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, 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 and quotes from existing episodes of the series remain the copyright of the story and teleplay writers.
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 adult 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…
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
Pegasus
Nothing could be worse than the fear that one had given up too soon, and left one unexpended effort that might have saved the world.
Jane Addams
Prologue
She looks down, a churning, broiling mass of emotion; confused, afraid of herself, of this moment, the knife edge she stands upon cutting into her soul. It slices her open, letting her fall in two… the monster she harbours inside—
"We're not that different…"
—and the empathy that fights to be fair, to show… what? Love? Compassion?
"…you're still the only one…"
She kicks out at the fingers of the hand that clings to life, have always worked to cling to life no matter what the galaxy had dealt him, no matter what he had to do to survive. The grip falters this time and it sounds like a bell in her heart; sharp as any dagger. His eyes, sorrowful with the weight of this betrayal she deals him, plead with her for one chance, for the opportunity to prove what he has said and everything she is screams to her to reach down, take his hand, pull him to safety. Show him there is another way.
"Teyla!"
She hears John breathing heavily behind her, can only imagine what he must be thinking. Why doesn't he act? Why doesn't he take this burden from her? Why must it be hers – why must it always be hers?
His voice echoes, a knell inside of her.
"Teyla!"
She takes a breath, kicks again. He falls.
"Tey—!"
She only hears the wind, and the sound of the sudden silence inside.
Chapter 1
"—la!"
She gasped as the silence of her dream became the distant, low booming of explosions and gunfire, and was at least thankful, as she came awake, that wind had not carried the screams this time.
The grip of the hands on her arms was strong, and shook her slightly and the voice called her name again until she opened her eyes.
"Teyla!" Sheppard shook her again. "Teyla, wak—"
"I am awake," she said breathlessly, pushing his hands away from her arms. She didn't want to be touched; didn't deserve the human comfort of it. "We must go?"
He nodded.
"Ronon spotted a Wraith patrol, heading this way, just a couple of klicks out," he said, rising to his feet and offering her a hand. She took it this time and hauled herself upright, nodding to him. "Still nothing from the—"
She shook her head as he gestured towards it. "I fear that the effects of what your scientist tried to do to me may be permanent."
As if this reminded him of the betrayal they'd suffered at the hands of the various Earth agencies, Sheppard took a step away from her and asked, "How are you feeling?"
"For the moment… well enough," she said, trying to keep the edge of anger from her voice. "But the medicine Doctor Beckett gave to me will not keep the symptoms at bay for long, you know that, John."
Before he could answer, the dry, humourless laughter sounded in its triple tones behind them. As Sheppard did, she turned to face their Wraith captive and glared at him.
"You were given the retrovirus," Todd said as his laughter trailed off. "What do you expect?"
"A few less comments from the peanut gallery," Sheppard snapped as he hauled the Wraith roughly to his feet. "When I want your opinion, I'll ask for it."
"And you will," Todd said, his tone almost light, amused, "sooner or later. With the Wraith so close you're going to need my help."
"Yeah, well, that time hasn't come yet, so…" Sheppard shrugged.
"Why take the risks that you did on your home world to ensure you would bring me with you, if you intend only to—?"
The bite of pain caught her unawares and she failed to stifle the sharp cry, doubling over slightly, resting a hand on her thigh to steady herself.
"Teyla?" Sheppard came to her side, his argument with Todd forgotten and took hold of her other, outstretched hand.
She took a deep breath and then squeezed his hand tightly as she straightened up, letting out the breath slowly.
"I am all right," she said on the next breath, trying to wave away his concern. "We must keep moving. We must get back to Atlantis before they cut off our retreat."
"I hate to say this, Sheppard," Ronon said breathlessly as he crested the rise on which they had made their temporary camp, "but she's right. The Wraith are closing in on us, and they're closing fast."
She caught Ronon's eyes and nodded slightly at his expression of concern.
"Atlantis," she said, pulling away from Sheppard and moving past him to lead the way further up over the rise.
**
The City lay crumpled, tilted slightly to one side, her massive superstructure moaning like a wounded animal. Combat engineers scurried back and forth between the most severely damaged parts of her structure, shoring up her integrity, while technicians fought to keep the lifeblood of her systems flowing and operational, working hard to get the shields back online before enemies came upon them again.
"No, no, no," Zelenka called out, and brushing Keller to one side as she tried to dress the cuts and scratches he suffered in the crash landing, crossed the room to the junior technician, pointing to his screen once he got there. "If you cross link those power nodes, the first time someone tries to turn on so much as a light bulb, it will trigger a catastrophic overload in our Naquedah generators, and all these repairs would have been pointless and— Please, Doctor Keller, I am fine."
He brushed at the doctor's hands again as she tried to ease him toward her.
"No, Radek," she said softly, "You're not. You need to stop for a moment. You need to sit down and let me look at that gash on your head."
"And what then, hmm?" he asked irritably. "Who is going to get these systems repaired before the Wraith come?"
"Five minutes, Radek," she said, "that's all I'm asking, I—"
She stopped talking suddenly, and her hands around his arm went slack; began trembling as the colour drained from her face.
"Doctor Keller?" he frowned as he called her name, but she was looking past him and barely breathed the name she spoke.
"Carson?"
Radek turned to watch as Doctor Beckett picked his way through the wreckage toward them. His face was solemn and his eyes sorrowful.
"I'm so sorry, Jennifer," Beckett said quietly as he reached them. "There was nothing I could do. The shard from the explosion was embedded too deeply to be removed safely."
"No," Radek said, uncertainty in his voice. "W-what does this mean exactly? He—"
"Rodney died in surgery just a few moments ago," Beckett concluded, still looking at Keller as he spoke. "I really am very sorry."
Zelenka caught Keller as she stumbled and together with Beckett guided her over to the side of the room where boxes of spare components had been left; eased her to sit down.
"All right, love," Beckett crooned, "Head down now… that's it…"
Beckett rested one hand on the back of her neck, and with the other, gently stroked up and down her back. He looked up at Zelenka then and asked softly, "You think you could find us some water, Radek?"
