As a number of you predicted, there are slight spoilers here for "Common Ground"

oOoOoOo

John was feeling very frustrated. His investigations into the recent thefts were getting no where. It seemed the more he found out, the less he knew. All he had really found out was that the thefts were more widespread than anyone had originally realised. Many of the items were small, inconsequential items, which their owner thought they had merely misplaced. But when you put it all together, it seemed to indicate that there was a kleptomaniac on the loose – and although that was better than a maniacal murderer, it was still very frustrating.

Ronon and Teyla were now helping him, but even with their efforts, they didn't seem to be making progress. John knew that Elizabeth had agreed to them carrying out this investigate to their minds off recent events.

Their team was incomplete, and not only were they dealing with the loss of two friends, they also had to deal with the fact they couldn't go off world until they found a replacement for Rodney. Neither John nor Elizabeth was in any hurry to do so. John felt it was somehow disloyal to Rodney to rush into appointing someone to take his place.

"How do you replace Rodney?" John muttered to himself, and then smiled, when he thought how Rodney would have reacted to the thought he was irreplaceable. He just couldn't get his mind round the fact that Rodney and Carson were dead. They had all been in danger so often since they had arrived in the Pegasus and had somehow come through it – often due to the efforts of Drs McKay and Beckett. That's what made it so unfair in John's eyes. He owed his life to these two – literally, and he couldn't conceive that he hadn't been able to save their lives.

In a part of his mind, a part that he tried to keep under control, he hoped that the bodies they found weren't those of the two doctors. He didn't want to let that thought take control. He didn't want to build his hopes up too much, but he found he couldn't say goodbye to his two friends, not a proper goodbye, until he knew for certain they were dead.

Still deep in thought, John hurried along the corridor. He was on his way to meet Teyla who had some information for him, which he hoped it would lead to some kind of breakthrough. After the events of the last few days, they badly needed some good news. John rounded the corner at a rush, and came into rather rapid contact with a small, but surprisingly solid body.

"Jinto!" John exclaimed, looking down at the Athosian boy, who was now sitting on the ground, a rather startled expression on his face.

"Sorry, Colonel," the boy said, jumping to his feet, ignoring the helping hand that John had offered him.

"Where are you off to in such a hurry?" John asked.

"The Mess Hall," Jinto said, grinning. John grinned in return.

"Don't want to get in the way of a growing boy and his food," he replied to the boy, whose grin broadened.

"What are you doing here on Atlantis, anyway?" John asked, suddenly realising that the boy should have been at school on the mainland.

"Ah, Jinto," Teyla said, approaching from the opposite direction. "There you are."

"Shouldn't he be at school?" John asked her.

Teyla smiled, a wide smile that encompassed the boy as well as the man.

"Jinto is here, helping cross-cultural relations," she said.

"Yep," the boy replied. "I'm participating in a cross-cultural exchange to promote inter-racial harmony." John laughed, and wondered just where the boy got that quote from. His bet was Elizabeth. It sounded like her.

He glanced at Teyla, whose eyes were dancing too. "You have obviously been listening closely to Dr Weir," she said to the boy, confirming John's suspicions.

"Yeah," Jinto said, but it was obvious to both adults that the boy wanted to be elsewhere.

"He's going to the Mess Hall," John said to Teyla, by way of explanation.

"Ah," she replied, with an understanding smile. "Then we do not want to separate you from your meal."

"See ya," Jinto said, taking off at a run, eager to eat again.

"I think Jinto has been perhaps spending too long on Atlantis," Teyla said with an affectionate grin. "He is beginning to sound like he is from Earth."

"And that's a bad thing?" John asked, teasingly.

"Let us just say, that it is different," Teyla replied, ever the diplomat.

"Now," John said, getting down to business. "What have you discovered?"

"There have been thefts on the mainland too," Teyla said, a frown forming between her eyes. "I have spoken with Halling, and they seem to follow a very similar pattern those on Atlantis."

"When did they start?" John asked.

"About four weeks ago," Teyla replied. "And they have been no thefts in the last 3 days."

