prospect, not only protecting these people until they could be evacuated, but also of trying to avoid getting his own ass culled – or those of his people.

He tapped his mic. "Warsh, what's your status?" he asked.

"Not good, Sir," Warsh's voice was strained, and punctuated with the sound of Wraith Dart weapons, and the shrill whoosh of their culling beams. "The Wraith are firing on the housing to drive the people out. They won't stay put, Sir. They're terrified, and who can blame them."

"Do what you can, Captain," Sheppard ordered, "Try and marshal the villagers toward the building at the centre of the village. It has a vault underneath. We're almost there, just… just keep them from getting culled!"

He growled in frustration at the whole situation, at the sudden escalation in culling – as if they were preparing for something – as if there was something coming, something big in the Wraith social calendar or—

His darkly cynical thoughts were interrupted by the solid mass that suddenly collided with him and took his feet from under him, driving him to the side of the roadway, where they both landed with a rush of air expelled from already aching lungs. Reflex had him release his hold on his weapon and start to swing a balled fist in the direction of his attacker.

"Whoa! Sheppard," Ronon's voice registered in time for his fist to collide with the Satedan's defensively raised palm. "What was that about not getting culled?"

As Ronon spoke, his ears registered the almost musical whine of the culling beam, and he turned his head to watch its distorting sweep, like a heat haze, pass down the road on which he had, but a moment before, been standing.

"Come on," he said, trying to cover his horrified embarrassment. "We gotta get to the village."

**

Leaving the marine she'd appropriated as an assistant, Keller pulled off the bloodstained gloves and hurried to what was left of the door to the dwelling. It stood at an angle, half scorched by the after-effects of the blast that had taken it off its hinges and splintered the frame in which it had once hung. She wrenched it aside, needing to find Warsh; praying that it would be clear enough for them to get her to the Gate. She was running out of time.

The chaos took what was left of her breath away. It grabbed the shreds of her hope and trampled them into the dampened mud that was fast becoming a soupy mess in the central courtyard as villagers ran to and fro in panic, corralled and marshalled by the combined effects of the Wraith culling beams, and the Atlantis military personnel.

Where the culling beams did not sweep, balls of death and destruction flew from the Darts' weapons into building and person alike; violent persuasion to the village folk to make of themselves targets for the Wraith pilots to sweep up, and carry away to their bleak fate.

"Doctor Keller!" Jennifer turned as she heard her name called from amid the chaos, "Go back inside. You're safer inside!"

"Captain Warsh," she called back, fighting to make herself heard over the combined sounds of screams, the whine of Darts and the crackle of burning timbers. Ignoring his advice she started to jog toward him, dodging her way through the scurrying locals. "I need to get that woman back to Atlantis. I have to move her now!"

"Not a chance, Doctor," Warsh answered, taking a firm hold of her hand, and leaning toward her as he spoke. "The Wraith started beaming in ground troops to take out the resistance – in other words: us. Chances are they sent through drones to guard the Gate as well."

"Captain, if I don't, she'll die," Keller appealed, and she knew she didn't need to voice her concerns for the baby.

"I'm sorry, Doctor," Warsh said, raising his voice above the whine of an incoming Dart. "There's nothing I can d—"

"Warsh!"

He broke off, grabbing her by both arms and turning her, shielded her with his body as Sheppard's voice screamed out across the noise. Out of the corner of her eye she saw the shimmer of a culling beam distorting the air, barely millimetres away from where she now was.

However, far from leaving behind empty space where the beam had been, as the wavering faded the space beside her was occupied by a Wraith commander, and two Wraith drones.

The Wraith in front, the commander, reached for Keller, his clawed feeding hand open and stretching as he made the grab for her…

Todd slipped one of his hands under the small of her back, drawing her toward him, his possession of her deeper, filling her with a deeper need, in spite of herself, until her cries became growls and he rose over her again. He reached out, his feeding hand still wet with her juices, and dripping enzyme reaching out until he pressed against her chest… She gasped as the barbs pricked her skin, her belly swirling with excited fear that pushed her arousal to new heights… she moaned, almost wishing he would feed…

…Suddenly she fought the hold Warsh had on her, pushing at him…

"No!" she spat, scratching at the Captain's hands on her arms, overbalancing him, her irrational mind convinced he was holding her in place for the Wraith. He went down on one knee, still not letting go and dragged her with him, and she screamed and fought like a hell cat.

Just as well he did, for in the next moment the heat of P90 fire scorched the air just over Keller's head.

Abandoning her fight with the captain, she cowered beneath her upraised arms, shielding herself from the gunfire, from the rounds of hot metal that flew dangerously close, punctuated by the shrill sizzle of hot energy from Ronon's blaster, before she was pulled down completely and the weight of a body settled over her.

**

Sheppard didn't stop firing until the Wraith were ribbons of dark, oozing blood that staggered to fall lifeless beyond the reach of Keller's feet, and with the death of the commander, it seemed that the tide of the battle began to turn. Darts began retreating, and their culling sweeps slowed and then ceased all together.

As the noise subsided, Warsh got up from where he was shielding Keller, and Sheppard watched the monumental effort with which she climbed to her feet and pulled herself together as much as the tatters of her nerves would allow.

"You all right?" he asked, biting back the retort that was lodged in his brain at her aberrant behaviour.

"I have a patient, John," she answered, her voice still shaky. "I have to get her into surgery. It's already way past time."

"All right, I'll assign you a carrying detail; we'll strike for the Gate. Once the Wraith are gone we'll be able to dial in to Atlantis," he said with exaggerated patience.

"Jennifer—" McKay started.

"Rodney," she cut him off. "I don't have time for this!"

She started to walk off but he caught her wrist, his fingers clasped hard against the tenacious three week old bruising that Sheppard knew came from her stay aboard the Hive, but not how it had been caused. She snatched her wrist from McKay's grasp.

"But, you—" McKay tried again.

"Get off me!" she spat. "Unless you can give me the means to teleport my patient to an OR then just… get out of my face!"

She stormed back inside the building and McKay moved as though to follow her, but Sheppard stepped in his path, a hand spread gently, but firmly over the man's chest to halt his progress.

"Let her go, Rodney," he said softly, but he resolved to speak to Keller later whether she wanted to or not.

**

Rissek walked the length of the hall slowly, his mind in deep contemplation of the orders with which he had been left. It never occurred to him for a moment to disobey. Everything was in its place, the plan followed to the letter, and once the cruisers returned with the last of the supplies they needed, they would be ready. They had time. They had not yet received the transmission.

He stopped beside a door, pressing his hand to the palm reader, and typing in the necessary code. The lock retracted audibly, sounding like a gunshot echoing along the corridor he had just walked.

He entered the room slowly, taking in the muted lighting, the steady warmth and carefully controlled flow of air, and walked to the small chamber at the other end of the room. His eyes ran over the monitors, noting their readings before looking into the chamber itself.

The child looked back at him, his gold-flecked blue eyes seeming to meet Rissek's own in silent communication… holding an intelligence… emotion and strength all at the same time. The child's features were soft, his pale, coffee-cream skin alive with obvious health, though the slight scar to the child's hip was visible as the light fell on the chamber from above.

"Soon, little one," he said softly and placed a hand over the glass of the chamber. "He will be home soon."

**

Sheppard stood to one side as Warsh and the other marines of the security detail ushered the refugees away from the Gate Room into secure quarters until they could find them a more permanent arrangement. They hadn't been able to leave the villagers behind because he knew, as well as every man, woman and child in that place that the Wraith would return, and it wouldn't have been long before they did, and with greater forces to counter the resistance they'd met. It was what they did and Sheppard was not a happy man. In fact, quite frankly, Sheppard was pissed.

The Gate Room was in chaos. Wandering natives and milling marines notwithstanding, Sheppard crossed the floor to where Keller was giving urgent directions to the medical team that had come to take the woman to the infirmary, and get her prepped for the surgery she needed. His steps were sharp, his boots percussive against the polished floor.

"…and we're going to need to cross-match as many units of blood as we can," Keller said, as they began to wheel the woman away. The doctor turned to go after them but Sheppard hooked her arm, tugging her back around to face him.

"John," she started.

"What the fuck was that!" he demanded not quite angrily, though his voice was somewhat raised.

"This isn't the time for this. I—"

"This is exactly the time," he snapped. "You completely lost it out there. Attacked a man under my command and—"

"I didn't attack anyone, Sheppard," she hissed, obviously trying not to draw any more attention to them.

"—and," Sheppard didn't care about that, and raised his voice a little more. "You had a go at Rodney when he expressed his concern at—"

"As I remember it, you'd damn near shot me to death," Keller finally snapped. "So pardon me if I might have been a little worse for wear from shock!"