"Oh, I… of course," he stammered, and crossed the room to where a cooler had been dragged in and set up for the technicians that were working around the clock.
He grabbed a cup and held it under the spout, pressing on the nozzle to release the water into the cup. It was only then he realised his own hand was trembling as much as Keller's had been, as water spilled over the back of his hand.
"Rodney," he whispered, leaning his head against the cooler.
**
A ruddy moon rose steadily behind the mountain they skirted in order to get back to Atlantis by a less than obvious path. With Teyla's condition fading fast they couldn't afford to get caught in a fire fight.
"Wait," Teyla gasped, leaning against one of the few taller rocks to the side of the path. "I must catch my breath."
She shook her head when he approached and offered her his canteen of water, telling him again that she was all right. His hand on her back told him otherwise.
"The hell you are," he told her. "You're burning up."
"What would you have me do, John?" she snapped. "We must keep going. I just need a minute."
The path they followed up the rise had become a steep climb, with impossibly loose scree, likely covering a harder subsurface one side and a mind numbing drop to the other. The last thing Sheppard wanted to hear was the insect-like whine that came from behind them, getting steadily louder.
Teyla heard it too, her head snapped up and she looked back over his shoulder as she forced herself upright.
"Go," he said urgently, pushing at her slightly. He didn't need to turn around to know that if the Darts caught up with them on the narrow path they were as good as fed upon, but if they could make the more solid, level ground at the head of the rise, even with the sheer drop, they stood a chance of avoiding the culling beams.
The first of the Wraith craft screamed past them, flying dangerously low, its wings tilted so that it almost skimmed the side of the mountain as it passed them. If he hadn't been so busy cowering, his head covered and fighting the downdraught that threatened to tip him over the edge, Sheppard might have congratulated the Wraith pilot on an excellent piece of flying, as it was, the trailing Darts occupied what little attention remained to him after his focus on self-preservation was accounted for.
One by one, the Darts banked around again, flying higher than the lead craft, but low enough to be deadly and precise with their strafing assault.
"Teyla, run!" Sheppard yelled as he unfolded from the ground.
She scrambled ahead, at first on all fours until she managed to get her feet under her properly and started to run, putting some distance between them as Sheppard started to rise. As long as Todd cooperated, it wouldn't take him long to catch up with her, and he doubted he'd stay ahead of Ronon for long either, in fact he fully expected the big Satedan to tear past him and sweep Teyla off her feet to carry her the rest of the way.
What happened next was like something out of a nightmare, where you see everything coming and it all happens in slow motion so that it can be burned onto your brain for the rest of your life.
Just as they reached the near safety at the head of the path, the first of the two Darts swung out wide and turned in the air. As the second Dart continued firing up along the pathway, the first opened fire without any hesitation at the ground ahead of Sheppard and it crumbled like Graham crackers.
As he heard Teyla's terrified scream, something hard connected with the side of him, driving him toward the scree that started tumbling a rain of stone chips, and filling the air with the ominous rumble of something heavier following in its wake. A weight settled over his upper torso and his head. The last thing he saw in the rising dust as the pathway behind him began to crumble was Ronon's wheeling arms as his Satedan friend fought to keep his feet in an attempt to ride the loose rock fall down the mountainside.
**
Teyla felt the path beneath her begin to give way and instinct compelled her to jump, but even as she did, she knew the distance was too great, and already she had fallen too far. Her chest collided with the side of the now jagged edge, her arms scraping along the sharp rock as she began to slip, falling again. Her feet wheeled against the crumbling rock face, desperate for purchase; to stop herself from plunging to her death against the broken boulders now below her until her fingers caught the edge, and her shoulders roared in a protest of pain along the entire length of her arms, and down her sides as she came to a jarring halt.
Breathing hurt, and when she looked down between her arms, her already aching head spun from the realisation of how far she would fall if she could not pull herself up. She tried to get her feet to reach the rocks in front of her, but she had smoothed them with her efforts before, and there was nothing against which she could brace herself.
The scuff of a footfall above her made her look up again, into the shape towering over her, still in shadow and wreathed in the settling dust. For several moments the figure stood, immobile, merely looking down on her, breathing slowly, and making no sound, and then the dust cleared, blown away on wind created by the returning Darts, and the moonlight revealed his face.
"Michael!"
A hundred conflicting thoughts and emotions flew through her in a single moment. She had been certain of his death – haunted by it. Relief and pain, and a sharpening of her deep fears flooded through her, then their eyes met.
"Hello, Teyla," he said, his voice steady. He tilted his head as if considering her situation. After many long moments he added, "Ironic… isn't it… that we should meet again in this exact manner – our roles… reversed?"
The downdraught from the Dart hovering overhead finally became too much for the edge of the cliff to withstand, and the surface beneath her left hand gave way. She cried out in fear and added pain as her right shoulder took her weight, her left arm flailing as she tried to reach back to find another handhold.
Instead she met a cool strong grasp, and felt herself lifted away from the lip of the precipice. Michael pulled her to safety and then took a further step back as she leaned, trembling, against his chest. He did not let go of her, but closed his hands around her upper arms.
"Michael…" she managed after a while. It was all her mind could process. The aches in her arms and chest had not subsided, and were now joined by the griping, biting pain in her gut that accompanied her sickness. Her trembling increased and she saw Michael frown. She forced herself to take a breath, it only increased the pain. Beckett's medicine had run its course, it would only worsen now. "I cannot—"
He let go of her arm then, bringing his hand to the side of her neck, and growled, softly.
"What have they done to you?" he demanded. She had to grip the front of the coat to keep from losing balance as he moved his hand, stumbled still, as the pain worsened. She couldn't answer him. Wanted to, but she hadn't the breath and the confusion in her mind was like a brand, burning where once other sensation would have been. The edges of her vision started to fade, darken… she felt his arms shift around her again, had the sense of being lifted and then… nothing.
Chapter 2
The hands on Ronon's body were cool against the burning of his flayed flesh, gentle as the touch of feathers but still Ronon growled in pain as the awareness of his body reached him again.
