My Roommate Is a Wraith
By Holly-Batali

Disclaimer: They're not mine, I don't own 'em. Well, except for Larry, Curly, Moe, and any other ridiculously ridiculous Wraith that MGM hasn't snagged. But other than that, they're not mine...some day...

WARNING: Extreme stupidity and silliness herein may be hazardous to your health. Please have a disgruntled-yet-brilliant Canadian scientist on standby to bore you into calm. And a lemon to deactivate him. On that note...

Chapter 10: Preliminary

John came to in yet another Hive ship cell, his first coherent thought being, I REALLY have to stop making a habit of this. Groaning quietly, he sat up, rubbing a sore, stiff spot on his head. Stumbling to his feet, he walked over to the entrance to the cell, eying it for weakness out of habit, knowing full well he wouldn't find anything.

"I'm a dead man," he muttered, nodding. And I'm starting to sound like McKay. Well this is just GREAT.

Sitting back down on the floor, he slouched down, sulking. He decided to wait it out...still waiting...

"Shemp."

John scowled, turning away from the voice. He was tired, he just wanted to sleep.

"Hey, Shemp."

"G'way, s'l'pin," he mumbled unintelligibly.

"Hey, Shemp, you need to get up."

"Shu' up," he growled, batting away a clammy hand.

He heard an impatient sigh. Then a familiar husky, sarcastic voice, "Do you intend to sleep for the next half century, John Sheppard? Or shall I use more alarming methods?"

I know that voice. John gave a heart-felt groan. "Not you too!" It was bad enough having no one to talk to but him in Kolya's prison, and now he had to be stuck on a Hive with him?

"Who did you expect?" came the amused reply.

John grumbled and sat up, rubbing his forehead. Using the wall to support himself, he stood up, blinking back dizziness. "Whoa," he mumbled. "Head rush." He glared half-heartedly at his visitors; Moe, Kolya's Wraith--he'd need a name--and one of the guards. "Nice to see the welcoming committee is sparing no expense," he grumbled, still in a bad mood.

Moe sniggered, and was promptly smacked upside the head by--John decided to go with 'Todd'--who wore a long-suffering look. "You know, I said, not even attempting to hide my annoyance, "I appreciate the whole 'Wraith Humor' thing as much as the next measly human, but I'd kind of like to know what's going on. You know, just the unimportant little issue of me being locked in a Wraith cell, probably by Dracula's Stooges--and what's with that anyway?" I sneered, staring at the opposite wall with a Cadman-like attitude. "I thought Wraith were supposed to be all big and scary an' all that? Of course, that could just be my silly human opinion, so if it's a stupid question, please forgive me, oh Goth-like cavemen." I paused. "Sorry, did I say that out loud?" Great, now I'm General O'Neill.

Todd rolled his eyes and sighed heavily. "If you are going to help, then help. Otherwise..."

"Yeah, yeah, I get the point," Sheppard snapped back. "Where's the stupid dart bay?"

Moe gave a short laugh and nudged Larry. "See? Told'ya he'd help."

Todd gave that martyred look again and heaved a growling sigh; Moe and his buddies shut up fast. Turning back to Sheppard, the elder Wraith--not to mention the more mature of the group--ground out, "You will be assigned quarters in the living area if the queen approves of your expertise," he somehow managed to keep the sarcasm out of his voice...well, most of it anyway.

Sheppard shrugged indifferently, suppressing a slight involuntary shudder at the 'if' in the phrase. "Lead the way," he gestured perkily at the corridor in front of the him. "Anyway," he added in a sullen voice, "I don't I'm going to get any more sleep," he sent a pointed look at Moe, who glanced around 'innocently'.

Sheppard's step picked up when they were approaching the dart bay; he had a bit of an 'internal compass' when it came to stuff that went high and fast, and that parents never even dreamed of approving. By the time they brought over the ladder for him to climb into the nearest dart to inspect it, he was nearly skipping, desperately trying to keep the excitement off of his face--to no avail. He was like a kid in the Christmas presents.

After a short preliminary exam of the craft, he leaned over the side to address the awaiting Wraith--Moe, Larry, Curly, Todd, and the drone who brought the ladder over. "Well, from what I can tell, it's in good shape. I mean, the navigational systems could use a tune-up, and it wouldn't hurt to work on the engine, but it'll fly fine."

Todd nodded. The Stooges gave him blank glances. The drone didn't do anything. "Will you require assistance with the repairs?" asked Todd bluntly, yet still somehow polite.

Well, since McKay isn't here... "Yeah," he said, "help'd be good." He was about to duck back down to the cockpit, but sat up again as a new thought occurred to him. "Hey, shouldn't I have seen the queen by now? I mean, she'll probably want to try and suck me dry, or commence in a battle of wits, or whatever; right?"

Todd obtained that all-too-innocent 'wasn't me' expression that Sheppard had seen on the other three before. "She is currently in a delegation on an allied Hive. What she does not know, will not harm her."

Sheppard hesitated slightly before nodding. He took a deep breath; "I'm goin' in," he muttered before diving into the slightly slimy innards of the navigations.

Sheppard collapsed into bed, not caring what it was made of; he'd rather not know, anyways.

Sheppard undid his boots and threw them across the room to put away later; or, most likely, never. He climbed into bed and stared up at the dark ceiling, his body aching all over. Sitting for seven hours in the cockpit of a dart, bending over, was not a comfortable position. At all.

Who knew Wraith repairs could be so draining? He had a new-found almost-respect for McKay now.

Thinking of Atlantis' resident hypochondriac, John felt a sudden pang of nostalgia. He had practically abandoned them to help a bunch of Dracula wanna-be's, without a word of explanation. If or when he made it back, Ronon was going to be furious with him; and here he'd been, thinking he'd gotten out of that fight to the death he'd promised the caveman.

Teyla would be kinder about it, but she hated the Wraith almost as much as Ronon. She probably hated his guts right now, but was keeping it in for the moment. On the not-so-bright side, he'd have getting his sorry butt kicked from Atlantis to Athos in the gym as payback. Every day, for weeks. Knowing Teyla, she'd probably let Ronon in on it; they'd gang up on him and rotate torture sessions. Would you rather...fight to the death his wooden sticks, or get run to death by the Pegasus Caveman? Oh, choices, choices...

Authors Note: REALLY sorry I haven't updated in FOREVER. No excuse, I know. Hope you guys liked it anyway; I typed through a broken/sprained/something wrist for you guys (I tune out when doctor's go into medi-babble mode.)

By the way: if anyone is nice enough, I need a Beta. Please?! I have toast! And cookies!!