NOTES: My most recent story - only just finished! I don't know how much more I'll be writing in Stargate Atlantis after this. The show is over, say goodbye, and not too many people are reading this (or, if they're reading this, they never say 'thank you', which is more or less the same thing). Thank you to the handful of reviewers who've kept me going these last couple of years - it's been a pleasure to write for you. Without you, I'd have turned my back on SGA a long time ago. As swan songs go, this probably isn't the best, but it's what I had in me, and I hope you enjoy!

Love, thanks, and blessings,

Tielan.


A Kingdom, Broken

prologue

Teyla watched him pack his things away - so few things, a scanty pack. He had never quite become accustomed to Atlantis, had never been fully comfortable in the city.

"And you will let Halling know where you are?"

He looked up, a faint smile of understanding on his face. "Every opportunity I have. Teyla..."

"I know why you feel this should be done..."

"But you do not understand it." They had always seen each other clearly, even as children. The view had become hazy during their adolescent years when she had longed to fight the Wraith and he had only seen the survival of their people. Then, during the years she was in Atlantis, they had grown apart still more - and it was only when he had invited her to share his bed that they had seen each other clearly again.

Yet, in some things, Kanaan was still opaque to Teyla; and he had confessed that, at times, her motives were inexplicable to him.

Right now, it was his decision to leave the city, their son, and her, and go out looking for Michael's bases that was confusing her. He had never craved adventure before, Teyla did not understand why he was seeking it now.

He saw her pensive gaze and drew the straps on his pack closed before coming over to her. "Teyla, you have lived in Atlantis so long - a part of these people, a part of their ways. It is...different, for you. You were accepted before you bore Torran."

"Motherhood is sacred to them, too."

"Special," he corrected. "Not sacred. Their parenting ways are not ours - you have seen how little they are involved in Torran's keeping, Teyla. That is not the way of Athos. And...it is less acceptable for the fathers to care for their children."

She stared at him, a long moment of dawning realisation. She had seen the surprise in the faces of the men and women of the city when she'd first said that Kanaan would care for their son. It had been quite clear that the burden of child-raising was borne by the women of Earth, along with the child-bearing, but until then, it had not occurred to Teyla just how different it might be for a man to raise a child.

"Have any of them insulted you?"

Kanaan's mouth tilted at the corners. "No more, I imagine, than you suffered when you first came here."

"And yet you are leaving."

"But not for myself." He took her by the shoulders, his fingertips brushing across her bare skin. "Teyla... Our son will grow up among these people. This is your choice as his mother, and I would not gainsay it. The Lanteans have much to teach him and much to show him of how to live. And his mother fights the Wraith for his future." Fingers brushed past her cheek, tenderly.

"There is a 'but' in there," Teyla said, keeping her voice light, although she could already sense what it was.

"I would be a father of whom he can be proud. And the Lanteans do not value fatherhood as do our people. It is not in their upbringing, they can accept it, and yet..." Kanaan trailed off. "Raising a child has no intrinsic value among them."

She had noticed that, also. Her advice was asked for less and less by her team-mates, her presence among them less welcome. Perhaps they did not sneer at her motherhood, but they were unsympathetic to her situation. Not all Atlantis behaved in such a way, but many did. It sometimes seemed as though she'd ceased to exist once she'd given birth, with nothing of value to offer the expedition beyond the fruit of her womb.

It had hurt - she would not deny that it stung - and she had taken refuge in Kanaan's presence and the joy and beauty of her son.

"Teyla..."

"We could return to our people."

Kanaan brushed back her hair, gently. "And you would be content?"

"Yes," she lied, even as she knew he saw the truth in her eyes.

"You would not," he said. "And could our people protect him as Atlantis does?"

"Michael is dead," she said. They had retrieved the body and burned it to ash on one of the piers, a great fire that had burned from sunset until midnight. Teyla had watched every moment of it, holding her precious son in her arms and telling herself that he was gone.

What was it that Colonel Carter had once murmured? Ding, dong, the witch is dead.

"He made a duplicate of Dr. Beckett," said Kanaan.

"And Carson was certain this was the original."

Even so, Teyla had suffered her own pangs of fear, lying awake at night and staring into the dark. But there were some deep-rooted trees to which she must cling when the gale came, and this was one of them.

He kissed her, long and deep, and she knew it to be goodbye. "I wish I could be as sure. Teyla... I do this for many reasons - and in all of them, the choice is made. I am going."

