Manhood

by LetaDarnell

Manhood: indicative of power and responsibility; a status often achieved from outwitting or overpowering an opponent and showing the ability to handle complicated situations in life. Not just for boys anymore.

The city was five minutes from the cloaked jumper.

The weather was a strange, slight rain, almost a heavy mist; dark clouds were racing towards them. The mild weather was gone, leaving a cold that burrowed under your skin and into your bones. Rodney immediately caught a cold, Teyla shivered, and John and Ronon constantly voiced annoyance at having to wipe water off. Carson didn't seem to mind much.

Getting to the city was the difficult part. There was nothing resembling a path. The ground was strewn with rocks, plants, roots, puddles, pinecones, and fallen branches. The rare patches of bare dirt that were spotted were uneven, often revealing the party to be in a large ditch or just on the edge of one, hidden by debris.

The city was sealed off by a tall metal gate of vertical and metal bars. The holes were far too small to squeeze through, and there were sharp barbs along the vertical bars, as well as spikes at the top. The fence was recent, though expertly built, a few months old.

There was only one group of people the team knew of that was so skilled, and yet so impolite: Gennii.

"These guys are like cockroaches," John said.

Before he could suggest they leave or at least retrieve bigger guns, Carson steered the conversation in another direction. "Anyone else smell that?"

Rodney blew his nose. "Smell what?"

"Smells kinda like a swimming pool," John said, following Carson.

"Yeah, perfect weather for it," Rodney said. "Should we really be checking this out?"

"I think they're more worried about us this time from the looks of things," John said.

"I don't think it's us they're worried about," Teyla said.

"If a fence keeps it out, we can take it," Ronon said happily. He obviously wanted the thing to show itself. He was wet and bored, both moreso than before since the rain was getting heavier now.

"You sure?" Carson asked, coming upon the door to the city. The doors were large and thick, also topped with spikes. One door was leaning inward, its metal hinges unscrewed from the wall.

"I'm pretty sure Ronon can take a screwdriver," John said.

"What gets me is that the hinges were taken off from the inside," Carson said. "If it got in, why'd it need to take the door off to get out?"

"Looks like we've got ourselves a mystery," John said. "We've been here, what, five minutes and things are already weirder than normal?"

"Jinkies," Rodney said before having to blow his nose.

"What are those?" Ronon asked.

"You guys are weird," Carson said, ducking under the broken door and entering the city. "Smell's stronger inside."

"I smell it too," Teyla said as she ans the others followed..

"Seriously, what smell?" Rodney asked.

"Just come on," John said. "You're not going to get any wetter."

There was a flash, throwing everything into darkness, save for the billions of raindrops that were suddenly lit up. It was followed soon after by a long, loud roll of lightning.

"They'd better have more tissues," Rodney said, ducking under the door.

The city was empty. Doors and windows were closed and the only sound was the rain. The group trekked through the muddy streets, finding emptiness and puddles. The tavern was closed up and locked. All the shops were abandoned and bare. Finally they found a building with the shutters not quite covering the windows, letting the bright lights shine out into the dismal outside; it was the hospital.

"Oh, this is a good sign," John said.

The building resembled a warehouse more than a hospital, even on the inside. There were a few armed guards who were bored of sitting around near the doors and windows. Half were too distracted to notice the group immediately. There wasn't any enthusiasm in any of their reactions. They guards all lowered their guns and looked at the newcomers quizzically. Some sat back down.

The patients were all hidden behind curtains, though even from the door, the group could hear retching and severe coughing, both often accompanied by whimpering. The doctor, upon hearing the guards, poked his head out from behind one of the curtains, showing no patience, and barely that much tolerance. "Oh great, more people to waste my time," he said, angrily striding up the newcomers.

"Uh, hi," John said. "We're—"

"What the hell are you doing here?" the doctor yelled.

"Do you need any help?" Carson asked.

"Yes, I need a stranger whom I have no clue about tending to people with internal bleeding," the doctor said sardonically. "Please tell me you're intelligent enough to answer my question."

"We came through the stargate in the forest," John said. "Is this some sort of planet of having a bad day?"

As if to answer the question, there was a familiar sound, that of a dart in the distance; the heavy rain on the roof hadn't been able to drown out the noise completely. The sound of the ship was followed by a flash and a roll of thunder a few seconds later.

"Oh, I'd say so," the doctor said, rolling his eyes. "No one's been able to survive the forest for the last six months, whatever's out there attracts the damn wraith, it attacked us last night and disappeared with my son and half our doors. No one is healthy enough to fix anything, and when someone finally arrives, it's five idiots covered in mud who won't shut up. Any more questions?"

"Why are the wraith interested in it?" Ronon asked.

"Why don't you go be suicidal and investigate?" the doctor shot back. "We have enough problems. They don't bother us here and we'd like to keep it that way. Now, either stay here and be quiet so I can get work done or leave and do something far away."

….

It had taken fifteen minutes and a heated argument to get tissues for Rodney, but it was worth it. Rodney wasn't complaining—he was too busy wiping his nose or too wet to bother. This suited everone just fine.

The dart showed no signs of landing or even a mild interest in the city. Instead it beamed down on the forest at random intervals. Whoever it was looking for, it wasn't them. Sometimes the dart would pass over one or more of them with the beam off. Sometimes the beam would miss by a few feet and the dart showed no intent to move towards them.

Teyla had wanted to go after the 'thing' in the forest, but John and Rodney wanted to shoot the dart down first. Rodney just blew his nose. Carson wanted to stay in the hospital to see if he could help or at least find out what happened recently. Eventually Teyla agreed that the dart was going to at least be inconvenient, and at most, they didn't want the wraith getting their hands on what they wanted. Ever.

The bigger guns had been left in the jumper, but the group found the ship uncloaked and ransacked. Whoever had done this had hotwired the ship to open it, taken every single bag of supplies—weapons, medical kits, food, water, tools—and then decided to take part of the engine they had hotwired. The job had been meticulously executed, though not carefully.

Ronon said the wet footprints all over the ship belonged to a wraith.

At least now they knew what they were looking for.

…..

It was now after midnight. The dart was still searching and so were the crew. The rain was coming down in sheets and the lightning had yet to stop. The group had split up to cover more ground, with Rodney shadowing John. All they had found was noise and the occasional glimpse of something. Ronon was having trouble tracking it. Teyla couldn't connect with it at all. The only luck John and Rodney had was that Rodney had yet to run out of tissues.

"John," Ronon said over the radio.

"Find it?" John asked.

"I found a dead wraith," Ronon said. "The head's up a tree, the rest isn't….could be half the head."

"I think I found the other half," Teyla commented from wherever she was. "Or it could be pieces of some other part."

"Any piece have our stuff?"

"No," Ronon said.

"I don't think it's recent enough," Teyla said.

"See if you can find a piece that does," John said, watching the dart, which was almost directly above him. The beam was off. He turned to Rodney, who was a few feet away. "Don't move."

Rodney didn't, save for trying to wipe his runny nose on his wet sleeve. The ground, however, left. The dirt was soaked and Rodney was standing in a three-inch deep puddle. The soil gave up, sending itself and Rodney slipping into a large ditch.

He barely managed to yell; he was cut off as something slammed into him and there was a flash of white from the beam and the lightning.

…

"Rodney?" John asked, but he couldn't hear himself over the thunder.

There was no answer. A fall like that would definitely warrant a complaint. After all, quiet or no, this was still Rodney. The only sound he heard was the heavy rain splattering in a puddle in the ditch and the dart flying away.

John tried firing at what he could see of the dart, but there was no point.