Sheppard shook his head.

"What's going on, Jennifer?" he asked more softly, "Ever since we went aboard Todd's Hive you've been… on edge… nervous – if I didn't know better I'd say you were on something – and it's only been getting worse since we got back."

"Listen, Sheppard," she hissed, snatching at her arm, with some difficulty he was sure, because he was holding her more tightly than he would ordinarily have done, to make his point. Eventually after the third try she finally freed herself. "If you want to write me up for being rude to McKay, be my guest. Go right ahead. But right now I have a patient waiting for me in surgery. While I stand around talking to you, she's bleeding to death, so if you'll excuse me…"

She stormed away from him then, along the corridor leading to the infirmary and as Sheppard turned from watching her, his eyes caught sight of the approaching base commander.

"Colonel Sheppard, a word?" Woolsey said to him, but Sheppard held up his hand.

"Look, I know what you're gonna say, and you're right. We can't keep finding new homes for every native inhabitant of this galaxy, but we couldn't leave them, Woolsey. The Wraith are going back there. They're going back in greater number because we offered them resistance. It's about taking responsibility? I couldn't in all conscience leave them there just to get culled on the next pass."

Woolsey sighed heavily. "It can't go on, Colonel, this makes the third set of refugees so far this week." he said. "And Doctor Keller...? Is everything all right?"

"Nothing a little R and R wouldn't deal with," Sheppard said, and he knew as he said the words that he was lying, but he said them anyway. Whatever was going on with Jennifer, he'd handle it himself.

**

Isla's whole body trembled, alive with the fire of the caress of his feeding hand along the side of her body. The touch encouraged her to wrap her leg over the top of his hip and slowly he guided the hard length of him deep inside her.

She cried out, her muscles tightening around his ridged member as she shattered, and opened to him, all defences lost, and she sobbed with the pleasure of the climax that he gathered and wrapped around their conjoined minds, stroking their bodies with the edgy sting of it, as surely as the perilous caress of his feeding hand nipped at the sensitivity at the point of their joining, rendering the ecstasy almost too much to bear.

{surrender} {surrender} {surrender}

She sobbed again with the sweetness of his mind's touch in hers as he surged in to possess her more fully, pressing her beneath him now, pressed against her, nipping sharply at the back of her shoulder; the back of her neck, almost undulating over her like a wave, filling her completely with his presence, both in body, and in a manner less tangible.

**

Buoyant in the whirl of sensation in her hybrid mind, the Hive Second could at last lower defences so long held that the pain of it threatened to stifle him with its insanity. The desire, the arousal, and the kindred affection he felt for this small creature in his arms soothed him long enough only to bank the fires of his sensuality until they could burst in him again, an inferno of possessive sexual hunger.

"Lord," she gasped, "please…"

Her adoring pleas were a balm that freshened every sensation inside of him. The kiss of each muscle along every ridge and sensitive dip of his masculinity, the soft skin of her back against his sculpted belly, the sweet copper taste of her blood against his tongue where his teeth had punctured the delicate skin. He felt himself swelling against her, his engorged sacs brushing maddeningly against the velvet of her thighs, dampened by their mingled essences, the tumble of her fluids over him quickened by the seeping release of his enzyme against her centre as he denied the need to feed.

At last, sensation and release won over control and swept the both of them, tightly woven in mind and body as she was with him, into the bright heat of blissful oblivion. The white noiselessness of his primal existence washed over him, as he pulsed time and again into her body and she milked him with crush after crushing kiss of trembling muscles.

"Isla," he all but sang her name softly. "Sermhuni…"

"Do not call me that," she whispered, breathlessly. Her voice thick with tears he felt gathering in her.

"Always denial, my little Isla," he said gently, turning her as he moved from inside her, so that he could see her face, and she his.

"But I haven't—"

"You have," he stopped her words with a delicate nipping kiss, barely pulling away to say, "A hundred times over, you have and you still are – and I must ask it of you one more time."

"What do you mean?" she looked up into his gold eyes, reflected in her own, still dark with the aftermath of their mating.

"This Hive is in flux," he told her softly, "sick with the inability of its Queen to see beyond her own flawed schemes and its commander's weak and foolish incompetence. The one they hold – the one my own word of honour to our Matron has all but executed – knows more than the both of them together of the future of our people. He must endure, and my hand cannot be seen in his salvation."

"I…" she began slowly, leaning up a little, pushing enough at his shoulder that he lay back, and she leaned over him, to run her fingers through his still unbound hair. "…will go to him. I'll do everything I can to—"

He caught her hand suddenly, and she jumped, almost pulling against his restraining hand. Nipping her wrist as he brought it out of his hair, as he moved to rise over her again, holding her in place, and feeling her heart fluttering as surely as a specimen butterfly just pinned in place amid the moths; her hand clasped in his against the bed.

"No," he said firmly, releasing her hand and running his sharp fingernails along the inside of her arm as he brought his hand to tease at her breasts, rumbling a little as she moaned. "There is one thing you will not do; that you will not allow."

She moaned again, and clutched at his forearm as his hand came to rest against the centre of her chest. She let her head fall back in anticipation, he knew, of the pain and pleasure to come for the both of them.

"Sermhuni," he insisted, and throwing back his head with a deep, sexual growl, he fed deeply, and gave the Gift of Life in a measure equal to his possession of her.

**

It was one of those nights that Keller wished she had left the lights on in her quarters. Lights from elsewhere in the city seeped in through the blinds covering her windows, lending the room patches of shadow that lurked like the depression that had descended over her.

She had lost the woman and it was unlikely that the child would survive the night, born with as many problems as he was and without any facility for neo-natal intensive care. She felt wretched.

The smell of antiseptic and blood was in her nose and with each breath she was reminded of her failure… of the last three weeks of analysing data, visiting off world colonies stricken with the Hoffan Syndrome, and those that were not… trying to put into practise the theory she had developed with Todd.

With Todd…

Her answering deeply primal moan broke over him as a storm driven wave, and snarling, he threw back his head, fully open inside of her and came hard… milked hotly by her answering, shattering climax.

She let out a soft moan at the memory, and at the stab of pain that her body remembered as his alien physiognomy had thrust deep barbs to keep him close; ensure she could not reject him and the stinging flow of his alien fluids, mingling with her blood…

"Damn you… bastard!" she whispered into the shadows, her throat constricting around the words, and feeling suddenly filthy, she began to strip, dropping her clothes as she walked across the room toward the bathroom. He followed her.

"Don't you touch me, you bastard! There's been more than enough of that!"

"Calm yourself, my—"

"Your nothing!"

The artificial lighting made her look pale in the mirror, tired and haggard, and she hurried past to turn on the shower, too hot to step in, but not enough to fog the reflective surface in sufficient time to block out the barely faded bruises and bites. The sight of it sickened her, and she barely turned in time to avoid emptying what was left of the food in her belly all over the tiles.

Used, and she had allowed it…

Abused… Lied to…

"No," he said firmly. "I spoke only the truth when I contacted you in Atlantis. Your acumen is impressive, my Jennifer, and from the moment I realised more of you, I wanted you."

She tried to look away, but he shifted his grasp to take both wrists into one hand and grasp her chin, bringing her reluctant gaze back to meet with his.

"I wanted you," he repeated, "And you—"

"No," she moaned, wrenching her hands free, heedless of the scratches his fingers must have caused, to slap him again and again, before he pulled her closer again, holding her struggling form against his, tipping back her head, and capturing her lips in a crushing kiss.

She fought him still, but her struggles slowed, the fists she pushed against his shoulders opened slowly, grasped the fabric of his shirt and clung to him, trembling as she surrendered to the kiss, until the arm he slipped around her narrow waist.

"No," she whispered, her voice just on the edge of a whine, denial suffocating her like the half remembered pain of waking in the infirmary, her whole body on fire from the inside out, and Doctor Meronine sitting at her beside, concern written all over her face.

"Jen, there was nothing," the woman said softly, laying a gentle hand onto her arm. "I wish you'd tell me—"

"There's nothing to tell," she answered. "You just said so."

"But you thought you could have--?"

"It was something I was afraid of… yeah. A possibility."

"Jen, we don't do this kind of thing for a possibility."

"You do as I damn well tell you to do!" she snapped, regretting her tone as the woman's face fell. "Sorry, just… I won't carry that… I can't!"

"Who, Jennifer… who did this?"

She stifled a sob as she stepped into the water, barely adjusting the temperature enough that it wasn't scalding, and welcomed the tiny, hot daggers to run all over her, trying to wash it all away.

He pulled her closer again, holding her struggling form against his, tipping back her head, and capturing her lips in a crushing kiss.

