Weir put down the folder she was reading, and regarded it thoughtfully for a moment. Beckett had long since subsided into silence, and was staring listlessly out one of the windows behind her, chewing a thumbnail.

"All right," she said at last. Carson's attention jerked back to her. "What can we do about it?"

The Scottish doctor sat up, leaning forward. "Not much," he admitted forthrightly.

"How so?"

"I have no idea how this is possible," Beckett told her, clasping his hands together. "Proper research and study to fully understand this phenomenon and replicate it would be decades at the least. Anything less would be foolish, and dangerous."

Unspoken, the inoculation of the Hoffans filled the space between them. Fifty percent mortality rate was unacceptable to the new Atlanteans, though others might have found it reasonable.

"I understand," Weir nodded her agreement, reaching up to push wayward tendrils of hair back from her face. "Do you think Private Venner has any idea of just how unique his blood is?"

Carson shrugged. The man still looked uncomfortable about his betrayal of his patient's unknowing confidence. Beckett was a good man, and Weir briefly regretted forcing him into the decision. "I doubt it – he's had all his vaccinations and more than probably has put his good health down to luck. Some people do have healthier immune systems than others. It's just the way the world works."

"Luck, indeed," Weir murmured. She sighed. "I want you to work on this," she told him. "But if the chances are as slim as you estimate, then it would be senseless for this to take top priority when there's so much new knowledge from the Ancients that we have easier, faster access to. If you could put it on your list?" she asked quietly, knowing how much the doctor had on his plate.

"A pet project?" Carson asked, the gleam of interest in his eyes.

Weir nodded, choosing her next words carefully and trusting to Beckett's discretion. "I don't think the whole of Atlantis needs to know the solution may have been born on Earth, instead of within Pegasus. It could create – problems."

She didn't need to say Kavanagh's name. The supercilious scientist with his morally questionable ideas and blatant promotion of self-interest would be among the loudest clamoring for experimentation on one of their own. If the man could gather any support, control could spiral out of Elizabeth's hands should a situation arise, and there was no doubt that it would end badly.

"Try to get Venner to cooperate with you on his own," she continued. "I don't have the authority to do so, and I don't want Sheppard involved."

Carson was a little surprised at this decision to keep the head of the premier Atlantis team out of the loop, and Weir read his expression correctly. "If John takes a hand in convincing Venner to work with you, there is no way anything he says can be construed as anything but an order," she explained. "The military has control over its own, but forcing a man to let his body be used in experiments brings us too close to those we oppose."

Beckett nodded slowly, once again thankful that all he had to do was treat them, and not negotiate with them. Military. He shook his head. Medicine was beautifully clear-cut that way. "And I'd like to speak with Venner," she added, as Carson stood to get up.

"Now?"

Now, while John's team was offworld, was the perfect time to meet this man.

It took nearly a half-hour for him to be discreetly found by a member of the control-room staff, appointed by Weir to find the SF.

When he arrived in her office, his clothes were sweat-stained and he was flushed with exertion. "I'm sorry I'm so late, Dr. Weir," he began. "I didn't know you wanted to see me."

"I found him working out in an empty room in the southwest pier of the city," the tech murmured in a low explanation.

"Thank you," Elizabeth dismissed the man, and turned her attention to Venner. The man was tall and darkly handsome, his black hair short but shaggy, soon in need of a trim. Angular features were accentuated by a thin, bladed nose. His eyes were a light hazel, strangely golden in the sun. Even sitting down, eyes lowered, he had a commanding, riveting presence. Weir spared a moment to wonder why he was in the bottom ranks, before she began questioning him.

"What were you doing there?" she asked him as soon as the door closed behind the departing technician.

Hazel eyes rose to meet hers, and she could see the defiance and will in them. The man missed nothing – his gaze flicked from her to Beckett and back. "Sometimes I need to be alone, to think," he answered quietly. "The southwestern part of the city is less . . . overrun with people." White teeth flashed in a quick smile.

Weir sat forward, clasping her hands on her desktop. "You do know that we haven't explored most of the city, and that we don't want anyone wandering around alone, for their own safety and that of Atlantis. I don't think I need to remind you of the rules outlining habitable areas, or of the several incidents that have occurred when someone stumbled over something best left alone." Her voice was hard, unyielding. The safety of Atlantis was her prime concern, and finding that someone had been making light of the restrictions she placed to keep her people secure did not sit well with her.

"I was on downtime," Venner pointed out mildly. "This section of the city had already been scouted several times, during the initial exploration of Atlantis and later, after the city rose from the sea. It simply wasn't used. I touched nothing, used the same route to and from, and went nowhere other than that room."

Weir held her tongue. Venner finished calmly, showing no sign that her anger upset him in the least, yet answered respectfully. She was intrigued by the fact that, just as she was measuring him, through his answers and actions, so was he too discreetly assessing her. She had little contact with the military; they were all under Sheppard's command, and he listened to her wishes and advice when it came to Atlantis. Mostly. It was no surprise that she had never seen this man before, though when he had walked into the room she recognized his stance. He was one of the faceless bodies which were mostly seen from the control room above; the man guarded the Stargate.