"Easy, it's all right, lie still. You're safe."
Something about the voice was strangely familiar. He opened his eyes but couldn't see much for the dark of the night around him. Not just dark, but lightless.
"Where am I?" he rumbled.
He heard the crack, and then the green glow of a flare illuminated the immediate area, and Lorne's face swam into view of his blurred vision.
"Pretty much where you fell, I'd say," Lorne answered, and squeezing his eyes closed to force his vision to focus, Ronon looked past Lorne in the direction he was looking. "You and the others were overdue checking back in, so… here we are - the search party."
Ronon tried to sit up. Immediately skewers of pain lanced almost every part of his body, and he growled again, and then louder still as he tried to move his leg.
"Please, you must lie still," the soft, female voice that had spoken earlier sounded again.
"I should let the doc work on you, big guy," Lorne said, and turned on the light atop his P90 to shine it upward over the mountain, over the loose shale that had made itself a new home on the lower, rather than the upper slopes that Ronon and the others had travelled. "Looks like you took one hell of a tumble."
Lying back, Ronon asked, "How long?" he licked his lips, realising suddenly just how dry he was.
"Well over thirty-nine hours… a planetary day, so Zelenka said," Lorne answered.
"What the hell's going on here, Lorne?" Ronon almost punched the ground in his frustration. "The infighting among the Wraith wasn't this bad when we left and we haven't been gone that long."
"Eleven months – almost a year. A lot can happen in a year," Lorne said. "Anyway, according to intel, what little of it there was to be had in the settlements here anyway, after we left things really heated up between the Wraith and Michael's Hybrids. Seems we didn't quite do as much damage to what was left of his organisation after all, pretty much just… drove them underground."
"But Michael's—"
"Dead, yeah," Lorne finished, "but his people were apparently fanatical enough to carry on without him. In a way, you can't blame them, I guess – they're just… carrying on the fight against the Wraith after all. How much different from us is that?"
"We're nothing like them!" Ronon snarled, and in his vehemence, spittle coated his lips. "They—"
"Oh, hey… no," Lorne turned back to him from peering into the dark beyond the light of the flare. "I'm not saying I approve or… or even agree with their methods, just—"
"Major," the field medic looked up at Lorne. "I need to get this man back to the City as soon as we can. I can splint the leg, but it needs to be reset properly – an open fracture like this and—"
Ignoring the pain, Ronon sat up at her words, looking in horror at the jagged edge of his bone sticking out from his lower leg.
"No," he told her, "Sheppard and Teyla—"
"Ronon," Lorne said, a warning tone in his voice. "You let us worry about the Colonel and Teyla."
"They were here!" Ronon insisted. "They were just up ahead of me when the Wraith fired on us."
"I'm sorry," Lorne told him, holding up the life signs detector in his hand. "There's no sign of anyone here except you, and the Jumper's sensors couldn't detect their locator beacons either."
"We gotta find them. We—"
"They're not here, Ronon. We have no choice – we need to get you back to the infirmary before the Wraith come back."
**
Sheppard groaned, and then rolled from his back onto his side, clutching his belly. It felt like every single muscle in his body was pulled, but at least he was still alive.
He was chilled, and something about the place gave him a really uneasy feeling that made him want to keep his eyes closed and lapse back into unconsciousness. Instead, he opened his eyes.
"Oh crap!" he said.
Semi-organic black bars that grew, web like, from the floor and the walls were the first thing to come into his field of vision, and then, as he sat up slowly, the rest of the Wraith holding cell into which he had been dumped.
Naturally he'd been relieved of his tac vest, and anything else that might have proven useful to his escape. Not even so much as a hair pin with which he could have MacGyvered his way out of the cell had been left about his person. It seemed as though the Wraith on this Hive must have learned about the Lantean propensity for hiding things about their person.
As he heard footsteps, he hauled himself to his feet, determined to meet whichever Wraith had come, no doubt to torture information out of him, on his feet. His breath caught when the Wraith came into view, and for some reason he couldn't explain, his gut clenched in the tightness of a fear he hadn't experienced in a long time. He backed up a step as the cell door spiralled open, and Todd came to a halt framed in the oval of it like some parody of a picture frame.
"So, John Sheppard," Todd rumbled, his voice low, "You're finally awake."
The Wraith was back in the long black leather he favoured, his fingers adorned with the glint of armour, and behind him, standing in attendance, were two drones, armed with staff stunners. Sheppard wanted to return some kind of smart remark, lace it with as much sarcasm as he could muster and prove to himself, as well as to Todd, that he wasn't afraid; that everything was under control.
Words failed. He was afraid; nothing was under control and hadn't been since the minute Atlantis had emerged from subspace into the Pegasus Galaxy. For a full ten seconds, by his subconscious count, the Wraith stood there regarding him silently. Eventually, however, Todd spoke.
"Nothing to say?" he accused softly.
"What the hell do you want me to say?" he demanded, his voice was shrill and he tried to force it into a lower register as he part way found his stride at last and went on, "Nice place you've got here – if I'd known this was a housewarming party I would have brought a gift – nice of you to invite me over but I have a curfew and gotta be home by ten-Todd-what-the-hell-is-going-on? How did you—?"
Before Sheppard knew what had hit him, Todd had him by the throat and he was against the rear wall of the cell, his feet not touching the ground. Todd's feeding hand hovered bare inches from his chest.
"The same way any Wraith takes command of another's Hive," Todd snarled, his golden eyes boring into Sheppard, his feeding hand curling a little as he mantled. "I. Proved. Stronger."
"Don't," Sheppard breathed, turning his face to the side, his chest shuddering. Everything was turned on its head, this was all wrong, there was something definitely amiss in the Pegasus Galaxy and John Sheppard didn't like it, or the way he felt so out of control, afraid. "Todd, don't…"
Almost as slowly as the attack had been sudden, Todd lowered him to the floor, though he didn't step away.