She fought him still, but her struggles slowed, the fists she pushed against his shoulders opened slowly, grasped the fabric of his shirt and clung to him, trembling as she surrendered to the kiss, until the arm he slipped around her narrow waist.

"No," she moaned, and the moan became a sob as her body clenched at the memory, driving her back against the cold of the tiles of the shower stall. Her knees buckled, refusing to hold her as her sobs became deeper again. She wrapped her arms around her head as if to shield herself from the memories… curled up into a ball in the corner of the shower, lost between the cold of the tiles, the scalding of the water, and the shameful heat of the memory, the pleasure that still pulsed between her legs.

"No!" she wept again, and the voice answered softly.

"Believe what you wish, my Jennifer, but the truth will become apparent in time."

**

It was magnificent… sleek and black where it rested on the surface of the barren world. Here was a place which proved the Ancients had not been quite as clever as they'd thought, with the creation of their many devices, and the continuance of their many schemes. History had proven that two such – inexorably linked – had been the downfall of this world, and still, after countless cold millennia this ship, this Wraith Hive, possessed and piloted by the inevitable evolution of that race, remained the only thing to have to have been created here; created to herald the doom of its progenitors, nature incarnate. Only the fittest would survive.

From the top of the rise, where he watched as they loaded the supplies aboard the new Hive, Rissek couldn't help but wonder at it… the whole process of its creation. From one lonely, lovelorn girl, and the planetary energy the entire ship had grown into the pinnacle craft that it was.

They were almost done with the task of supplying the ship, and he would have to board soon. He would bring the child with him, as he had been instructed. So far all of their monitoring and listening had not suggested that the one they followed had been forced to give away their position, but that did not necessarily mean that they had been anything more than lucky in remaining free from attack by their enemies. He had delayed long enough for the Hive to be completely ready, but now they must leave.

It could not be much longer before they would receive the signal that would mean it was time to put the next phase of his plan into action, and there was much to do before that could happen.

**

"Colonel Sheppard, I'm not accusing you of any such thing," Woolsey said into the awkward silence left by Sheppard's outburst. "To suggest that I was is absolutely ludicrous."

"You just said," Sheppard leaned forward in his seat, his pointing hand resting along the top of the table. They'd been at this meeting for hours, and he was tired, and he was on edge, and nothing he'd heard so far convinced him that they should change any of their protocols – yet again. Sighing, he continued, "that every time my team, or any of the other teams go off world, we end up either coming in hot or bringing back the remnant population of settlements suffering increased culling by the Wraith. Sounds to me like you're trying to say we're stirring them up, and I'm telling you that simply isn't true."

Woolsey frowned, and answered, "I recognise that in many cases the culling would happen anyway—"

"Exactly," he interjected.

"—I merely question, as I have always questioned, the involvement of Atlantis personnel in the conflict evolving in the Pegasus Galaxy," Woolsey finished.

"Wait a minute," Sheppard frowned, suddenly realising there was something he'd missed. "What do you mean in many cases?"

"I mean—" Woolsey started, meaning to go on, but Keller interrupted, rendering Sheppard's question more than a little redundant.

"But that's just the point," she said firmly. "We are involved, whether we like it or not. We're as culpable here as the Wraith for what happens to those people out there."

Sheppard looked over at her, taking in her appearance. Oh, she'd made an effort to turn out for the meeting as presentable and personable as possible, and she had become somewhat reclusive of late, but he wasn't fooled. It was there in the hint of shadow beneath her eyes, and the pale, almost wan quality of her complexion; in the slightly mussed hair, and the way she held to her files tightly to hide the tremor in her hands. She was tired, and that meant she wasn't sleeping… and that she wasn't sleeping meant that she wasn't as 'over' the whole ordeal aboard Todd's Hive as she pretended; as she always insisted whenever any of them broached the subject.

"Doctor Keller?" Woolsey's query was clearly meant to invite her to go on.

"It was our arrival here that woke the Wraith from hibernation before their time; our interference that developed the Hoffan drug; our genetic manipulation that created Michael in the first place—"

"Doctor Keller," Varnerin's smooth, deep voice interrupted her miniature tirade, "are you questioning Doctor Beckett's ethics?"

"No, I'm questioning his." Keller snapped, pointing at Woolsey, until she obviously realised, as Sheppard could as clearly see as anyone else around the conference table, that her hand was shaking, and she pulled it back quickly, tucked it under her arm as she finished, "To suggest that we should just… leave them to the mercy of the Wraith when we have the ability to help them, even if only a little, is not only criminal, it's inhumane!"

"Speaking of Doctor Beckett," Woolsey said, apparently completely unconcerned by her accusations. "You seem to have been giving a significant amount of attention to his problem lately."

Keller nodded and said, "Well, once we got our hands on Michael's medical research, I thought I should make it a priority to look for a solution."

Sheppard couldn't help but think there were other, more personal motives behind her sudden, almost frantic search for a way to wake Beckett.

"And have you found one?" Woolsey asked.

"Maybe," she said, shifting uncomfortably in her seat. "I found the formula for a serum that, in lab tests at least, seems to be capable of stabilising the clone cells."

"So what's the problem?" Woolsey asked with a shrug that Sheppard thought was extremely insensitive. All of them around that table knew the state Carson had been in when he was placed in stasis, and for each and every one of them it was like losing the man all over again. For Woolsey to be so blasé about placing him at such risk stung, and stung badly as he remembered the doctor's last words to him…

"Colonel, you bring her home, now, y'understand?" Beckett said, his voice barely above a whisper, nodding his head slightly as if to underline the importance of his request.

"Count on it," Sheppard told him seriously as Beckett moved on.

Sheppard sighed. He'd done as the doctor asked, but still… she hadn't stayed, and now, according to Ronon, was missing again, and that did not bode well.

"Carson was near death when we put him in that chamber." Keller said, voicing his thoughts, his fears. "I don't want to take him out until I know for sure, but lab tests can only do so much."

Continuing with his obstinate insensitivity, Woolsey answered, "But that problem is never going to go away, is it?" He looked around at each of them before continuing, "If you've reached the limit of what your research can tell you, then you need to make a decision: either proceed, or put the matter aside and get back to your regular duties, right?"

Sheppard frowned, suddenly realising what the real issues were.

"Why not just order her to do it and have done with all this pussy footing around," he growled. "And while you're at it, why not just say that you think Doctor Keller needs to step away; take a break," he paused, and for a moment couldn't help but agree with that particular assessment, "and that you want Beckett awake so that you can question him about Michael's organisation and his research to find an inroad in this conflict against the Wraith."

"You have to admit, Colonel Sheppard," Varnerin said, before Woolsey could speak, and he met the storm-crow's eyes coldly as the man continued, "on one or two of those issues, he does have a point, don't you think?"

**

Rissek stepped up to the main control console on the bridge, watching the tumbling glyphs give a visual read-out of the Hive's readiness. The others of the hybrid crew took their places as Rissek almost gingerly placed his hands into the control grips. He was not the one that led them, and he was as yet unsure if the semi-sentient machine would accept his touch, his commands.

He need not have worried. The feedback from the controls was so strong he almost snatched his hands away again. It was as though the Hive was desperate for contact, eager to please.

"Firing ground thrusters," he announced, more calmly than he felt, and at once the rumbling sounded around him, and could be felt through the contact with his feet on the deck as the Hive slowly lifted into the air. As the ship gained altitude the tremor in the deck lessened, as the thrusters disengaged, and the main engines took over the task of accelerating the Hive to escape velocity.

It was smooth, smoother even than the smaller, more manoeuvrable cruisers, in spite of the Hive's size, and Rissek couldn't help but wonder how the ship would handle in the vacuum of space.

He did not have to wonder for long. Even as he brought to mind the geostationary orbit he desired for the Hive, the ship's engines throttled back, and the secondary thrusters fired to put the Hive into the correct position. It was effortless.

"Now we can begin," he said softly, and released the controls to another hybrid that he summoned with a nod. "I will be in the laboratories, attending to our charges. See to it that the navigation sensors are correctly aligned and then inform me when we are ready to make the jump into hyperspace."

"Understood," the other hybrid answered.

Rissek stood aside and nodded once, delaying his inevitable departure from the bridge. He could not send any of the lesser ranking hybrids to do the tasks that he was expected to oversee, and while attending to the child, seeing to his comfort and safety on the voyage would be simple by comparison to some of the other tasks he had been called upon to perform, the other of his tasks he did not relish at all.

The Queen…

The Wraith female was half insane with barely sated hunger; kept on the brink of it so that her influence could not spread like a canker among the lesser hybrids, left weaker and leaderless by the necessities of this step of plans for The Cause. The one that led them had been most explicit in his instruction that she should not be allowed to regain her strength, either physical or of the mind. It was vital to ensure the safety of their leader on his return to them aboard this Hive that she did not.

