HE WAS NOT ALONE in the room.

John Sheppard tried to look around his quarters. He saw nothing. He liked to sleep in total darkness when possible, and in the middle of a floating city, with no windows and no cracks below the doors, he was able to do so. He couldn't say why, exactly, but he knew one fact as he came quite suddenly to complete awareness.

He was not alone in the room. And yet he had been, when he passed into sleep. He tried to assess the situation, mulling over in nanoseconds whether or not he should treat the intruder as a threat, knowing he had to first move to turn on the lights, wondering if this would be giving away an advantage—

And the lights turned on. His awareness split, instantly, looking around the room and finding only one person in it, while simultaneously damning himself for forgetting, once again, that most of the Ancient's technology worked with his genetic structure, reading his desires in a way that, if it wasn't so useful, would give him what his Grandpappy Sheppard called the heebie-jeebies. And yet there was one thing foremost in his mind: He was not alone in the room.

She was young, an adult, but somehow...unspoiled in that Athosian way. She radiated innocence, and yet there was something so desirable about her, something so luminous, that despite his training, despite his annoyance at her presence there, he felt himself reacting. The rising pressure in his groin was an added distraction he did not need. He felt his face flush with embarrassment.

Sitting on the end of his bed, she had merely stared at him. From what he had seen as the lights came on, she had not changed position at all. He wondered how she had known to stare at him (at his face, thank God, a part of him noted) in the dark. He stared back, into dark eyes that seemed to have no end to the depths.

He had no idea who she was.

Abruptly she gave a small smile that was at once shy and a little indulgent. He sensed that she knew of his confusion, and as he tried to figure out how they were learning so much about each other, she spoke.

"You are MajorJohnSheppard," she said, without a break between the words. He wondered about that, because he knew the Athosians had more than one name. But still she ran the words together.

"Yes, but most call me Sheppard," he replied. "And you are...?" The pause grew as they continued to stare at each other. He could see the exact moment she understood that he was waiting for her to provide a name, saw the puzzlement cross her face at this.

But then she spoke. "Mahread'zhu," she said, softly. He nodded, sagely, but with no sign of recognition. He had been busy with securing quarters in this new and wondrous city, providing for all the people for whom he was responsible, now grown larger than they had imagined possible at the start of the journey. But assuring their safety hadn't left much time for socialization. Or...much of anything else, the pressure in his groin reminded him. He clenched his teeth a bit in reaction.

The girl—Mahread'zhu, he corrected himself, lowered her head a bit in reaction to his nonreaction. She closed her eyes for a moment, then looked at him again, with a renewed intensity that made him want to back away...or close the distance and crush her to him in fierce desire. He felt his face grow hotter.

"When we left our home during the Wraith's return," she said, in that soft, slightly distant manner the Athosians had, "we were all very frightened. I was young when last I saw the Wraith. Many of the children had never experienced them. We were very frightened. And you were there."

Her words brought a fear within him. He had heard of people who reacted with adoration to people perceived as their saviors, and he knew he did not need that kind of complication. He struggled to sit up, sliding his back along the wall and bringing his knees up both to distance himself and to cover his growing reaction to her.

"Yes, well..." he started.

"During my own panic, I fled and stumbled and fell. Others were also panicked. I could have been injured. But you were there. You lifted me up and asked if I was 'ohkay'." The word sounded slightly foreign to her. "You helped me and I am grateful."

He could no longer stand the intensity of her gaze. Looking away, he muttered, "Forget it. It was nothing. Anyone would have."

He felt a featherlight touch at his hand, looked over to see hers gently brushing his. "But it was you who did. And I have need of assistance again."

His panic was almost a physical thing. He was used to control, and somehow Mahread'zhu had removed all of that. He felt its lack deeply. Control was what he was trained to do. He had to be in control to fly the really big birds back on Earth, the one thing he'd ever wanted to do. Fly faster, farther, higher than anyone, ever, with the fine touch that put him in command.

Only now he was flying faster, harder than ever, without leaving the ground. And this...girl was in charge. In control.

He cleared his throat. "Ah...what kind of assistance do you need?"

Her smile seemed amused. He'd always both hated and loved that look, seen in bars and at parties where the women had known what he wanted, known that they had control. But abruptly her smile faded and she looked at him with need burning out of her. Not a physical need, which helped distract him from his own. It was more internal than that.

"What is love?" she asked him bluntly.

He was floored. And scared. A girl he'd met only once before, so briefly he did not remember it, was in his quarters (Could've sworn I locked that door, he thought to himself), asking him about love. Was she infatuated with him? He did not need this complication.

But the look she turned on him was expectant and patient, not lovestruck. He knew without being able to explain why that she needed to hear an answer from him. Maybe his answer wouldn't be the answer she needed, but he had to try.

"Ah...love is..." He paused, trying to define it. It was impossible. He was fairly sure he'd never experienced it, so defining it was out of the question. The puppy loves and infatuations, the one or two half-starts at a relationship he'd had in life, these did not seem to fit the question Mahread'zhu was asking. Yet he didn't have the heart to disappoint her.

Words from a favorite author of his popped into his mind. "Someone on my world once wrote that love is the condition where someone else's happiness is essential to your own," he said, awkward.

She seemed to ponder this. He could see that it helped on some level, but it was not satisfactory.

"Is it possible to find love, even when you are forced down a path not of your own choosing?" Her voice made his heart break with its raw pain and need.

"I think so, yes. It's rare when we can control the path completely," he said, inadequately, but she seemed to understand his meaning. She looked away from him, leaving him to study her body, renewing his own attraction. He shifted, uncomfortably.

"This world is so small...and my time grows short. But I would wish there were love for the Joining!" Her face was pained as she looked at him.

He could feel the heat drain from his own face as her words hit. "Ah...Mahread'zhu...you know...um. We're kind of strangers to your ways. Could you maybe tell me a little about what you mean by 'joining'?"

Her face was a mix of emotions, startled and amused and confused all at the same time. "You truly have nothing like it on your world?"

He shifted again, uncomfortable. "See, that's just the point. I don't know, because I don't under—"

His words were interrupted by a staccato knock on his door. "Yo!" came a familiar voice on the other side. He turned back to Mahread'zhu, only to find an empty room. He looked around, confused. He was still looking around as his room read his intentions and opened the door. Lieutenant Ford entered, looking annoyingly awake. "Rise and shine!"

Sheppard slid back onto the bed. He hated cheerful morning people.