"Many things have changed in our absence from this galaxy, Sheppard," he growled softly, and Sheppard didn't miss the threat implied in his words. "But your presence here has allowed me a certain… advantage among Wraith, and it is one that I wish to continue to hold, but…"
"Will you at least tell me what's going on?" he rasped against the too tight grasp around his throat.
Todd let go of him at last, stepped away, and Sheppard leaned over to catch his breath, massaging his throat even as he looked up at Todd, waiting for an answer.
"We are at war," Todd rumbled.
"Nothing new," Sheppard answered, trying to straighten up a little more. "The Wraith were at all about ripping each other's hearts out before we even left Pegasus, we—"
"With the one you call Michael and his Hybrids," Todd said, and Sheppard felt as though the Wraith had just ripped open his gut and pulled out his intestines. A creeping, cold dread seeped downward, filling his legs with heavy jello.
"You're wrong, you—" he started. "Michael's dead."
"Evidently not," Todd said.
"I watched the mass murdering son-of-a-bitch get kicked off the top of Atlantis' control tower," he protested. "Teyla—"
"Whatever you think you saw, John Sheppard," Todd interrupted again, "you were mistaken. Wraith have seen this Abomination you created, and he is very much alive."
"Mother fucker!" Sheppard breathed, giving voice to his dread.
"Come."
Todd turned on his heel and exited the cell, not even waiting for him to catch up, as if he knew Sheppard would. He did, barely flinching when the drones fell into step behind him.
"Where are we going?" Sheppard asked, and almost collided with the Wraith as Todd stopped walking and turned to regard him with his head tilted to one side, a feral gleam in his eyes. Sheppard didn't like the expression on Todd's face one little bit. He liked Todd's answer even less.
"To see the Queen," he purred.
**
She stands at the viewing port, looking out on the colourful, swirling mass of gasses outside the regenerating Hive. The room is warm – kept that way for her, she knows this. She hears the door behind her open, but doesn't turn. She knows the rhythm of those steps well enough.
She sighs as he stops, barely a breath away from touching her, her breathing quickens slightly afterward, waiting.
"Teyla?"
He says her name, a question… always the same… always questioning. She turns to face him. His face is half hidden in the shadows of the room, which pulses with a strange almost blue light. She tries to take a breath, to answer him, but nothing comes… and the room around her dissolves, becoming liquid… becoming—
**
Teyla's eyes flew open, and panic consumed her. She was fully immersed in some kind of fluid, drowning… no, not drowning – choking. There was something filling her mouth, in her throat; something closing her nostrils. She couldn't breathe, and confusion filled her mind amid the panic and fear. She couldn't see.
-stop fighting-
Only when the presence manifested out of the wordless hiss of whispers that filled her head and pressed on her the importance of compliance did her frantic thrashing slow, and then stop as she felt movement and that she crested the surface of the fluid in which she was immersed.
She sensed movement behind her, and then felt hands at the side of her neck, her face before she gagged as movement inside her throat, and the hardness filling her mouth withdrew, and she took in a huge, gasping breath, her hand flailing out again as the panic returned in full force.
-you are safe-
A hand closed around hers, and moments later, arms circled her – lifted her into the cold of the air. Even as she started trembling from the sudden change, the softness of fabric enveloped her before the strength of the arms surrounded her again. She could feel the warmth of a body connected to the arms, and craving the warmth, as she shivered. Her memory was hazy. She remembered the fall, catching herself, being pulled to safety and—
"Michael!" she gasped.
"Yes, Teyla," the voice came from the body attached to the arms surrounding her. A part of her screamed at her to pull away, to put distance between them, but she had neither the strength nor the desire to move, "I am here."
"Where am I?" she asked. "Why—?"
She stopped herself – one question at a time. She knew instinctively that he would give her time to ask them, though she also knew he might not answer.
"Safe," he told her.
"That is not an answer."
He almost chuckled, and then said, "You are aboard my Hive. We have retreated from the battle to a safe haven, so that I could administer the treatments necessary to counter the harm to which you were exposed."
"What do you mean?" She turned her head up toward his, even though she could not see him.
"You were dying," he told her, "in stripping away the Iratus elements of your DNA encoding, it became unstable. With nothing to stabilise them, your cells began to disintegrate."
She shuddered and his arms tightened around her.
-do not fear- -you are safe-
"I do not understand," she told him. "The retrovirus was given to those of my people you had changed, Kanaan among them. This did not happen to him."
"They were given a modified version of Beckett's serum," he told her. "You… were exposed to the original."
She turned her head, pressing her face into his shoulder as the enormity of what had happened seeped through the confusion in her mind. Tears gathered in her unseeing eyes, and a sob rose in her chest. She refused to let go of it.
"I cannot see." she told him.
"A temporary side effect of the treatment," he told her, "In order to ensure your survival it was necessary to completely rewrite your DNA with an adaptive retrovirus, programmed with your original genetic code. You woke before the process was completed, a… miscalculation on my part, but I didn't want to sedate you too heavily and risk a complete system shutdown during the process."
"How long?" she asked.
"Does it matter?" he countered.
She closed her fingers into the fabric of the shirt and tried to shake him with what little strength she had. It wasn't much and he didn't move.
"How long?" she implored.
He hesitated.
"Michael, please… tell me."
"Nine days," he said softly, almost apologetic.
The words, however softly spoken, tore through her like whirling blades, and the pain of it shattered the cage she'd made around the sob in her chest. It burst from her as a cry, dredging the agony of all that had happened from inside of her and giving it voice. She struggled weakly in his arms, trying to push him away almost as much as she needed him to hold her. Everything else was dissolving around her. He was her one constant. She needed that – needed him.
He held her until she had exhausted herself in her struggles and simply wept against his chest. She felt him move then, and a cold, wet strand of her hair lifted away from her face. She moved her head to turn her face up toward the touch – instinct… a longing for comfort in this comfortless galaxy.
"I'm… sorry, Teyla," he said gently. "Anything less would have been fatal and my promise to you still holds."
Chapter 3
Sheppard fell back against the floor of the cell, his hands falling away from the leather bracer at Todd's wrist. He groaned as his back connected with the ground and then trembling, he pushed at the Wraith's wrist when Todd reached for him again.