Teyla knew better than to argue after that. Kanaan was a quiet man, but when he chose his path, he could be as stubborn as a hathii.

She held her son by the door of Mr. Woolsey's office as Kanaan submitted his desire to leave Atlantis, and did not flinch when Kanaan spoke of the desire to make his son proud of him in the way of the Lanteans.

She did not stumble as she went down the stairs with him, showed only a smile as he made his respectful goodbyes to Ronon and his more distant ones to Colonel Sheppard, Rodney, and the others who came to see him off.

She did not weep when he bent to kiss her, swift and brief and bitter, nor when his hand cradled Torran's head and he pressed his lips to the downy crown.

Teyla watched him go through the Stargate, out of Atlantis, and out of her life, without betraying her grief and anger and regret.

Then she turned on her heel as the wormhole closed, and took her son back to her room, alone.


Chapter One

In the cool Athos air, thick with the scents of roasting meat and celebratory incense, John was glad of the insulation of his leather jacket and the warmth of the hot ruus wine in his hand. Maybe it wasn't Athosian-style clothing, but the Athosians were used to temperatures like these - one of the reasons they'd picked this planet to settle on in the first place.

"John." Halling strode across the uneven ground, a mug of warmed ruus wine in his hand. "Do you enjoy the night?"

"It's pretty good so far," he said, easing himself back against the fence line that runs along the field border. Behind them, the Athosian village sat, mostly silent, and before them, the firelights and the shadows dancing around them seared bright and dark across John's retina. "You guys know how to have a good time."

Halling's long face stretched in a grin. "Life is a celebration, John," he said. "To be alive, to be loved - it is worth celebrating."

"I'll drink to that," John said, and clinked his mug against Halling's and took a deep draught of the ruus wine - sweeter and fruitier than John liked, but with an alcoholic kick that hit like a fist in the belly as it was swallowed.

"So," Halling murmured as they watched the dancers around the fire. "Teyla tells me that you are...together, now."

It was habit that made John hesitate, not reluctance to admit it. "Yeah," he said at last. "We haven't exactly been advertising it."

"The signs are there for those who can read you," said Halling simply. "But you need not fear the Council opposing it. You have proven yourself time and time again. There won't be trouble."

"Good to know."

John couldn't really care what the Athosian Council thought. As far as he was concerned, his relationship with Teyla was rooted in friendship and alliance, and where else they took it was nobody's concern but theirs. He'd already alleviated one set of concerns from Woolsey and Stargate Command, so he was a little belligerent about having to balance things out on the Athosian side as well.

But there were questions. There were always questions. Some of them were even John's.

"Have you heard from Kanaan lately?"

"Not in three seasons," Halling said. "We believe he is dead; for by now, he would have sent us word if he were alive."

"I'm sorry." It was a perfunctory condolence. John had never been comfortable with Kanaan, and Kanaan had never been comfortable with him. They'd never said why; in hindsight, they'd never needed to.

The taller man's mouth curved a little at the edges and he clapped him on the shoulder with a slight grin. "As to that; regret is not expected of you, John. We are all, as you Lanteans say, only human." With a twitch of his finger, he directed John's attention to the woman who was coming down the track from the camp towards the fire-field. "I wish you happy, John."

Then Halling was off, exchanging a word with Teyla along the way, before he faded into the darkness.

"Torran's asleep?"

"He will be, very shortly," she said, accepting the mug he held out to her. "The children ran him ragged today; his sleep will be deep tonight."

"So, no interruptions, then?" John asked. An anticipatory shiver coursed through him as Teyla shot him a warm smile.

"No interruptions," she agreed and let him draw her up against him, setting the mug on the top of the fencepost at John's elbow.

The feel of her body against his was still a relatively new experience and one that John was enjoying growing used to. Teyla never melted into his arms, pliant, the way Earth women did. She expected to be met as an equal, expected John to fit himself to her as much as she fitted herself to him. It had taken some getting used to, but John liked it - the curve of her body as he smoothed the material of her trousers down over her hips and butt, the fullness of her breasts against his chest, the hands that slid into his hair and encouraged him deeper into her kiss.

John let himself drink in the taste of her, savouring the ache beneath his breastbone and the tightening in his groin. He'd waited a long time for this, longer than he'd realised, and even now, sometimes he wondered when it would all be taken from him. He knew she cared about him, knew she was with him because she wanted him...but sometimes he found himself wondering when he'd wake up from this dream.

There was a fwoom noise from the firefield, and they broke apart, turning to look at the sudden flare of one of the central bonfires.

