And we're back in the past!

Hearty 'thank you's go to SGA-Seven, MandarinBlues, and Hagfish-plushie for responding to my request for feedback on the last chapter. I love hearing from you!

And now...

Happy reading!

Disclaimer: I still don't own Stargate Atlantis, Steve, and/or any other SGA character. This story is for entertainment purposes only, and is strictly not-for-profit. The only things I own are: Dr. Mira Sheckle, The Glove, the plot, and other OC/plot-related bits.

Chapter Eight: Testing the Waters - Part One

3 years, 48 weeks earlier

Sitting at a table in Atlantis's cafeteria, Rodney McKay morosely poked his purple Jello. He heaved a depressed sigh. The sound was echoed in several other parts of the room. The cafeteria was not a happy place. None of Atlantis was…

Atlantis hadn't been a happy place for three days now. The spectacular failure of the Hoffan drug, coupled with the Hoffans' insistence on using it anyway, despite its lethal side effects, (it killed half the people who took it), had dampened the spirits of Atlantis's inhabitants considerably. Knowing they were indirectly responsible for the mass suicide of half a civilized world's population, (and the mass murder of the other half once the wraith realized Hoffans were poisonous), had given new weight to the expedition's position in the Pegasus Galaxy. Earth's technology was a double-edged sword, a weapon as capable of harm as it was of good. It's capacity for destruction was enormous, and Atlantis had a moral obligation to make sure it was employed responsibly, with as little loss of life as possible. Tragedies, like Hoff, must be avoided at all costs.

Annoyed, Rodney poked his Jello again. The whole thing was absurd. Completely blown out of proportion… The physics department was actually hosting debates on whether Atlantis should adopt a version of Star Trek's Prime Directive.

Like that would help! Their very presence in Pegasus violated it!

Besides. Every argument FOR non-interference got shot down the instant anybody mentioned wraith… Rodney had been taking great pleasure in randomly walking in on the discussions, (under the pretense of refilling his coffee mug), and announcing, "Wraith," as loudly and blandly as possible…

Snorting softly, Dr. McKay poked his purple Jello again. The look on Zelenka's face the last time he'd walked in had been priceless…

"Poking at it won't turn it blue, you know."

The scientist spared Sheppard, who was sitting across from him, a dispirited glance. "Anything's possible."

"Not where red dye 40 is concerned."

Dr. McKay rolled his eyes. "I'm sure I could find something that would rearrange the wavelengths properly."

Chewing his sandwich, Sheppard shrugged. "Yeah," he conceded, "but it wouldn't change the taste."

The Jello jiggled sadly in its bowl. "I suppose not…"

"Blue tasting purple would just be wrong," the Major continued.

McKay grimaced. "Yeah…"

Emerging from the serving line, Teyla Emmagen came over and stopped by Sheppard's shoulder. She caught his eye, and glanced at a vacant spot. "May I?"

"Sure." Sheppard scooted his tray over to make room.

The Athosian set her food down and took a seat. After a few bites, she noticed McKay's unusual, Jello-poking silence. She eyed her teammates curiously. "Am I interrupting something?"

"Naah," Sheppard flashed Teyla a reassuring smile, "McKay's just pouting 'cause his glove hunt experienced a minor setback."

Rodney frowned. "Technically its a break through."

"If it scraps half your theories and complicates things insanely, it's not a break through," Sheppard quipped. "It's a setback."

"You're forgetting the, 'not supplying any useful information,' part."

Teyla wrinkled her brow. "That does sound like a setback." She looked at Rodney with concern. "To what break through are you referring?"

Before McKay could reply, Sheppard dropped his half-eaten sandwich and wiggled his fingers spookily. "The beads," he whispered, "The beadsssss…."

Remembering the glass jar she'd seen earlier, Teyla raised an eyebrow. "What is wrong with the beads? You seem to have collected many of them."

"Exactly!" McKay snapped. He stuck a spoonful of Jello in his mouth.

Seeing Teyla's confusion, Sheppard clarified the annoyed statement. "He's collected TOO many. We've got, what? Five gloves-worth now?"

"Six and a half," Rodney muttered. "Dr. Sheckle found another deposit this morning. A dozen bottom feeder skeletons in an air-duct."

"She's pretty good at finding those things, isn't she?" Sheppard mused.