"No," he managed to force out the word. "Don't…"
"Don't be so stubborn," Todd said. "Your body cannot sustain with these injuries."
"Then I die," Sheppard answered fatalistically. Pushing himself up on his elbows, he dragged himself back and away from Todd until he found the wall of the cell. "It doesn't matter; my people are pretty much screwed anyway."
Todd frowned deeply.
"This isn't like you, John Sheppard," he said, crouching to be closer to Sheppard's level. "To give up…"
"Yeah well… maybe I'm just… maybe I'm tired," Sheppard answered, finding some strength in his anger. "Maybe I can see, for once, the pointlessness of fighting. Atlantis is finished; crashed on some border world light years from anywhere, completely cut off from any hope of reinforcement. Even if we weren't, you know as well as I do that – the way we left Earth – we're all more likely to get… dragged back in irons than given military support. We can't fight both the Wraith and Michael's forces at the same time with the resources we have. We're done. It's not giving up. It's being realistic."
"Hmmm," Todd rumbled. "And what if I told you that you wouldn't have to fight against the Wraith?"
Sheppard rasped with laughter, and the laughter became a cough that filled his mouth with the taste of metal. He covered his mouth with his sleeve as he coughed. It came away bloodied.
"Would you listen to yourself?" he said. "Not fight? That's not the message I get from your new Queen through these last… however many days of torture. I—"
He started coughing again, finding it hard to catch his breath; wracked with spasms that left him weak and almost retching.
"Sheppard…" Todd growled, but he waved the concern aside.
"Face it, Todd," he gasped at last. "You chose the wrong basket to put your eggs in this time."
Todd reached for him, and this time he was too weak to push the Wraith away as he hauled him from the floor and carried him to the bench that served for a cot at the side of the cell.
"I do not think so. She may be strong – has to be in order to hold the Alliance as its Primary, but…" the Wraith murmured as he covered Sheppard with the thin blanket. "It is only a matter of time…"
"It's over, Todd," Sheppard whispered.
"Rest," Todd said softly, pausing for a moment only to add, archly, "Save your strength."
**
Long since rested, bathed and dressed in the clothes that Michael had provided for her, Teyla stood before the full length viewing portal in the quarters she had been given, staring out into the starry expanse in which they hung like a huge black diamond.
Shifting her focus she gazed at herself, taking in the sight as if seeing herself for the first time. The soft leather of the long skirt she wore was cut in the Athosian style, leaving her free for movement and, if necessary, combat. The linen shirt was also of a style she was accustomed to, that she knew Michael had seen her wear. Both were of a deep, almost burgundy shade. It was very regal… all save the IV port still bandaged into her arm.
Movement behind her shifted her focus again, and she glanced in the mirror she had made of the viewing port to examine Michael, waiting patiently for her notice. Gone were the unflattering brown leathers he had worn during his assault on Atlantis. He appeared before her now in the high collared, long black leather coat of a commander; unrelieved by the black leather pants he wore beneath.
Teyla nodded, letting him know she had seen him, and then began to move away from the window. He moved with her, paralleling her across the quarters, but coming no closer than he had been.
Three days. Three days since she had woken, restored – since he had saved her… since he had asked that she make an impossible decision, stay and live… and allow the galaxy to live with her… or step aside, and allow the tide of everything the Lanteans had set in motion to sweep past and take with it all that was… the tide of the past that had caught up to them all at last. He had offered her another way.
He hadn't pressured her since, had acceded to almost every request she had made, and attended her only politely – somewhat distant – to administer the medications she required. When she woke that morning she knew her answer… had given in to feelings that had haunted her since first he had all but wept in her arms in the dark of a moment, shared, that had been the seed of her compassion through many long years, and to those newly realised… newly admitted.
In doing this, perhaps she had, at last, reached down, as she should have done before, taken his hand and pulled him to safety.
"Teyla?" he asked when, after a moment, she had not spoken.
"There is… something you have asked of me," she said, still not turning to face him.
"I ask you to be what you have always been," he said quietly, "nothing more."
"What is that, Michael?" she asked, turning at last, and under the weight of her decision, tears fell as the moment of cusp approached. "What am I to you?"
He took several long, slow breaths, just watching as the fall of tears onto her cheeks continued. Slowly then, he approached her and she fought to hold her ground, reached up to press a hand to his shoulder, halt his approach, but also needing to feel his strength, to be on solid ground.
"You... Teyla... have always been my hope... my salvation. You are the one beauty that remains in this sordid... blighted galaxy." His voice was full of the bitterness of pain on the last part of the sentence. He took another breath, calming himself.
"No," she whispered. "I am—"
"Stay with me, Teyla..." he said, and breathing out the rest of his breath he formed words that were an almost fervent whisper, "...My Queen..."
-my queen- -my queen- -my queen-
Trembling, she finally answered him. "Yes."
Michael gasped softly, and tentatively drew her closer to him, she closer her eyes, only opening them again when she felt the back of his hand tilt her face up to his. Their eyes met.
"Yes, Teyla?" he queried, "and all that it means?"
"Yes."
"For all that your treatments have given me a... glimpse of humanity, Wraith know little of... human love. Certainly our devotion to our Queen is paramount, consuming and her... affections jealously guarded. The fortunate may enjoy her momentary passion, but..." Almost hesitantly he moved his fingers over her tear-stained cheek. "This... long... slow... burning inside is..."
"Michael," Teyla whispered, "There is so much, I... My son, what of Torren? My friends – what will you do with them in this grand campaign of yours? And what of human love? What of this long, slow burning? If you cannot give it; cannot learn what it means to embrace that part of you, what then?"
She moved her hand to rest against the cool of his cheek as he looked away, bringing his eyes to hers again, the tips of her fingers resting in his hair.
"I need that, Michael," she whispered when his eyes finally met hers.
His breathing quickened.
"You must understand," he began, "such things between us—"
Suddenly she felt an explosion of jealousy along their connection. It built a needful rage inside of him... The tension in him increased and his arms tightened around her.