Rissek did not understand why that should be. If He-That-Led-Them could resist the influences and the might of the Elder Wraith Queen, then how could such a lowly specimen as they had secured for his continued experiments hope to even touch him, let alone to gain control of him; bend him to her will, as Rissek suspected was his fear. Still – his was not to question. He had his orders, and his loyalty would see that he obeyed, even if he did not understand. The time would come where all would be explained to him and that was good enough for him.

"Is there something, Commander Rissek?"

The respectful address from the lesser hybrid that had taken his place at the controls pulled him from his contemplation and he took a breath, glancing at the other soldier.

"No, I was merely… taking a moment to prepare myself for what is to come," he answered, and with a nod he said, "You have your orders. Carry on."

Even so, as he left the bridge, he could not help but think that, sometimes, even the best laid of plans often had a way of straying from their intended course, especially if those from the ancient city became involved… interfered.

**

As he carefully folded the medical scrubs and set them onto the top of the bed, Carson closed his eyes, and took a deep breath.

"Just for a moment," he whispered softly, "when you are in doubt, be still, and wait; when doubt no longer exists for you, then go forward with courage." He was so focussed inside himself that he didn't hear the curtain open behind him. "So long as mists envelop you, be still; be still until the sunlight pours through and dispels the mists – as it surely will. Just for a moment—"

"Doctor Beckett?"

While unexpected, Marie's voice didn't startle him, and he turned to her with a smile. "Carson is just fine right now, Marie, while I'm not on duty."

"Doctor Keller asked me to check if there was anything else you need?" she answered him, not acknowledging, he noticed, the permission he'd granted.

"No, love," he said, patting his shirt pocket, where his medication was carefully stored. "I think I have everything I need."

"All right, well… when you're ready, Doctor McKay is waiting to walk you to your quarters," Marie told him softly, then leaning forward said more quietly, "I think he's missed you."

"Good old Rodney," Carson said fondly.

"We all have, Doctor Be— Carson," Marie said, amending the appellation at his look.

"It's good to be back," he told her, resting his hand on her shoulder for a moment. "And I expect I'll be back at work in no time."

"There's no hurry," Marie told him. "We'd all rather you eased yourself back in gently."

"You should listen to the advice for once, Carson," Rodney's voice came from the other side of the curtain just before the scientist stepped inside. "Don't want the IOA to have a reason to… ship you off home now, do we?"

"Thanks, Marie," Carson said softly, and smiled as she began to draw back the curtain. He turned to his friend and straightening, greeted him as stoutly as he could. "Rodney, what brings you here?"

"Oh, you know," McKay said, obviously trying to sound casual, "I was passing and I heard that they were letting you go, so…"

"Well, it's very good of you," Carson said. He couldn't fault McKay for his concern, though, as usual, his subtlety left a lot to be desired. "Perhaps we can walk together… if you were planning to head to your quarters, that is."

"Sounds like a plan," McKay answered, waving his arms a little. "So… you er… you ready or… do you need to check with Doctor Keller before you go?"

"No, I'm good," Carson answered, and didn't miss the flash of concern that passed through the other man's eyes at the mention of Jennifer's name. He frowned slightly, and wondered if that wasn't another reason that McKay had wanted to walk with him. He too had noticed that Keller seemed distracted, and didn't entirely look well.

He reached for the bag that sat on the top of the bed, but McKay beat him to it, picking it up with a shrug.

"Something to do with my hands," he said, "You know how I get without a computer or something to hold."

"Aye," Carson said softly, though he knew differently. As they began to walk, he asked, "So… what's the gossip then? I hear Colonel Sheppard had a bit of a run in with an alternate version of Michael."

"Boy, was that ever messed up," McKay answered, and the fragile edge of his voice told Carson that there was much, much more to that whole story than he had come to know.

**

She could not help but be moved for his plight. They had not even bothered to replace the restraints, or to dress him again after the Queen had finished visiting her ordeal upon him at her Hive Second's hands. The wound, so low in his belly on the right side of his body that it was almost at his groin, slowly seeped a dark purple trail of blood over his thigh, and where she laid her hand against his sweat-damp brow, it burned under her hand.

Carefully, she unstoppered the vial the Hive Second had given her. Reaching beyond his shoulder, which rested against her knee, she took his hand and brought it to rest palm up beside his head, which rested in her lap.

Even so soon, the fever had left the edges of his feeding slit cracked. The skin there was puckered and brittle, raw where his own unused enzyme scalded the damaged flesh.

Slowly, barely a drop at a time, Isla began to let the thick, viscous liquid fall from the vial onto the withered husk of his feeding hand, before running the palm of her own small hand against his, wakening the listless barbs, stimulating the maw to and almost desperate seeking before beginning the careful dripping treatment again.

The deathly ill Wraith twitched under her attention, his closed eyes moving rapidly, caught in some dark reverie.

"What is it you see…?" Isla asked softly, running the fingers of her free hand through his tangled, matted hair.

**

It had begun from nowhere. As she rolled in the threadbare blanket, the chills from the draughts that seeped under the door of the poorly built hovel were little combated by the insipid warmth from the dying fire.

Teyla moaned softly.

The hallway was long, and cold mist crept over her bare ankles, teased around the bottom of her skirt. The ruddy light at the end of the darkened passage was cloying, and the copper smell hung heavy in the air, thickening the closer she came.

There were voices, but she couldn't make out what they were saying…so, incautiously, she moved further along the corridor – closer.

"What I did," her heart lurched as the triple tones she recognise so well rolled as an agonised gasp across the distance, clear now, "I did for the good of our—"

"You!"

She crossed the threshold, and the malice pierced her gut, threatened to suffocate her. She felt his agony, felt the terrible violation being wrought on him, and her eyes filled with tears as she tried to reach him…

**

Filaments from the walls of the gestation chamber pieced his wrists, holding him high so that his feet barely touched the ground, aggravating old injuries, barely healed through the forced acceptance of the Gift. Tubules snaked across from the pods, burrowed, a white hot agony, into his belly. Sucking, greedy, relentless.

The Hive was hungry – its Queen predatory, needful.

"You can't do this!" he growled through the pain.

=you denied me my desires once= =once= =once= =once= =once=

She reached out a hand to run her blade tipped fingers over his chest, a parody of a caress.

=now I will take what is rightfully mine= =mine= =mine= =mine= =mine=

"What I did," he gasped, barely able to speak for the new wave of agony burst inside him as the Hive burrowed deeper still at the Queen's behest. "I did for the good of our—"

"You!"

He turned his head, pulling painfully on the restraining filaments that pressed deeper as if they knew he would, in the next moment, try to move… and move he did… fighting and struggling, ignoring his own pain to roar in angry fear – terrified for the newcomer as she tried to reach him.

The Queen's outstretched feeding hand connected with her, driving her back against the bulkhead, out of his sight, but not out of hearing… and her cry of agony was unmistakable…

**

Colonel Caldwell took the steps from the floor of the Gate Room up to the Control Room and the offices beyond almost two at a time; energised by the eventual arrival of the newly refitted Daedalus.

She had handled perfectly throughout the whole of the three week journey, not a system out of place. The engineers had done a perfect job, and the new shield system, at least in field tests, responded exactly as it should. He felt good – confident.

He was about to knock on the door of Woolsey's office when the other man opened the door.

"Ah, Steven," Woolsey greeted him cheerfully, "they told me you'd landed. I trust you had an… uneventful journey."

"We didn't run across any Wraith, or any of Michael's people if that's what you mean," Caldwell answered, stepping inside at the other man's invitation.

"Well, that's a positive anyway," Woolsey said, moving to sit behind his desk again as he waved the colonel into another seat. "Things have been quite… troublesome here."

"Oh?" Caldwell questioned as he sat. "The usual or...?"

"Culls on the increase, for the most part, though our people seem to be running across the Wraith in about seven out of ten missions," Woolsey said quietly.

"And Michael's people," Caldwell asked.

"Oh, they're still out there, though not quite so overtly troublesome," Woolsey said.

"Overtly?" Caldwell asked, frowning in puzzlement and not a little worry.

"We hear reports from time to time about hybrid activity in certain parts of the galaxy, but we've had the good fortune not to come into direct conflict with them." Woolsey made a bit of a face, and Caldwell couldn't help but feel that there was something that he wasn't saying.

"I get the feeling there's a 'but' in there, right around now," he said.

"But," Woolsey said with a sigh, "When Michael is quiet, when we can't actually tell what it is he's up to, then you can be pretty sure that whatever it is, it's not going to be good news for the Pegasus Galaxy."