He screamed and kicked the nearest tree out of frustration.

"What happened?" Teyla asked over his radio.

"The damn dart took Rodney!" John yelled. "And left. I think it found that 'thing' too."

"What now?" Ronon asked, sounding disappointed.

"Let's find the DHD and get some reinforcements," John said, sighing. This wasn't how things were supposed to go. People got reinforcements to rescue him. He single-handedly got people out of trouble. He wasn't just the leader, he was the hero.

….

Rodney woke up in a puddle of water. At first he wondered if the local raccoons were fighting in the trashbins, but then he remembered where he was…or, more precisely, where he wasn't and where he shouldn't be.

"Aww, crud."

He was in a cell on a hiveship. The lattice doors were locked and on his side of the cell, a wraith was alternating between pounding on them and trying to rip them off the walls. This wraith was bluer than usual and most of his head was shaved; he had a wild mop and a thin, half-braided ponytail, but the rest of his head was bare, exposing his odd-shaped ears. Rodney had never seen a wraith with a mullet before, though it seemed appropriate. The thing was making as much noise as a car crash and it was screaming strange noises that had to be profanities.

The wraith turned to him upon hearing him sniffle, and hissed violently.

"Same to you," he said. "Great, John gets something that might as well be reciting Hamlet and I get Snarls the Angry Cougar."

Rodney moved out of his puddle and curled up against the wall. He might be cold, wet, and out of tissues, but not being considered food was a stroke of luck and he didn't want to jinx it.

…..

The doctor was cranky and steadily getting crankier. Carson had stayed behind and kept insisting he could help, rattling off things the doctor had no idea about such as antibiotics, degrees, colleges, and Scotland. When that failed, Carson began asking the guards questions, annoying them as well. The guards were merely volunteers, as those who used to be in charge of fighting had died three days ago and these were farmers or carpenters or even accountants—they were the only ones around who knew which way to aim the guns the right way around, but they weren't about to admit that out loud.

What he did manage to glean from the guards-and one patient the doctor was 'kind' enough to let him help by telling him to clean vomit from the floor-was not very enlightening, and barely useful. The 'thing'—a heavy, thick cloud—broke down their gate and attacked a few nights ago. This was the first time anyone had seen the thing, as they'd hid behind their gate since the first time people stopped coming back from the forest. Soon after the thing had shown up, the wraith did as well. The wraith always targeted the forest, looking for something, and they always heard them dying all the way in the city soon after.

….

It had taken two hours for the wraith to calm down. After that, the thing curled up opposite of Rodney and stared at the door.

For the next hour, Rodney wondered which kind of wraith was more frightening. The proud yet feral ones that resembled a large, wild cat; always knowing it's superiority and not just that you were edible, but how many ways it could kill you and how easy each version was; or the wild and crazy ones that resembled happy Rottweilers; who thought that every action you took against them was the equivalent of wetting your pants and the most hilarious thing in the universe to their strange, dull, and hyper minds. So far, he was thinking the former, but only because that was the kind across a small room from him that kept hissing at him for staring.

"Yeah, I know, hiss," Rodney said. "What else is new?"

The wraith laid his head on his knees and stared at the ground, sullen and melancholy, like a dog that had been run over lying near the street.

"You… don't want to be friends, do you?" Rodney asked.

The wraith shook his head awkwardly.

"Just out of curiosity, what would you do if you got out?" Rodney asked. He didn't want to admit just yet that he could open the door. He still had his possessions. Apparently, his captors didn't think he'd last very long.

The wraith seemed to perk up at the mention, and Rodney could almost see the wheels turning in his head… wheels that perhaps should not be turning within the vicinity of humans. The wraith stared at the door in an almost hungry manner before returning to gaze at the floor and mope. "Save Keslee," the wraith said, surprising Rodney in a way he never expected.

"Um… I had no idea you were a girl—wom—female. All this time I was thinking of you as Richard."

The wraith stood up, taking a stance that was perhaps natural for a human, but the imitation thereof by a wraith was lumbering and… in all irony, alien. Still, it had the proper effect. She stood with straight posture, pushing her shoulders out, balling her fists, and her feet spread wide. Towering over Rodney and growling slightly, she tried to make herself large and imposing, or at least moreso than she already was, like a hissing cat arching its back and fluffing its tail.

He realized, other than how much he wished he wasn't in this predicament, how poorly her clothes fit. Her jacket was not made for the shape of her chest, far too tight in certain area, and too loose around the waist. The shoulders were too wide, forcing her into a wilder stance with her arms far from her body and the sleeves had been sliced along a seam to free her hands. Her pants were baggy and her shoes had been torn up and meticulously stitched back together with pieces from other shoes, creating a Frankenstein-like boot that was still too big. Despite this, she could easily have passed a male until she spoke.

"Changes what?" she asked.

"I just thought… you know… you'd want a different name—never mind. You wanna be Richard, you're Richard. My first name is Meredith."

"Rich…chard…" the wraith said, trying work figure out the strange name, finally smiling after a few seconds. "…Like."

"Who is Keslee?" Rodney asked, hoping to keep Richard from thinking about his own name.

"Human child," Richard said. "Now sick. Need doctor. Find doctor, leave."

"You wouldn't be leaving with me if I help, would you?"

"From 'Lantis?"

"Yeah… I don't think we've met you."

"Heard of," Richard said. "I leave, you stay."

"You promise?" Rodney asked.

"Open door first," Richard said, picking Rodney up gingerly.

"That obvious?" Rodney asked.

"Very," Richard said, shoving him towards the door and setting him on his feet, yet not taking her hand off his collar.

"Give me a minute," Rodney said, wiping his nose before starting.

Richard never once loosened her grip on Rodney's shirt, always ready to yank him back, but all the while she patiently watched how he opened the door with quiet interest.

When the doors opened, she tugged him back into the cell. "Stay."

"You promise, right?" Rodney whispered as she stepped into the hall, looking for other wraith.

"You more useful alive."

Rodney got the hint and stepped back.

"Weak men," Richard commented before heading down the hall.

…

"Aww, come on!" John yelled.

After an hour, they had finally found the DHD by tripping on it. The ancients apparently hadn't considered the local weather when they had built it. It had long ago half sunk into the dirt and was now covered by a fallen tree. If it was still intact, there was no way to access it, especially in the rain and the dark.

….

Richard returned an hour later, followed by an armed drone. Apparently she'd been successful at… something.

It had to be five in the morning by now. The only thing keeping Rodney awake was knowing that he was surrounded by at least a hundred things with sharp teeth and claws who considered him a snack in a forgotten cupboard. He just hoped the wraith didn't notice he had wiped his mucusy sleeve on their wall.

Her appearance was another jolt of adrenaline to his already tired, worn out, and terrified mind. First, her coat had been torn to shreds, nothing more than a ripped piece of a single cuff and half the back remained, glued to her as they were soaked with someone else's blood. She tore it off and threw it on the floor, revealing pants that looked like they'd lost a fight with a lawnmower and the remains of a shirt that was barely large enough to double as a necklace. She had procured two guns and stuffed them in her pockets, which just pulled her pants lower on her hips, and she carried two halves of a broken femur, both sharpened into large shivs.

Rodney was very happy that there was a therapist in Atlantis. If he had to have the image of an angry, giant, nubile, blue Amazon wearing more tattoos than clothes and having just successfully killed at least one male of her species with part of a dead body, he was going to inflict it on someone else.

"Call doctor," Richard said, pulling Rodney out of the brig.

"What? How?" Rodney asked. "It's not like you guys have phones."

