The night had dragged out longer and more tiresomely than a sleepless night generally did, but it never came as a surprise to a particular young scientist that spending eighteen hours a day examining documents could seriously tire a person out. Slumped in her desk chair, the short-statured woman of twenty-five years stirred. Her right hand still rested upon the thick tablet that had been her most constant companion since 2005; tiny blue indicators winked around its edges like sleepy eyes. Ritha slowly reached up and brushed her shock of dark, curly hair out of her face.

Could it be morning already? But…what did morning mean these days? Earth's rotation was now a complete stranger to her. A great deal of noise and countless footfalls mingled in the main bay outside the cubicle, so it was likely past daybreak. Ritha rested her forehead upon the computer station; breathing deeply, she finally forced her eyes open. Her skirt was wrinkled and there was lint embedded in the dented rubber floor mat her crossed feet rested upon. It was high time to change that mat; all shock absorption it used to sport had been well-nigh beaten out of it.

Ritha had not been back on her home planet Earth since her first day in Atlantis, and never had she regretted leaving it. She was pleased to remain engaged in her field, examining a wide variety of medical and scientific documents, sorting and filing every piece of material that passed through the hands of Drs. Beckett and Keller. Report after report bearing data about illness and genes to drugs and nanites had been read or skim-read at least once by Ritha. Her knowledge had grown greater via such exposure than she had ever acquired during her few years with Stargate Command before the expeditions moved out into the Pegasus Galaxy.

Yawning, she sat up and stretched, arms high over her head. Shore leave had been announced yesterday and she had a lot to take care of before spending two weeks on the United States mainland. Ritha tucked her trusty tablet under her arm and, staggering a little, made her way out to the main bay. Nurses milled about handling packages and taking stock of supplies.

"Oh Guider, I've got another for you. Should be the last of the data, just get it backed up before…"

Ritha looked over her shoulder. Dr. Beckett was holding out a tablet. "Well, I..." she ventured.

Beckett looked into her eyes. "You were up all night again. Weren't you."

Ritha was too tired to fib, so she nodded. "I'm sorry. Is it an emergency?"

"No such thing. We're back on earth, remember? And I highly doubt we'll be needing the entire staff perpetually present in Atlantis for quite some time."

"Mm-hm," Ritha said. Of course she remembered that Atlantis was on earth. Nor would she ever forget Beckett's flawless handling of the city as he flew it across two galaxies from the Chair. Echoing, distant booms of the attacking hive ship still rang in her subconscious.

"Get some sleep then. Never mind, I'll finish this myself," Beckett said.

"Right. Thanks." Ritha nodded and left the bay. She hardly remembered traveling the corridors to get to her quarters, but the sensation of sinking into her deep mattress and pillows was glorious. She knew nothing more until the late evening sun had cast an orange light over the city, turning every one of its western windows to fire and the stargate into a ring of power. Ritha refreshed herself with a shower and some new clothes before answering the distant call of the dining arena. One of her worst habits was studying without taking time for meals. Food could wait. Data could not.

She had time off, Ritha remembered with a twinge of excitement, she had shore leave, and she needed to be ready for when her group departed. Until then, she could lounge and not think about anything except what interested her the most, which meant being back in front of the computer stations. Evening meal hour was well under way in the mess hall; everywhere she looked, Ritha saw into a sea of various tired, smiling, and frowning faces. She spotted Colonel Sheppard and Ronan Dex eating at a table in a far eastern corner. They had been heroes so often and had been involved in saving the city so many times; as much as she would have liked to congratulate them for what they had gone through in bringing Atlantis home, Ritha felt too out of place to approach them.

She ate alone. Normally, she would have sat with Keller or Beckett or some of the nurses, but they all appeared to be absent. After eating as much as she could hold - in other words, after eating so much she would be able to survive another ten hours without wasting time eating regular meals - Ritha marched through the corridors to the medical bay. "Now is the time," she thought over and over with each step, and repeatedly tracing a familiar engraved pattern on the back of her tablet. It would have to be now or wait for two more weeks, and Ritha had no intention of ruminating herself to death in anticipation during shore leave. Entering the main area, she spotted Beckett discussing a technical code with a surgeon. Ritha crossed her arms over her tablet and looked around at the supplies still waiting to be loaded into their refrigeration units. She had spent the last two days mustering the courage to open up about her updated findings and now that the opportunity had presented itself, her hands were producing copious amounts of sweat.