"No," Caldwell said astutely, "There's something specific. Something you're not saying." He fixed the other man with a serious look, one eyebrow slightly raised. "If I'm going to commit my ship to the protection of the Atlantis Expedition, Mister Woolsey, the least you can do is tell me exactly what's going on. What's worrying you?"

"It's Teyla," Woolsey said softly. "She's not with her people… to all intents and purposes, she's not anywhere."

"What do you mean, 'not anywhere?' She has to be somewhere, people don't just… vanish out of existence," Caldwell said, pragmatic and realistic as ever.

"They do where Michael is concerned," Woolsey said.

**

The Queen's outstretched feeding hand connected with her chest, driving her back against the bulkhead. She felt the barbs of the Wraith's feeding hand sink deep into her chest and then the agony began, and she cried out…

The dream broke suddenly, and instantly, before she had properly woken, Teyla began fighting the restraining hands that were around her wrists. The grip only tightened.

"Easy… easy!" A man's voice. "It's just a dream… a dream… we all get them every once in a while."

"I am…" She took a deep breath and forced herself to stillness, to be rewarded by freedom from the restraining touch. "…sorry to have woken you."

"It's all right," he said. "I don't sleep much anyway. Can't. Insomnia."

He turned away for a moment to pick up a small tin cup, in which a glowing coal sat, barely alive. Digging out a scrape in the dirt floor between the two of them, he tipped out the coal and began to build a small fire with the straw and the discarded wood nearby. It did little to warm the chill that had settled into Teyla's heart.

Months…

It had been months since last she dreamed of Michael. Not since she had returned to her people in fact, when they had held the memorial service for Kanaan, though that had not been so much a dream, she felt, as a vision – a farewell.

Yet now, with so much unrest among the Wraith, and uneasy murmurs filling the spaces, once silent in her mind, thoughts of him, dreams of him had returned and had led her in search of the source of rumours she had heard – vague whispers of an older, more powerful Hive, and of a prisoner, upsetting the balance of its queen.

The rumours had led her here, a little known world, its Stargate miles away from this, the primary settlement – if settlement this random collection of ill made huts could be considered such.

She blinked, and looked at the man, giving him an apologetic smile. "I am sorry. Sleep is still heavy on me, I—"

She broke off and tilted her head as every part of her became filled with a sudden, deep chill.

"Something is wrong?" the man asked.

Forgetting herself, Teyla whispered breathlessly, "They are coming."

"They?" he frowned at her in confusion, "They who? I'm sorry, I don't—"

Realising her mistake, Teyla took a huge breath to try and steady herself, "Nothing… nothing, I think I must still be remembering my dream, too close to it. It is not often that I have it, and… when I do, it is always—"

The man laid his hand on her arm. "I understand," he said.

The feeling within Teyla only increased until her head was buzzing with it almost painfully, and every nerve in her body was on edge. The hovel began to feel like a prison around her. She pulled her arm away from the man's touch.

"I am Bouret," he said, introducing himself as she did. "Forgive me, I did not mean to make you uncomfortable."

"I am Tey—" she stopped herself quickly, and using her mother's name, finished, "Tegan."

"Are you certain you are all right," he asked, obviously responding to the apparent catch in her voice. "You have become terribly pale."

"I need some air," she gasped as the sensations caused by the coming Wraith became too much for her to bear. There was no mistake – this was the Hive for which she had been searching. She only wondered how long it would be before their Darts rent the air with their arrival.

"Let me help you," Bouret said, and wrapped his large hand around her upper arm to help her to her feet.

"Thank you," Teyla said, stumbling a little as they made their way outside.

The air outside was heavy, expectant, as though with the coming of a storm, and she could not help but glance skyward, expecting at any moment to see the pointed, needle noses of the Darts splitting the clouds.

Instead the clouds swirled, rumbled in a maelstrom of thunder; lightning split their pregnant swirls that were already lighted in the strange colours of ignited atmosphere. It took Teyla a moment or two to realise, that it was not Darts that would bring the Wraith to this place, but the Hive itself.

"Bouret," Teyla said softly, alarmed. "Who is in charge here?"

"Our headman, why?" Bouret frowned, trying to support her even as she tore her gaze from the sky and leaned her hands on her knees as if winded.

"Look…" she gasped, "…at the sky."

Teyla trembled, worried. Never had the nearness of the Wraith taken her this way. The coldness, the aches, yes, but this… breathless incapacity, never… except… once…

=I will find you=

"Michael!" she called out to him in panic at the malevolence which flooded into her. It was raw and angry… violence incarnate. It gripped every part of her, threatening to crush her and at the same time tear her into atoms. She felt the movement of her child become as frantic as her breath, and unaware entirely of what she was doing she clutched at his supporting arm, at the same time fighting to be free of him, fighting his grasp. "Why!"

"Don't," he told her and moved to cup her face in his other hand, keep her head against his shoulder. "Teyla, stop. Let go."

She felt him take in the deepest of breaths, felt the heat of it as he exhaled, long and slow. The pain she felt began to soften, to recede… the trashing of the child within her slowed, and the vice around her lungs, stopping her own breath loosened. She took in a deep breath… and as the panic lessened she stopped struggling.

"Why is she doing this?" the words came out as little more than a breathless whisper as the warmth of Michael's hand came away from her cheek. Seeking a moment's solace she did not lift her head from his shoulder, but turned it against his chest and found some small measure of comfort in his rapid, but slowing heartbeat.

"She is dangerous," his voice rumbled in his chest. "She will stop at nothing, Teyla. Don't try to find her and connect with her."

Taking another breath she started to turn in his supportive embrace, to look up at him.

"But Michael, why? What does she want with you?" she asked.

A feeling akin to panic deepened her fear and added to the discomfort. If the rumours she had heard were true, if this was the Hive that held Michael and if these feelings were the result of being in such close proximity to the Queen that had promised to be both his and her destruction, then she had to get aboard, somehow, and find him; find him quickly before what she feared had already happened could come to pass.

The man at her side gasped, but it was not a fearful gasp.

"The Hive," he whispered. "They have come for us. At last we will go to serve!" Then, just as she turned to speak with him again, Bouret left, running back toward the little shanty town of huts and hovels, calling as he went. "They're here! Our masters have come at last."

Teyla turned her eyes skyward, to watch as the enormous black carapace began to descend from the clouds, a beetle out of nightmare coming to settle against what meagre vegetation this planet afforded those that scraped a living here. She could, in part, understand why these people were so eager to meet their fate.

**

"You sent for a tech?" McKay said as he walked into the lab. He smiled at Jennifer. She didn't look any better to him than she had in a long while. Her skin was pale where she had accidentally wiped away the make-up she was trying to use to conceal it, her eyes red rimmed, and she held herself in that way that people did when they were uncomfortable, or tired.

"Rodney," Keller said, and gave him a smile. "You didn't have to come yourself. It's just one of the electron microscopes is not talking to the computer and monitor. I'm sure it's just a… a loose wire or something."

"It's no trouble," McKay said, and started pulling panels on the microscope she indicated. "What are you… what are you working on anyway?"

He tried to sound casual, as if he was just asking why she needed the microscope, but really he wanted to know if it was something to do with her, or with the research she had been doing with Todd. Something, anything to get her to open up to him – allay his still rampant suspicions.

"I was testing out a few of the formulae I found in Michael's database to see if any of them could help with the reversion of the Major." She sighed, then. "I don't know what they are, but they certainly seem to have nothing to do with the hybridisation process or its reversal."

She ran a hand over her face, to push her hair aside, and McKay couldn't help but notice the addition of the dark circles under her eyes to the paleness of her skin.

"Jen," he couldn't help himself, "Maybe you're working too hard. Maybe you need to take a step back for a little while."

"Rodney," she snapped, "someone has to analyse this stuff, find a way to help Evan. It's not just going to happen by itself."

"No," McKay tried to keep his voice even, "No, it's not, but you have Carson now. He's worked with Michael, surely he can help you. You don't have to take this all on yourself."

"Rodney," Jennifer practically exploded. "Why won't you just let it go? I'm fine… just tired." She started pacing as he watched her, "Tired of being questioned all the time; tired of getting nowhere with helping Lorne; tired of… nightmares, and… and… insomnia, and... mem—"

She didn't get any further, because McKay put himself in her path and as she turned she collided with him and the shock of it silenced her.

"Jen… Jenny," he said softly, wrapping his arms around her, "It's all right. I'm sorry, I just—"

"Damn it, Rodney!" she exclaimed, and slapped at his chest with her two open palms, trying to push him away. "Just please… leave. Me. Alo—"

Instead of pushing at him then, her hands closed into fists on the front of his shirt, and he realised, with some alarm, that she was becoming a weight in his arms, a dead weight, and as he looked at her he saw her eyes start to roll back in her head that lolled on a suddenly limp neck.