Richard yanked his earpiece off. "Fix," she said, shoving it into his hands.

"With what—Ow, human ears are sensitive!"

Richard dragged him to the bridge of the ship, which was completely empty. She let go of him and turned her attentions to one of the consoles. The drone stood in the doorway, trapping Rodney inside. "So… what exactly is going on?" Rodney asked, taking out a power bar from his vest. Adrenaline was only going to get him so far and he needed something that reminded of sanity. "Don't get any ideas," he said to the drone as he sat down.

"Fix," Richard said.

"Not a fan of complete sentences," Rodney commented, doing his best to help. At first he just did his best to copy her, not having a clue beyond her vague instructions.

"Not talked in…forget," Richard said. "Thoughts clear. Thoughts always clear." Rodney noticed that when she said this, the drone shifted uncomfortably in the doorway. Apparently 'clear' didn't mean 'pleasant.'

"So… what exactly is going on?"

"Fix. Call doctor. You stay, we leave."

"I meant before all that," Rodney said. He wasn't just adjusting the computers aboard the ship; he was rewiring the radio using foreign technology. Even he'd need at least a clipboard, a pen, an hour, and probably a nap. Sure he was a genius at this stuff, but even geniuses needed coffee and to take a few notes. Richard had to have developed theories about this stuff before, albeit not at all precisely. She changed her mind now and then, her familiarity with the advanced earth tech must have been learned from crude gennii electronics and her expertise was comparable to fixing a mountain bike while having learned from an old Victorian model.

"Commander dead," Richard said. "My ship now."

"Was he the reason we were in the brig together?"

"Yes," Richard said.

Rodney waited for more, but that was it. Perhaps a straightforward wraith willing to answer questions wasn't all that convenient. "Uh… what was that reason?" Rodney asked, punctuated by sniffling and wiping his nose on his other sleeve—the first one was too wet by now.

"Sick?" Richard asked.

"No," Rodney said. The mere presence of a wraith near him cured his hypochondria instantly; he'd walk off a broken leg if that was his most immediate help.

"He shot me, long ago," Richard said. "He escaped and wanted me to die. "

"Why was I in there?"

"Distract," Richard said. "I hate voices in head. He wanted in my head. He wanted me weak, then dead."

"So that's taken care of then?" Rodney asked.

"Commander dead; you useful alive," Richard said, handing the radio to him, which she had apparently finished modifying. "Call."

"Was there more to this plan?" Rodney asked. Hopefully there would be something resembling an actual explanation, maybe a short sentence.

"'Lantis not listen, I make them weak," Richard said, in what had to be an unhealthy tone—for him, not her. "Feeding not make them weak. I have better ways."

"I need to stop asking questions." Rodney felt he was going to be sick and hoped he'd be catatonic if he was.

…

The rain had finally let up around dawn. The group had returned to discuss things with Carson, much to the doctor's further annoyance. They figured the man was eventually going to snap, and it'd be best to be far away when that happened.

After a short fight over who got to be where, the group slept in the ship.

John was woken up by the sound of the dart returning shortly after dawn. He immediately ran outside to confirm his fears. The dart was looping around, lazily circling over the jumper and over the city.

"You get back here!" he yelled at it. He needed to yell at something.

His yelling woke up the others, who joined him outside. "Get to the city," John ordered Ronon and Teyla. The two grabbed what guns they had and ran off as best they could over the difficult terrain.

Suddenly his radio crackled at him and he realized he hadn't taken it off to sleep. "John?" he heard faintly.

"Rodney?"

"What's going on?" Carson asked.

John shoved him inside and put his hand to his earpiece to drown out distractions. "Rodney, where are you?"

This time the sound came in much clearer. "I'm onboard a wraith hiveship."

"Then how are you-Rodney?"

John heard Rodney's muffled shout and the sound of the earpiece being grabbed. "Have your Rodney," a female voice said. "Named me Richard."

"No wonder he had such bad luck with women," John mumbled.

Carson screamed, having finally found his own radio to listen in, at Richard hissing into the microphone. "Don't make them do that!"

"Want doctor," Richard said.

"Yeah, we're not doing that," John said.

"Doctor or attack city of evil men."

"Yeah, you'd be a good judge about evil," John said. If there was one thing genii were good at, it was being pissed off. So long as they didn't hit Teyla or Ronon in the crossfire, they could take a dart full of wraith.

Just as John was about to tell Carson to stay in the ship and run to help, Richard spoke up. "Then lungs burn from inside… do worse at dark without doctor."

John didn't have time to give orders. Carson grabbed his arm and screamed into the radio. "Get away from the city! Now! They're dropping chlorine gas!"

….

It was two hours to dusk on the planet. The bridge was still empty, save for Richard and Rodney, who was huddled in a corner, doing his best to fight off sleep.

The radio crackled, startling them both.

Richard picked it up as further noise came from it. "This is Commander Elizabeth Weir of Atlantis…"

"Want doctor or not care," Richard said.

"I want to negotiate letting you…'borrow' Dr. Carson Beckett," Elizabeth said. "First, I want to talk to McKay."

"What is McKay?"

"That'd be me," Rodney said, standing up.

Richard yanked Rodney over to the console and shoved the earpiece in his hands.

"This is Rodney."

"What's your status?"

"Close to wetting my pants."

"I mean health wise."

"Nothing… y'know, usual for these things…sanity doesn't count here, right?"

"Put Richard back on."

"You sure?" Rodney asked. "I'm not sure what happened, but I heard screaming last time someone talked to her."

"John's not allowed to negotiate with her anymore," Elizabeth said.

"I don't think I want to know how much trouble he caused until I get over this," Rodney said and set the earpiece down. He backed away as Richard picked it up.

"Talk," Richard said.

"If you come down to the planet, I assure—"

"No. Humans cruel. Doctor come here, we return humans, then leave."

"I can promise you that—"

Richard hissed and slammed her fist on the console.

"Can we send someone with Dr. Beckett?" Elizabeth asked.

"No weapons," Richard said.

"I want to be able to talk to them at any time," Elizabeth said. "And I want someone to tell her everything that's going on there."

"If I get doctor," Richard agreed.

Elizabeth sighed loudly into the radio. "We'll be ready in twenty minutes. We'd like them back the same way you got them, please."

"Not eat," Richard said, amused. "Doctor and we talk."

…

Rodney was sure he'd never get any sleep ever again. He did know he'd be huddling under the covers with the lights at their brightest for a week after getting back to Atlantis, though.

Richard had left him on the bridge, giving him the instructions to 'stay' before abandoning him to be watched by the drone.

The bridge was rather barren, and he wasn't smaller than the consoles. Even if he was, panicking made his sniffles worse. In the end, Rodney decided to ball up in the corner that would be the least convenient for the drone if it went after him.

He'd lost track of time since she'd left. He couldn't even estimate it.

He could hear footsteps approaching now, though they didn't sound like Richard's. Rodney leaned over to see what was happening. A new wraith, a male commander, had approached the drone and managed to distract it away from Rodney. The two conversed telepathically, though unless the instructions the commander was giving were 'keep staring,' something wasn't right.

The drone took stepped to the side, blocking the entrance to the bridge even more and the commander snarled at him in response.

The commander swiped at the drone, the claws ripping the skin momentarily before the drone grabbed his wrist. The commander took the opportunity to jam a knife into the drone's side. The drone shoved the commander back and moved to pull out the knife only for the commander to take advantage of the situation and grab the drone's head with both hands and twist its neck.

Rodney jumped to his feet and looked around for something to do other than panic as the commander stepped over the corpse. The only thing he could think of was to dodge as the commander reached for him, but that plan failed immediately.