Beckett and the surgeon kept nodding and appearing to make ready to part ways, but every time the conversation seemed over, they would move closer together again. Suddenly, the back of the surgeon's white coat was moving away, and the doctor was peeling off a pair of gloves. Ritha stepped forward. "Dr. Beckett."

"Yes. Oh, back, are you? Did you get some sleep?"

"I did, thank you." She cleared her throat. "I have a few things to talk to you about if you have a moment."

"I do, certainly. There isn't much left to do here anyways."

"Great." Ritha tried to resume some calm as she turned on her tablet and set it down on a computer station. Scrolling through the files to the correct diagram seemed to take ages. "So…um…I…" She clasped her hands together and pressed them against her lips.

"Nervous? Don't be." Beckett leaned on the station's surface.

Ritha nodded her thanks. "Well. Um…" She took a steadying breath. "To make a long story short, Doctor…" She hesitated.

Slowly, Beckett cocked his head to look at the on-screen diagram.

"As you know, I have spent the last couple of years studying in as much detail as possible the Iratus insects, the wraith, and wraith feeding organ anatomy."

Beckett looked up. "It's a lot, isn't it?"

"I can't put it down," Ritha said. "In all my research, I have been most intrigued by these specific fields as well as Dr. Keller's work, and I have done a lot of my own theorizing."

"Have you now?"

Ritha shrugged. "Yes I have. Questions, theories… equations that I would like to present...I'd like to do that soon. I'm convinced… that the gene therapy Dr. Keller developed Michael's experimentation is just the start of what could be a major breakthrough regarding the wraith. We could try again..."

Beckett raised his eyebrows. "I think you've seen just about everything we have…"

"Well…I have some new theories…that maybe you know on your own and maybe…maybe you have not considered yet. If I might be so bold as to put it that way."

Beckett still looked a little surprised but he did not laugh. "Well, you know the gene therapy didn't work the way we'd hoped, and we're not sure we want to try it again any time soon, not until we find the missing puzzle pieces. And it could take many more years to develop a proper stabilizer."

"The Hoffan drug on one end of the spectrum and the Hybrids on the other," Ritha said. "There's a middle ground I desperately want to find." Her pulse wasn't racing so much now. She leaned on the panel. "Only part of the equation actually worked. Keller had me on the bio research files while she was developing the gene therapy. Just an additional thought, one of my greatest dreams…" Ritha glanced around, fearful of being overheard. "I still wish to personally study an Iratus insect."

"You've said that many times."

"I know we could never do that here."

"They are a bit tricky, trust me, you don't want to meet one. You saw what happened to Colonel Sheppard."

"Yes." Ritha scrolled to a diagram of an Iratus bug and some complex data about jaw structure. "But we also saw what it took in order to cure him."

Beckett nodded. He looked from the Ritha to the diagrams and back again. "You know, you almost worry me."

"Everything about the Wraith origins, abilities, telepathy, feeding hands, and culture fascinates me. Is that what worries you?"

"No, just don't get any notions into that brilliant mind of yours to go about playing with an Iratus bug."

"Of course not," Ritha said, smiling uncertainly, more at Beckett's reference to her as "brilliant" than at his slight attempt to be funny. "I hate them as much as anyone. I have been working on what Colonel Sheppard experienced, puzzling over it, but also analyzing all other data I can get my hands on. There is so much that is missing from our understanding of the wraith, and I know it sounds like an incredibly stupid thing to repeat after all this time. I wish I had access to more of the Ancients historical records. The structure of wraith blood for instance, I believe I…"

"You really want to be more involved in the dirty work, don't you?"

Ritha smiled again. "Very much so." She paused. She had never been the most excellent speaker, and it made her nervous to be talking this over with someone as experienced as Dr. Beckett. Supposing he was only humoring her? But no, he was never insincere. She was just being nervous.