"God, Jen," he said, panicked, "It's all right. I've got you."

He lowered her carefully to the ground then, fumbling for his headset until he realised that he was actually closer to the Infirmary than not, and called out instead, "Help! Somebody! In here!"

**

It had taken Teyla many long moments to gain enough control of herself to be able to stick with the gathering villagers. She needed to ground herself, and quickly – and the easiest way to do so was to find something to put in her belly. She couldn't remember the last time she'd eaten.

She paced, keeping her face downturned, trying to make herself as unnoticed as possible. There were people in the village that had taken a dislike to her since she had arrived weeks ago; those that were suspicious and the last thing she wanted was for one of them to give her over to the Wraith. Yes, she wanted to get aboard the Hive, but not as a prisoner, but as one of those chosen from among the villagers; to be taken aboard to serve. She would have a certain freedom then – if only she could keep her hybrid abilities in check.

Passing a basket that contained some crusts of bread she snatched one, not too much as she did not wish to take from these people more than they could give, but as the small party of Wraith drew nearer to the gathering, and her blood began singing its terrible song into her brain, the urgency with which she understood the need to shut herself down only increased, enticing her toward panic. She did not like the way she was reacting. She did not like it one little bit.

Weaving in and out of the villagers, she joined with a knot of people that were all milling in an area to one side of the open space at the village centre. Some were standing, but most there were already kneeling, or crouching low to the ground.

The heavy fall of booted feet almost reverberated through her head, and seeing double from the effects of it, she forced her trembling hands to bring the bread to her lips, biting, chewing and swallowing quickly, almost choking herself in the process – drawing unwanted attention.

She made herself as small as she could, crouched in on herself, and hunched over the crust of bread she had been eating, as though protectively, but from the corner of her eye, Teyla watched closely as the Wraith commander stalked among the huddle of villagers, as if looking for something… or someone. She was coiled like a snake preparing to strike.

The commander's boots came to a halt beside her, and Teyla held her breath. If she had to reveal herself now all would be lost; any chance she had of gaining ingress into the Hive gone in a moment. She let out a sub-vocal growl, almost little more than a sigh, and though her insides burned from the proximity of the Wraith, she did not move.

"This one," the Wraith commander said, nodding toward one of the nearby villagers, "And these – they look strong enough to serve well."

"What of the women," a sub-commander asked, his voice puncturing the tense silence among the huddle. "We will need to bring at least a few to ensure—"

The commander cut him off with a swift backhand cuff that sent him tumbling to land directly in front of Teyla. She gasped and involuntarily drew back; dread descending coldly as the commanders eyes sought her out.

"That one," he said, but she thought she barely heard the words for the mental echo of his instruction to the drones.

((bring her to me)) ((bring her)) ((bring her)) ((to me)) ((me)) ((me)) ((me)) ((me))

**

McKay jumped to his feet when he saw Beckett coming out of the lab adjacent to the infirmary, and hurried over toward the other man. Like a scalded cat, he'd sat waiting, legs jiggling up and down as he sought to keep from panicking over what might have caused Jennifer's collapse.

"Rodney," Beckett greeted him as he fell into step with the doctor.

Try as he might he couldn't see, let alone have a hope to decipher the voodoo hieroglyphics on the paper held in Beckett's hand, as they walked.

"Give it up, McKay," Beckett said after a moment. "Even if you could read them, you know full well I can't show you."

He sighed. "Then just tell me that she's going to be okay."

Beckett stopped walking then, and drew him back into the doorway of the storage room. McKay gasped, startled, and it did little to assuage his fears.

"Supposing you tell me what it is you're afraid I'll find, hmm?" Beckett said, and McKay couldn't help but think his friend sounded more than a little stern. "What's goin' on, Rodney?"

"Wha—well, I… she…" McKay stammered, "God, Carson, no, you don— she's not—"

"Just. Tell me," Beckett said, "What do you know?"

"Something happened, Carson," he said, looking down, "While we were aboard Todd's Hive, and she's not been right since."

"What kind of something, Rodney?" Beckett asked.

"Well that's just it," McKay answered, "I don't know. No one does, and she won't say. The nearest Sheppard and I got was that whatever it was, Todd apparently dealt with it, but… she was bruised and… and…."

"And what?" Beckett said with a sigh, "Look, I can't help Jennifer unless she or you tell me what happened that could have… what happened."

McKay didn't miss Beckett's slip.

"So she does need help then. There is something wrong?" he asked, swallowing down bile that was threatening to allow his lunch an encore appearance.

"She needs to rest," Beckett told him, and McKay could tell that was a concession on his part, and knew the doctor well enough to know that there would be no wheedling anything further out of him. Suddenly his eyes filled with tears, and all the pressure of keeping all the things he'd seen, all the fears of what might have happened became too much for him. The words all came tumbling out and he was as sure as he was of the calculation to ascertain the theoretical mass of subspace radioactive particles present during wormhole travel that he was making little sense.

"She said that Todd dealt with it, Carson, but I can't help thinking that he's the one that attacked her in the first place. She was bruised, and scratched… like she'd been held. Like she'd been— an… an… and so on edge! God, Carson, you wouldn't believe how bad she got and Todd… Todd was so overbearing, so possessive, it was like—"

"Slow down, Rodney. Slow down," Beckett's hand on his arm was like a soothing balm and he stopped, took several deep breaths, looking at the doctor apologetically. Beckett looked at him seriously and asked, "D'you think he might have fed on her?"

"I dunno, maybe," McKay admitted. "It was the first thing Sheppard and I suspected."

"The first thing, but not the only thing," Beckett said, and it comforted McKay to know that the doctor hadn't lost the sharpness of his analytical skills while he was in stasis. However, when it came to it, it felt… wrong of him… stupid in some ways to admit his suspicions out loud to another person. Especially since Jennifer had so vehemently denied that he was right, but then – perhaps that was the problem.

"No, it's… it's stupid," he said.

"Rodney McKay, do I have to order you to spit it out?" Beckett said.

"Erm… actually, Carson," at the question, McKay slipped back to his usual arrogant self, "much as I hate to disappoint you, but you can't order me to do anything because technically—"

"Technically," Beckett said, overlapping him, and cutting him off, "as Acting Chief Medical Officer, under certain circumstances, I outrank everybody. Now…?"

McKay wilted as Beckett looked at him pointedly. "I thought that maybe Todd had forced himself on her," he said, barely separating the words.

Beckett blinked, and for just a second McKay thought he saw a guarded frown cross his face, before the doctor creased his face into a puzzled, astonished face of uncertainty.

"Rodney, he's a Wraith."

"I told you it was—"

"Look," Beckett said, "she just needs to rest, all right? Why don't you wait outside while I go talk to Jennifer? I'll call you in when I'm done."

"Okay," McKay said softly, and closing his eyes for a moment, leaned on the door frame while Beckett gave his arm a squeeze. When he opened his eyes, he watched as Beckett approached Keller's bed, and pulled up a stool along side.

**

The Queen's outstretched feeding hand connected with her, driving her back against the bulkhead, out of his sight, but not out of hearing… and her cry of agony was unmistakable…

"Teyla!"

Michael's eyes snapped open as he cried out her name breathlessly, amid all the pain he felt in his body, the centre of his chest hurt worst of all. It was a hollow emptiness, an inability to draw breath or warmth that sent a burning to his gut and stung his eyes until they ran.

"Hush…" a soft voice all but sang, close by his ear, "gentle now… it was just a dream."

Slowly he became aware of a warmth beside him, a hand cupped around his own; his right. He gasped, and tried to draw away.

"No!" he hissed through the pain of movement as fresh pain erupted through his head and low in his belly. Still he forced out more words. "What are you doing?"

"Stop. Stop trying to move," the woman's voice was insistent. "I have barely stopped the bleeding as it is."

"What are you doing," Michael snarled, turning his head to look at her, but everything in him screamed weakness; surrender. He knew he was closer to death than he had ever been, an assessment that was confirmed when the woman spoke again.

"Trying to keep you alive," she said. "Let me have your hand."

"What is it?" he narrowed his eyes in suspicion.

"Sometimes, when Wraith are young, they are stricken with a sickness that delays their development and renders them unable to feed," she said.

Michael's suspicions flared. How could a woman, a mere worshipper know so much about the maturation cycles of young Wraith. It was a closely guarded, elite clique, and no Attendant would be found aboard a travelling Hive.

"Who are you?" he hissed, weakly grabbing her by the sleeve and pulling her closer, beginning to reach out with his mind toward hers.