"Make her stop!" the commander demanded, holding Rodney by his neck.

"Stop what?" Rodney asked. "Do any of you make sense around here?"

Suddenly Richard was in the room, growling at the commander, who turned to her and dropped Rodney. The two hissed at each other before Richard lunged at him. The commander grabbed his head and fell to his knees as Richard landed on him. She grabbed his shoulder, digging her nails into his flesh through his jacket and shirt. She looped his hair around her other hand and pulled tightly as she sank her sharp teeth into his neck, ripping through skin and organs.

The commander didn't have long to scream. Richard had learned to be thorough in her fights.

She stood up, still holding the head by the hair and stared curiously at Rodney, who wasn't sure if he was too sick to be scared or too scared to be sick.

"Injured?" she asked.

Rodney shook his head vigorously.

"What just happened?" He was hoping for someone to say 'Yes, you're insane' or 'this is all a dream'.

"Dead," Richard answered, holding up the head, and speaking as if he were slow to catch on to te obvious.

"I can see that," Rodney said. "Just… why did… huh?"

"You say weird things."

Rodney realized that even though that was the pot calling the kettle black, it wasn't a good idea to point it out when the pot was holding a severed head. He took a few moments to collect his thoughts and do his best to figure out what best to say to keep himself both alive and sane…or at least no less sane. The problem wasn't lack of communication, but lack of understanding. She was still handling things as though she were still in the forest, where all she needed to do was defend her territory and use the remains of trespassers to warn others not to do the same. He was still handled things as if he were talking to human beings who communicated with grammar, not with giving you a concussion by using the nearest dead creature. "You're not used to being in control, are you?"

"In control," Richard said, holding up the head.

"No, you're not," Rodney said. "Look, whoever else is on here doesn't like…something. You need to go talk to them; maybe they'd actually like to help out. Ask them what they want."

"Want in head," Richard said, punctuating her statement by growling.

"Then tell them to stop and then ask them what they want," Rodney said. "You can take their heads off after that if you need to, but you have to address this and you can't be everywhere and do everything at once and I really, really want to go home."

Richard stood there, thinking long and hard and staring at him. Rodney hoped she was considering his words, not whether his skull would be a good weapon. "You've been out in those woods for quite a while, haven't you?"

"Long time."

"Try making some friends to help you get used to all this again… you guys do make friends, right?"

Richard turned to look at the head she still held, then grabbed Rodney's arm with her free hand and briskly led him out of the bridge.

"Hey! No! I shouldn't be involved in this!"

…..

Teyla had not arrived at the city when Carson began to demand they flee. She never voiced it, but she hated herself for immediately turning and heading back to the ship. Even more, she hated the wraith for making her do so. Now she was on their ship, here to play diplomat to a same one who had stranded them, kidnapped a crew member, and then killed several humans.

Unlike most of the times she'd found herself in a wraith brig, this one was guarded by two drones, though they looked bored enough just to be there on a break or trying to avoid work or their new commander. Either way, she was trusted less than those who merely considered her a meal.

She had been told not to try tapping into the network until she first talked with someone or enough time had passed that she became suspicious that no one had bothered to talk to her. The wraith had no idea of her orders, and karma seemed upset about such a situation. Twice something had shot through the network like a blow to the head. She had been barraged by flashes of terrifying images, each with worse emotions attached. The images were scrambled, and the emotions seemed confusingly entwined, which meant these were memories. The drones reacted to the sudden attack the same way she did, though they seemed to be able to discern reality and the invasive memories from each other faster.

Teyla had no idea what the images were of, or even if what she had seen and felt were real. All she knew was that she didn't want it and that it didn't matter if someone was attacking another through the network or if someone was remembering having been attack. All that mattered was that it was an attack, and a powerful, devastating one. She'd never seen a memory with emotions mixed in, and until now had only imagined such feelings from another.

Whatever it was, she was not interested in tapping into the network until she found an individual that she was sure would have something useful and concrete to give her.

It had barely been over an hour since she'd been led to the brig when a large group arrived, consisting of Carson, a wraith female who had to be Richard. She was followed by two commanders with fancy hairstyles and four drones and surrounding Rodney; she carried a young teenage boy in her arms.

Carson was gently pushed inside and Teyla managed a good look at the teenager from where she was sitting. The child couldn't be more than fourteen. His clothes were muddy and torn, yet someone had attended to his hair, neatly braiding it into delicate cornrows. Whoever had done so wasn't the boy himself, as his left arm was in a sling and his wrist heavily bandaged. His leg was worse off, splinted well with random salvaged.

Noticing the two commanders, it seemed that the one responsible for grooming the child had been Richard, as her commanders had similarly been decorated. The two didn't seem to mind. The commander on the right wore a fluffy topknot and loops in his straight white hair while his grumpier and larger counter part wore simple braids in his wavy red hair.

"Guys, this is Richard," Rodney said. "I have no idea what she says, but she head off the last person who disagreed with her. With her teeth."

"Keslee must go with other humans," Richard said. "Keslee saved my life. Doctor saved Keslee's life. Keslee not return to city of evil men."

"So what do you intend to do with him?" Teyla asked. She could understand why Rodney had stopped talking and was cringing away from the group of drones. He'd been surrounded by them for over a day and John had been right when he said Richard grouped humans, subtlety, and details into 'things that happen to other people'.

"We intend to negotiate with your leader about that," the white-haired commander said. "Your people are no longer interested in risking anyone else in the city being harmed. We intend to leave the child in your care… if your leader can prove that would be a good idea. We'd like to know if she would send the boy back to the same parent that routinely injures his own child."

Teyla was suddenly at a loss for words. When she expected to know what was happening on the ship, she thought she'd just learn where the wraith intended to leave to or whether they were too annoyed with Rodney and became hungry. "We'd find someone to take him in."

"You'd find someone to take in a child who has helped a wraith?" the commander asked. "Exactly how do you intend to guarantee his safety with strangers?"

Teyla didn't have an answer to that one. There would be too many holes in saying they'd keep him in Atlantis and she couldn't even promise her own people would take him in. "I don't know. But we do want to protect him."

"What of the city, then?" the commander asked. "You don't intend to punish the parent whatsoever, do you?"

"We, um…"

"When do we leave?" Carson asked.

"When you can promise us safety as well," the commander said.

"How's Rodney?" Teyla asked.

"Annoying."

"He does that," Carson said. If Rodney still had enough in him to annoy others—especially up to three commanders and possibly the four drones as well, there was no permanent mental damage.

Carson had known about Teyla's part in Weir's plan and decided to give her a chance to see if she could discover anything useful. "So-?"

The commander turned to Teyla and hissed. The other strode over to Teyla and growled. "Keep out." He raised his hand, but the other commander stopped him silently. The angrier commander backed away, still growling.

"You are not welcome," the first commander said, grabbing his comrade's wrist and pulling him close. "If there is something you need to know, we will tell you. In the meantime, what we need to know is if we can trust her in negotiating the return of your supplies. We will be polite enough to keep out of your heads, as we trust you'd tell us the truth; the second we feel betrayed we seal this chamber and fill it with searing gas."

Teyla didn't know what to do. She was useless in all the places she needed to use her skills. All she could do was refuse to show her uselessness.

"Tell them we said not to try anything, just in case," Carson said.

"We will negotiate your return when we can trust your people to trade."

Richard turned, leading her entourage away.

