"At last, here is one who understands fear." The Queen's voice was like a hundred whispers, echoing in his head.
Rodney shifted uncomfortably on his knees, refusing to open his eyes. "Just get it over with, OK?" he muttered, flinching as icy fingers brushed his cheek.
"This fear of yours, it's so delicious, so raw... and there's an undercurrent of anger. Yes, you will be perfect."
Clawed fingers dug into his shirt and hauled him to his feet. Clutching the Queen's clammy wrist, Rodney opened his eyes to find himself inches from her face. His nostrils flared as he caught a whiff of her putrid breath.
"Your mind is weak. It will be easy to control," the Queen purred, her lips curling back in the Wraith equivalent of a smile.
"Excuse me?" Despite the situation, he felt a flash of anger. He tightened his grip on the Queen's wrist. "That rot must extend to your brain. I'll have you know I'm not-- Yes, my Queen." He bowed his head, his heart pounding; that hadn't been what he'd wanted to say. He tried to lift his head and found he couldn't.
"You will make a good drone."
He finally managed to raise his chin just in time for the Queen to lock her mouth onto his. Pain blazed through his mouth as her hand wrapped around the back of his head. He tried to scream, tried to pull away, but he was powerless to move. The agony intensified and his mind retreated, seeking comfort in one of the last happy moments in his life...
XXX
Rodney checked his watch. He was supposed to be in the final mission briefing before they collectively crossed their fingers and stepped through the gate into oblivion, but he had far too many things left to do to bother hearing the same "We don't know what we're doing, but we're doing it anyway" speech again. He looked up to see Colonel Samantha Carter approaching. Even in the ridiculous blue flight suit favored by the Air Force she managed to look sexy. It complemented the color of her eyes.
"Well, if it isn't the esteemed Major Samantha Carter." He smirked at the flash of irritation that crossed her face; score one for him. "I hope you won't let your professional jealousy over my being selected for this mission get in the way of our relationship."
"We don't have a relationship, McKay!" Samantha's lips pouted beautifully as she frowned. "And in case your amazing observational skills have failed you, I'm a Lieutenant Colonel, now."
"Oh yes, of course... the promotion." Rodney smiled, wondering if he should question just how she'd managed to get bumped up the ranks- and if there'd been any "bumping" involved.
"Look, I just wanted to wish you good luck," Samantha said, distracting him. "I won't deny that I am a little jealous. I wish I could be going with you."
Rodney's heart beat a little faster as he considered the implications, but her next words brought him back down to earth.
"For professional reasons, of course. When I think about what might be out there, what kind of amazing opportunities could be awaiting you all in Atlantis..." She sighed, offering him a quick smile. "But that's OK. Unlike you, I'm actually needed. Here."
He could read the challenge in her sapphire gaze and tried to think of a good retort, but something was distracting him. He rubbed his lips, which were tingling. He realized Samantha was back in one piece." She leaned towards him.
"Whoa, there, Miss Frisky." Rodney raised his hand, stopping her. "I've heard about you and your kisses." He backed up a step.
Samantha's eyebrows knit. "What are you talking about?"
"Oh, just that little thing about how every guy you kiss seems to die." He waved his hand in the air.
Samantha laughed. "That's ridiculous. Where did you hear that?"
Rodney shrugged. "Lunchroom gossip."
"Well, McKay, I'm surprised you've forgotten, but I've actually kissed you once before and you seem to have survived."
"Yeah." Rodney smirked. "Thanks for that, by the way. I spent the entire flight to Kuybyshev in the head with a bad case of food poisoning. Worst flight of my entire life."
"I guess I'll have to try harder this time." Samantha closed the distance between them and gave him a long, lingering kiss on the lips. Rodney's entire mouth burned and the air felt crushed from his lungs. She released him and smiled.
"I'll see you when you get back." She paused. "If you get back."
"What's that supposed to mean?" he demanded, trying to remember how to breathe. Samantha winked, then turned and walked away. "Samantha?" He clutched his chest. Something was wrong. This wasn't how he remembered it. It wasn't supposed to hurt. He dropped to his knees, still trying to draw air into his lungs. The heat had spread from his mouth to his entire body. He sprawled onto the floor.
