Note: I only used one scene directly quoting the episode Misbegotten all the way. There was one word that, no matter how many times I heard it, I couldn't figure it out, so I had to change that word to make more sense. Kudos to whomever can catch it. Also, reference to forest cats is a direct link to a story by Queen of the Red Skittle on
Thanks to Hummingbird for editing for me.
Disclaimer: I do not own Stargate Atlantis, Michael, or any of the franchise. Though I do one my OC.
o-o-o
The valley, nestled between the base of the rising mountains, was as well protected a place as any wanderer could hope to dwell. In the winter, a wide assortment of caves provided safe escapes from the frosty weather. In the summer, the sun beat down on the earth, warming the air and urging the plants to grow and be fruitful. Winds blew through the valley, whistling and rustling the trees in an endless lullaby. Nuts were plentiful; fruit ripe and firm while edible roots and leaves grew free from the control of human hands. Meat was common, for animals were unafraid to wander through the valley, and if one or two went missing, it passed unnoticed.
She did not want to leave the place; her home. For years beyond count, it had sheltered and nurtured her, healing ancient wounds and raising her as its own wild daughter. But the time had come for her to leave the comforting womb of the valley, and even as her heart screamed in protest, it could not contend with the truth of her sight.
The Wraith had returned after so many years. She hid amidst the branches of an old wax-leaf tree, watching anxiously as they stormed through the old facility build high on the sides of one of the mountains. They were silent as always, their eyes half-lidded with disinterest. They believed the place to remain abandoned as they had left it, their research forgotten.
She winced at the sound of shattering glass from within and the screams of their weapons firing as they sought to destroy what little remained. Choking back a whimper, the girl covered her ears, trying to forget the sounds. Her chest stung, her stomach dropping to the ground below, but she did not dare to move.
When at last they left, returning to their ships and leaving the valley, she continued to hide in her tree until well after dusk, too fearful to abandon her perch just yet. Stars sprang to the sky; tiny shimmering drops of water against obsidian night. Beneath her, animals scurried through the underbrush, chittering and barking as the creatures of the day returned to their dens.
Regaining her confidence, she slipped down from the tree, her bare, callused feet crunching against the underbrush. She crept through the valley, hands trembling as she watched the creatures of the night come to life.
There was the old striped rat stealing from his neighbors again. And the golden-eyed bird, eyeing her carefully as if to say 'go away, little one. Go away.'
She swallowed and turned, dashing to her cave up the base one of the mountains. Sticks and stones ground against the hardened pads of her feet, leaves crunching and cracking loudly despite her usual stealth, but the wild girl could not care for any of it. She had to leave as swiftly as possible, in case they returned.
She clambered into her home, breathing hitched from nervousness, peering into the gloom. There was much she would have to leave behind; food, water, many of her stone and wood tools. Surely such things could be found on the other mountain.
Hastily, she began bundling together only the necessary items. A blanket, stolen from the facility, could hold several animal pelts, a stone dagger, and as many sharp syringes as she had last snatched before the Wraith had returned.
Folding them all in her blanket and standing, she paused to take what could prove to be a last look at her home in the dim light. It wasn't a grand place, like the caves of the beasts that ruled the valley. But it had always been comfortable, dry, and warm when she most needed it. She closed her eyes and breathed in the rich scents of earth and rain that had always thrived in the small space. Wherever she went next, would she find those same smells?
She shook the thoughts from her head and turned, facing the world outside. Her heart fluttered painfully, but she had to ignore it as she surveyed her path. She could not journey further up this mountain, where facility lay. If the Wraith returned to shatter the peace of the valley again, they would surely think to search it. Further along, the valley offered little protection from predators, and no amount of fear could drive her into the claws of a forest cat so willingly.
The only place to go was the place the Wraith themselves sailed from on the other mountain. When they had approached, the screeching sound of their ships had not stopped, therefore they could not have possibly bothered to land anywhere. The Wraith had no interest in that mountain, and where they did not look, she had to flee.
Silently, she reassured herself and slipped down from the cave, eyes never leaving the other mountain. She could live for a time off even strange lands, and she had enough syringes to last her years, or at least until she felt it was safe to return. If her heart ever told her it was.
o-o-o
Teyla Emmagan of the Athosians did not acknowledge the marine as he opened the door; her sight was too focused on the figure that stood staring out at the city around him, his back turned to her. Despite reverting back into a Wraith, sometimes the light gave his skin an almost golden tint, reminding her of what he had been. What she wished he could still be right now.
She stopped, steadying her stance before addressing him.
"Michael."
He turned slowly, his face caught in the shadow of the darkened room. His slitted eyes flicked easily away from the window to capture her in a gaze of so many toiled emotions until, at last, they settled on familiarity and nostalgia.
She took a steadying breath, unnerved to see such eyes despite their catlike nature. Michael, catching her unease, shifted instantly to a new set of emotions. Discontent, irritation, and in the place of vulnerability arose Wraithlike arrogance.
"Even though I saved Colonel Sheppard's life and helped him stop the Hives from reaching Earth," he said scornfully, his voice low and resonant. "You still place me in here."