"I almost wish she wasn't…"

"I do not understand," Teyla interrupted. "Why are large quantities of beads problematic? Would it not make experimenting easier?"

"Ah!" Rodney shook his spoon at her, "You'd think that, wouldn't you?"

"I take it, it does not?"

"No, it doesn't!" McKay dropped his spoon, going into lecture mode. "We don't know what the beads are. Our scanners can't penetrate them. But we know they do stuff 'cause they light up whenever Steve feeds."

"I think they're food pellets," Sheppard interjected.

Rodney ignored him. "However, since we can't scan them, we don't know what they're doing. Or whether they all do the same thing. What we DO know is that the wraith feeding process is ridiculously complicated. Now, I've theorized, (Carson and Zelenka agree, I might add), that the beads differ internally. They serve different purposes. Unfortunately, visually, they all look exactly the same—"

"So we can't tell them apart," Sheppard said.

"—And we can't tell them apart." McKay shot Sheppard an annoyed glare, whereupon the Major reclaimed his sandwich and resumed eating. "Since we can't tell them apart, we don't know how many types there are. We don't know how many of each type the glove uses, and, structurally speaking, we don't know which type goes where."

Teyla toyed with her salad. "I fear I am missing something, Dr. McKay. I fail to see how the number of beads affects this problem."

"I was getting to that," McKay huffed. "Now, if we had a new glove and wanted to add beads to it, instead of having the right number of beads and a horrendously complicated combination to unravel—"

"He means putting the right bead types in the right place," Sheppard whispered.

"—We now have a horrendously complicated combination to unravel, and no way of knowing if we're using the right ratios of bead types to solve it—"

"Meaning the lock picks we're using might not be compatible with the lock."

"—And the horrendously complicated combination has just soared several degrees of magnitude into the stratosphere of numerical complexity. Every extra bead we find boosts it higher, and it's already well beyond our fastest computer's ability to calculate practically." Finally pausing for breath, Dr. McKay smirked and attacked his Jello, silently daring the Major to simplify that last bit.

Accepting the challenge, Sheppard looked at Teyla and said, "Every new bead represents millions of keys, and programming a computer to find the right one won't work because there're so many that trying them one by one will take an unrealistic amount of time." He winked at her and finished his ham sandwich.

The Athosian smiled, amused by the verbal antics. "I see. I believe I now understand the issue." Rodney snorted, and her chocolate eyes slid towards him. "However, I do not think it is that big of a problem. You should look on the bright side."

"What bright side?" McKay scoffed. "There's no bright side here!"

Teyla raised an eyebrow admonishingly. "At least you now know that the lock picks you are using might not work. That is valuable knowledge indeed."

"I suppose…" the scientist muttered skeptically.

"It is," she continued. "Now that you know the key must be searched for, you can devise a clever way of looking for it. That is preferable to trying an incorrect key multiple times while thinking the problem lies elsewhere."

"Huh." Rodney eyed Teyla with respect. "I hadn't looked at it that way before…" Picking up his last bite of Jello, he slurped it down, muttering, "I'll share that with Zelenka the next time he complains about being on bead sifting duty…"

Starting in on his own bowl of gelatin, (green, not purple), Major Sheppard grinned at Teyla playfully. "You're good at cheering people up. You know that, right?"

The Athosian shrugged, "Being able to see many sides of an issue, both good or bad, is an important part of being a leader." She added modestly, "I have had practice."

Sheppard mirrored her tone teasingly. "Any other words of wisdom today?"

Frowning slightly, Teyla paused. She ate a bit of salad while deciding whether to take advantage of the opening. "Actually… There is something I wish to talk about."

Realizing the conversation had turned serious, the Major nodded, "I'm listening."

Teyla set her fork down. "Is the prisoner still asking to see you?"

Rodney perked up at the mention of Steve. He glanced at Sheppard, who frowned, all traces of joking gone. "Yeah…" the Major nodded warily.

Not entirely comfortable, despite having brought the subject up, Teyla chose her words carefully. "Do you intend to go to him?"

Sheppard's response was laden with wraith-directed annoyance. "No."

"Absolutely not!" Dr. McKay agreed.

Teyla was mildly taken aback. "You seem quite emphatic…"

"Of course we're emphatic!" McKay leaned forward, peering at her intently. "Did you see those tapes? The way he treated Elizabeth?" He threw his hands up. "I mean, what the Hell WAS that!? Who does that wraith think he is?!"