XXX
He awoke to find himself face-first in a pile of leaves. He scrambled to his feet, spitting out dirt and twigs and looked wildly around him; he was alone and judging from his surroundings he was back on Callus. But how? His head throbbed painfully as he tried to remember what had happened. He'd been taken by the Wraith. The Queen had said he was weak and then... Samantha had kissed him? That wasn't right. He rubbed his forehead, willing his thoughts to clear. His fingers came away bloody. He stared at them. When had that happened? He moved forward and his foot kicked a rock hidden by the leaves. He frowned. He HAD been abducted by the Wraith, hadn't he? But they weren't exactly known for their friendly nature. If he had been caught, he should be dead, not standing around looking at rocks.
A wave of dizziness passed through him. He swallowed, wondering if he had a concussion. Carson would know. He turned around and saw the stargate behind him, right where he had left it. Moving carefully, he made his way to the DHD and dialed in the address for Atlantis. Belatedly he checked to make sure he still had his GDO, and then made sure no one was watching. Wraith spies, maybe. He shook his head, wincing as pain shot through his neck.
"Rodney?" Dr. Weir's voice crackled over the radio. "Is that you?"
He clicked on the transmitter. "No, it's the tooth fairy. Of course it's me! Didn't you get my identification signal?"
"What happened to you? Major Sheppard says he lost sight of you while you were escaping the Wraith."
"Yeah." He prodded carefully at the wound on his head. "I'm not sure what happened, but I've been hurt. Lower the shield and make sure Carson has the medbay ready for me."
"There were Wraith on that planet, Ma'am." It was the fanatically security-conscious Sgt. Bates. "We should exercise caution."
Rodney's patience snapped. "Look, you over-paranoid little freak, just drop the damn shield, OK?"
"Yep," he heard Sheppard say, "that's definitely our Rodney."
"Ma'am, if he's been with the Wraith, there's no telling--"
"Hey! Massive head wound, here!" Rodney interrupted. "Can we at least TRY to show a little concern for my well-being? Maybe even a 'Hi, Rodney, we're so glad you're OK.'?"
"Relax, Rodney." Weir said. "I'm lowering the shield now."
"Took you long enough," he muttered, stepping onto the stone platform and through the gate.
He emerged in the gate bay to find a group of soldiers pointing guns at him.
"Oh, give it a rest!" Reaching up to try and rub the pain out of his neck, Rodney stormed past the GI Joe wannabes, who made no effort to stop him.
"Sorry, Rodney, but we had to be sure." Weir was descending the Grand Staircase. Sheppard and the zealous security guard were right behind her.
Rodney glowered at them. "Oh, yes, I can see how you might confuse me for a Wraith!"
"Well, you do both have a certain disdain for humanity." Sheppard smiled. "We're glad you're OK. Lt. Ford said he saw you getting caught in the Wraith beam?" The raised eyebrows turned the statement into a question and Rodney still wasn't sure of the answer.
"What did I tell you? Even the Wraith don't want him." Carson Beckett, Atlantis's resident doctor and part-time mad scientist appeared from behind a pair of soldiers, who were still standing around. "Looks like you got yourself a bit banged up, Rodney."
"Gee, what was your first- ow!" Pain flared through his head as Carson prodded at the cut on his brow.
"That doesn't look so bad," Carson said.
"Yeah, well it's worse than it looks. Trust me." The pain intensified Rodney's irritation. "Do you think we could possibly go back to your office for a real exam instead of leaving me on display, here? I'd prefer not to bleed to death in front of an audience."
Carson's eyebrows shot up. "I don't think there's any danger..."
Rodney narrowed his eyes.
"Right," the doctor said, "Follow me."
Before following Carson back to his lab, Rodney addressed Sheppard. "We'll talk about how quick you were to abandon me later, Major." He stomped after Carson, who was already halfway down the hall.
His head was still jangling painfully. Maybe he had something worse than a concussion, maybe there was a blood clot slowly working its way through his brain, ready to kill him at any given instant.
As the door was whooshing noisily shut behind them, Rodney thought he heard whispering. He sighed. "Look, you're gonna have to speak up because I am in so much pain right now I can barely hear myself, never mind you!"
Carson frowned. "I haven't said anything."
"Right. Whatever." He hopped up on the exam table, wincing at the throb in his head. "Can we just get this over with, please?"
"Rodney, are you hearing things?" Carson asked, shining a penlight in Rodney's eyes.
"No. Forget it. Just tell me how bad the damage is."
