Chapter 6

Climbing Cathedral Mountains

As Teyla stood before Michael, her mind drifted to her time on Earth. Ronon and she had experienced many wonderful things. Fast food, shopping, and amusement parks to name a few of the frivolous adventures they had been on during their two month stay. However, SG-1 and some of the Atlantis personnel had not limited it to that.

The Odyssey had remained in orbit under repair so it had been a great source of exploration. They stood in markets from South America to India. They watched sporting events in every country of the world. They walked crowded streets in Shang Hai, London and New York. They stood on top of mountains and in the wells of valleys and in the calderas of Yellow Stone.

All equally magnificent in their own way.

All very exotic and tantalizing.

All not of her home.

As they progressed from place to place, she saw brief moments of sorrow, appreciation, and grief on Ronon's face. He seemed overwhelmed in New York as he stood on a sidewalk with so many buildings that scraped the sky. She had only seen the images of his world from a MALP and could only empathize with his sense of loss. The city in the pictographs on Athos was from so long ago that she did not miss it, just what it represented. She could see why the expedition members guarded this planet with such ferocity. It was a monument to their achievements and failures. It was still whole.

In the last two weeks of their stay, John was able to join them. He looked out upon the expanded view from the Rockies with a melancholy expression. Ronon stood on one side of him and she on the other as they quietly enjoyed the scenery. Rodney had not joined them on this day citing pollen and mold counts. In some things, she would never understand her teammates because even with such drawbacks, the view was worth the chance of a sneeze.

Their escorts for every adventure (Teal'c and Col. Mitchell) kept a discreet distance allowing for private conversations. Teal'c had been a great source of insight into this cloistered people. He had also proven a worthy sparring opponent both for Ronon and her. She welcomed his insight as an outsider. It allowed her to understand the battle waging within the colonel as he breathed in the thin air.

She drew close to her healing friend and placed a hand on his arm. She waited for the expected flinch and received it. She could see his fight to maintain calm and accept the offered touch as something benign and generous. To her relief, he was winning the fight. She kept her voice low and questioned him the one thing that had been bothering her since their world tour began.

"Do you regret sitting in the chair?"

Another war began on his face and in his posture. The fight was between giving the truthful answer or the easy one. His shoulders dropped as one answer won.

"Sometimes."

"I'm not," she answered simply.

For without him, the Wraith would still be viewed as just a sad part of life. With Atlantis and her people's interventions, the Wraith had become a nuisance to be swatted at, a pest buzzing at the fruit stand. Their mystique wiped away and replaced with a single determination to be rid of them. It was empowering. It was intoxicating.

Ronon nodded on the other side silently letting the action agree with her statement.

"I see why your planet has kept the Stargate quiet. I can see with so many views and all of the people…the paranoia would be devastating." The thin air caught her by surprise as she felt a moment of dizziness. The sheer size of the population on Earth…nowhere in her knowledge was there so great a number of humans living on one planet. The dizziness passed once he answered her.

"Ignorance is bliss. Sometimes I wish I was still in such an egocentric, ignorant bliss." He paused for a moment. "We're in a time of upheaval here. Old traditions clashing with new, contradicting philosophies fighting for dominance, governments jockeying for power…the populace couldn't handle it. It would send everything into a spin of anarchy and denial. The backlash…" His shoulders dropped even farther.

"Well, once we can live together then maybe we can live with the rest of the galaxy and her neighbors. They don't realize the sacrifices entire planets have made. How complete strangers have been surrendered to keep my planet so ignorantly blissful." John kept his gaze focused on the vista. "But that's not my call to make."

She had learned more from that one statement than in two years of knowing him. He had ended up on Athos by pure, blind fortune. Good fortune, in her opinion. He was left behind on the Hive ship because of bad luck and an illness. His strength protected him just like Ronon had said it would. John Sheppard was a fighter and extremely stubborn.

His doubts would always be there, but he was in for the entire duration of Earth's stay in the Pegasus Galaxy, because that was his call to make. He would do whatever was necessary to stay by his team's side. He would be coming home to Atlantis and in turn, she would remain by his side for as long as possible.

She would never leave the fight but there had to be more. Her duties on Atlantis now included being part of the command structure of the base. She was a native resident and it was her home just as much as theirs. She could almost consider it somewhat of a right.

They did not have to show such trust in her and yet they did. They could have claimed Atlantis as only for Earth but they shared the great city-- to a certain extent. They had found it, but Atlantis belonged to the entire galaxy even if for right now the explorers from Earth were borrowing it.

She had fought with her own mistrust issues of their intentions, but as she stood before Michael, she realized that this group of people had not tried to wipe this race out of existence just alter it so the hunger was not so great.

"Let them diversify in their diets," was what Dr. McKay had said. Ronon thought it foolish and she thought it overstepped their bounds. Right now, she would have gladly wished for some of that virus to spread its goodwill to her opponent.

Michael smiled at her as his brethren laid the Colonel and Dr. McKay on the sloppy ground. The rain had lessoned but muck seeped into their clothes and caked their hair. At that moment there was no alternative place and she would not let the Wraith touch them for any longer than necessary.