"The tar toss," she said. "Symbol of renewal."

"Is that safe?"

"We have celebrated this many times before," Teyla reminded him, laughing. "It is safe. John..." He looked back at her, at the glow that lingered across her cheekbones, flickering down her nose as she took a deep breath and met his gaze directly. "We could slip away for a little while," she said after a moment.

A grin started out on his mouth. "They wouldn't notice."

"They might," she said. "But they would not mind. And Torran is abed with the other children..."

"So no interruptions," John finished.

Finding time to be together in Atlantis was nearly impossible. Between the individual demands on their time, and the requirements of them as team-mates, there was barely enough time for them to relax, let alone find time for sex.

Just one reason Teyla had suggested the fire-feast.

"I think they can do without us for a while," he said, and let her turn them up the path Halling had taken towards the camp, his arm around her waist.

They hadn't taken more than a couple of steps, though, when the shouts and laughter of the gathering behind them hushed. To John, the quiet was ominous than screams of fear and terror. They turned in unison, staring back at the flickering flames, seeking some sign of what had just happened. Then Teyla broke out from under his arm and into a run.

"Something is wrong."

John groped for his sidearm and followed, his eyes scanning the shadows for some sign of what was up, watching Teyla's back as he ran after, less sure in the uncertain terrain. But even as he ran, he realised there was no sound above the crackle of the flames and the murmur of the Athosians, only the whisper of the wind in the trees.

Ahead of him, Teyla reached the edge of the firelight and the crowds, pausing by a woman to ask a question. John saw her stop, like she'd been shot, and put on a sudden burst of speed, nearly twisting his ankle in the process. He ignored the shaft of pain and kept going, pushing through the crowds to reach her side.

"Teyla?"

She didn't hear him, her eyes fixed on something across the field - on a man who was touching foreheads with a member of the Athosian Council, a brief smile touching his lips beneath the beard that covered his jaw and mouth.

No. For a moment, John couldn't breathe or think or process what he saw. Reason was gone, only emotion and reaction remained, and he made an aborted grab for Teyla's sleeve as she stepped forward.

The movement drew the eyes of the man across the fires, and his expression flared into sudden, brilliant delight. "Teyla!"

She half-turned her head towards John, enough to show him her expression - a helpless apology - before she stepped away from him and over to where Kanaan of Athos was coming forwards, his eyes hungry, his hands outstretched.

John watched as Kanaan took Teyla's hands in his and bent his head for his homecoming kiss, but anger, and grief, and jealousy made him turn away before they touched, and he turned away into the night, the darkness covering his pain.

--

Teyla went looking for John as soon as the dawn touched the edge of the sky.

Far from the night of relaxation and pleasure she had planned, it had turned out to be a long and difficult night - not least because of Kanaan's return.

She had learned to think of him as dead; unable to reach him through her dreams or meditations, without news of him, without even a rumour of his passing. And in his absence, she had renewed her friendship with John, had found a new pleasure in that relationship, and discovered a care she'd thought long past.

He had vanished into the night; walking paths she knew better than to follow.

Halfway to Kanaan last night, she had realised that it would have been best to draw John along with her, to show Kanaan that things had changed. Instead, she had approached him alone, and Kanaan had greeted her with a terrible, open hunger borne of their long months of separation.

She had been forced to put him off, to take him aside and explain to him how things stood.

Between John's expression as she glanced at him by the fire, and the way Kanaan had paced the opening of the tent after she had explained why John was here, this night was not one she would care to remember.

And she did not know where John was.

At the split of paths, one that led to the hunting blind, one which led down to the river, Teyla hesitated, then crouched down, seeking signs of John's bootprints.

The noise of someone coming up the path from the river lifted her head, and a few moments later, John appeared around the bend in the path, as though she'd called him to her side.

Teyla stood, slowly, unsure of her welcome. What she wanted, at this moment, was easy enough - to go over to him and feel his arms sliding around her, his breath against her cheek, his body against hers. But she didn't know if he would welcome her or push her away, and so fear kept her still.

He looked tired; dark circles beneath his eyes as he stopped a few feet away and regarded her. "Hey."

"You ran off last night." It was not intended to be an accusation, but he flinched.

"I figured you'd want time with him," he said, after a moment. "Teyla..."

"You still do not trust me, after these last few seasons?"

John looked up, then, and she saw the doubts that had tormented him all night. "It's not a question of trust," he said. "I... He's the father of your son, one of your people."

"You were never a replacement, John."