"Let me finish my exam first and then I'll have a better idea about the 'damage'."
The exam was a long and tedious process and in the end, Carson pronounced him healthy and fit to leave.
"Healthy?! What about the gaping wound in my head?" Rodney slid off the exam table to confront the doctor, who stepped back, smiling.
"It's a superficial wound at best," he said. "It probably stopped bleeding even before you came through the stargate. But if it will make you feel better I think I can find a band-aid."
Rodney scowled at him. "No, that will not make me feel better! What about my headache, then? Don't tell me there's nothing wrong with that. It feels like my skull is trying to crack open. So what is it? Concussion? Blood clot? You can tell me."
"It will take some time for me to develop and check over the x-rays, but I really don't see any reason to be concerned. I'll get you some Tylenol for the pain."
"Tylenol?" Rodney stared as the doctor dug through the drawer and pulled out a familiar white bottle. "I don't think you understand, Doc, it's like a jackhammer pounding at my brain."
"And you say the Wraith didn't do anything to you while they... had you?"
Rodney froze as a memory flashed in his head. "No," he lied. "I don't remember."
"Ah." Carson sighed. "Oh well. Why don't you stop by tomorrow? I should have the results by then. If anything turns up before then, I'll let you know." He held out the bottle, then paused. "Have you considered that it might be stress-related? You have been through a lot, lately, and after last week..."
"Thanks for the prognosis, doctor!" Rodney snatched the bottle of Tylenol and strode towards the doors. "The next time I'm dying, I'll be comforted to know it's just stress!"
"Rodney--"
The swoosh of the door muffled Carson's reply. Rodney shook three pills into his hand while he walked and dry-swallowed them, grimacing at the additional pain. What he needed most was a hot meal and he knew right where to find one. But as he was headed towards his room, the whispering started again. He paused, looking around him, but the hall was empty. His heart was beating a little faster and the Tylenol was doing nothing for the pain in his head. He started forward, trying not to stare at the shadows. The energy creature that had gotten loose in the city several months back was long gone, but he couldn't quite suppress a shiver as he remembered those last few seconds in the midst of the creature. It had latched itself onto his personal shield, trying to pull itself through, and Rodney had thought... but no. The creature was an unthinking animal and there had been no trace of it since that first- and last- encounter. He shook his head, wishing he hadn't chosen the room farthest away from everyone else.
"Kill them."
Rodney gave a startled yelp and whirled to find Dr. Weir standing behind him.
"Rodney, are you all right?" Weir cocked her head, watching him.
"What did you say?" he demanded.
She frowned. "I asked if you were all right."
"No, before..." He caught her expression and stopped himself. "Never mind. What do you want?"
Weir continued to study him for a moment before speaking. "I've arranged for a debriefing. I'd like you to go over what happened to you after you lost contact with Major Sheppard's team."
"You mean after they ditched me and left me for dead on a hostile planet?" He snorted. "Much as I would love to relive every agonizing minute for you, I don't remember what happened. Besides, Dr. Beckett has recommended that I have something to eat and get plenty of rest."
"Really?" She clasped her hands behind her. "Very well. Perhaps when you're feeling better, then?"
"Fine." McKay turned and walked away, not wanting her to see how badly shaken he was. He didn't care what Carson said, something was definitely wrong with him.
He got back to his room without further incident and grabbed an MRE. He'd stashed away a bunch of them on his first day in Atlantis. The way he looked at it, it was only a matter of time before they started rationing supplies and he wanted to be prepared when the time came.
While his meatloaf and mashed potatoes were heating, he used a glass panel set in the wall to check his reflection. The cut on his head really didn't look bad. He frowned, prodding at it, but the pain was centered... elsewhere.
Next he checked his mouth, but saw no sign of redness or sores to indicate that the Queen had been feeding on him. If that's what had happened. He also ran his fingers over the back of his neck. The Wraith and the Goa'uld had nothing in common, but you could never be too careful. No scarring, but the throb in his head was worse. He sighed.
"Stop kidding yourself, Rodney. There's nothing wrong with you that a good meal won't fix." He eyed his reflection. He didn't look very convinced.
His stomach rumbled in anticipation as he caught a whiff of the self-cooking dinner; it had been hours since he'd last eaten. He sat at his desk and opened the pouch. "MRE XXIII-24" glistened with greasy goodness, but even as he picked up his fork he realized he was no longer hungry. Meatloaf was one of his favorite meals, but it now looked unappetizing.
