Disclaimer: I have nothing to do with the creation of Stargate:Atlantis. Also, After Such Knowledge, this story's AU universe, is by Sarah T, not me. I am writing in her world with permission. See part one for the URL to her story.

Sheppard enters Michael's quarters in an uncertain mood. The hour is late and his body is clamoring for sleep. He has an early report time tomorrow. The MPs come to attention and he nods at them. Michael lies on his side, his right wrist 'cuffed to the solid metal frame of his bed, his left placed on the mattress beside it, for balance. The eyes he opens are red-rimmed.

Sheppard has had precious little time on the way back to Michael's quarters to decide whether he's facing a dangerous enemy prisoner or one of the best fighters on his team. Time's up, he'll have to operate on instinct. "Wait outside," he tells the two guards.

He releases the cuff on Michael's wrist and steps back. Michael sits up smoothly, his expression impassive. He doesn't meet Sheppard's eyes. "What did you do to the guard?" Sheppard demands.

"The guard?" The question is not what Michael expected, clearly. "I …" Color drains from Michael's face. He licks his lips. "Why did you do that?" He gestures at the handcuffs.

A weak attempt at changing the subject. "So you wouldn't escape again, of course. Answer my question. What did you do to the guard?"

Michael breathes shallowly, looking trapped. "Nothing."

"It's a court-martial offense for a guard to fall asleep at his post. And pretty coincidental that you knew through a locked door, that he had. You've been hiding Wraith abilities from us"

Now he has him. Michael has gone from belligerent to defensive and worried. "I didn't hide anything."

"So I have to relieve A1C Cousins of duty and remand him for court-martial."

Michael gives him a look half-amazed ,half confused. "Am I supposed to hold his career more highly than my own life and freedom?"

"A human would."

Michael meets his gaze thoughtfully, then shakes his head. "I don't believe that's true. A human who was a prisoner? Why would he?"

"You didn't take anyone's life and you didn't make a bid for freedom. I can overlook most of what's happened here tonight, except his lapse in duty. Unless I knew it wasn't his fault. It wasn't his fault, was it?"

Sheppard holds his breath, waiting to see if Michael will trust him or if he's become too damaged to be of any further use to the team.

"No," Michael whispers, his deep-set eyes filled with dread.

Sheppard breathes out and opens the door. "Airmen, come in here, please." A1C Cousins and the MP who found him dozing and groggy enter warily.

"Airman Cousins, falling asleep at your post is a court-martial offense, you know that."

Cousins swallows. "Yes, sir."

"It won't happen again, will it?" Cousins raises his eyebrows. "N—no, sir," he says.

"I'm sure it won't. I'm sure this was an isolated incident and in the future you'll drink lots of coffee before going on duty. So my report will make no mention of the prisoner's escape, but everyone in this room has to promise not to mention it." Sheppard looks at the other man. Startled, the MP nods. "Yes, sir, but I called it in to the Command Post –"

"And I responded from the Command Post, so it'll be my report on record. Can Airman Cousins and I count on you?"

The man glances at his colleague. "Oh, yes sir."

"Very good. You relieve Airman Cousins outside and you are both dismissed." Both MPs give him smart salutes. "Thank you, sir," Cousins breathes before they go.

"You're welcome," Sheppard says, looking at Michael. After the door swishes shut, Michael says, "Teyla."

Sheppard nods. "I'll talk to her. But you can't hide things from us, Michael." He considers Caldwell for a moment and amends his command. "Not from me. All right?"

Michael twitches his lips. "All right." Sheppard starts to leave, but remembers and turns back. "And, about this mission …"

Michael lifts his chin.

Sheppard sighs and takes the tiny desk seat, turns it around and sits, his long legs not quite fitting between the desk and the end of the bed. "It's a great idea, this mission, but here's the thing." He takes a deep breath, not looking at Michael, who hasn't moved from where he's seated on the bed. "It isn't the only way we can go with this. It's early days yet with Rodney's aerosol grenade thing. We may find some other delivery system. You don't have to volunteer for this."

Michael smiles. "Whose idea was it?"

"Was what?"

"The mission? Who thought of it?"

Sheppard gropes for a diversion. "Oh, I don't really remember. It doesn't matter. I just want you to know you don't have to do this." He gets to his feet to leave.

"Because the process of reversion would likely be as painful for me as the conversion was." Michael's looking steadily at him, now. "Whoever thought of it –"

"I told you, it doesn't matter." Sheppard is at the door. "But Caldwell will want an answer from you in the morning."

"I'll give him one," Michael says, as Sheppard escapes through the door.