"What is it?" she asked fearfully.
"I will kill any man that touches you," Michael growled, holding her closer still, barely apart from her any more.
"And yet you will not touch me yourself?" she said.
"I will not hurt you, Teyla!" he gasped, his hand moving into her hair almost in spite of his obvious self control.
"No," she whispered, terrified inside. She breathed in snatches, almost shivering with need. "You will not. You cannot. You—"
Michael's lips captured hers, cutting off what she had been going to say.
Teyla's hands tightened against the leather of his coat, and the fingers of her other hand slipped into the hair at the side of his head as she opened to his kiss.
Mutual desire flooded through the mind link they shared, frightening in intensity, as though a lifetime of images, or memories were passing between them in a heartbeat.
Michael suddenly tore himself from the kiss, breathless and trembling.
"No! Teyla!" he gasped.
Just as breathless, Teyla gasped his name. "Michael."
"Forgive me," he whispered, still fighting to bring his breathing under control.
"No," she denied him and her denial was like a slap to him. She saw his face crease in the agony she felt through the bond. She caressed his cheek softly.
"There is nothing to forgive," she explained.
He closed his hand around her forearm, to lift away the caress. As he did she felt a twinge of pain through her arm, and looking down, saw the run of blood from where their passions had dislodged the IV port. He growled softly, cursing himself for his lack of vigilance, then he said, "You are hurt."
Before she could answer he shifted his arms around her and lifted her up to bring her to the bed. Setting her down gently, he went to gather swabs and a fresh port.
"Michael, please," she said softly, not understanding what had happened, still reeling from the intensity of the sensations that had been alive around her.
"They will never allow you to leave, Teyla," he said as he cleaned and dressed the old IV site. "You know that as well as I do – no matter what promises you may have made to me."
"It is not their choice," she told him.
"Yet still you ask what will become of them in my vision of the future," he said without anger or malice, only sadness.
"Because they are my friends," she answered.
"No," he said sorrowfully, "because you fear to be without them. I was wrong, Teyla."
Michael's voice was soft and full of regret, and his hand came to rest gently on her shoulder.
"Michael?" she was suddenly afraid of what he was going to say; could not look up from where his hand rested against her shoulder.
"Look at me," he said, "please."
Slowly, she lifted her eyes to his, and almost sobbed at the look of anguish she saw in his eyes.
-when you are well I will release you to them. I will always be here and you have only to call for me and I will be at your side. I give you my life, Teyla Emmagan, and if you should return to me…-
"My Queen," he whispered, and then releasing her began to move away, "Teyla..."
"Stay with me," she craved, suddenly afraid for him.
"There is work I must attend to," he said softly, and with a slight inclining of his head, he dismissed himself from her presence.
Teyla watched him go, her eyes quickly blurring. She fought to breathe as she was suddenly left alone with the agony of her tears.
**
"I'm telling you, it doesn't make any sense," Lorne's voice was sharp as he rounded on Zelenka in the course of his pacing.
"I don't care that it doesn't make sense," Zelenka said, pulling up the display onto the screen. "I've analysed the trajectory of every single ship that was in theatre when we left the planet, and those three Hive ships moved directly into the field of fire between the ones firing on us and Atlantis."
"No way," he said, staring incredulously at the screen.
"Way," Zelenka said, his Czech accent making the word seem strange. "I'm telling you, they were protecting us."
"Any luck in getting the Stargate operational?" he asked.
"Some, but I don't know how much good it will do us," Zelenka said, pushing his glasses up in worry. "If Earth were going to send someone after us they would have done that already. It's been twelve days since we arrived here, they'd already be more than half way here, even with the head start that we had."
"I know that, Doc," Lorne sighed, "but at least they deserve a warning about what they're coming into."
"Well… we'll know soon enough," Zelenka said, "We plan on trying to dial the new Athosian home world first thing tomorrow. If it works then I guess we can try to get a message to Stargate Command and whichever ship they sent after us… if they're not already out of range."
Lorne sighed, but clapped Zelenka on the back, turning as he heard the footsteps approaching the Control Room.
"Major," Beckett greeted him, nodding, "You wanted to see me."
"It just… It occurred to me," Lorne answered, smiling as he led Beckett to the commander's office along the balcony, "that no one bothered to thank you for flying the ship away from the middle of the battle zone. It can't have been easy."
"In all honesty, no," Beckett answered solemnly, "but better than being stuck there. How are repairs going?"
"Easier now that the City's level," Lorne answered, looking out, through the broken glass to the relative calm of the ocean they'd found as their new home. "Still a lot to do, though."
"Aye," Beckett said, and sighed, "Colonel Sheppard?"
"We're limited as to where we can search. If it's out of range of the Jumpers, then…" he trailed off with a shrug.
"I understand," Beckett answered. "Still no luck finding a world within Jumper range that has a Stargate?"
Lorne shook his head, and added, "Even if we did, I doubt we have the materials necessary for setting up even a temporary Alpha site."
"Sheppard will be all right," Beckett said, putting a reassuring hand onto Lorne's shoulder. "He'll hold on. He always does."
"I only hope you're right, Doc," Lorne said. "Only hope you're right."
Chapter 4
It was the change in the vibration from the ship that woke her, and her heart sank as she realised that they'd left hyperspace. The sinking feeling became near panic as she woke still further, and saw the edge of the rotating world through the edge of her view port.
She reached for her robe, wrapping its almost warm silk around her, and crossed the room, barefoot to stand before the portal, looking down on the world to which he would abandon her.
"Teyla…"
She had no idea how long she had been standing, looking out at the browns and greens and blue spinning beneath her before she heard his voice. He sounded broken, exhausted, and when she turned to face him his eyes were filled with the haunted agony of a loss yet to happen.
"Michael, I—"
-don't speak-
…I cannot bear this…
Her eyes filled with tears, blurring her vision and she began to turn away, reaching for the port as if she could touch the sphere below, not to bring it closer, but to push it away. His hand closed around her arm before her fingers could reach the cool transparent surface, and she turned back, into his waiting kiss.