He ate it anyway, working hard to swallow the last few bites without gagging. His head was pounding worse than ever and the whispering was back. He knew he should probably go back and tell Carson he was having additional problems, but he was still annoyed at the doctor's casual dismissal of his symptoms. He downed two more Tylenol with the dregs of his mineral water and crawled into bed.
He tossed and turned, trying to get comfortable. The dream started the instant he fell asleep.
"You've been going through changes, Rodney." Weir was standing before him. They were on the main floor near the gate. Everything seemed very quiet, the usual hum of machinery and babble of people was missing. The lettering on the Grand Staircase glowed its eternal salutation, promising protection and sanctuary to all.
"I don't know what you're talking about, Elizabeth." Rodney paced a few steps. Weir might be in command, but there was a lot she didn't understand and probably never would. "I'm perfectly fine," he said, "I just hit my head on a rock." He rolled shoulders, trying to work out the tension. His skin was prickling. "I admit, it wasn't very elegant of me, but I had a lot on my mind at the time. Like saving my ass from the Wraith!"
"But you didn't save your ass from the Wraith, did you?" Weir was standing perfectly still, the colors of her uniform looking unnaturally bright. Even the black swatches seemed more intense, sucking in the light around them and giving her an eerie glow. Mist was rising off her skin and the air around her seemed to be getting colder every second.
"They captured you and they did something to you," she said. "They turned you into one of them, didn't they?"
"Oh, please!" It was so quiet he could hear his own heart beating. The mist coming off Weir slunk towards him. "That's completely insane! The Wraith can't turn people into more Wraith. They aren't vampires, you know! I'm perfectly normal. Well, normal in my own brilliant, arrogant way."
Weir tilted her head back, regarding him with icy eyes. "Really? Then how do you explain the bodies?
Rodney suddenly realized that Sgt. Bates was sprawled on the floor beside her, his body little more than a desiccated husk. He would have sworn the sergeant hadn't been there a minute ago. Maybe Weir's mist had hidden him. Carson was curled in the fetal position a short distance away, looking even worse than Bates. X-rays were scattered across the floor and each had the word WRAITH printed across them in red. As he turned he could see even more bodies: the Czech doctor, Sgt. Grodin, Dr. Lansing, others he'd seen around Atlantis. There were bodies on the railings, bodies on the stairs, bodies slouched at computer terminals. They were everywhere.
"You have to be stopped," Weir said.
"Oh, come on! You don't seriously believe that I had anything to do with this, do you?" Despite the insanity of her accusation, he could feel sweat trickling down his back.
"Look at your hands, Rodney."
He did and was surprised to see raised welts on his palms. Welts that looked remarkably like those on a--
"WRAITH!"
Startled, he looked up to find Teyla pointing at him, her posture rigid and her lips drawn back in a snarl. "Wraith!" She screamed again.
"It's time to face facts, Rodney." Weir was frowning at him. Lt. Ford had appeared beside her, a smiley face button pinned to his uniform jacket. He had a P-90 aimed at Rodney's chest.
"I'm really sorry about this, Dr. McKay," he said.
Rodney feinted left and grabbed the Wraith stunner slung across his back. He shot Ford in the face and watched the young lieutenant crumple to the floor.
"Wraith!" Teyla's voice buzzed like an alarm.
"Get him," Weir commanded, her breath frosting. Armed soldiers rose up all around them.
Rodney dropped the stunner and ran, quickly losing himself in the labyrinthine hallways. Corridors snaked in all directions and every door appeared to be locked. Even the writing on the walls seemed to contain the Ancient word for "Wraith" printed over and over again like a perverse mosaic. The glass-paneled bubblers at the intersections which acted as part art and part coolant system all burbled with a dark reddish liquid which definitely wasn't water. He rounded a corner and slammed into Major Sheppard.
"Rodney." Sheppard smiled. He was dressed in ripped jeans and a plaid, open-neck shirt and he was wearing boots with spurs and a faded cowboy hat. His hands were stuffed in his pockets and the V of his shirt was hanging open. "What's the rush, pardner?"
Rodney stared at him. "You mean you don't... Uh, never mind. I was just going-"
"To grab lunch?" Sheppard chuckled. "Sounds like a plan. You must be starved. I know I could really go for a steak, myself. Nice and rare, fresh off the grill with the juices still running..."