He seemed to understand her silence. "I still learn something new every day."

Ritha looked up again, rubbing her hands slowly together. "It has been said before that anything that is done can be undone. But...what it would take to override the bond between human and Iratus DNA that has evolved over thousands of years is a language that cannot be deciphered. It'd be like trying to split an element."

"A fairytale, mind. They've evolved too much for us to find A plus B equals C. But we can still isolate particular strands of DNA even if they are composed of incompatible races."

"I feel that we have focused too much on finding a common denominator. I look at all of this from entirely different angles than I did at first. Our focus is too much on what the wraith can do that humans cannot, and vice versa."

Dr. Beckett frowned slightly but allowed Ritha to continue.

"My theories and deductions are ready to present, ready as they'll ever be…and I wanted to know if I could meet with you and Dr. Keller as soon as possible. Just to go over things and exchange perspectives. Imagine if there was a way for the wraith to feed on humans without there being any loss of life."

"Now THAT," Beckett said, "is an incredible idea and Dr. Keller has the same notions you do. Eventually, it may be possible."

"I hope so."

Beckett looked up from the tablet. "Tell you what, why don't you take your shore leave, don't give this another thought, and when you return, you'll be ready to pursue your studies further and you can discuss all of it with us. Fresh minds, new ideas…there's no limit." He peered at her. "But…can I just ask…well, you've never brought this up before. I like what you've done so far. I'm just a bit curious, Ritha; why now?"

Ritha shrugged a little. "I wasn't sure…well, with everything that was going on in the war it ironically seemed a low priority...and I needed to be sure I was truly prepared to present my work in the first place. I'm sort of a cadet compared to the rest of the medics here."

"Oh come now, you're brilliant enough. And your hesitation is understandable. Are you afraid of being wrong, is that it?"

"I guess. But I don't know, it's…" Ritha picked up her tablet. "I'm so sure I'm on to something. The details can wait I suppose. Much as I hate to put a hold on things."

"I know the feeling. But we'll be back to it in no time. I'm interested to know more about what you're thinking."

"Thank you so much."

"You go out and get rid of all those nasty little buggers we call dead brain cells. I'm not sure I'll recover from mine any time soon," Beckett smiled as he accompanied Ritha to the exit.

"I will return to Atlantis more inspired than ever. I hope you enjoy your leave."

"You as well."

Her heart alight with ideas about a wide-open, welcoming future, and a new eagerness lighting her pale features, Ritha headed for her quarters to finish preparing to spend two weeks on her home planet.

And all of that had occurred seven years ago. She could still recall the conversation...

2009 was long over and done with….

Ritha rested her head in her hands.

Could things hurt worse than they did now? She was not sure. She had never suffered more than the usual daily dosage. Image upon image, light upon light, incident upon incident rose to the surface of her memory as trapped bubbles in a great expanse of water. But it was not an extraordinary experience in the sense that she was well accustomed to it by now.

Her work cubicle posed the same appearance as ever, crowded with sheafs of papers, books, diagrams, a few tablets and a laptop, and decorated with various images, not the least of which was covered in complex numerical patterns and equations and a hand…a long, pale hand with a slit in its heart. A calendar sported a large burgundy 2016.

Ritha spread her hands, moved them aside, and lowered her forehead onto the glowing tablet before her. She took no notice when the touchscreen reacted to the pressure, flickering with opening and closing windows. There was nothing to do but wait for the pain to subside. Ritha opened her eyes a little and a glaring line of blue caused them to snap shut again. Why does life hold so many mysteries? she wondered dully. The familiar leather cushion at her back called to her to lean into it and with a small groan, Ritha accepted its invitation. Her chin pointed toward the ceiling.