His arms closed around her, the leather warm through the thin fabric of her robe. She barely had the time to process the feel of it before his fingers slid up into her hair, and his lips parted hers to allow the possessive desperation of his tongue, sweet within her mouth. She sobbed into the kiss and wrapped her arms around his shoulders, standing on the tips of her toes to meet the passion of his kiss.
Both were breathless as it ended, and she drew her hands forward to fumble at the catch beneath his chin, unfasten his heavy, long leather coat, and through it all his hands held steady against her, strong and supportive, and warming with the lightness of such a touch.
…you are savage and gentle in turns…
He chuckled, sliding his fingertips away to brush against her hips as he released her momentarily, allowing her to slip her fingers beneath the lapels of the now unfastened coat and push it back from his shoulders to fall along his arms and to the floor.
-which would you rather have me be?-
…show me who you are…
He reached for her again and she stepped willingly toward him, felt his arms circle around her again and this time lifted her from the ground. She wound her arms around his shoulders once more and let her head come to rest against his shoulder as he carried her across the room, to set her down gently, graze her collar bone with his fingers as he drew away just long enough to remove his heavy boots, before she reached for him again, cold without him, drawing him to cover her.
He rumbled softly as his lips found hers again, the vibration of it awakened sensations within her, awareness of his weight over her, his arms surrounding her, and of his fingers in her hair that tilted back her head as the kiss ended to allow hot, open mouthed kisses to descend over her neck and shoulders.
Her back arched to bring her body closer to his, craving his heat, needing to be subsumed by the burning he had claimed was his, and gasped softly as his hands trailed slow caresses over her soft curves, to be followed by his worshipful kisses.
She leaned up on trembling arms, reaching for him again when his kisses took him too far from her, slipped her fingers under the fabric of his shirt, to run oversensitive fingertips over his skin, even as he cradled her face between his hands to bring her lips to his and pushed the robe from her shoulders, drawing away from the kiss.
She opened her eyes, and voiced the warmth that burst inside her as she watched his eyes moving over her body as the robe fluttered to pool, like a waterfall around her, captured only by her arms. She let go of him long enough to free herself, then reached for his shirt, needing to feel his skin against hers, sitting up fully as he reached to draw her to him. She knew he had seen the desire in her mind.
Both trembled as the softness of her breasts came to rest against his humanised chest, as his arms tightened again around her, even as she clasped him closer still and raised her face against him to kiss and nip at the skin of his neck, his collar bone and down over his chest as his fingers walked in slow caresses over her back. His soft moan was a symphony in her heart.
She pulled away to bring her kisses lower and gasped at the mess of scars that laced his chest, and frowning in a transference of agony, ran her fingers the length of one that ran from his shoulder to his hip.
"It is nothing," he whispered, cupping her face in his hand to bring her gaze to his.
"Michael?" she questioned softly.
"The Wraith…? The Genii…? Lanteans…?" he shrugged slightly, "Forgotten now, they were so many."
He kissed her again before she could answer, a subtle pressure guiding her to lie back as he rose over her again, cupping the fullness of her breast in his hand as he settled beside her, drawing his kisses over the side of her jaw, toward her neck, nipping softly as he teased the sudden ache of her nipple with the pass of his thumb.
-touch me-
…never enough…
-it is a beginning-
She turned her head as she lifted her hands to run the touch of her fingers over him again, mapping the scars with the infinite sadness of her empathy and kissed him deeply, moaning into the kiss as his fingers trailed lower over her belly, alive and sensitive to his touch.
Deftly she freed the hard length of him from the confines of his clothes, barely noticed as he slipped them from his body, only knew, when he gathered her close again, that they were skin to skin, heat to heat, and lost in their mutual desire.
…or our end…
"Look at me, Teyla," he murmured as he barely brushed against the heat of her centre, and dizzy with sensation she met his eyes, falling into them with her own as he finally claimed her body in her willing surrender.
Wraith enough to be acute, yet human enough to be a deeply arousing balm, his still ridged length played over each sensitivity inside of her, and she cried out for him, nearly losing herself to him as his almost growling moan of pleasure wound around her.
Holding to stillness barely long enough to catch a trembling breath, the bond between them tightened. Walls tumbled, desires became shared and two disparate souls mingled, conjoined, becoming one. Then he moved, and she moved with him, back arched, rising to meet the falling thrust of his length inside of her; entwining her legs with his and drawing him deeper still, her whole body pulsing with their shared desire.
He gasped, almost as if in pain, and broke the kiss they shared, but she reached for him, winding her fingers into his hair and drawing his lips back to meet with hers again, plundering his mouth with her tongue until he moaned and trembled over her.
…you are holding back – do not…
-I must, I— -
…no. show me who you are…
She broke from the kiss and both threw back their heads, thrusting to meet each other with the freedom of passions unchecked. She felt him draw back and surge into her again, moaned as he did with the sensations that spread through her at his answer to nature, to need, all given for her.
Their movements quickened, their bodies moving as one, he possessed her, yet she knew he was hers entirely, body and soul they belonged as one. Emotion… sensation… each filled her with a rising heat, a glorious bright tension that spiralled around her like the DNA of the very universe itself. She cried out with each movement, breathless from it… awareness of him over her, inside of her… part of her, until he was all that she was, and she knew, without seeing, without knowing that she was all that he knew.
It began slowly. Almost pain and yet so far from it the ecstasy of it consumed her, broke her apart to reach the very heart of her being which shattered in climax as the brightness inside became too much, and she trembled with it, every part of her awash with breathless fulfilment as she felt his pulsing heat flooding her with his seed.
He kissed her again, rejoining the circle and her mind followed her body into the splintering deathlessness of their shared climax and she felt, as if vision were sensation, the descent of a bright sun into a darkened lake, where far from extinguishing, it burned brighter still.
-see me-
…Michael…
-yes – see me-
Overwhelmed, taking the vision to hold in her heart, she began quietly sobbing in his arms, and he held her close, his head resting against hers, as his tears bathed her face, and she understood that he knew she had seen.
**
"Defensive positions!"