His gaze slid away from her, and for a moment Teyla could have slapped him for frustration. She loved him, but he could be so stubborn when it came to his beliefs about himself.

"John..."

"What are you going to do?"

Teyla took a deep breath. "I have explained the situation to Kanaan. He understands." At John's disbelieving look, she qualified, "He is disappointed, but...he understands. John, I will not be torn between you, and you will not sacrifice yourself on...on your pyre of self-pity because you think that is what I want!"

She held his gaze, saw the glimmer of humour in his eyes for a moment, a flash of tenderness, before he looked away.

It hurt to be disbelieved, even knowing that his insecurity was born of his own childhood uncertainties. Teyla stepped forward and lifted her hand to his cheek, turning him back towards her. "Yes," she said evenly, "I still love Kanaan - he is one of my oldest friends, the father of Torran, and one of my people. But you are not a replacement for him. You are my first ally from Earth, one of my dearest friends, and the man I love. I have told Kanaan this, and he understands."

John's throat worked for a moment, then she felt his hands on her waist, and he tilted his head down against hers. "What are we going to do, then?"

Teyla closed her eyes for a moment, her relief as strong as a mouthful of the timi drink, used as a refresher the morning after a celebration. When she opened them, John was watching her with an amused green gaze and a question in his expression.

So she told him. "We are going to go back up there and talk to Kanaan." At his raised eyebrow, she elaborated. "He says he has information about the plans Michael had for Pegasus and Atlantis."

--

If Kanaan's eyes lingered briefly on their joined hands, Teyla was relieved to see that he, at least, understood the situation as she brought John to the tent outside which Kanaan was sitting, solitary in the Athosian encampment.

"Colonel Sheppard."

"Kanaan."

They did not shake hands or touch foreheads. Teyla did not expect them to, although she had hoped that Kanaan would be more reconciled to the realisation that she had moved on.

He had been gone for a year, without word for nine months. Even when they lived together in the city, Teyla had understood that things might change between them, if she desired it, or if he desired it. They loved, yes, but they had both understood that a shared bed and shared bodies need not be forever, in the Pegasus way. Life was short, and love was to be taken where it was offered.

She did not expect John to be comfortable with this. He came from a different world with different mores and standards after all. But he seemed easy enough as he poured himself a cup of tea and sat down opposite Kanaan.

"So," he said, getting straight to the point, "Teyla says you found Michael."

"Remnants of him," said Kanaan after a moment's glance at Teyla. "It was...not an easy search - he had hidden his tracks well. But there were hints to be found, if one knew where to look."

"And you did?"

"I suspected." Kanaan smiled, and Teyla found herself frowning at the piercing mockery in his expression. "Do you not trust me, Colonel?"

"Teyla does," John said, with a glance in her direction. "That's enough for me."

Kanaan stared hard at him for a moment, before his gaze switched to Teyla, and there was a measuring element in his eyes that Teyla had never seen before. Whatever had happened to Kanaan in the last few seasons while he travelled far away, she didn't know. What she did know was that she didn't like it.

Perhaps it was merely bitterness at coming back to find her with John; she couldn't tell - she'd never seen Kanaan jealous before. Even when she'd bedded others among their people and outside, he'd never been this way - but then, they'd been only friends then.

"What did you find?"

"A laboratory on a far-flung planet, mostly intact, with the remnants of Michael's experiments."

"And no sign of Michael?"

"I did not see him," Kanaan said.

"But?" John's eyes narrowed, hearing what had been left from the end of the sentence.

Kanaan hesitated. "There were signs he had been there - signs that he had worked there for some time. I managed to locate his notes and extract them from his database." He reached down to pick up the small bag that had been slung over his shoulder last night. Loosening the ties along the top, he pulled the sides down to reveal an oddly-shaped lump that Teyla remembered seeing somewhere, but not when. It looked sinuous, curved at one end, but with a chunky handle-type thing.

"A Wraith handheld database," Kanaan said at her frown. "I found it in a hiveship - the remnants of one."

John stared at it. "I've seen that before," he said, and his eyes lifted to Teyla's. "The cave that belonged to the Wraith scientist who modified your ancestor."

"I do not know from where Michael gained the hiveship, but it was not in flying condition, Colonel. I salvaged what I could from the database and stored it on that. I thought the knowledge something Atlantis could use." He looked at Teyla. "And I wished to see home again."

It was hard to breathe beneath the anger she felt - not in his gaze, but in the tenuous connection between them. She had always been sensitive to his moods, and he to hers. It was just one reason why his interest had come as such a surprise.