What had been the use of her studies? Woolsey, several years prior, had insisted that Michael's gene therapy had been a failure for the time being, despite Ritha's protests to reassure him that it was still worth attempting to unlock its original secrets. Woolsey was, of course, more interested in Keller's renditions as she was the medical expert. Ritha drew a deep breath as an image of the terrible Queen Death floated inside her tightly shut eyes. Elizabeth Weir, returned from a mysterious ascension… hive ship lasers booming… darts whining through atmospheres and across cities and towns…screaming, fleeing people…curtains of white light that made them vanish…and pale hands with long fingernails…

Jennifer Keller had at last succeeded in producing a gene therapy that would enable the wraith to feed and be sustained without their human victims losing youth and life. Todd had worked with her and Dr. Beckett for countless hours, days, weeks, and Jennifer had allowed none but herself to be the test subject for the retrovirus. Ritha had been there when Todd fed on the doctor and revived her, over and over again. Ritha had recorded every result, observing every ounce of data, and giving Keller the final reports in proper organized formats to present to Woolsey.

Ritha sat up suddenly, and right in sync with the memory of a violent space explosion, her right hand slammed down upon the glowing diagram of an arm. Disproportionate to her movement, reverberations swept through the room. Just inside the central area of the picture rested a small heart shaped organ. Various tendons and veins twisted about the muscular frame. Ritha allowed her narrow-eyed gaze to float at whim. Countless times had she studied the workings of the wraith feeding organ, observed its clutches and its disengagements, read the enzyme algorithms and listened to the beating of that tiny heart situated in the crook of the elbow.

Beckett had continuously seemed to believe that Keller was going to succeed and there was no cause to continue studying something that was not going to be eliminated but rather utilized while allowing victims to live. Ritha's answer, still echoing in her own ears, had been precisely this: "My research shall be never-ending."

Little did the commanders of Atlantis know how far she had come in understanding Ancient technology. The writings about her discoveries were secretly copied onto tens upon tens of crystal wafers. And unbeknownst to the doctors and lab technicians, Ritha had hidden them within some of the most undetectable Ancient wall safes she had discovered in her sleeping quarters.

Given a position in an SG team because of her knowledge, but still unable to prove to her superiors that she was more gifted than they supposed, Ritha had spent the years, following Atlantis' return to the Pegasus Galaxy, on mission after mission with her team. Any chance she obtained to see or speak with a Wraith, she counted as solid gold in her treasury of knowledge.

Ritha absentmindedly traced the palm of her right hand. The fire of total frustration surged through her as it always had, beginning seven years ago.

The galaxy had demanded the attention of Sheppard's team and the two doctors. Ritha had felt somewhat stranded. And now that Atlantis and the Galaxy were safe, her passion for pursuit of her own theories was rearing its head higher than ever.

Ritha, now thirty-two years old, had maintained her fit physique and martial arts abilities. She always wore the same attire when off duty: a simple dark knee-length tunic, flared pants, and boots. Her ankle-length coat of midnight black always hung open. She wore no jewelry or embellishments except for a single wraith organ feeding fang in a tiny glass bottle on a chain around her neck. She had obtained it from a dead wraith on a hive ship just three years ago. Ritha also tended to wear her thick hair in a style that Colonel Sheppard had once remarked reminded him a little too much of a Wraith queen he had "the honor" to meet. Ritha did not mind, especially because she knew that John Sheppard was not unfriendly, and sure enough, when she had looked up, he was smiling and even Ronan had joined in.

Ritha slid her hands lovingly underneath the trusted tablet and glowing blue outlines of various wraith hand anatomy seared themselves in her gaze, into her brain, into her very soul. There was so much…food for thought. Ritha smirked. Painful humor had lain dormant within her for a very…very… long time.

Suddenly, she stood, the hem of her long coat whirling about her ankles as she walked away from the computer station. The door swung closed behind her, and the laptop images of wraith feeding organ anatomy glowed lonely and blue.

It was as though Ritha was walking in time to the slow, deep-thrumming beat of a long lost song that spoke of heartbeats, wind, horizons, journeys not yet begun. Memories crowded and jostled for attention.

"I told you it would work…"

Her right foot made contact with the polished floor of the main corridor. The call of a voice, soft and yet louder than the roar of the seas that caressed the shores of her home planet Earth, rippled through her.

"The retrovirus will not knit a feeding organ closed nor transfer its power to the digestive system…"

Ritha's left boot reflected the light from a stained glass window.

"Atlantis will return…"

Ritha maintained her pace.