…

"This is Commander Elizabeth Weir of-"

"We would prefer to dispense with your veiled attempts to say you are pampering us," the wraith commander said nonchalantly. He was more interested in the other commander examining the weapons Richard had stolen. "We have kept our promise; we have not left orbit, nor have we attacked the city once we received your doctor's help. One of yours is just now finishing adjustments to our ship. We will send you the conditions of our request to trade shortly. We can begin negotiating for your people after the trade."

"I want to talk to McKay, first."

"Can you tell him to stop looking at me like that?" Rodney asked, taking the earpiece from the wraith, careful not to touch even his claws. A third wraith, the newly appointed navigator, had been looking at Rodney as if he had just stomped on his favorite toy ever since he'd been come on the bridge. His mood wasn't improving as Rodney was changing things around once again.

The wraith shoved the earpiece into his hand. "No."

"This is Mckay.".

"How is everyone?"

"I'd say somewhere between cranky and confused."

"Any physical problems?"

"Nothing you're thinking of," Rodney said.

"Any ideas?"

"I'm a big fan of giving them what they want for the most part," Rodney said.

"You do realize what you're saying, don't you?"

"Last time you said no, there was screaming and John wasn't allowed to be in charge anymore," Rodney said. "and then Richard said she could do worse. I've seen what she does on a good day. Finding out what 'worse' is shouldn't be one of our options."

"How soon will you be finished with the modifications?"

"I'm finished… now."

The wraith grabbed the earpiece back. "We are sending our requests now; you should be receiving them immediately. ."

"These requests are… awkward." Elizabeth said. "If we give you these, will you return my crew?"

"No. We will return your supplies and the part taken from your ship. You have held back hostilities; we have held back hostilities. You wish to leave safely; we wish to leave safely. You are willing to trade with human foreigners; you are willing to trade with us. Your concept of mercy towards us is neither polite nor impressive."

"I'll have my people gather these immediately."

"Your efficiency is appreciated."

…..

It hadn't been a full hour when the white-haired commander arrived and silently sent the drones away. He was completely alone and at first just stood in front of the door, staring at the humans. At first his unmoving presence was disturbing, but eventually became merely confusing.

"What's he doing?" Carson asked.

"Maybe he's just bored," Teyla said.

"What makes us interesting?" Carson asked. "He doesn't look hungry."

"They're always hungry," Teyla said.

The wraith had yet to move. He seemed interested in their conversation.

"I think he's more interested in you," Carson said.

"Is he angry?"

"I think he's…nevermind."

"What?" Teyla asked. Carson sounded as if he'd hit upon a revelation and he wasn't usually one to keep secrets for very long.

Carson kept silent, though didn't hide the fact that he was embarrassed about what he'd said.

"Carson?" Teyla asked, turning to the doctor and ignoring the wraith. The thing might was well be asleep or have a bag of popcorn.

"Nothing," Carson bluffed.

"He is speaking about breasts," the commander suddenly said.

Carson covered his humiliated expression with his hand and sighed heavily.

"Why are you in his head?" Teyla asked.

"I am not," the commander said. "The other one makes the same expression when he asks our leader to wear a shirt instead of explaining himself."

Now it was Teyla's turn to put her hand to her face and sigh in exasperation. It would make sense that a new female about a ship fu of men would… spark interests. Her top never did leave much to the imagination and the brig did offer peace and quiet.

"Would it be possible to change the subject of our conversation with you two?" the wraith asked calmly.

"Please do," Carson said.

"At the moment we are waiting for your leader to deliver supplies in exchange for what was looted from your ship," the commander said. "After that, we will talk with your leader about her guarantee for both our safety and the child's."

The two humans were silent until they realized the wraith was waiting for a reply.

"We're waiting for the other shoe to drop," Carson said.

"What shoe?" the commander asked.

Carson groaned.

"He means we'd like to know what you're hiding,'" Teyla said.

"That you have an opportunity to speed things along in convincing our leader that our people are trustworthy."

"What if we refuse?" Teyla asked.

"This is my personal decision, not hers," the commander said. "If you refuse, I leave and never speak of this to anyone."

"What do you want us to do?" Teyla asked.

"You have a strange ability to access our minds the way we do," the commander said. "Yet you can choose whether or not to do so."

"You want me to apologize?" Teyla asked.

"I would not expect you to, even if I were asking for that," the commander said in a strange matter-of-fact way.

His calm, bland, uncaring demeanor suddenly frightened her. He was not threatening and he didn't intend to be so in the slightest. To him, humans were nasty, cruel, and ill-mannered things, but that was just how they were and he was fine with that. She had met many wraith who had thrown her words at her and twisted her own personality against her. This one, however, was more like looking into a mirror. To him, humans were evil and nothing in the Galaxy was going to change that. Yet, he needed her help specifically, a human that carried around the ability to hurt him and his companions. From his tone, he was asking for help for someone else.

The fact that a wraith could be thinking of her the same way she had always thought of them turned her stomach. It was terrifying to think that there was more to her enemy, especially when that 'more' was the same thing she was. She fought back the only way she knew how, the only way she could fend off the nightmares and strangers questions that came to her bed from the darkness. She refused to believe it. Nothing, no matter what the wraith did, no matter the problem, no matter their reaction, no matter what they did to placate her or ignore her or reason with her, would keep them from being evil. No matter how evil they thought she was, it was always them. It had to be.

"It is possible to hold back and keep oneself out of the network, especially at a distance, but impossible to shut oneself out completely for long." The commander explained. "We are used to touching minds often, but to someone unused to the network, feeling a stranger inside your head can seem… threatening. Our leader had been away from others, save for in hostile situations, for quite a while and she not only tries to keep herself out of the network, but does not take threats lightly. I was hoping you could help her accept her nature and keep her memories to herself. They are… unpleasant."

"I think I've seen them," Teyla said. "They were…"

"You do not have to describe it," the commander said. "She will attack if she feels threatened or insulted by your intents towards our hive or the child and I have no idea what those are, or how capable you are even of understanding her. I have no idea what actions she would take if you anger her; I can only take blame for asking you to do this, not your intentions."

"You can't guarantee what she'll do if she likes what I tell her, either," Teyla said.

"No, I cannot."

He turned to leave and was one step away before Carson spoke up. "Wait. What if we don't have an answer at all?"

"I don't know the entirety of the situation, as she has yet to explain it to any of us either. If you can gather any new information, that would likely help us both in solving this strange dilemma," the commander said, not bothering to turn around. "I will tell her that while she will always be able to threaten us with her memories, we can help her overcome them if she lets us in. However, she'd likely only trust a female mind—one that is fierce, but not too threatening and willing to understand her to a point."

"That would be me?"

"No, but you are the only remotely possible option," the commander said, squelching what she had in terms of pride. In other words, she could help or not. It was Richard she would be negotiating with and only in terms of protecting a human. He wouldn't be grateful and the second the wraith left, Atlantis would be remembered only as a threat, possibly an annoyance. All she'd be doing would be to attempt to prevent moods from growing worse. This wraith was giving her just as much of a chance and she'd give him, none.

Teyla sighed. Richard was an expert at threats and collateral damage. Putting as much distance between her and Atlantis as soon as possible was the best plan, especially when the plan involved the least amount of bloodshed. "I can try."

The doors opened and the commander grabbed Teyla's arm. He wasn't' rouhh, but to him, she was the threat. She ignored him as he led her down the halls.

The drone guards in the doorway parted for both of them, showing no curiosity as to why Teyla was present. The others were curious, but once she went to comfort Rodney after being released from his grasp, they turned back to their original concerns. The commander approached Richard and the two discussed his plan quietly. The other commander was not happy about it, nor was the navigator pleased that there was yet another human on the bridge.