She wished there were words to express her regret, but she had spoken the truth to John, even if she had left off another part that he would not have wished to hear. He was not a replacement - that was true, but she had not told him that neither was he her choice over Kanaan. She had loved both men - loved them both, still, but the time for one had gone, and the time for the other had come.

In better times, perhaps Kanaan would have understood.

"Rodney's decoded one of those things before," said John into the silence. "If it's got more information about Michael's plans for the Pegasus galaxy, I'm sure we could use them. See if there's anything that still needs thwarting."

"That was my thought." The bag was drawn back up over the device. "When do we leave?"

"We?"

"I am very familiar with the device through my work these last few months," said Kanaan, and his voice held a note of anger that either John didn't recognise or didn't acknowledge, although Teyla heard it all too clearly. "And...there is unfinished business between Teyla and I."

John's eyes flickered up to her, then returned to Kanaan. She said nothing; it was John's decision to allow or forbid Kanaan from the city, although she hoped he would allow. It took him a moment, but at last he nodded. "All right," he said. "Atlantis it is."

--

John was secretly glad when Torran refused to stay in his father's arms, squirming and screaming fit to make everyone in a twenty-yard radius wince.

"I'll take him," he said, careful to sound diffident.

Teyla lifted an eyebrow as Torran practically leaped into John's arms, wrapping his arms around John's neck like a limpet, but Kanaan shrugged. "He has not seen me for some time. It is no surprise that he prefers the Colonel."

The only problem with taking Torran was that it meant Teyla felt obligated to walk behind with Kanaan. And John was hard pressed not to keep looking back at them.

He trusted Teyla. It was just... He was still struggling with Kanaan's sudden reappearance and what it meant for him and Teyla.

"Don!" Torran hooked his toes into the pockets of John's vest, and used the leverage to hoist himself higher and point at the New Athos Stargate. "Dardate!"

"That's right, little buddy," John said, answering that broad grin with a smile. "It's the Stargate. We're headed home."

"Nandis," said Torran. "Down!" And he stuck his fingers in his mouth and sagged a little, becoming deadweight in John's arms and pushing against the arms holding him to indicate that he wanted to climb down. His diction wasn't the best, but he had other ways of making himself clear.

"Ah, no," John said firmly. "You don't have any shoes on."

"Down!"

"I said no," John repeated, feeling a flush along the back of his neck. He could command full-grown men, knew how to settle a fight between combat-trained marines, but when it came to a toddling boy, he always felt self-conscious about reprimanding him. Teyla had never indicated any concern with John's rules for Torran, but it still sat uncomfortably on him. Maybe it would have been different if Torran had been his, John didn't know.

What he did know was that Kanaan was watching him and Torran. He could feel the other man's eyes on him.

He'd thought about taking Kanaan aside for a talk. Thought about it. Discarded the idea. Other than being essentially uncomfortable with the niggling thought that he'd stolen Teyla from the Athosian man - never mind that Teyla was hardly a thing to be possessed - he didn't see the point. What was he going to say? I'm sorry? Because he wasn't. And anyone expecting him to be sorry...

Well, Halling had it right. We are all only human.

Teyla came alongside him as Jinto dialled Atlantis. "Are you causing trouble?"

He glanced up, thinking the question was directed at him, but she was looking at her son with what Rodney called 'the fatuous mom' look. Then her lashes lifted, and her mouth curved up in a tiny smile. "I will take him to Miko when we get back. Will you want to call a meeting immediately?"

"It'd be best." John didn't say exactly what he meant by 'best', which was to get the database interfaced to the Atlantis systems, and Kanaan out of the city as soon as possible.

There were some things Teyla didn't need to know.

Luckily, if Woolsey was a bit disconcerted by Kanaan's reappearance, Rodney took one look at the portable database that Kanaan had brought back and his eyes lit up.

"I mean, we translated most of Michael's research but there wasn't half enough data in there - for how long he'd been planning this, his notes were really sketchy. Plus, there were experiments that Carson couldn't find, so there must have been parts he was keeping back..."

They were back in Rodney's lab after the debriefing - just John, Ronon, and Rodney. Kanaan had wished to spend some time with Torran, and somehow roped Teyla into going with him. She'd glanced back at John, but what was he supposed to say? I don't trust you with her, so you can run along and see your son, but his mother's staying here with me.

No. He was going to trust Teyla. He was.

"Can you get the data out of it?" John interrupted Rodney's monologue to distract himself.

