Written for the 5trueloves LiveJournal community, using the prompt 'shadow' – it's supposed to be shippy but this would probably pass as Gen with unrequited love. Warnings: quite dark, character death.
x x x
Mirror, Mirror
If she concentrates, she can almost see the outline of his face above her shoulder in the mirror. The face that they created; cold eyes, hollow cheeks, expressionless, but human. As her eyes flutter shut, the imagined flow of his breath against the back of her neck makes her shiver.
We are your family.
We need you. Without you, we will die.
We will treasure you. You will be a queen amongst us.
They will not win this war.
When she opens her eyes, she is alone. The faint sound of footsteps from the hallway is all that she can hear. There is no voice, no wind and no breath except for her own. There is no Michael.
x x x
The first time that she hears him outside the solitude of her own quarters is on P3X-279. Rodney and John are exploring the Ancient ruins while she and Ronon investigate what remains of the nearest village.
It is not our fault. The hunger is even greater once we return to our true selves.
A hand on her shoulder makes her jump and jerk the tip of her P90 in the direction of its owner. Ronon lifts the hand slowly and places it between him and her gun.
"You okay? I've been calling your name for the last couple of minutes. Did you see something?"
"Um, no. No, I did not."
She smiles awkwardly and adopts her well-worn mask as Ronon continues to scrutinise her. She knows that the act works less well with him than it does with the Atlanteans, but it is the only response that she can give at this time. In any other matter she would trust him not to betray her confidence, but where the Wraith are involved, and this Wraith in particular, she cannot take the chance.
"I am fine. Honestly," she calls over her shoulder as she walks away.
It is only when she reaches the Stargate and turns to take one last look at the ravaged world that she hears him again.
It is their fault, not ours. They did this to us.
x x x
"The cullings seems to be more vicious. We know that the Wraith are divided, could this be a factor? Are they being more destructive to make a statement to the enemy factions?"
Elizabeth's gaze drifts from one occupant at the table to the next. Her eyes rest on Teyla. If she didn't know better, she would think that the other woman wore a guilty expression.
The sound of John's voice catches her attention. "Maybe they're just being selfish. Making sure that they don't leave anything or anyone behind for the enemy to feed upon."
"That makes sense. But why the desire to destroy homes and infrastructure?"
Carson clears his throat. "Perhaps they are trying to force survivors to leave the planet. Hope that the refugees congregate together. Increase the population of other worlds. Worlds that they have yet to cull."
"They're venturing further from the Gate than they used to as well." They all turn to the end of the table as Ronon sits up. "When I was a Runner I heard stories about people who would send their children to the next village if they thought that the Wraith were coming. You could almost guarantee that they would only hit the nearest sign of civilisation to the Gate before leaving, especially on primitive planets. But that last planet we went to, we flew for miles in the Jumper and saw no sign of life. They're getting more desperate."
They are hungry. So hungry.
"Did you have something to say, Teyla?"
She hadn't realised that she had given voice to the thought. "Perhaps they are hungrier than they once were."
She is relieved to see confusion rather than suspicion in Elizabeth's expression. "How is that possible? The numbers of Wraith that are awake shouldn't have changed drastically over the last few months. There shouldn't be more mouths, or hands, to feed."
"I was referring to their individual hunger as opposed to collectively. Perhaps each Wraith has an increased...appetite."
"Why?"
"The retrovirus."
All eyes fall on Carson as he looks at her in shock. "I don't understand how you came to that conclusion."
She inhales deeply before answering. "We estimated that the retrovirus was tested on at least half of the Wraith population before the approach was abandoned, did we not?" He nods slowly. "We changed half the population. Yes, they changed back, but we have no idea what the repercussions of those changes are. On the outside, the effects were completely reversed. But we have no knowledge of what happened on the inside. We have no way of knowing."
She regrets her words as soon as his expression saddens. "Teyla's right," he says, looking at Elizabeth. "We have no idea what happened on a molecular level. Genetic changes can manifest themselves in many ways, and we could easily have altered their brain physiology without realising. The only way that we would know is to make inferences from changes in their behavioural patterns."
They will pay their actions.
She jumps as the voice echoes in her mind, anger and bitterness clawing at her. Her hand flies to her stomach as she meets Elizabeth's eyes with genuine fear.
"I'm sorry, I do not feel well at all. Please excuse me."
She doesn't hear the words of her colleagues and friends as she runs out of the room. She only hears him.
x x x
It would be so easy for her to give into him, to give him what he wants from her. When she almost does, she is on the mainland, clutching the newest Athosian to her chest as he sleeps. His mother is tending to her other child, her eyes occasionally wandering in Teyla's direction. When the woman leaves to take the girl to bed, Teyla is left alone with the infant.
Her eyes glaze over as she watches the baby. Her free hand ghosts over his chest before lightly resting on him. She can feel his heart beating against her middle finger, delicate yet strong. She closes her eyes as her fingers spread and press harder.
The hunger is so strong. Can you feel it?
She gasps and wrenches her hand away. The sound of the curtain moving propels her to her feet. Hastily handing the child to his mother and mumbling her apologies, she walks calmly from the hut before breaking into a run. Her legs take her as far as they can away from the encampment and from civilisation before she collapses onto her knees.
She cries tears for herself for the first time since her childhood, the sound of her sobbing mingled with his words of reassurance and devotion.
x x x
The final time that she looks in the mirror at him, it is with defiance.
You will not deny me. You know that I am right.
She doesn't answer.
x x x
Surprisingly, the plan is successful. Some sustained minor injuries, but there was no loss of Atlantean life. It feels cold to her somehow, to destroy your enemy from space, to not even have the courage to do it face to face. Though she has her doubts as to whether she would have been so determined in his presence.
That night, she feels entirely alone for the first time in months. She doesn't like it.