"Nevertheless," she said once she was certain he was finished. "I don't want you using that area of the city until it has been fully scouted out, and a report has been filled out to me. Is that understood?"

Venner seemed to think for a moment, before he finally nodded. "Yes, ma'am." So. This one did not subscribe to the military theory Weir saw stereotyped so often; that of unquestioning, thoughtless obedience to the hierarchy of rank. Despite the defiance he displayed, she felt she might like him. A humorous thought struck her, and she wondered how many times Sheppard had come up against this man. On first glance the two were very different, yet she had the sense that they were also similar in the most important ways – and that was bound to irritate John, at least.

"Ma'am?" Venner asked into the pause. "Am I dismissed?"

She smiled. "I did not call you here to reprimand you, Private Venner," she told him.

"Ma'am?" The confusion now, and the more searching glance aimed at Dr. Beckett. But his eyes had shuttered, and she could no longer read this enigmatic man's emotions. Curious.

"Dr. Beckett has brought something to my attention that I felt was necessary to speak with you about," she told him, and handed a folder to him.

He noted his name on the cover, glanced at her, and opened it. The silence as he read was thick, and surprise slowly colored his features as he perused the papers within. "There's been a mistake," he said quietly, once he was done. He closed the folder and set it gently on the desk. "That's – not possible."

But the words were stiff, almost as if he knew it must be true.

"Have you ever had bloodwork done at a lab, back on Earth, Gabe?" asked Beckett suddenly.

The man shook his head certainly. "There was no need," he said clearly.

Beckett asked, even more gently, "Have you ever been sick?"

Venner shrugged.

"Private?" Elizabeth probed.

The man sat straighter, eyes focused on the wall over her shoulder as he rapped out, "I don't believe so, ma'am."

Surprised by his automatic reversion to military protocol and its protection, she sat back. He didn't move. "At ease," she told him quietly. "This isn't an interrogation."

"Then what is it, ma'am?" he met her eyes squarely, but she saw no fear in him.

"A request." Her answer clearly surprised him. "By some stroke of luck, divine will, whatever you want to call it, you hold in your blood a means that we might be able to use to defeat the wraith." His eyes grew cold at that, but she plowed on. "It's incredible. A miracle, if you want to use the word. But there are certain problems that also arise with it."

His expression was set and unreadable. But he listened as Carson took over for her.

"For me to study everything that's going on in your system would take a lifetime or two," the doctor said gently. "I don't know if we could ever even hope to replicate whatever it is that makes you so unique. From what I can tell now, it's a fundamental difference at the cellular level. Even Ancient technology might not be able to do anything to copy or reproduce that type of difference."

Venner's face relaxed at that, and he began to look a little interested.

"I just want to work with you," Carson told him. "Some of your time, when you're off duty. Just to see if I can figure anything out. I promise, no one else needs to know of it; it would be under doctor-patient confidentiality. Nothing will be done to you without your consent."

A measure of relief that the man couldn't hide slid over his features and was just as quickly gone, but Venner looked to Weir for confirmation. She nodded, and wondered what would prompt such a strong emotion. Beckett might be able to find out.

"I'd like if this arrangement remained between us for the time being," Weir said quietly.

Venner's face hardened. "Sheppard?"

Weir looked at him intently. "In this instance, he doesn't need to know. I'd also like to avoid making this . . . development public knowledge. There could be problems."

The man was not stupid. "Kavanagh," he muttered. From the expression on his face, Weir could see that he had had a run in with the obnoxious scientist.

"Among other possible threats, yes," she told him.

"Wraith?" he asked, almost rhetorically.

"That's where things get interesting," Beckett interjected. He proceeded to tell Venner of the reaction the man's blood had had with the wraith cells, the preserved skin.

"No one's immune from those things," Venner replied with skeptic certainty. Beckett began to protest, and the SF raised his hands placatingly. "I have no desire to get close enough to one of those things to prove either of us right, Doc."

"Amen," said Elizabeth quietly. She looked at Venner, still composed despite his pale silence, incredulity clear in his eyes. Whether he was unable to believe them about the wraith, or about the fact that he would have a decision in this, was still a mystery. "Take some time," Elizabeth said abruptly. "Think it over. When you've let Dr. Beckett know what you want to do, he'll inform me."

"Thank you," Venner replied thoughtfully. His wariness, though he tried to hide it, was evident. "I will."

"This conversation does not leave this room," Weir finished, not that she needed to tell either man.

"Conversation, ma'am? What conversation?" Venner asked, his air one of questioning innocence.

She couldn't help her smile at his attempt at humor. "Dismiss."

With a salute, the man was gone, the door closing quietly behind him.

"What do you think?" she asked Beckett, who moved around from behind her to drop into the chair Venner had just occupied. "You've spoken with him before."