"There is much about wraith you do not know…"

The long sleeves of the satin-lined coat creased gently as her arms swung.

"We must focus on the wraith without focusing on the hand…"

The corridor was alive with people, but they were just part of Atlantis. Ritha did not break stride.

The data made sense. Equations filled her field of vision. Folds of long black coat brushed gently against her legs. Her data watch winked with sunlight fire.

A shadow warbled over the heartline in her right hand as she continued through the corridors. "There is much about the wraith you do not know…" Ritha shook her head. She knew far more than she had let on in the past year.

Suddenly, for some reason she could not explain, Ritha headed for the dining hall. Upon arrival, she loaded a tray with food and cast about for a place to sit, her mind spinning, weaving its knowledge into a completed spider's web.

Ritha stared. The bald head of Commander Woolsey was visible in the crowd of people, and he was sitting with Teyla and Ronan. Ritha pondered approaching them. She had been planning to meet Woolsey in his office, but here was an opportune moment to speak immediately. Head still whirling with disorganized data, Ritha slowly made her way through the crowd.

"Do you mind if I join you?" she ventured at Woolsey's elbow.

"Ms. Guider." Woolsey's eyes shone dark, curious, kind, and penetrating behind his framed glasses. "We have not seen you around for some time."

Ronan gave Ritha a glance and continued eating. His long dark hair kept getting in the way of his fork.

"Well. Have a seat," Woolsey invited and Teyla nodded.

Setting down her tray, Ritha slid into a chair. Feeling her arms slowly lay themselves elegantly upon the tabletop, a position she often assumed when she was nervous, Ritha spoke in steady, mellow tones. "I have not been traversing Atlantis very much."

"Not since your last mission. I am sure you've been hard at work ever since." Woolsey smiled with his lips.

Neither Ritha nor the leader of Atlantis spoke for a few seconds, the former trying to meet his eyes without flinching, and he, in turn, waiting patiently. Ritha always wondered what it was about Woolsey that made her feel that she was under scrutiny, and yet it was so gentle she was never angered by it. This, in turn, made her annoyed. The mixture of emotions grew and she shook her head a little.

Woolsey merely gazed at her.

"I've just been giving a lot of thought to what I brought up last year about the retrovirus." She paused and swallowed. "It's...got a lot to it that interests me..."

"I remember." Woolsey maintained his neutral expression.

Teyla's eyebrows lifted in gentle curiosity, and she and Ronan exchanged a look.

This was it. Ritha looked up at the decorated walls. Why wouldn't the words just come? "I wish to open my investigations publicly about the retrovirus. Well…I…" Ritha regretted not meeting Woolsey in his office. But Teyla smiled at her, and Ronan continued eating as if nothing mattered.

Woolsey remained stationary. "We have reached a truce, as of course you know by now, and the Wraith are no longer a threat."

"The wraith are never ending," Ritha murmured.

Woolsey looked down. "Your studies are certainly advanced, Guider. And while I allowed Beckett and Keller to back you in your experiments, the retrovirus was a total and complete success. You heard Todd's reports. You were there countless times when Keller allowed herself to be fed upon," he said in what was meant to sound reassuring.

"Can Queen Death be forgotten so easily?"

Teyla gave Ritha a sage look. "She is long gone, I promise you."

Woolsey leaned on the table. "You fear some wraith would want to override the retrovirus?"

"I'd like to see them try," Ronan said with his mouth full.

Woolsey looked at Teyla, who tilted her head slightly before taking another bite. "Am I correct in assuming you still believe a flaw exists in the virus?"

Ritha leaned forward without answering his question. "Commander." She felt her eagerness pressing against the walls of her face. "Michael was a Wraith. And a scientist. He could do what he did because he was Wraith."

Woolsey nodded. "Yes..."

"There may be another to assume his place, so to speak.

Woolsey sat back in his chair. "The retrovirus has been injected within the hive ships themselves and will eventually alter their DNA irrevocably with no further need for any manual implementation."

"Like when the Iratus…altered human DNA irrevocably?" Ritha asked carelessly, regretting all the more her sudden instigation of this conversation. She refused to look at Teyla and Ronan. She had begun and she was not going to back down again. "I have told Keller before, sir, I have a backup plan."