Rodney's stomach cramped. He was hungry, but not for steak. He clenched his hands, trying to resist, but the exposed skin of Sheppard's neck was nagging at him.
"I can almost taste it," Sheppard continued. "Can't you?"
Rodney gave a small whimper and sprang at Sheppard, using the metal tip on his index finger to slice open the Major's shirt.
Sheppard's hat fell off, hitting the floor with a sound like a gunshot. "What are you-"
Rodney pressed his palm against Sheppard's chest and felt a cool rush of energy surge up his arm. It was exhilarating, like drinking from the purest mountain stream. He was dimly aware of Sheppard's screaming, but he couldn't make himself let go. Just a little while longer...
He heard the staccato boot-clicks of his pursuers arriving, heard them ordering him to stop, but he ignored them. Sheppard was aging before his eyes. The major's skin puffed and shriveled, his hair went from black to gray to white, getting more brittle with each stage and his eyes started to film over. It was fascinating to watch.
Rodney felt bullets rip into him. It was an annoying distraction, but the wounds healed almost instantly. He laughed; the sound itself seemed empowering. Now, he was truly invincible.
"Rodney..." Sheppard's voice was little more than a whisper and his blue eyes were grayed by cataracts. "Why?"
Rodney grinned down at him. "Because my Queen commands it."
Weight slammed into his shoulder and his head smacked against the floor. Gasping, Rodney opened his eyes to find he'd rolled out of bed. He staggered to his feet and managed to reach the waste basket before losing the contents of his stomach. He knelt on the floor until the trembling stopped, then grabbed a bottle of mineral water to wash the bad taste out of his mouth. If only it worked on dreams, too. He sat on the edge of his bed, unwilling to risk going back to sleep.
A quick glance at his watch showed that it was just after 4AM. It was still ungodly early, but no doubt some people would already be up (or still be up) and it might help to work off some of his stress in the lab. At least his head had stopped aching. No voices, either. He grabbed his pants and heard something clink on the floor. As he bent to retrieve it he saw what it was and felt the blood drain out of his face. "Where the hell did THAT come from?"
It was Wraith finger armor. As near as they'd been able to determine, the armor acted partly as a knife and partly as a hypodermic, injecting toxin into its victim. He was lucky he hadn't jabbed himself in the leg with it. But how had it gotten into his pocket in the first place? He could think of several ominous possibilities. Maybe it was time to go back and talk to Carson after all. He finished dressing and headed back to the central hub.
When he arrived he was surprised to see a lot of activity. People were rushing around or talking in small groups. All the lights were on and he could hear radio chatter as well. Maybe there were more morning people around than he thought. That just increased the chances of Carson being one of them. He started towards the medical lab but was interrupted by Dr. Weir.
"Rodney." There were bags under her eyes and her hair looked disheveled. "I'm glad you're awake. We have a bit of a situation."
"Yeah, well, so do I. I need to see Dr. Beckett." He turned, but Weir caught his arm.
"You can't," she told him. "Carson... isn't available right now."
"What? He's asleep? Fine, I'll go wake him up. This is important."
Weir still held his arm. "I mean you can't see him. He's gone."
Rodney went cold. He stared at Weir. "What do you mean, gone? You mean like, gone, gone? Is he--"
"Sgt. Bates is missing. We're trying to find him, now. Have you seen him?"
He tried desperately not to think of his dream. "Me? Bates? No, why would I have seen him?" He scoffed, pulling his arm free of her grip and backing away. "He's probably off polishing his jackboots or something. I hardly think that's of any concern. Besides, why isn't Major Sheppard handling this?" The question was a little desperate and when he saw the look in her eyes, his heart sank even further. "No, wait, don't tell me. He's missing, too, right?" He rolled his eyes and sighed heavily. "Can't you people keep track of anything for more than five minutes?" He kept backing away. "No wonder we're still stranded here. You probably found a ZedPM and forgot about it!"
Weir's expression hardened as she advanced on him. "Look, Dr. McKay, I don't think you understand the seriousness-"
"Oh, I understand, I understand." He raised his hands, hoping she couldn't see they were shaking. "If you'll excuse me, I'll just go grab Scooby Doo and the rest of the gang and see if we can solve this mystery!" He turned around and found himself nose-to-nose with Lt. Ford. "Ahhh!" He leaped back.