"What? Of course I can get the data out of it!" Rodney scowled, first at John, then at the screen. "It's not the first time I've done this, you know."

Standing less than a foot away, Ronon tossed his dreads back, giving the impression of a toss of the head. "He wants you to hurry up about it."

"Hurry? Why--?" John watched as understanding dawned on Rodney's face, and he glanced furtively over to the door through which Teyla and Kanaan had gone to drop their son off. "Oh."

"Yeah," said John pointedly. "Oh."

"Right, well," Rodney hunched over his keyboard and hurriedly began typing. "I think I've still got the interface program I used back then stored among the subroutines. And, with a little bit of tweaking, I'm sure I can have the information off the device in, oh, the next hour or two."

"Can't be too soon," said Ronon.

Rodney frowned as his fingers flashed over the keys. "Why? It's not like Teyla's your girlfriend."

Ronon shrugged. "He's changed."

John noted the half-aborted gesture towards Ronon's gun and lifted his brows. "Trigger-itchy?"

Another shrug, while Rodney snorted. "Please. The man's always trigger itchy!"

"Changed how?"

There was a long pause before Ronon said, "Don't know. He's...different."

"Yeah, because now he's a Sammy Homewrecker, not just That Guy Who's Taking Teyla From Us," said Rodney without looking up from the keyboard.

Ronon grinned. "Gonna tell us how you really feel, Rodney?"

When Rodney stopped typing, John grimaced. "Just get the database loaded up, okay?"

"Okay! Although I'd rather do a drive check first..."

"Can't you just copy the information over?"

"Well, sure, it'd be faster, but..." Rodney paused as he got a good look at John's expression, and grimaced. "Okay! I'll copy it to one of our standalones. Just...go somewhere else. Somewhere where you're not looking over my shoulder and making me nervous."

John didn't have anywhere to go - not really. The only place he wanted to be right now was where Teyla was with Kanaan. It was groundless, he knew. Teyla wasn't like that. She'd shoot straight with him, tell him if she didn't want him anymore.

He remembered a psych session once, years ago, after Afghanistan. Memory is emotion. Strong feelings - of loss, of guilt, of betrayal - those linger long after the details of what have faded. The psychologist had watched him with eyes that saw too much of John too clearly. What we remember in any situation is how we felt.

John remembered the tight breathlessness in his chest the first time he saw Kanaan in Michael's hiveship - as Kanaan, not just another Wraith hybrid doing its master's will. He remembered the grim squeeze of an emotion he hadn't wanted to name as the other man reached out to touch his newborn son's head.

He remembered the sour bitterness in his mouth the day he'd come into the mess hall and found Teyla and Kanaan already seated, their legs tangled beneath the table, laughing at the faces Torran made at them.

He remembered the day Kanaan had left Atlantis, the guilty relief that swamped him as he watched the other man go. The man had done nothing to John, been nothing to him; it wasn't Kanaan's fault that Teyla loved him, that John was left on the outside, but it had been so hard to forget that he was out in the cold.

John still remembered how it had felt to be on the outside. He'd had the comfort of ignorance in the years before Teyla's pregnancy. He'd taken the advantage of emotional distance to keep himself from the pain during that year when she was living with Kanaan.

He didn't have either bulwark this time, and if she decided she wanted Kanaan again...

She won't. She doesn't. She wants you.

When John glanced up from his hands, both Ronon and Rodney were watching him. "What?"

Ronon jerked his head at the door. "Come for a run," he said. "Get your mind off...stuff."

'Stuff' about described it.

"Don't expect me to join you," Rodney warned, once again hunched over the keyboard.

"We wouldn't," said John pointedly, and followed Ronon out into the corridor. "Long, medium, or sprint?"

"Long," Ronon said. "Give you something to think abou..." He trailed off, spinning on his heel as the door to Rodney's lab slammed shut behind them. "What the--?"

Behind the door, there was a yelp of alarm. And, further down the corridor, John heard the sound of another door closing, and shouts from other people. He tapped his earpiece and got nothing - not even the initial burst of static to indicate that the mic was working.

He tried anyway. "Control? Woolsey?" Nothing. "Lorne?" Then, figuring they were closer to the labs, he added, "Rodney? Zelenka?" Only silence met his attempts, and he exchanged a look with Ronon, who was now pounding on Rodney's closed doors.

Realisation dawned on John as he watched Ronon trying to lever the doors open. They were locked - and good. "The Wraith database."

"What?"

Even as Ronon voiced the question, the lights in the city dimmed and died.