Beckett shrugged. "Only in passing. He plays checkers with my patients, sometimes, and talks to them."

"His friends?" Weir wanted to know more about this man, to know what he would choose.

Beckett shrugged. "Anyone. He has a gift with people, even the ones who are so logged in their own misery that they barely notice him at first. I don't know if he truly realizes how much he does for them. He just wants to help, and between us, he does a damn fine job at it."

"Do you think he'll help us, then?"

Carson could only look at her. "I hope so."

Weir nodded and the two sat in silence for a moment, their thoughts turned to the future and the surprising new possibility that had presented itself in the form of a man neither would have given a second glance to in passing. After a few moments, Beckett rose and excused himself, needing to return to his work and hoping for time alone to think.

When Beckett approached his infirmary, he found Gabriel waiting for him, slouched against a wall, out of sight of the main care area. He was surprised at seeing the man there so soon, and it showed in his voice. "Have you made a decision yet?" Scrutinizing the other's closed expression, he didn't think so.

In confirmation of his suspicions, Venner shook his head and said simply, "I want to see – I need to see for myself."

"Ah. Of course."

A few moments later, a fresh vial of blood sat next to a microscope. Venner, comfortable on the small chair despite his height, was gazing intently into the microscope as Beckett explained what he was seeing. For a few hours, they spoke quietly, and Beckett was a little amazed at the man's knowledge. For a thirty-something SF, living by the gun and taking his life into his hands, the man had an astonishing breadth of knowledge.

He left the soldier with the appropriate tools, and returned to his work, checking on the other man every so often. Each time he did, the dark head was bent over the microscope or the slides, working.

Not long after, his attention was diverted by the arrival of two individuals; someone he'd expected, and someone he'd never met. Beckett learned that her name was Chaya, and was given her permission to examine her. Sheppard was never far off, and it was clear that something was going on between them. Sparks flew whenever they were in the room with each other, but Rodney seemed wary of the emotion arcing between the two.

A moment left unattended, however, and Chaya vanished within the infirmary. Her momentary disappearance was unnoticed.

She sensed something. It almost felt like another of her kind, but different. It was older, much, much older. And filled with a glowing strength far beyond what she had thought possible. Rounding the corner, she saw a man bent over some instruments on a table, studying something intently. He did not seem to notice her. Chaya took a step forward.

"Who are you?" he asked, never diverting his attention from the microscope.

"Chaya," she answered, her voice low as she studied him.

"Athar," he rebuked gently, finally turning to look at her. Hearing her true name, she froze, meeting his gaze.

She gasped at the wisdom in his eyes, the age and power shining in his face. Then it was gone, and he was just a man again. Nothing like Sheppard, and she was wary of him. "Who are you?"

Then he laughed, a rich, thrilling sound. "Do not fear, child. I am not one of your peers, come to chastise you for breaking a rule." He made it sound so inconsequential; it had been her ultimate undoing. "And I am not what you fear, one of the higher powers come to take an interest in your world. I am older than that."

"Older?" she asked carefully, suspicion darkening her beautiful features.

"I was here before the making of the universe. I will exist beyond its breaking." There was no doubting that voice, certain in its power. Chaya did not shiver before it – years of solitude, protecting her own people, had made her stronger than that. But she did turn her eyes away, and nod.

"I see." But she didn't, really.

And he knew it. "You may, one day."

However, dabbling in higher powers like ascension meant she saw a little, and she had to ask. "Does he know that his salvation does not lie on some far distant planet? That it sits here in Atlantis, hidden within his own home?"

The man's face was cold. "Sheppard? No."

"Why not?" she challenged, spurred on by the emotion she felt for the man. Love was a bright and beautiful thing, one that had pushed wiser beings than her into folly.

"Your people have laws about interference, Athar," he murmured, a dangerous note in his voice. Golden eyes flashed with hot emotion, quickly subdued.

"You are older than that!" she protested, feeling a flush rise in her cheeks.

"But not older than law. I am here to interfere – yes. But not that way. There is one law, one I dare not break. Not for any punishment I might receive, but for what it would do to them. Free will, above all else, is precious. What right have I to take it away?"

Put like that, it made more sense than the non-interference rules preached by the Ancients, and she felt closer to understanding. Shame filled her at the thoughts that statement stirred, and she hid the emotion away, turning her mind to other things.

The rest of the words they spoke were short, as he seemed to know who and what she was at a mere glance. He was inscrutable to her, however, and she wondered at herself. The power she had thought she held, had thought to control. . . The Ancients reprimanded the Tau'ri for being young, and toying with dangerous beings and technologies, but how were they any different? They played with a power they professed to understand; yet when looking at this man, she could see that they knew almost nothing. It gave her something to think on, yet she pushed it to the back of her mind. The future was now, with Sheppard. For a short time.

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Now you see why this is more Atlantis than anything. Don't worry; we'll be getting further into Atlantis as it goes on... I finally have this dang plot bunny sorted out.