"And what is her answer?" Woolsey asked, exchanging glances with Ronan and Teyla.

"The same as yours. That there is no need to worry, the retrovirus cannot be overridden once it takes effect. But I disagree."

Ronan's burly arms were crossed over his chest. "Guess she's got a point."

"You are dreading the past, Ritha," Teyla said.

Ritha slowly shook her head. "Who knows what may still be out there. Atlantis may have done away with Queen Death, but I have not forgotten her."

Teyla nodded. "Neither has any of us."

Just a year prior, Ritha had spoken with Todd multiple times of the very same concerns she was resharing with Woolsey now. He too had attempted to reassure her that he knew exactly what was being done and that it would not fail. However, he had not been so hasty to shoot down her doubts.

"Are you sure about this?" Ritha had asked tentatively at his elbow.

Todd's long white hair hung partially over his face as he turned his tall frame toward the little scientist. "If your Doctor Keller's experiments prove successful, I will not hesitate to be the first of my race to implement the retrovirus."

Ritha had fixed him with a solid stare. "We all are hoping it works. But I fear…"

"What is it you fear?"

"Only that anyone could write a virus to counteract it."

Todd's eyes had widened slightly. "Let us hope that such a thing does not occur." He had paused. "Sometimes…you are like wraith..."

And Ritha had fallen silent, giving up the attempt to convince Todd that anything could go wrong even as the Ancients had with the Attero device and the Wraith-kin.

Todd had taken to naming various members of the science team with translations of what their wraith names would be. Keller was "Fair One," for Todd's ability to appreciate nobility was deep, as was his respect for the doctor's compassion. But he still maintained that it was weakness and did not fail to say so to Sheppard when the opportunity arose.

Ritha returned to the present with her utensil hovering over her food. "I'm not trying to be difficult."

Woolsey smiled a little. "Sharing your concerns is never a bad thing. Your ability to consider the possibility of negative consequences in the future is not a vice, but a good habit."

Ritha looked down. "Thank you, sir, I do not consider myself to be virtuous."

"Perhaps that is also why Todd gave you the name that he did," Teyla said, while Woolsey looked just a bit disapproving of anyone being assigned a name in Wraith, and Ronan quirked his eyebrows in a silent message that conveyed "Seriously...?"

Teyla looked at Ritha, who frowned back. "Virtue" was also the translation of Ritha's given name, and she could not think what that might mean.

Todd's true name loosely translated as Guide. Ritha's surname being Guider had been something of a joke among the medical staff and Keller had smiled at the coincidence. Colonel Sheppard and Ronan had not.

But what was a little humor among friends…

Teyla and Ronan exchanged another look and Woolsey continued to finish his meal, but he stole many glances at Ritha.

Ronan shrugged and rubbed his nose. His dark eyes flitted between Ritha and thin air.

"The virus has been fully ingrained for some time with no drawbacks and total peace between the Wraith and humans," Teyla said gently.

Woolsey sat back and pressed his napkin to his lips. "Ms. Guider, I appreciate your attention to the fact that history does, inevitably, repeat itself. But…let's not create bridges before we've crossed the fields."

Ronan's eyebrows contracted. Teyla put down her drink but did not comment.

This was it, Ritha thought. They were humoring her.

The conversation drifted to other things, and Ritha eventually took her leave of the little group, unable to express herself any further. She could feel Ronan's and Woolsey's steady gazes following her as she returned her empty dishes and tray for cleaning.

The same sensation that often arose, that of being split into two entirely different beings, swept over her, unwelcoming and cold.

The truth was, Ritha Guider knew perfectly well how to override the retrovirus and there was no way in the entire galaxy to prove it. If she ever shared the knowledge with the Commander, she would probably be put under investigation. If she merely spoke of the notions in passing, she would not be believed. Ritha headed to her quarters, some part of her determined for the hundredth time to destroy her data files.

And for the hundredth time, she only succeeded in running her fingertips over the beloved wall safes where the crystals lay, silent and dark, concealing her secrets.

Ritha placed her open palm against the wall and bowed her head.