Shit.

--

It took Teyla a moment to realise what felt wrong.

Someone was lying in bed behind her, running his hand down over her hair, a gentle stroke of tactile fingers down the curve of her nape and across her shoulder...

She tensed, and jerked away, knowing the truth, even as she turned.

John was not the type to exchange caresses, even in bed. He would sleep within touching distance, or with his hand against her skin, but he was not a man to stroke her unless sex was on his mind. Kanaan had been more prone to contact, but never as lingeringly as the man who wore his face and watched her with reptilian eyes.

"He is dead," she said. It was not a question, but a certainty, and the man who wore Kanaan's face as a layer of seeming over his true being smiled.

"I admit to being surprised you did not realise it earlier, Teyla." Michael rose from the bed, unfamiliar movements in an all-too-familiar body. But the sense of him in her mind was wrong - had been wrong from the moment he'd arrived in the midst of the Athosian celebration. Teyla had thought it was simply time and bitterness that had made the difference in which she had thought him to be.

"How?"

Michael - she must think of him as Michael and not Kanaan - smiled. "There are ways."

Colonel Carter had once mentioned the Asgard, who had cloned their bodies, generation after generation, transferring their consciousness from one body into the next. Carson himself had been cloned and his consciousness transferred to the clone. His memories were intact, his experiences, his personality - but the body was not the one in which his consciousness had been born.

If consciousness could be copied into one body, then why not into another? And what better disguise in which to come to her - a loved and trusted friend, someone who was known and familiar?

She swallowed down the choking grief of realisation, letting it fill in the chinks and cracks of her horror at what must have been done to Kanaan.

And her son...

Alarm flared. "What have you done with Torran?"

He tilted his head. "I think the question is, what have I done to Atlantis?"

Only then did Teyla realise that the city around them was silent, its hum muted, its lights darkened. Shouts of alarm sounded out in the corridors, the distant noise of people trying to call to each other through locked doors. "The database you brought us."

"The lure of knowledge is, as always, the downfall of Atlantis." He shrugged as he moved around the bed. "It was nothing too difficult to arrange, even with the pitiful precautions they would attempt to take."

"If you think that I will let you take my son..."

"If I thought you would let me take your son, then I would be an idiot," Michael said. "I have no doubt that my other self made the attempt and failed. Had he succeeded, then this galaxy would have been under our dominion months ago. And," he added with a long look that needed no interpretation, "given your distaste for my touch, I imagine he made our interest quite clear, too."

Teyla's hands clenched in fists. "He did."

His laugh was repellent, a mockery of everything Kanaan had been to her through their years as he spread his arms wide. "And even in this form, I am not fair enough to tempt you, Teyla?"

"There is no form you could take that would tempt me," she said. Even looking at him made her gorge rise - a mocking recollection of the man she had lost and loved. That she had moved on did not change that she cared - had cared - for him.

The dark eyes flared with fire, shuttered. "And yet you pitied me once."

"That was long ago," she said. "Before you chose this path."

"Did I choose to be experimented on by Atlantis? Was it my choice to be outcast from the Hive?" The bearded lip twisted. "What 'choice' did I have when I was fit for neither human nor Wraith community?"

Yet if he was outcast, still, he had chosen his own path of evil and cruelty, rather than seeking another solution. Whether he wore the form of Wraith or hybrid or human, the soul within the flesh had no compassion, no kindness, nothing but a great, towering bitterness for what had been done to him, and a burning desire for revenge on all who had made him, rejected him, or wronged him.

"What do you plan now?" Teyla watched warily as he came around the bed towards her. "Stop there," she said, and watched him come to a stop at the foot of the bed. "What are your plans now?"

His smile was unpleasant - a mockery of the tender smile that Kanaan used to give to her. "I thought, since we are stuck here, and Atlantis will take some time to assimilate the data it has been fed, that it would be an excellent idea for you to become reacquainted with this body." His eyes burned as he advanced towards her.

Teyla took a step back, but there was nowhere to run. Her heart thudded in elevated panic. She had no illusions as to what he would do to her. And when he was done, her memories of Kanaan - every smile and touch, every kiss and caress - would be gone.

Where was John right now? Ronon? Rodney? Michael said he had done something to Atlantis - the power of the city seemed out, the usual soft hum of the city was silenced. A virus, to take hold of the city and all its functions?

She did not know where the others were, or what they were doing. She did not know if they realised from where the danger had come. She must trust that they understood the situation, even if they did not know their enemy.