-the scientist did not send you- -how is it you come here- -why do you tend me?-

He felt her capacity to answer, the fear that bound the ability away from her consciousness, and pushed against the boundaries of it… the edges of her memories blurring with her current reality.

"My name is Isla," she said, tugging against his grasp, pulling herself free, and reaching over to snatch at his feeding hand. "And I am here because you must. Live. The scientist of which you speak is no longer aboard this Hive. Please… release my mind… you must rest. Your psionic pathways were damaged in the interrogation and if you lose control—"

The warning came too late.

As Isla tried to pull away from the grasp of his mind, impressions, images and sensations rushed along open pathways, the swirling, barely held consciousness of the Hive came over him, a crushing wave, suffocating, terrifying in its intensity and in defensive reflex, he lashed out along the tatters of the one remaining pathway he could sense.

**

Carson drew up the stool to the side of the bed and then pulled the curtained screen around to give them a little privacy before sitting down. She was looking away from him, her expression just a little on the sullen side of blank. He sat for a moment, just watching her, waiting to see if she would say anything before he spoke. She didn't.

"Jennifer," he called softly.

As if suddenly waking, Keller took a deep breath in and blinked, turning to face him, putting a smile that he could tell was half hearted onto her face.

"Carson," she said, "they didn't ship you back to Earth then."

"No," he said, adding gently after a moment, "under the circumstances, and with the recommendation of Professor Varnerin, the IOA has decided that it would be more beneficial to the Atlantis Expedition if my rehabilitation and debriefing were handled… in house, as it were."

"Lucky for us, I guess," Keller said, and looked down at her hands. "So… how 'relieved of duty' am I?"

Carson shook his head.

"That's no what this is about, Jennifer," he said softly. "I mean, aye, you'll need to take a rest, so I'll be putting you on medical restriction for a wee while, but you're still Atlantis' CMO. I'm just… stepping in while you find your feet."

Keller continued to look at her hands until eventually he reached over and covered them with one of his own. She looked up at him then.

"So… what's wrong with me?" she asked, and he couldn't shake the feeling that she was afraid to hear his answer.

"I think," he said slowly, "that mebbe… you could tell me that."

She shook her head, her eyes shifting away from his. He gave her hand a little squeeze.

"All right," he started, "The blood-work we did earlier shows that you're suffering from some form of anaemia so… I ran some more tests to try and figure out what could be causing that."

"I see," she said, "but it's easy enough solved, right? A standard course of—"

"Jennifer," he cut her off gently. "Love, I've been going over the full blood panel and there are some things I need to ask you. I just need to reassure you that what goes on in this room is between you and me. No one else needs to know any—"

"Carson, what are you talking about?" she asked him, her voice fragile. "There's nothing for anyone else to know."

"Did Todd feed on you? Give you the Gift?" He made the question as innocuous as he could, recognising that she was on edge, and that he needed to tread delicately, but he also knew that his effectiveness to treat her would be increased if he could ascertain the reason for the unusually high levels of Wraith enzyme in her bloodstream that appeared to be slow to break down.

"What? No," Keller said, and her voice held a little laugh as though she thought the suggestion ridiculous, but the brittle quality in her voice remained, and still she wouldn't meet his eyes. "Who told you that? Did Rodney—I… he… Okay, we were working close together but—"

"But he did do something," Carson pressed gently. "Didn't he, Love?"

"Carson—" she started, her voice trembling a little.

"Look at me," he said, dipping his head to find her eyes. Already there were tears welling in them and he almost stopped there and then, but he knew that if he didn't help her now, he might never be able. "The blood panel shows that there's Wraith enzyme, and remnant cellular material in your bloodstream. Did Todd… Did he force himself on you? Jennifer, did Todd rape you?"

The young woman in front of him dissolved, pulling her hands out from under his, and covering her face. Her shoulders shook, and the sobs she gave came from deep inside.

"All right, sweetheart," he barely spoke above a whisper, and standing reached for her shoulder, to lay his hand there, be a comfort. "You're safe now; it's going to be all right."

Keller shook her head.

"We're going to look after you," he said, "make sure—"

Her sudden peal of laughter cut him off. His blood slowed to a turgid crawl in his veins.

"Sure? Make sure?" The laughter continued, and Keller pushed at him, hard, all but slapping his hand away from her shoulder.

"Jennifer," he said, catching hold of her flailing arm, and holding tightly as she tried to pull it away, to slap him. "Love, you need to calm down. Come on now… deep breath for me."

"Let go of me!"

"Marie," Carson called back, "Draw me up two milligrams of haloperidol lactate if you please—"

"No," He had hoped that she was reachable enough that merely the threat of the sedation would make her reach inside herself; calm, but Keller began to fight harder, "Carson, no, please!"

"—quick as you can," he concluded, holding Keller more tightly the harder she struggled, still trying to calm her, "Just try and relax, Jennifer… everything's going to be all right."

"No drugs," she pleaded, taking a deep breath. "See, I'm calm… no?" Marie arrived at Carson's side, more than capable, he knew, of assisting. Keller lashed out again, even as she said, "I'm calm! Please… really fucking calm! I'm not psychotic. I—"

"Sharp scratch," Carson said softly, bringing the now uncapped needle toward her arm.

"Please, Carson," Keller said, and stopped struggling quite so much. "All right, I'm sorry… I lost it…" she took a sobbing breath, "but it's… he's… It's just so much…"

Carson paused, looking at her, he said softly, "Jen, nobody is saying that y'have to act as though nothing happened. Clearly it did… but this…" he shook his head, "this is not all right. When was the last time you got a good night's sleep?"

Keller shook her head, and lay back against the pillows. "I can't… Carson, I close my eyes and—"

"Look at me," he waited until she did. "Replaying traumatic events is perfectly common, and after something like this… I would be more worried if you weren't. What does worry me is that you're not resting. It's not helping with your state of mind, Jennifer, and if you don't try and get some sleep then I will medicate, do you understand?"

"Yes," Keller replied, her voice small. Carson patted her gently on the arm, and put the cap back onto the needle.

"I'm going to let you get some rest, and I'll come back and see you in a little while, then we can discuss some treatment options, all right?" When she nodded he stepped away and drew Marie with him, speaking quietly as they crossed the infirmary. "Keep an eye on her, Marie… and let's do… thirty minute obs to start with. I'll just be in the laboratory if you need me." He started that way and then suddenly remembered, "Oh, and go tell Doctor McKay that he'll have to come back later. Tell him she's getting some much needed sleep."

Carson crossed into the lab, trusting that Marie would do as he said, and turned on the computer. He pulled up the analysis logs from the main drive, and frowned softly.

"Don't tell me this thing has thrown another glitch again," he said as he watched the gaps forming in the data file.

**

The Queen growled as Rissek came near and her chains rattled across the Hive floor as she tried to reach him.

"You waste your time," he told her, pitching his voice low. "I know the limits of your reach."

"Release me!" she hissed, and he felt her trying to push with her weakened mind. Quickly he pressed the device against her neck, activating it. She howled with the pain of it as the energy in the rod, designed to send pulsing waves along nerve pathways, crackled against her skin.

"You know that your release will not come," he said as he pulled the rod away from her flesh, "until He-that-leads-us has returned."

The Wraith snarled again, and pulled once more against her chains. "I will never give him what he needs – Never!"

Rissek shrugged, "Then the chances are that he will kill you and take it anyway."

She growled, then tossed back her head and hissed loudly.

**

Unfamiliar nervousness bit with the jaws of a serpent and she was unable to prevent the reflex to pull away from the unyielding grasp that was clamped around her upper arm, all but dragging her along in the wake of the Wraith commander. He turned his head slightly to hiss in her direction.

"It would be better, woman, were you not to try fighting me."

Teyla felt the answering growl bubbling inside her. She caught hold of it before she could give it voice. She was in sight of the Hive and any lapse now would most likely bring her death and not merely deny her access.

She took another huge breath, meaning to calm herself; meaning to force her jarred senses and the almost painful agitation of her flesh, where the closeness of kindred DNA woke unwelcome sensation, to acquiescence. Fire and ice rippled along mental pathways long forgotten, long denied and her efforts became fruitless.

With a cry, she pulled against the commander's grasp, and snarling, lashed out with her other hand, his arrogance, his certainty that she would comply with his instructions lending her a moment of surprise and she wrenched herself free.

The maelstrom did not ease. Mixed physical agony and the blackness of an emotional distress so deep, so strong that it was almost a primal cry ripped through every atom of compassion that made her, and an answering shattered sob burst the poorly held dam that held back the hate. She lashed out again, driving her hand up against the underside of the taller Wraith's chin.