Rodney was looking far worse than before. He was shaking, balled up against the wall, and whimpering. His eyes were wide and bloodshot and he jerked and yelped as Teyla lightly touched his shoulder.

"Rodney, what happened?" Teyla asked, keeping her voice down.

"I really hope the ancients invented something so I can unsee things," Rodney said, holding his head. "Please tell me you're here to teach them about bedroom doors… and shower doors."

"That one wants me to talk to Richard in the network," Teyla whispered, pointing. She noticed that the other wraith commander had moved behind the one that was speaking to Richard and had his arms around him, his hands clasped together, as if her were protecting the first while still remaining formal and reverent to his queen. "Are those two…?"

"Very. That one's Jean-Paul." Rodney pointed to the commander who had taken Teyla here. "He's with Hector. Don't tell them I named them, they don't like that."

"That one's Jason," Rodney whispered, pointing to the navigator, who was distracted by pushing his decorated black locks from his face. "Don't make eye contact, he hates that. Don't touch the consoles either, he hates that too."

Richard watched Teyla and Rodney while the two commanders continued to talk, obviously trying to decide the risks of Teyla in her head. Hector, meanwhile, was starting to share Jason's idea that the humans should be killed to prevent any more trouble, or at least given a good punch to the face.

Soon, Richard came to a decision. She shoved Hector back and approached Teyla. She raised a hand towards Teyla, who immediately stepped back. Richard found this very amusing and chuckled. "Weak female. Not understand."

"I was told to learn everything about those on this ship," Teyla said, pulling Richard's hands towards her and entwining her fingers with the wraith's. "You'll have to make me understand. Unless you fear the network that much."

"Not fear," Richard said, closing her fingers over Teyla's.

'Tell me about Keslee,' Teyla said as she felt Richard's mind. Each mind was unique, with its own impression on those who touched it. Being able to sense and connect to the wraith was an indescribable new sense…she'd feel almost impressed if she didn't hate them so much. While most of the minds Teyla had touched were smooth-nothing but pure anger, determination, a focus on one goal or calculation—Richard's was more like touching broken glass, giving off a sense that touching it the wrong way would be harmful. Emotions were overlapping in confusion and thoughts were tangling into others. 'Slowly.'

To Teyla's surprise, Richard's thought were nothing like her speech. 'You would not understand unless you knew about the others in the city and how I got there.'

There was a long pause as Richard waited to see what Teyla would do. For a second she broke the connection. Teyla understood that she was acclimating; likely both the connection and the explanation were daunting tasks.

'I was the one who discovered the poison gas. My superior was intrigued and we both went to the planet below to steal supplies. When we were discovered, he shot me so he could escape.

'The humans who found me did not just beat me; they punished me be for being female with the way your kind mates. Is there a reason humans would do such a thing?'

Teyla didn't have an answer. She couldn't think past her disgust. Again, she could almost see a mirror of herself. In the dark corners of Richard's mind, she wondered if there was a reason for humans and their ways… or was evil all there was to it? Richard was fighting the same battle, attacking the questions with the same adamancy. Teyla told herself not to care.

'I see,' Richard said. However uncomfortable Teyla was with it, somehow Richard found Teyla's thoughts explained the situation completely. 'After I escaped my captors, my superior came after me. The humans forced themselves in my body and my superior forced himself in my mind, demanding to know what I knew of the poison, angry that I never recorded it on the hive. They had both made me weak, and I decided I would be stronger than anyone form then on; no one would invade me in any way again, I would not be weak again. I used what I remembered from being tortured by the humans to drive him off. It gave me power and strength. It made him weak…I made him weak.'

Teyla wasn't sure what to think about such a series of events and didn't bother to hide the fact. She didn't plan to go into this to make decisions, especially about convoluted morals. She was here to get information so someone else could answer them, despite usually handling such things herself. All she new was that Richard couldn't tell her anything that would make her doubt herself.

'You find something wrong with defending myself? Richard asked. How do you defend yourself from someone invading your head and refusing to leave?'

'I do my best to separate myself from the network,' Teyla answered.

'I learned to do that too,' Richard said proudly. 'I would not let anyone touch me anywhere without my permission again. Keeping myself out kept me hidden from those my superior sent to kill me after taking the information. I went into their minds and showed them how weak they were before killing them. I showed the others how strong I was by warning them what I was capable of. They soon did their best to keep away from me. The humans learned faster. I made sure they were always weaker.'

'What does this have to do with Keslee?' Teyla asked.

'I was hiding in a cave when the thing the humans gave me finally decided to kill me. Keslee found me bleeding to death after injuring himself on the rocks. He was unlike any man I had known since I came to the planet; he never demanded anything from me and he asked permission to help me. I had almost forgotten how to answer him. He saved my life when he was too injured to escape me. When I was well, he made a request that was… strange.

'He wanted to die. I had him show me why. He broke down the gate to escape his own father, who had injured him and killed three past mates with his violence. He was their doctor and he demanded whatever he wanted from those who asked for his services. Why should Keslee be the one human to wish to die when it housed his father and my torturers?'

'You attacked the city before we arrived, didn't you?' Teyla asked

'So long as they stayed awa, I did so as wel,l until Keslee asked me to attack,' Richard answered.. 'I agreed to make his father powerless and weak. Then Keslee became ill.'

'And you needed a doctor who wasn't his father?'

'If he died, he would help me so I could give him what he wanted,' Richard said. 'I would prefer this rare human to live. I intend to ask your leader to take care of his father.'

'We will not kill another human,' Teyla said.

Suddenly the connection was broken. Richard let go of Teyla's hands and stepped back, grinning slightly.

Teyla, on the other hand, was disoriented from the sudden severance and didn't notice it was Jean-Paul who caught her as she lost her balance. When she did, she set off a strange and disturbing chain of events she didn't understand. She yelped as she realized who had caught her and he let go and jumped back at her reaction.

Hector, however, wasn't pleased with Jean-Paul being threatened and growled at Teyla, prompting Jean-Paul to shove him away from her.

The two momentarily shared a mental argument, which just got more heated until Richard butted in. She punched Hector hard enough that he stumbled back. She turned her attention to Jean-Paul, who had a different reaction. He cowered under her gaze raised his arm defensively.

Just as Teyla began to wonder if her 'help' was going to get someone important killed, the radio distracted everyone.

"This is Commander Weir. We have the supplies you asked for and are ready to trade."

"New plan," Richard said, grabbing Jean-Paul by his hair and dragging him to the console. Whatever she was putting in his mind was disturbing, yet neither he nor Hector protested in the slightest.

He grabbed the radio and held it to his ear, not bothering to adjust it to be hands-free. "A dart will be sent to meet with you to finish the trade. We will begin discussing returning your people immediately afterwards. Would you like to speak to one of them?"

"Yes, please," Weir answered.

"I recommend the woman. You're McKay looks less than mentally present at the moment."

"Talk," Richard told Teyla, pointing to the console.

"You will be informed of everything after the trade," Jean-Paul said to Weir before handing the radio over to Teyla, who was relieved at his comment.

"Hello, commander," Teyla said.

"Teyla, what's wrong with Rodney?"

"He has been on the bridge surrounded by wraith doing things… two fancy each other and one does not like Rodney at all."

"Things aren't going to be normal for a while after this is over, are they?" Weir asked.

"I doubt they will," Teyla asked. "Keep the men away during the discussion. It would be… polite"

"…I see. Does Rodney or Carson know?"

"I doubt they do," Teyla said. "I am not about to tell them."

"I hope they appreciate it," Weir said. "Hand me back to 'him'."