Ford's eyes widened. "Whoa! Sorry, Doc, Didn't mean to scare you."
Rodney recovered from his shock quickly. "I wasn't scared, I was just... You know, you shouldn't go around sneaking up on people like that!"
Ford glanced past him at Weir and shrugged. "Sorry. I'll try to be more careful next time."
He could tell Ford wanted to laugh at him, but as much as it irritated him, he needed to get away fast. "Yeah, see that you do." He started walking, then paused. "Lieutenant..." He turned to see Ford conversing with Weir. "How are you feeling?"
Ford blinked. "Me? Uh, I feel fine. Why?"
"Just checking. I mean, that's good to know. Carry on." He waved his hand, then escaped down the North Arm of the city.
There had to be a rational explanation for what was happening. Weir was being decidedly unhelpful. All she'd said was that Carson was "gone" and that Bates was "missing". That could mean almost anything. If they were dead or she suspected they were dead, she would have said so. Wouldn't she? He checked his palms again. They were damp, but feeder free; he wasn't a Wraith, yet.
"Stop overreacting, Rodney," he chided himself. "It's just a coincidence." The fact that Weir hadn't shown any concern about Sheppard only proved it. Assuming anything had happened to him at all. She hadn't said anything when he'd asked and he'd assumed something was wrong because Sheppard liked to be in the middle of everything, looking aloofly heroic. But maybe, for once, Sheppard had overslept. The thought made him smirk.
He entered one of the storage rooms, intending to drop the finger armor into a pile of "to be sorted" junk and let it be someone else's problem. That's when he saw the boot, sticking out from behind a counter. He stuffed the armor back in his pocket.
"Hello?" He called hopefully, not wanting to approach. He inched closer and peered around the counter. "Oh, sh--"
It was Sgt. Bates. He was slumped on the floor and he wasn't moving.
"Why do these things always happen to me?" Grimacing, he knelt and tried to check Bates's pulse. He felt nothing; no sign of a pulse, no sign of breathing, no sign of life. He backed away from the body and stared at it. "This isn't my fault."
He knew he should report to Weir about his discovery, but he couldn't move.
"Bring them to me." The hairs on the back of his neck prickled as the Wraith Queen's voice whispered in his head.
"No," he moaned. "This is not happening. This is not--"
"Bring them to me." The voice was stronger this time and it accompanied a burst of pain so intense it dropped him to his knees. He clenched his teeth, trying to force the alien presence out of his mind.
"I... am not... your slave!" he hissed.
"NOW!"
Gate coordinates flickered like afterimages in his mind. Looking down at Bates's body, he realized he knew what he had to do. The Queen was calling him.
Dr. Grodin looked up from the gate control console. "Rodney, have you had any luck-"
"I'm really sorry about this, Peter." Rodney grabbed him by the neck. His armor-clad finger found Grodin's carotid artery and injected Wraith toxin into him. The scientist never even had time to scream, he just slumped back in his chair, eyes wide and glazing. Rodney checked to make sure no one had seen anything, then punched in the gate address the Queen had given him. He'd have to work quickly, now. He stuffed the armor back in his coat pocket.
As soon as the chevrons began lighting up, people nearby started looking around, trying to determine what was happening. Rodney hefted his backpack and jogged quickly down the Grand Staircase, trying to look as nonchalant as possible.
"Rodney?" Weir approached like a storm, her expression clouded. "What's going on?"
"How should I know, Elizabeth? I've been out looking for Sgt. Bates, remember?" He brushed past her, still heading for the gate. The first four chevrons were already lit.
"Someone's attacked Grodin!" came the shout from the observation deck.
"It's an outgoing wormhole. I can't shut it down," someone else yelled.
"What? Rodney, let's go." Weir started running up the stairs. Rodney ignored her. Six chevrons.
"Raise the shield," Weir commanded.
"I can't. Someone's removed the control crystal."
"Rodney?"
The wormhole flushed into existence. Rodney started running.
"Someone stop him!"
He heard the rattle of guns being raised as he dove through the gate. He rolled to a stop on the far side, dragging in lungs full of sweetened air. He was in a grassy field full of wildflowers bobbing gently in the breeze. Three Wraith guards loomed beside him, their masked faces betraying nothing.
"Hi guys." Rodney sat up, checked to make sure they weren't going to do anything, then stood and brushed himself off. "Well, I'm here. Now what?"