"Incoming!"
Lorne turned as the shouts went up around the newly established Alpha site.
"Where the hell did they come from?" he yelled, grabbing one of the airmen as the man ran nearby, hefting his weapon. "This place was clear."
"Not any more, Sir."
"Damn it!" Lorne cursed softly, snatching up his own weapon and joining many others, ineffectually firing skyward as the three Darts swept past, as if in some kind of parody of a military fly-by, then powered away toward the atmosphere as they crested and passed the woodland that bordered the Alpha site.
For many long moments afterward, there was silence – tense and unmoving, which dissolved into nervous mutterings among the men and women of the assembled teams, confused – Lorne not the least of them.
"What the hell just happened?" he asked no one in particular, then realising he should be doing something, added, "Check the sensors – find out what's going on, I want um… I want to know what's in orbit, I want to know—"
"Sir, life signs detector is picking up a single reading, heading this way," one of the airmen reported, "repeat, one life sign, incoming on our six."
Lorne turned through one hundred and eighty degrees, staring into the darkness beneath the trees.
"The woods…" he breathed.
A moment later he was running, alongside several other airmen and marines, all with their weapons aimed at the tree line. It didn't even occur to him that it might have been overkill for a single enemy.
What broke the trees, however, was no enemy.
"Teyla?" Lorne blinked in surprise, and then seeing her stumble called out, "Teyla!"
"Hold your fire," one of the others called the order to the assembled, "It's a friendly."
"Hold your fire!" The order went down the line.
Unheeding, Lorne dropped his P90 and hurried out to meet her, reaching for her as soon as he could. She was weeping, and his stomach clenched in sudden fear. He'd never seen her weep before.
"It's all right," he told her, finding himself breathless, "I've got you. You're safe."
He wrapped an arm around her back, pulling her other arm over his shoulder as though she needed support, but unable to see any injuries that would be causing her such distress.
"Fall back," he called out, "defensive manoeuvres."
Teyla shook her head, and Lorne slowed, to turn and look at her.
"Teyla?" he asked softly.
She drew in a huge breath, and Lorne could almost feel the pain of it in his own chest. He frowned.
"It is all right," she told him, her voice thick with the tears she forced to a halt in order to speak. "I am… alone."
He didn't miss the hitch in her voice, and frowned still further.
**
The Wraith Queen stalked around behind him, her fist closed around his hair, pulling his head back painfully.
"Liar!" she accused, the words swam around in his head as her mind pushed painfully against his.
"John Sheppard – Lieutenant Colonel: United States Air Force. Serial n—" he broke off with a cry as the Queen dug her nails into his throat and raked them down toward his chest. His shirt, already in tatters, was little protection against the slicing pain of it. Drawing a sharp breath, with angry fear he taunted, "Why don't you then – bitch!"
Acutely aware of everything around him, he heard Todd's slight growl from behind and to his left and silently, bitterly prayed the Wraith commander would not interfere. He just wanted it over with. He couldn't take it any more.
Instead, the Wraith female backhanded him across the room, following, demanding answers, to straddle him where he fell.
"Where is the one that warned you?" she snarled. "Who is he? Show me!"
"I don't—" he gasped, casting a glance Todd's way.
"Lies!" she cried, mantling over him. "Lies!"
"John Shep—"
Her feeding hand flashed forward, impacted hard against his chest and he felt its deep bite, the spiralling rush of painful connection and Sheppard tensed, expecting the searing, rending agony he recalled from before, when Todd had fed on him in Genii captivity.
It never came.
Instead, gasping and, beginning to convulse, the Queen felt back, releasing him and toppled sideways.
As confusion rose up to surround Sheppard with a gathering gloom, a rush of black flew across the room toward the Queen. Todd caught her hand in one of his even as she reached for her pendant, and with the other tore it free, cast it out of reach, and held her until her paroxysm ended and she fell to stillness, the fire of hate dead in her eyes.
"What…?" Sheppard gasped as Todd came to him and eased him up from the floor.
"We must get you off the Hive," Todd answered, "And quickly. It will not be long before they feel the absence of the Queen, and I must be ready to provide them with the answers and the leadership they need."
"But I thought—" Sheppard started, and then again, "She was your—"
"I needed her to establish a foothold within the Alliance, yes," Todd purred starting to lead him toward the door, "but her presence was becoming… bothersome. I will hold my position even without her, but not if I harbour you here. Come. It is not far to the Dart Bay."
"That's it?" Sheppard said, stumbling. "After all that, you're letting me go?"
He gestured back toward the Queen, and to her chamber, and metaphorically to all the pains he had suffered during his captivity.
"Yes," Todd said simply. "You need to be with your own kind."
Sheppard shook his head. "I just… I don't get you."
"Oh," Todd growled, "you understand me well enough, John Sheppard. We are not so different after all."
Epilogue
The surface of the water was wreathed in a rising, creeping mist that shone a hazy blue in the light of the moon that darted, like a fugitive, in and out among scudding clouds.
Teyla stood at the window, her fingertips barely brushing the glass, and looked out across the wind-ripple water toward the far horizon and the star speckled blue black above. When she heard the footsteps behind her she closed her eyes and sighed, a long, slow sigh.
"Teyla?"
Opening her eyes again, she raised her face toward the partially covered moon, and speaking softly asked, "Do you think that we did enough?"
"What do you mean?" he asked softly.
She turned to him then, and stepped across the ribbon of light between them to take Torren from his arms. She cradled her son close, resting her forehead against his for a moment.
"To make right the harm we have done here, among our worlds," she explained, glancing in guilty sorrow toward Kanaan. "Was there not one thing we could have done that might have saved… everything?"
Kanaan sighed softly and, reaching out, laid a strong and knowing hand on her shoulder.
"I know, Teyla," he told her quietly. "I have always known. But you… you have lived with that terrible fear for far too many years. It is time to let it go. It is done, and you have never given up."
"But—"
"No," he said, squeezing her shoulder, then his voice dropping to a whisper, finished, "If you truly want to save the worlds, Teyla, first… you must save your heart."
Fin