Teyla knew. And she would deal with Michael as she must, and let the others handle what was happening in the city.

She hoped her son was still safe in Miko's care, that Michael believed that as long as the city and Teyla were subdued, he could deal with her son at his leisure.

Movement before her warned her; her fear for her son must be put away. Michael was coming.

She fought him, just enough to let him believe that he had successfully overpowered her, but not so much as to tire herself out. And while his hands and mouth moved across her skin in a parody of the love Kanaan had held for her, Teyla opened her thoughts and slipped into the darkness of her enemy's mind.

In times before she had done this; but the stakes had never been so high - not just her team-mates, nor just the scientists on the deep-sea station, not even all Atlantis, but all of Pegasus at risk from the machinations of one man in her power.

Teyla threaded her way delicately through the maze of his mind, spreading exploratory tendrils through his thoughts, seeking out hints of what he'd done, where he'd been, his hopes for the future, his plans for Pegasus, seeking the core of what made him who he was.

Deceiving the Queen on the deep-sea power station had been a question of will and letting the Wraith believe she had control of Teyla. Controlling the Queen in the Wraith cloning facility had been about desperate need combined with brute force and the augmented ability through her son.

This was different. Even in his natural form, Michael had been merely a Wraith male.

Teyla had been a Queen.

He froze against her mouth as she ceased all subterfuge and scoured through his mind, every corner swept out, every thought picked over. What he tried to hide from her, she chased down, what he struggled to keep, she took from him. She was Queen and whatever he had become or tried to become, beneath it all, he was still Wraith, subject to a Queen's touch, a Queen's knowledge, and a Queen's control.

Through the link with him, Teyla felt the distant echo of like minds.

No. Not just like minds, but identical minds. Many Michaels - cloned, dormant and waiting for this one's return. The Hive was many, a collective, a community - and now Michael was no longer alone.

The 'original' Michael had indeed come to Atlantis all those months ago, planning the capture of her son and the offer he'd made. But he had left behind 'contingency' plans - including a clone of himself, and other plans to be put into motion should he not return. Taking Kanaan's form had not been one of them - not until Kanaan tracked him down, killing one of the clones before the next had activated and taken him by surprise.

Kanaan was dead, but his body had been viable - a possibility that Michael had contemplated and considered as he regarded the dead Athosian at his feet.

The reborn plan to infiltrate Atlantis had sprung from there.

There were still other clones of Michael, dormant and waiting. Upon his return, they would be 'updated' with his experience, so the next would know what had been tried and failed. If he failed to return within a set period, the next in the chain would activate.

Teyla took a deep breath; Michael was struggling against her control, and her time was limited, her strength rapidly draining. She knew what he had done to Atlantis - had seen it in the brutal scrape of his mind, and knew that with every moment that passed they were running out of time.

But this was more important than even Atlantis - the end of this creature who would stop at nothing to gain Pegasus. He would coerce where he could, and what he could not coerce, he would control. What he could not control, he would destroy, and his rule would be absolute.

She could stop him, but only if she acted now.

No time for consultation, for consideration, for goodbye. No time for regrets, or a last look or touch.

All her strength went into the contact as she sought the centre of his being - a bright flame in his mind, unconcealable in its brilliance, in its bitterness. Something writhed in her mind, the gasping struggles of a water creature, out of its depth and pleading for life.

Teyla!

She shut out the niggling compassion that ached in her, reached out past the human limitations of mind and meaning. She slid past his defenses and, with a swift, twisting gesture, killed the other versions of him whose mind-lights danced in an echoing darkness.

Michael could have been great in his way, a bridge between Wraith and human, understanding both. Instead, he had chosen to make a monster of himself.

Teyla, please...

She could have no mercy on him; he had shown none to her, her son, her people, or her friends.

You wanted me, she said. And so you shall have me, Michael.

She felt him clutch at her - dragging her close, like mental hands pulling her into the headtouch of her people. I would have loved you, he said, and even in his dying throes the taint of bitterness still hung over his thoughts. We could have been great...

Too late, Teyla realised that she had let herself too close, that the grip he had on her mind was not one of intimacy but one of intent. Michael would drag her down into the darkness with him, unless she chose to spare his life.

To live herself - to survive - it was the first instinct of every human, whether Pegasus-born, or Earth-born; yet cold reason overrode it. Everyone and everything she loved stood in danger as long as Michael lived - what was her life before that?

The choice was simple, even easy.

Teyla chose the darkness.

End Of Chapter One