A/N: Thank you so much, everyone, for all the lovely reviews!


Part Five

Rodney made it to the top of the Northwest Tower without encountering anyone. He had no illusions that he would be alone for long Grodin was too good at manipulating the internal sensors of the city for Rodney's whereabouts to remain unknown. But it would take a little while for Elizabeth to get a search party organized, and longer to figure out which life sign was his, so he would have a little time. He just needed a few moments alone to think. It was when he didn't have time to stop and think things through that he made mistakes.

So he stood on the uppermost balcony of the tower, tasting the salt on the ocean breeze, and tried to look at the events of the last two days logically.

Only he had to admit that the events of the last two days seemed to defy logic. It took him less than ten seconds to figure that out. And without more information, there were only a few conclusions he could come to.

First, whenever he felt sick and came into physical contact with someone, he felt better and they seemed to become weakened; second, since this had started right after his encounter with the Wraith on Pataskala, and taking into account their way of feeding, this had to be connected to the Wraith. So he should avoid touching anyone. In fact, perhaps it would be best if he left Atlantis altogether. Especially if, and this was the thing he desperately didn't want to contemplate, he was somehow turning into a Wraith.

But that was a premature conclusion. He needed more information. Carson had already admitted how little they knew about the Wraith. The only other source was the Wraith themselves.

No, he thought, that wasn't quite true. The Ancients undoubtedly knew quite a bit about the Wraith. It would take far too long to try and find the relevant information in Atlantis' databases, they were still figuring out how to work them, and translating what they found was a slow, inexact process. The best source would be a live Ancient, and he knew exactly where to find one of those. There was no guarantee she would help, even if she could, but he was asking for information, not direct aid against the Wraith.

It galled him to think of asking her for any kind of help at all, but when it came to his health and his friends safety – he was determined to put aside his pride and animosity.

Mind made up, Rodney stepped away from the railing and headed for the transporter that had brought him to the top of the tower. He was about to direct it to the Command Center, intending to put his idea to Elizabeth, when he was gripped with an intense feeling of hunger, stomach painfully empty. His first thought was to stop by the mess hall for an MRE, but oddly that didn't appeal. What he really wanted what he craved was to go see Elizabeth right away; to take her hand and…

His train of thought stuttered to a halt as he realized exactly what he was contemplating, and he felt a wave of self-disgust that almost swamped the strange craving.

He changed his mind and chose a transporter destination near one of the naquadah generator's instead. There was a secondary link to Atlantis' systems there from which he could program the city to feed false data to the Command Center. The personnel there would believe that a faulty conduit was about to fill the Gateroom and Puddle Jumper Bay with poisonous gases. They would evacuate, and he could slip in and go through the Stargate before they could stop him.


He had to take a Puddle Jumper to get to his destination. He hated taking it – it wasn't stealing, he promised himself, he intended to leave it somewhere for Sheppard to find. Before he could think better of his decision, he was at the controls of a ship and through the Stargate. He piloted the Jumper down to the planet, setting down with only a few bumps outside a large temple-like structure. He absently noted how much better his piloting skills were when he was preoccupied, and thought about telling Sheppard.

The major would follow him, of that Rodney was sure, but it wasn't important. If Chaya couldn't or wouldn't help him, he'd willingly go back to Atlantis as long as they promised to lock him up so he couldn't hurt anyone. For all his voiced distrust of medical science, Rodney knew Carson was a brilliant doctor. If the Scotsman couldn't find a cure for his friend, he might at least be able to learn something that could help others. More importantly, he wouldn't let Rodney suffer.

He just hoped it wouldn't come to that.

The open-air temple seemed to be deserted, but he refused to be deterred. "Chaya!" he shouted. "I need to speak to you."

The only reply was a solitary chirping bird.

He swallowed his pride. He would probably have to beg for her help anyways, why not start right away? "Please!"

She came around a corner, and he wondered how it was possible for someone to look sad, angry, and gorgeous all at the same time. He clamped down hard on his instinctive mistrust this would be so much easier if she didn't look like a supermodel.

"Doctor McKay, you should not have returned. There is nothing I can do for you "

"Please, just listen to me. Something's happening to me, and you're the only person I can think of who might be able to help. There was "

The sorrow disappeared, and the anger that twisted her face made her momentarily ugly. "I cannot help you!" she told him, and turned away. Rodney lunged forward and caught her arm, and a surge of power washed over him. He drank it in effortlessly, strength filling him, making him feel like he could run for days without tiring, climb mountains…even fly.

Suddenly he was tossed away, and hit the stone wall with a thud that knocked the breath out of him. He slid to the ground, aching to draw air into his shocked lungs. Chaya stood over him, shaking with rage. The revulsion in her gaze made him flinch and try to move away, but his limbs wouldn't obey him.

"What are you?" she hissed.

His lungs unlocked and he gulped in air. "I don't know," he panted, hating the tremor of fear in his voice. "I don't know what's happening to me, that's why I came to you. I thought you might know. There was a Wraith, it tried to to feed on me. Something went wrong, I think I drained it instead, and now I can't touch anyone, or I suck the energy from them. I'm sorry, I didn't mean to do it to you. I can't control it." He was babbling now, and he forced himself to stop with difficulty. "Please, if you can't help me, can you stop me? I'm afraid I'm going to really hurt someone…"

Her face softened. "I do not think there is anything I can do for you, Doctor McKay. But I will try to find the cause of your affliction. And if you truly wish it, I will stop you."

She dissolved into a flare of light and hovered over him, glowing tentacles outstretched. Rodney shrank away in surprise, but Chaya's voice commanded him to be still, so he closed his eyes. The strange feathery touch seemed to just miss his actual physical body. It wasn't so bad at first, but then she probed deeper. He could see the glow through his eyelids and feel it on his skin – and under his skin. Even though it wasn't exactly against his will, he felt violated by the sense of her inside him, a touch that was somehow more intimate than sex but nowhere near as familiar or enjoyable. As she settled into him, he dimly felt himself shiver, felt her gently force his body to relax, and realized that she was trying to be kind. And that just made her possession of him worse, because he could tell that she looked on him as a lesser being.

It suddenly occurred to him that this must be kind of what it was like to be taken over by a Goa'uld: a passenger inside his own skin with someone else at the wheel. The thought made him panic, trying vainly to push her out, but Chaya was so much stronger than him it was like trying to move a mountain. Her mind pinned his like an insect on display and she demanded, "What is this?"

She showed him the image of some kind of twisted thread. One part of it was a coarse, inferior type of strand that looked as if it had been clumsily tied on. It was covered with tiny buzzing particles that were absorbed by the thread, slowly altering the substance of it.

His confusion must have been evident, because before he could even figure out how to respond, she plunged into his memories, shuffling quickly through them with careless disregard for their content until she found what she was looking for.

Once again, Carson explained the deactivated mouse retrovirus that would give him the ATA gene, joked about the FDA, slipped the needle into his arm…

Rodney could feel Chaya's quiet satisfaction leaking through her effortless and implacable grip on him.

"I cannot help you, Doctor McKay," she told him, "but I think you can help me."

A moment later she ruthlessly stripped the memory of their meeting from his mind and replaced it with a different set of memories.