The three guards turned in tandem and began walking through the fields towards an enormous misshapen hillock. The flowers growing on its surface couldn't hide the fact that beneath them lurked a Wraith hiveship.
"Right." He hefted his backpack. "Lay on, MacDuff."
He followed them through the field towards the ship, wishing desperately that he could turn around and run away, but there was no point. It was already too late for him.
"Not exactly the Emerald City, is it?" he muttered, tripping over a root as he stared at the craft straight out of H.R. Giger's worst nightmare. He rubbed his neck, feeling as if he were being watched. He probably was.
"So, you guys hear about what happened to Steve?" He looked at his companions, but they continued to stride ahead without acknowledging him. "Kind of a shame, don't you think? Although he was always a bit slow at Wraith School. But can you imagine? Letting himself be caught by the humans? Ha! What an idiot."
The guards still didn't react and as they entered the ship, Rodney's nervousness increased. He could feel the Queen's presence in his mind more strongly than ever. He concentrated on Beethoven's Sonata 29. It was one of his favorite pieces and it was full of tricky finger movements he'd never come close to mastering.
Even Beethoven couldn't distract him completely from his surroundings. There were Wraith everywhere. In addition to the Guard and "Steve" class that the Atlantis team had encountered were several types he'd never seen before. One of them, a waif-like female, glided down the hall towards them. Rodney averted his eyes; she was completely nude. He had no wish to know anything more about Wraith biology than was strictly necessary.
"He will do nicely." The voice was soft and suggestive. He felt her fingers flutter across his face.
He brushed her hands away and kept walking. "Sorry to disappoint you, but I only date my own kind."
"Everything is my kind if I want it to be," the girl purred.
He caught a wave of anger that wasn't his and realized that the Queen was furious. The girl growled, but turned and padded down the hall, her bare feet making almost no noise against the stone. His relief was short-lived as he realized that while he'd been distracted, his Wraith guards had disappeared. An arched double doorway stood before him. He forced himself to think about the adagio sostenuto movement as he entered the room.
The Queen was seated in the center of the room on a raised dais which contained a chair that looked remarkably similar to the one left behind by the Ancients in Antarctica. Her pale blue skin gleamed in the diffuse lighting and dark hair spilled down her back.
"Where are my gifts?" The Queen spoke, the words reverberating in his head.
He patted his pockets, feigning confusion. "I could have sworn... Ah-ha!" He snapped his fingers. "Ya know, I knew I forgot something!"
The Queen's lips drew back in a snarl and the force of her anger caused him to black out. He came to almost instantly to find himself on the floor. The chill of the stone was so intense that it seemed to leach heat from his body. He stood, checking to make sure he still had his backpack.
"You disobeyed me." The Queen was calm again.
"Yeah. I'm told I have a problem with authority figures." His heart was racing. He struggled to remain calm, trying to think of something, anything to take his mind off what he had to do. He wished Samantha was with him. She would have been able to come up with a better plan. But then, he could never wish her into a place like this.
"I am disappointed," the Queen told him. "If you have nothing to offer me then I will have to extract what I need from you."
"Oh, I didn't say I had nothing to offer." He approached the throne, unslinging his backpack. "Let me grab something first." His hand shook as he reached into the bag and removed a small, innocuous box. He could feel her pushing at him, trying to figure out what he was doing. He thought about the allegro risoluto instead, the finale of the sonata.
"Here," he said, tossing the pack at her feet. "Compliments of Earth."
One of the blocks of plastique spilled out. The Queen glanced at it and then their eyes met. Claws dug into his brain.
"What is this?" she demanded.
"You know what?" He squared his shoulders and tightened his grip on the detonator. "Bite me."
Before he could hit the button, an explosion rocked the room, knocking him off his feet. The detonator skittered across the floor.
"No!" He scrambled after it, dimly aware of the Queen's furious roar.
"Rodney. Did you get lost on your way to the bathroom again?"
Rodney looked up to see Major Sheppard standing in the smoking wreckage of the doorway, a Wraith stunner in his hands.
"What--"
The Queen screamed again and this time the claws were real, digging into the back of his jacket and pulling him up.
"Hey," Sheppard shouted. "Hands off my scientist!" He fired the stunner.
Rodney flinched, his skin tingling as the bolt passed over his head. A cold weight flattened him to the floor, but the pressure in his mind was gone. He struggled to move and saw a booted foot by his head.