"You have betrayed our trust in the past," Teyla retorted firmly a wry, unbelieving smile slipping onto her face.
"Trust," he scorned raising his chin in defiance. "I was your prisoner, then. And despite what I've done for you," he left the shadows of the window, striding into the center of the room, his back turned to her as he took in his surroundings. "Here I am once again."
He stopped, turning back to stare at her before finishing his statement.
"I can't say I'm surprised."
Teyla let out a loose sigh, her face hardening into stone. Michael went on, filling the silence with his musings as he turned his gaze away once again.
"I wasn't welcome among my own kind, why should I be welcome here?"
"What are you talking about?" Teyla asked monotonously, her voice betraying none of the anxiety that churned beneath the surface. Michael glanced back at her, his dark eyes burning.
"She looked at me as if I was some unclean thing," he snapped bitterly. "I may appear as a Wraith again on the outside, but as far as they're concerned, I'm-" He faltered, mouth hanging open, unable to finish the sentence. He drew back, recovering from his lapse to continue. "That is why I need your help."
Teyla took a deep breath.
"What do you want?"
"I can't stay here," he said levelly. "But I can't return to the Wraith. Which means I need to make my own way. And to do that," he took a step forward. Instinctively, Teyla retreated, her eyes never leaving his face. Behind her, the guards raised their weapons. Michael stopped, exhaling sharply, an amused smirk creeping onto his features before he continued. "I need supplies. And a ship."
Teyla frowned, shocked at his proposal.
"We are grateful for your help," she allowed. "But we can never release you, not with the information you possess."
"Then kill me now!"
She was hardly surprised by his outburst; Michael had been fairly impulsive since learning who and what he was. But he seemed to think little through to other possible ends.
"There is another way."
He stared for a moment, resignation creeping into his features. Once more, she could see the familiar vulnerability as he averted his gaze.
"Take the treatment again," he said softly.
"Yes," she answered.
"What I am is not a disease you can cure," he insisted in the same quiet voice.
"Your life as a human could be rich and full," Teyla assured him, irritation rising in her chest.
"And if I remember nothing of what or who I am," he paused a moment. "If this consciousness is erased. What is the difference between that and death?" He caught Teyla's eyes and stared fixedly. "And if I do remember and revert back to my true nature… what will happen then?"
Teyla caught her breath. It was a question she had anticipated, but not enough to truly expect him to ask it.
"Dr. Beckett has made significant advances. The treatments are more effective now, and eventually, he may find a permanent solution."
"If you really believed that," Michael insisted, walking toward her. Teyla did not retreat this time, though the Marines tightened their grips on their guns. "Those Wraith you transformed wouldn't be in stasis on the ship." He stopped just a foot shy of her, and Teyla has to gaze up to maintain eye contact, strangely calm despite his presence. His earlier emotional lapse had given her confidence enough to believe that he would not feed upon her. His expression had grown disdainful, mocking, even. "They'd be here. Reveling in your hospitality."
Teyla did not allow her mask to slip, gazing into his face. Beneath the Wraith, she could still see it. The human, Michael Kenmore; the man she still wished to consider her friend despite Ronon's warnings and John's belief that he was a lost cause.
"Give Dr. Beckett time," she instructed. Michael's face washed into a tide of disbelief and he turned, stalking to the other side of the room, a growl forming in his throat. Teyla sighed and turned to leave. He would not listen to her again tonight.
o-o-o
The wild girl stumbled through the woods, her pack slung over one shoulder, teeth clenched against the cold as rain pelted from the sky, coating the mountainside in slick water. Mousy locks, hewn to shoulder length, fell before her eyes, sticking to her skin and obscuring her vision. She took a shuddering breath. This was the first time she had ever been so far from the valley.
She paused, leaning against a tree for support and gazing upward through the sparse branches, catching sight of the blue-gray sky above as it poured the water down onto the world. Did it always rain so? It was a miracle that the valley didn't completely flood with such storms.
She pushed off the tree and forced her trembling legs to continue, knowing that the sooner she found shelter, she sooner she could rest and warm herself up.
As her feet slid through the muddy earth, her stomach growled loudly. She moaned in disbelief. Perhaps, in her haste, she should not have forgotten all the food. But she hadn't counted on a storm so rough that she could not simply forage for food along the way. She would simply have to go hungry until the storm abated.
When dawn came, the burning red sunrise brought some clarity to her situation. She was some ways up from the valley, but not far enough to truly be safe should the Wraith return. Different plants grew here, but she recognized enough to know healing herbs and edible food.
The mountainsides were littered with rocky outcroppings, and she hid under one until the rain abated somewhat, and crept out only to gather food or relieve her bladder. She decided to wait a day until the land had dried enough for an easier journey. She would soon have to orient herself; wherever she ended up, she needed to be near water. The first step had been simply leaving the valley. The second would be finding the river that flowed down from this mountain and following it.
She drifted off to sleep, hidden beneath the rock, repeating that over and over in her head until she was confident she could not forget.