"You will not touch me!" she snarled, dropping into a defensive crouch, even as the drones began to close in.

"No!" the commander hissed aloud to the drones that had moved in his defence. "She is mine."

Her answer came not with words, but with the ferocity of her next attack. Although the drones had halted at the commander's orders, she was still surrounded. If she were going to find her way to safety now, she would have to fight her way free. Rolling aside from the oncoming Wraith, her hands closed around the long branch lying in her path.

Weapon in hand, she hit hard against the wrist of the outstretched hand, raking against the skin at the side of his neck as she threw herself close, inside the deadly reach and struck again, hard, at the commander's chest.

"Nothing is yours," she growled as the desperate force of her blow made him take a half step back. "Nothing and no one."

"Insolent—"

"Not I!"

He came at her then. In his eyes she saw, and felt from the sensations streaming from him, that her defiance had driven him to fury. She raised her makeshift weapon, taking the backhand blow aimed her way against the stick, but the force of it jarred her arms almost to numbness. She stumbled backwards, her ankle turning on the uneven ground, further unbalancing her.

Still he advanced, and to give herself time to recover from the added pain she began to circle, stepping to the side, bringing herself closer to the Hive. She held no illusion, to make an attempt on the Hive would be suicide, but if she could throw him off, if she could confuse the issue long enough to find a path out of danger...

It proved her biggest mistake. As she retreated against the semi-organic hull, its massive bulk dwarfing her; a pale spot against its relentless dark, the crushing turmoil blossomed inside her again, as if somehow amplified by the quasi-sentience. It was as if the Hive reached out to her as some kind of unrealised kindred spirit.

One day… perhaps… you will understand.

Her knees buckled, but before she could even register the weakness consciously enough to realise that she was falling forward, grasping fingers closed around her arm and drew her close to the whirl of fury that was the advance of the Wraith commander.

She caught a rush of pale green from the corner of her eye the moment before the stunning blow to the side of her face stole what remained of her awareness and she flew back against the hard side of the Hive.

As she gasped for breath, as the events of the past few moments wrapped themselves around her, binding her deep in the trouble and danger of her position, the commander reached again to catch her by the shoulder of her shirt. He leaned down to leer into her face, his lips drawn back into an angry, hungry snarl. She saw his intention in the fierce glint in his gold eyes even before he brought his hand to bear against her chest.

Answering his snarls with an angry cry of disbelief, she struggled weakly against him.

Long ago, she had spoken to John at great length as he recovered from the ordeal of being fed on by Todd. He had described the searing agony, the sudden desperate awareness of his beating heart, and the desolation of the sure and certain knowledge that, within minutes, his life would be at an end. Holding him through the emotional pain of those hours – feeling with him as he relived each moment – even that could never have prepared her for the rending scream of every cell that echoed inside her in the moment it began.

"No," she whispered, somehow fighting against the coming of it.

...not now... ...not yet... ...not this...

fightfightfight

Indignation swirled through her weakening defence, bolstering her, a chill that moved between her and the Wraith, detaching her from the gathering fear. Of its own accord her hand reached out and closed around the hilt of the commander's knife, wrenching it free of its sheath, only to sheath it anew in the flesh of the Wraith's thigh, driving it home to the hilt.

His concentration broken, the Wraith commander roared with the pain of it, pulled away, and released she fell backwards, falling to role beneath its curving chitinous base. She gasped for breath, and pressed her hand against her chest to find it coming away sticky with her blood.

Angry tears burned her eyes. She was so close. So close only to fail; only to be prevented from reaching her goal, boarding the Hive, on which, more than ever, she was convinced her quarry was held – prisoner to their shared enemy.

She could not reach him alone and as hard as it would be, she knew, to convince the others to help in his rescue, they were the only hope that existed.

Hurriedly, barely recovered enough to be more than functional; more than to obey the instinct for flight, she turned onto her belly and crawled, pulling herself along the melted dirt beneath the Hive.

As her faculties slowly began to return and the understanding that it would not be long before the Wraith drones, milling uncontrolled, because of the commander's mortal pain, would take up pursuit, and that if she were not away from the Hive by then, her escape from the brink of death would be fleet indeed. She also realised, however, that if she were to leave, she might never find that Hive again, and all hope of finding Michael, and thus her son, would be lost, perhaps forever.

A sob of despair began to rise in her chest to match the keening still echoing inside her mind. It was halted by a sudden recall...

She nodded casually to the man that left the building to which her contact had sent her, acting as though her presence there was perfectly normal. As she came in she glanced around the single room that served as the store, moving around as though she was looking around at the merchant's wares.

Once the building emptied, toward the nearby fall of evening she approached the remaining occupant and said quietly, "Jephod sent me."

The proprietor nodded once and led her without another word through a curtained doorway into a darker, less than sanitary, back room.

The man nodded to a stool next to a workbench that contained a number of instruments. She almost changed her mind, but necessity is a demon that drives and for the moment it was necessary that she remain unable to be followed. She lifted her hair aside and pulled down the top of her clothing from her shoulder.

"Are you certain of this. The price does not, of necessity, come cheap, and I have none of the niceties that--"

"I am certain," she said. "Remove it."

She made fists of her hands as the procedure began, sublimating the cry that was gathering in the back of her throat as the man cut open her skin, after first scanning her with his contraband technology, and dug inside with another metal implement. She could not help but long for the gentle touch that had removed the last sub-space tracking device that had been implanted.

Teyla shivered as the recall faded, another journey, fevered as she was with the aftermath of its removal allowed her the luxury of being able to disable the device by virtue of a special wrapping. Now it was time for the tracking device to work in her favour, and unwrapping it quickly, aware that she was all but out of time, she reached up with a hand toward a venting port above her on the Hive and slipped the tiny device inside.

Her mind screamed alarm at her in the next few moments as she realised, against all the background noise and pain, that the commander had recovered enough to begin sending his drones to try and find her. She had no more time, and scrambling further away from the Wraith, still beneath the Hive, she moved to where she could break from hiding, and find her way to vegetation that would allow her to make her way toward the Stargate.

The moment she broke cover, the firing began.

Pure adrenaline was all that stood before her and recapture, for retribution at the hands of the Wraith commander. She had no choice. She had to make the Gate. She could not allow herself to be recaptured. If she were, it would mean a slow, painful and humiliating death, she was certain of it.

Within minutes her thoughts were proven wrong once more.

The force of something hard and hot slammed into her shoulder and she was spun round, to lose her footing on the loose scree on the side of the rise leading to the Gate. She gave a cry as she fell, and realised as the fall jarred her shoulder, and from the slowly spreading bloodstain on the front of her shirt that she had been shot.

She had no more time for further realisation, the Wraith drone was on her in a breath and she barely had time to roll aside as it slammed its staff weapon down into the space where she had been.

Somehow managing to maintain her wits, she scissored her legs against the drone's, toppling him to roll away down the incline. Ignoring her pain, she turned and scrambled on all fours the rest of the way up the incline toward the DHD. It would not be long before the drone regained its feet and it would be after her again, but far from immediately dialling the Gate, she began to scratch, and then to dig in the dirt at the side of the DHD with a flat rock that she found and was soon rewarded with the unearthing of a scrap of cloth. She hurried to unearth the rest of it.

Hearing the scuffle of a booted foot behind her, Teyla turned and lashed out at what she hoped would be head height for a Wraith drone.

**

Halling had no notion of what it was that had summoned him to the Ring of the Ancestors, but as night fell on the new Athosian homeworld, his steps had been guided that way and he could not help but feel that there was some greater hand in his coming.

It came as little surprise to him when, even as he looked skyward, the sound of the Ring becoming active drew his attention, and his nervousness to new heights.

**

Sheppard's head ached. It seemed to him that no matter what they did, no matter how hard they tried they still remained at least one or two steps behind both the Wraith and Michael.

News was coming in of new rounds of culling on outlying worlds that were technically still under the protection of Atlantis, even if Woolsey was reluctant to allow teams off world to assist. Add to that further reported sightings of Michael's people on several key worlds deep within Wraith held territory, and he began to realise with more than a little fear that the conflict was quickly escalating into an all out war between the Wraith and the Hybrids, and that, try as Woolsey might, there was little they could do to avoid being caught in the crossfire, whether or not their teams went off world.

His heart sank, therefore, when – with Warsh's team not due to check in for another eight hours – the city's alarms began to sound, and Chuck's calm voice sounded over the city wide PA.

"Unscheduled off world activation."

Like the others in the Control Room, Sheppard held his breath waiting for the announcement of an IDC.

---

A.N. Carson's whispered mantra in this act are adapted from Go Forward With Courage - Ponca Chief White Eagle (1800's to 1914)