"We do appreciate it," Jean-Paul said. "Is there more?"

"Are these niceties truly necessary?"

"Yes," the commander said. "You will understand soon enough."

….

A new dart was circling over the forest.

"What're they doing?" Radek asked, uncomfortable that he was the only one nervous about it.

"They're suspicious," Weir said. "They want to see what we'll do."

"Why would they care?" Ronon asked.

As the dart flew overhead of the small clearing, two wraith-one commander and one drone-were beamed down, both carrying several bags. Neither was bothered by their looks or how much they carried.

Weir was more concerned that there were two. She held a large dufflebag and was flanked two assistants and six soldiers, three on each side, ready to shoot if the wraith so much as stepped on the wrong stick—all women.

John and Ronon had joined her, and were itching for a fight The furthest away from the wraith was Radek, who was doing his best to keep convince himself this was not going to turn into a skirmish.

The two wraith stopped a safe distance from Weir and her soldiers and tossed their bags towards them without coming closer.

"That should be everything," the commander said.

While the main six soldiers stepped closer, the assistants picked up the bags and took them to Radek to identify the contents. "Looks like everything," he said after a few minutes.

The dart was returning; this was the chance to get rid of them.

Weir tossed her dufflebag to the talkative wraith, who was also concerned about receiving everything promised in the trade. When he pulled out something thin and lacey John snorted in amusement.

The wraith apparently found this offensive as he handed the bag to his companion, who disappeared in the beam. The dart broke it's pattern and left. The commander, though, stayed behind.

"John, go wait in the jumper," Weir commanded. She was not going to put up with silliness of any kind at this point. "You are going—"

"No," The wraith interrupted, ignoring the soldiers preparing to shoot him. "We have decided how things will proceed from now on. You will execute the doctor of the nearby city and we will return your people unharmed immediately afterwards and leave this planet. In exchange for killing a human you will also be allowed to kill me; your kind does enjoy killing wraith, do they not?"

"Okay," Ronon said while the soldiers looked at Weir in confusion.

"Ronon, go wait in the jumper."

"I believe this is the proper gesture," the wraith said as he raised his hands in a poor imitation of a symbol of surrender.

Weir sighed. This was exactly why people needed her. She was expected to be one of the few people not to go crazy when everyone else did, and if that meant babysitting an entire planet, then she'd better be prepared to give time-outs.

She walked over to the wraith, who still had his hands up. She was just barely close enough that he could reach her with his claws, but he kept his hands where they were. Despite this and the calm expression he held, his body language made it clear he wasn't comfortable with her so close to him. "We are not going to do anything until I get an explanation, is that understood?"

"That was assumed." He said flatly. "My leader gave me the discussion she had with…your female. She thought it would be easier to have one of us talk in her place, rather than potentially alter the explanation when our female does not fully understand. However, if you would…" He nodded in Radek's direction, and the scientist cringed at the sudden attention.

"Go fix the jumper," Weird told him. Everyone was doing what she told them to. Everyone was keeping their promises. She had even been handed not only something that promised to tell her everything she wanted to know, but something that agreed for her to put an end to any threat it posed. Despite all that, despite the silence, despite even the fear she conjured in a wraith that hadn't been harmed or threatened and had given itself over to capture, she felt as if everyone in the universe was screaming at her.

….

Teyla had been led away before Rodney would ask her anything beyond if she was hurt. For having been on the bridge for nearly the entirety of the current disastrous situation, he had no idea what was going on. He had heard only bits of conversations over the radio, was left on the bridge when Richard met with Carson and Teyla the first time, and was babysat by a drone while she went to 'discuss' things with the other commanders. He had no idea what went on between wraith normally when someone took over a hive, but Richard's diplomacy sounded like the end of a heated hockey game.

Now Jean-Paul was missing and according to Hector's expression, wasn't coming back. Also according to his expression, and Jean-Paul's before he left, neither felt an inclination of going against Richard—not out of possibility, but out of agreeing with her.

He needed a flow chart, or subtitles. Also a shower. Definitely a restroom. He wasn't going to ask about any of those, especially the last one. Given the situation, Rodney had made keeping the potential nightmares to a minimum his top priority.

Richard seemed to be an expert at knowing how to solve problems and start them at the same time and decided now was a good opportunity to do both. She grabbed Rodney by the collar. "Teach," she said, shoving Rodney at Hector before returning to…do something with some things... She was building something out of stolen materials that thankfully didn't look like they came form his ship, but that was all he could understand of her project.

Hector's hand was on the console, obscuring text and part of a continuously moving picture of a chain reaction of molecules. From what Rodney could gather from what he could see, Hector was working on a way to ignite something.

Hector was facing the console, but kept his gaze on Richard. "It took an attack with poison to convince your people to aid us," he said, startling Rodney. "Yet your doctor was all too eager to help even before he knew he would be helping a human."

"Wherever this is heading, I really hope it's about chemistry," Rodney said. Being around wraith was bad enough. Being around Richard wraith was hard to handle. Being around several morally confusing wraith, neither of whom liked him in the least, was a terrifying headache.

"I do not want to do this if I do not have to," Hector said.

"Do what?" Rodney asked.

"He was sent down there to die; will they make it short?"

Rodney resisted the urge to bang his head against the console. "Why couldn't it have been about chemistry?"

"I see," Hector said.

"Wait, why? Didn't she-?"

"She understands the parallel," Hector said. "He volunteered."

"Why?"

"He refused to tell me, yet he insisted on going as an exchange."

"Exchange?"

"In exchange for having to kill someone your people don't like, they are given one they do. Tell, me, would they accept just those terms?"

"Um… You see… Why would we…y'know?"

"I've had to rescue him from such circumstances before. Be aware that we will know about the actions your people take before they even begin. Now, can you answer my question?"

"No, but I can teach you chemistry," Rodney said. This was either going to be a long day or a very short one. He didn't want to contemplate either option.

…

Weir was almost wishing all her wraith captives would act like this one. Almost.

The wraith had indeed told her everything. He divulged the details about Richard and Keslee, about Richard taking over, about Teyla's conversation, and even the name Rodney had chosen for him. He had done as he was told, though the only order she had given him besides to explain were to sit on a large nearby rock and keep his hands on it.

She didn't want to admit the surrender gesture made her uneasy. She didn't want to tell him she was uncomfortable with how he squirmed on his rock, trying to move further from her without disobeying. She didn't want anyone to know she hated how he flinched whenever someone moved, even expecting to be shot after telling her that Rodney at least had the kindness to try to attempt keeping the fact that he'd name the wraith a secret.

"So why were you sent for…this?" Weir asked. If you were going to send someone off to die at the hands of the enemy, why send the one that acted like a neurotic squirrel?

"Because I begged for mercy," Jean-Paul said.

"You're being punished?" Weir asked.

"Because I understood best what you are capable of," Jean-Paul said. "My leader has adapted quite well to your practice of you treat enemies. I… didn't."

"What happened to you?"

Up until now, Jean-Paul hadn't cared much for Weir, but even moreso hadn't cared much about her. He had winced at movements and tensed when she came near, but those were ephemeral moments of instinct. Now, just like when he'd complained about her using his name, she had defined herself as a real threat. Unlike before, she had marked herself as such permanently. She wasn't going to be able to backtrack, distract, or deny her way out of this; he saw her as something different now and he was going to talk to her as something different.

What worried her was not that his reaction changed, but that she could see vague changes in his expression, especially in his eyes. Before he'd just been another soldier, uncomfortable, but wholly accepting himself as being in the line of fire as part of his duty and she was just another enemy commander. The were two warriors on either side, and this was just how one battle played out. She had been an enemy he could understand, but now the bridge over the culture and language gap was irretrievably lost. So was Jean-Paul according to his look of resignation. They both felt as if she'd stomped on him like a bug.