"Major!" He laughed nervously. "Man, am I ever glad to see you!"
Sheppard shook his head. "You have no idea how much this hurts me, Rodney."
Rodney saw the barrel of the stunner swing towards him.
"Don't worry. It'll all be over soon."
XXX
"I still don't understand why you didn't let me in on this." Rodney's fingers drummed on the surface of the conference room table as he glared at Major Sheppard and Dr. Beckett. They were back in Atlantis, but Rodney was anything but pleased.
"We told you, Rodney, there wasn't enough time. It all happened very fast and there simply wasn't time to stop and go looking for you." Carson spoke slowly. It was the third or fourth time he'd said it. Rodney still didn't believe him.
"Besides," Sheppard said, "You were there when we first mentioned it. You were just asleep." He smirked.
Rodney sneered. "Oh, right. And that's supposed to be the big explanation for my nightmare, right?"
"The pieces do fit, you know," Carson said. "Even the bit about Sgt. Bates."
Sheppard laughed. "I can't believe you couldn't feel his pulse."
"It might have been better for you if he HAD died, eh, Major?" Carson chuckled.
"Yeah," Sheppard leaned back in his chair. "He seemed to take it kinda personally that I stunned him, didn't he?"
"I'm sorry, perhaps I misunderstood. I thought this was supposed to be about me?" Rodney poked at the stitches on the back of his neck.
Carson sighed. "Leave them alone, Rodney. You'll be fine." He gestured at the file in front of him. "The x-rays showed that the probe wasn't rooted that deeply. It was only bad timing that we had to leave before... Anyway, you've seen the new x-rays, yourself. I got it all out, neat as you please." He grinned. "Looks like that thick head of yours came in handy."
"Ha, ha, very funny." Rodney stood. "I can see I'm not going to get anything useful out of either of you." He sniffed. "I'd have thought you'd show me a little more respect. I almost died, you know!"
"We know, we know." Carson rolled his eyes. "You won't let us forget it."
"I always knew you had a flair for melodrama, but you had enough C4 in that pack of yours to bring down half the ship." Sheppard shook his head. "And all that because you thought you were turning into a Wraith?"
Carson tried to cover his laugh with a cough. Sheppard was struggling to look serious.
Rodney glared at both of them. "It made sense at the time, OK? I was hearing voices, I was having visions, I... I... Look, it was a logical deduction based on the evidence!"
"Oh, I'm sure it was, Rodney," Sheppard agreed. "For you, at least."
"There's no evidence to support the hypothesis that the Wraith can convert people into more Wraiths."
Rodney knew they were toying with him, but that only irritated him more. "What about the finger armor? How was I able to use it if I'm not a Wraith?"
"The what?" Sheppard frowned.
Rodney realized he'd forgotten about the armor until now. He dug into his pocket, looking for it.
"It must have fallen out of my pocket when I dove through the gate." He checked his other pockets, just to be sure.
"Are you sure that wasn't just part of your dream?" Carson asked.
"Excuse me, Doctor, but I think I know the difference between dream and reality!"
"Really?" Sheppard smiled. "So tell us, how is Colonel Carter these days?"
Rodney gritted his teeth. "I should have known you wouldn't understand. Just because you have the gene doesn't mean you're qualified to be here!" He turned and stalked towards the door.
"Oh, come on, Rodney, I was just kidding."
Rodney ignored him, waiting impatiently for the doors to swing open. Teyla was waiting outside.
"Rodney, I-"
"Oh, shut up!" He snapped, storming past her.
He headed back to the solitude of his room, still fuming at everyone's casual dismissal of his experience. No one believed that the Queen had been sending him commands via the probe. Carson had assured him- and everyone else- that it wasn't strong enough to have transmitted a signal over so great a distance. He did think that the pressure it was exerting on the surrounding tissue of his brain might have caused auditory and possibly even visual hallucinations. But if the armor hadn't existed, how had he managed to knock out Peter?
"It really did happen." He stretched out on his bed, staring up at the ceiling. It had to have happened, right? Just because there were a few inconsistencies between his story and Sheppard's didn't mean that his version of events was wrong. He couldn't have hallucinated everything... Could he?
He rolled over and closed his eyes. Just as he was drifting off to sleep, he thought he heard a soft voice purring in his head.
"Mine. All mine..."