As she proudly stood in front of Michael, Ronon was searched. He glared and flared his nostrils the entire time keeping his eyes on the helpless pair flopped in the mud. He postured and oozed with battle readiness wanting a fight. She realized how much he truly hated Michael. Strangely, she was not sure if she could say the same thing.

"I will come directly to the point," Michael began as he let his golden eyes dart to Ronon in amusement. "We have a cruiser, but it is no match for a Hive ship. We need help to stay one step ahead of our enemies. The queens do not like that we are contaminated by humanity. We reek of your stench."

"They have something called deodorant; try it."

Teyla slowly turned her head to look at Ronon in irritation. His eyes never left Michael and they delivered a challenge to the Wraith. Fight me. Ronon's entire body language exuded machismo. She had picked up the term from Lt. Cadman during poker night. It was quite appropriate.

Michael ignored the challenge. "Yes, I remember. Clever animal you are, Ronon."

Ronon growled in return.

"Ronon," Teyla warned him before turning back to face her opponent. "Michael, what is it you want from us? You have a ship and can easily avoid a Hive."

"We want to be able to hide in plain sight. We want a cloaking device."

"And what do you propose for a trade? If you think it is us, then you are sorely mistaken."

"Don't forget the bomb."

"I have not. But that is a threat and they will not accept such a dangerous caveat." Teyla knew this with everything that her father had ever taught her. Today, many of his teachings were being put to good use. Maybe it did not take a fruit to remind her of the essence of her people.

"But where shall I send it? To an enemy, friend, stranger? It is a tool of fear and mistrust. They will not let that happen and what I ask is so small." He looked down his nose at her. "Dr. Beckett will talk with me."

"He is not in charge. He makes no decisions-- it is a military matter. We are prepared for such emergency situations."

"But I will only speak with him. He owes us." Michael's eye blazed for a second and he swept his hand back to indicate the other Wraith in the group.

"He owes you nothing and you will not get near him." Teyla centered herself on that simple truth. Michael would not hurt Carson again. Whatever she thought of the initial use of the retro-virus, Michael had tortured her friend and it would not happen again.

"He owes me his very life, but let's go ahead and ask him ourselves, shall we?" Michael looked past her and jerked his head giving a silent command.

Teyla looked at the group of Atlantis' soldiers standing guard over the two lying on the ground. The Wraith stood farther back performing their own guard duty of all the personnel. No, no one else would be hurt no matter what it took. All options would be weighed and all perceived outcomes would be assessed. She stood on the planet as the leader of two peoples and hoped she was up to the task.

Michael gave a knowing smile. "Atlantis, this is Michael. I need to speak with Dr. Beckett or this can be Dr. Weir's permanent state of rest." He held up a Wraith device similar to their transmitters and pressed it.

John and Rodney started to convulse. Their heads collided with the hard-packed dirt under the mud on the path and their limbs jerked in strong spasms. Stackhouse and Ronon moved quickly to cushion the impacts and lessen the damage to the back of their skulls. They both looked momentarily lost and unsure of what else they could do. The rest of Stackhouse's team glared with unveiled anger at Michael and the rest of the Wraith.

Teyla swallowed and waited for the demonstration to finish knowing full well that hurt did not always have to be physical. The infirmary on Atlantis most likely illustrated her point right now because Carson was about to become beside himself with guilt.

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"Damn it!"

Carson scrambled to keep up with the squealing machines. Elizabeth was fully involved in a total body seizure. Unfortunately, he was reasonably sure that the medication would be totally useless. Her body quaked as he and two nurses held her on her side.

Atlantis' alarm had blared for an unauthorized wormhole, so he was not surprised when she had lost consciousness, but then this started to happen.

"Are you recording this through the scanner?" He looked intently at the technician.

"Yes Doctor!"

Carson was so focused on the crisis that the page in his ear went ignored.

"Just as I feared, the meds had no effect." He studied the monitors as a voice once again called his name. He continued to ignore it.

"I think she's just going to have to ride it out," one of the nurses opined.

"Aye, I think your right," he relented. Then the voice in his ear called him again and he could not take it anymore. "What!"

"Dr. Beckett?" the gate technician started apologetically, "Dr. Beckett it's…it's…"

As the machines keened and wailed, he finally lost his temper. He did not have time for this while Elizabeth's vitals continued to fluctuate and skew. "Spit it out!"

"Dr. Beckett, Michael wants to speak to you."

Zelenka who had been standing out of the way since the emergency began cradled his data pad and stepped up to Beckett. Carson felt his blood pressure drop and his respirations go shallow. The wailing fell into the background and all he could do was blink.

"Dr. Beckett?"

"Put him through," he replied weakly while pulling himself together.

This was it. This was his time to confront the darkness coveting his soul. It was time to face the consequences of his past misdeeds no matter how well intentioned.

He replied with all the strength he could muster, "Beckett here."

And then, he waited for the hated answering voice.

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A/N: Well hellooo Bots! Yay!