"My leader has made it clear that she does not wish to hide her experiences," Jean-Paul said, staring at his lap and no longer at Weir. "Mine, however, I do not wish to speak of. You were… thorough."

"What is this going to accomplish?" Weir asked. She'd step on him again if it got her answers. She stepped on her own people when she needed to. It wasn't personal and she'd tell Jean-Paul if she thought he'd believe it.

"I was rescued by… another," Jean-Paul said. "Since my experience, though, I've become useless to my hive when it comes to combat against your kind. This is an opportunity to repay him and keep the others safe." It was obvious that he meant 'safe from humans' and that he thought the statement would be redundant if he had included it.

"You like that guy, don't you?" Weir remembered what Teyla had said and there was something in the wraith's voice, beyond his dislike of humans and his wish that she'd stop asking him questions.

Jean-Paul looked up and studied her face. He was obviously both curious and distracted.

"You're talking to him right now, aren't you?"

"It is only obvious to you now?"

The fact that he was clearly expressing curiosity rather than mockery didn't make Weir feel better about the situation. "You guys put a lot of thought into this, didn't you?"

"My leader has become quite skilled at learning about how you behave," Jean-Paul said.

"That was rhetorical," Weir said, sighing. The worst part was that this made complete sense. Jean-Paul wanted to repay someone close for saving him from cruel humans by doing the same. Richard wanted to repay the humans for her request to kill the doctor… in order to repay Keslee. It was just a circle of changing places, like some honorable way to lose at a fatal game of musical chairs.

Her problem with all this was that she didn't want to kill someone, including Richard's 'gift'. Then she realized the real problem. The wraith did not expect her to have qualms about killing Jean-Paul. Why would she according to everything they had observed?

…..

The chemistry lessen did nothing to help either Rodney's mood or his sanity. Hector was only slightly more skilled at chemistry than John was at paying attention to science. Add to that the whole lesson was rather complicated for Hector's level of understanding and top it off with the fact that the point was to make explosives and Rodney constantly interrupted the lesson with asking if he could just be thrown in the brig. After three angry refusals to let his escape teaching Hector, Rodney had made the mistake of asking how Hector had dealt with such difficulties before. The answer turned out to be the wraith he'd named Jean-Paul.

Rodney was finally relieved to be able to get back to his corner. He even preferred Jason's angry looks to having to fight through Hector's complicated knowledge barrier.

His relief didn't last for long. Apparently when all you do is run from wraith, you become very skilled at your hobbies; Richard had finished building the…whatevers…just in time for Weir to radio them. The conversation between the two leaders was short, and he barely heard any of it. All he knew was that Richard wasn't pleased. As usual, wraith proved themselves incapable of informing him of things calmly.

Hector grabbed his harm and yanked him up, dragging him from the bridge and down the hall swiftly; Rodney's feet barely touched the ground.

"What's going on?"

"Your leader refuses to give us what we want."

"Look, just because—"

"She requests that we speak to her face-to-face and listen to a last request before put a permanent end to this farce."

"Let me guess, I get to go first if she doesn't change her mind," Rodney said.

"Slowly," Hector answered.

"I gotta stop being right," Rodney mumbled.

…

John and Ronon was still on their 'time-outs'. It was their job to handle the simpler situations: killing, escape, and combative rescue. When it came to keeping situations from escalating, negotiating while treading on thin ice, and babysitting the universe, that was her job. When a situation was just dangerous John got it; when a situation was complicated it was up to her to handle it.

Jean-Paul's confusion over the situation had added to his fear, not replaced it. He was standing in front of the group of soldiers, and to the side so Weir could be seen when she spoke with Richard.

Again, a dart circled overhead continuing in a wide arc from over the spot in the forest to above the city. It beamed down the group of wraith and humans: there were two drones and one commander along with Richard, but that hardly seemed to matter. Rodney was useless and Carson had his hands full keeping the neurotic physicist on his feet while Teyla was holding Keslee. Richard was wearing some of the items traded in exchange for the return of their supplies: a military vest and a lacey bra. Her armaments, however, cancelled out any silliness of the situation; a bone knife, two guns, and several of what appeared to be homemade bombs.

"Talk. Now," Richard demanded.

"I'm not giving the order to kill anyone," Weir stated.

"Then they die in sticky fire," Richard said, ripping one of the bombs off the vest.

"Don't!" Weir said as the soldiers sighted their weapons at her.

This caught Richard's attention as her finger hovered over the trigger.

"I said no!" Weir commanded.

Richard complied as well, taking her finger from the trigger, though ready to change her mind. This was new to her. An enemy was using their power against her, yes, but also for her. She was not being spared just to be tortured.

"You'd risk his life when you don't have to?" Weir asked, nodding toward Jean-Paul. This fight was still black and white. Either the wraith were evil or they were gone, just as the humans were evil or they did as they were told. Neither side was going to wait to understand a middle ground and Weir had to keep that to her advantage.

Richard growled, she wasn't going to regret listening to Weir, but she wasn't going to regret taking out everyone, and a large patch of the forest, either.

"I am not going to compromise my decision," Weir stated firmly. "You are going to take him back and leave this planet immediately. If you give us trouble, we shot the boy and then go after your ship. If you comply, we will teach Keslee to dial Atlantis once you're in hyperspace. If anyone in the city needs a doctor, they can come to us and we aren't going to help them unless Keslee tells us everyone is safe."

Richard seemed unmoved at first, seeming to find it more efficient to kill the humans now and alert the dart, but didn't move. She cast a quick glance to the bomb in her hands, then to Jean-Paul. She placed her finger back on the trigger. "We are not weak," Richard said without taking her hand from the firing mechanism. "Him first."

Jean-Paul turned to Weir, who nodded, before running over to join his companion, who pulled him close and snarled at her. The dart was returning overhead. Her finger twitched. This wasn't about food. This wasn't about revenge. This was about power. Power kept her alive. Power was what kept pain at bay. Power was the only thing that was used to destroy others, but power was not the same as strength when it came to protecting others. There was a bridge that needed to be crossed, just one glimpse of two people, a human and a wraith seeing eye to eye, just for a second. After that, everyone could go back to knowing the other was pure evil. Neither wanted to cross first, fearing damnation. Then, Richard saw what she feared. Damnation could go to hell; she took the metaphorical step. Richard tossed her bomb to Weir, gleefully chuckling as she watched the human panic as she fumbled with the device. She shoved the humans to the side as the beam passed over and the wraith disappeared.

Weir waited for the dart to disappear from sight before approaching the others and handing the bomb to a soldier. "How is everyone?"

"I need to find a tree!" Rodney yelled and ran off. From his fluctuating and squeaky voice, that was going to be his indoor voice for the next few weeks. Things were not going to be quiet for a while on Atlantis.

"I—I need to—bye," Carson said and did his best to scoot away as fast as possible, obviously with the same goal in mind.

"Let me take him," Weir said to Teyla, who looked sick. It wasn't the kind of sick Carson would be fixing, but the kind Weir knew she'd be fixing. In the meantime, Teyla left to handle the same need as the men.

Weir sighed. Complicated situations didn't wait and they certainly didn't make themselves convenient. The best you could do was make sure they didn't cut in line.

"Let me guess, you have to go too," Weir asked Keslee, who nodded. "John!" Sometimes, you got lucky: someone else was better suited at complicated situation than you and you knew just who they were.