"Interesting," John said, thoughtfully. "They started on the mainland and seem to have moved here." He looked apologetically at Teyla, when he realised how that sounded.

"I agree," she said, with a rueful smile. "I am not blind to my people's faults," she continued. "But it is not quite as clear cut as it would appear."

He looked at her questioningly. "And . . .?" he asked.

"The thefts on the mainland started with the first stage of the cross-cultural exchanges," Teyla explained. "That involved people from Atlantis visiting the Athosian villages on the mainland."

"So, we're basically back at square one," John said, exasperation in his voice.

"I am afraid so," Teyla said, regret in her eyes.

"John," Elizabeth's voice sounded through the comm-link. "Could you meet me in the Infirmary, immediately?"

John and Teyla exchanged an anxious glance. John saw the flare of hope in Teyla's eyes, just before she extinguished it. It echoed his own feelings. Without a word, they both turned and headed to the Infirmary.

oOoOoOo

Rodney couldn't hold back his cry of anguish as Michael reached towards Carson's chest. It was an instinctive reaction, one he couldn't repress.

At the touch of the Wraith's hand, Carson flinched slightly, reacting as instinctively as Rodney. But then he steeled himself, bracing himself for the agony of a Wraith's touch.

When the touch came, it was surprisingly gentle, almost cleansing. Carson opened his eyes wide, in surprise. They showed a vivid blue against the pallor of his face. He looked up at Michael, almost questioningly as the Wraith shared his strength and healing with the healer.

When Michael removed his hand, Carson felt not only healed but invigorated.

"You see, Dr Beckett," Michael said, his tone condescending, and at odds with the moment they had just shared. "Perhaps you don't know as much about Wraith as you think you do."

Carson smiled gently. "You might be surprised, lad," Carson said, softly. "But I thought that particular gift was only shared with a brother."

Michael looked slightly shaken, then his eyes narrowed. "You still surprise me at times, Dr Beckett," he said. "Even though you shared your thoughts with me."

Carson flinched at the memory.

"But I only shared it with you because it suited me," Michael continued, his tone now back to its menacing best. "You serve a purpose, and you need to be fully well to do so."

"And what if I refuse?" Carson asked, standing so he was face to face with the Wraith. Michael snarled his contempt at this defiance. He twisted his hand, and Carson fell to his knees in agony.

Rodney jumped to his feet, and rushed towards his friend. One of the other Wraith, Rodney wasn't sure which, hit him with the back of his hand, sending the scientist crashing back into the wall.

"What is it with you humans?" Michael asked contemptuously. "You never know when you are beaten."

"Too right," Carson said, through gritted teeth. He glanced over at Rodney, worried about his friend. His eyes were closed, and there was blood pooling behind his head.

Carson wrenched himself away from Michael's mental hold on him. "Let me help him," he said, nodding towards Rodney. "If you want me to help you, you need to keep him alive. Otherwise, I won't help."

"Are all your race as stubborn as you, Dr Beckett?" Michael asked.

Carson's only answer was to meet the Wraith's stare with an unwavering gaze.

"Alright, tend him," the Wraith said, eventually, unwilling to let the silence continue any longer.

Carson moved quickly to Rodney's side, letting his professional persona mask the fear he was feeling. The confrontation had left him shaking, though he would never let Michael see that – he couldn't afford to. Not for his sake and certainly not for Rodney's sake.

He knelt by the lifeless body of his friend, automatically checking for his pulse. He let out a big sigh of relief when he felt the steady throb of a strong pulse at the scientist's neck. As if reacting to the familiar touch of the physician, Rodney started to regain consciousness, letting out a groan as the painfree existence of unconsciousness gave way to painful reality.

"Are you okay, Rodney?" Carson asked.

"You're the doctor," Rodney responded, weakly. "You tell me."

"He's okay," Carson said, more to himself than anyone else.

His relief however, only lasted for a moment, as the door to their prison burst open, and a Wraith came striding in. In his arms, he carried limp figure. It was a figure that was achingly familiar.

Carson let out a cry of anguish.