"I saw the tape. He was not openly rude…" Teyla protested.

"That's beside the point," McKay sniffed. "He was disrespectful."

"He's got to learn his place," Sheppard explained. "I thought he'd figured it out. But when he asked for the can openers…" Shaking his head, he raised his hands and floated them about in a, 'let's everyone just slow down and take it easy,' gesture. "Steve stepped out line. So I'm, you know… Giving him time to think about what he did wrong. Letting him cool his heels for a bit."

"And to this end," Teyla said, "you are ignoring him?"

Rodney sniggered. "Yup! Bound to drive him nuts."

"Especially with the objects of his curiosity sitting right in front of him," Sheppard added. "Inches away. Barely out of reach."

The scientist sighed happily, "Ohhhh, that would kill me."

The Athosian woman raised a disapproving eyebrow. "And you do not consider such a reaction on Atlantis's part to be… Childish?"

Sheppard grinned, "Not in the slightest!"

"Course not!" Rodney quipped.

Teyla was unconvinced. "Rubbing his nose in his status as a prisoner by refusing to interact with him because he offended you… How is this not childish?"

Sighing, Major Sheppard mussed his hair. "Look," he said placatingly, "It's just for a little while. A week. Maybe two. He needs to be disciplined. It's not like we're falling behind without his input on the research—"

"There's nothing to fall behind on, yet," Rodney muttered.

"—And it's not like he's gonna starve in the meantime—"

"He's better fed than I am," McKay griped.

"—And," Sheppard added, pointing, "Boredom is a surprisingly good motivator."

McKay shuddered dramatically. "Boredom… Ugh."

Amused, Teyla looked from one to the other of the pair. She raised her voice questioningly. "You have thought this out, I see…?"

Sheppard winked conspiratorially at her and exchanged smug glances with Rodney. "Had to convince Elizabeth to authorize the tactic."

"It's funny," Rodney added, sounding perplexed, "She said it was childish too. Can't imagine why… Maybe it's a female thing."

Teyla looked at him warningly.

"Okay, moving on," Sheppard interjected, "Why are we discussing Steve, again?"

"Teyla brought him up."

Sheppard and McKay both looked at the Athosian expectantly.

Smiling apprehensively, Teyla decided to stop circling the issue. She folded her hands and looked at Sheppard earnestly. "I think you should stop ignoring the prisoner."

"What?" McKay laughed disbelievingly. "You're not serious?"

"I am."

Sheppard frowned. "You think I should talk to him…"

"Yes," Teyla nodded, "I do."

"But you don't even like him!" McKay protested.

"My personal feelings on this matter are irrelevant."

The Major pursed his lips thoughtfully. "May I ask why you're suggesting this? You haven't expressed interest in talking with Steve before."

"And I'm not expressing interest now," Teyla corrected. "You should be the one to talk to him."

Rodney snorted incredulously, "Why?"

"For starters, Major Sheppard is the person he is asking for."

"And we're bowing to a wraith prisoner's whim, why?" McKay asked

Teyla shook her head. "Because I do not believe it is a whim."

"Oh, please. Of course it's a—"

"Go on, Teyla." Sheppard's interest was peaked. "We're listening."

Dr. McKay grumbled sullenly, but quieted under The Major's stare.

Teyla smiled at Sheppard gratefully. "You are aware of my ability to sense the wraith?" The pair nodded obligingly. "I have been able to sense the prisoner's presence on Atlantis since his capture. Up until now, it has been relatively constant."

"Wait," Rodney interrupted, "Up until now?"

"Something's different," Sheppard guessed.

"Yes," Teyla confirmed. "The prisoner's presence has felt distant lately. Smaller somehow…" Unable to find better words to describe it, she shook her head. "I do not know what it means, but it is different from when he is stunned, or sleeping."

"You can tell when Steve's asleep?" Rodney squeaked.

"That must be weird," Sheppard muttered.

Teyla merely raised an eyebrow. "Normally I would think nothing of it. In fact, at first I thought I was just becoming used to his presence—"

"But you don't now," Sheppard finished.

"No."

"Why not?" Rodney huffed.

"Because the change occurred almost thirty-six hours ago. As I recently discovered, that is exactly the same time when the prisoner's requests to see Major Sheppard began." Silence met Teyla's revelation. Then…

"Aw, crap," Sheppard attacked the last of his Jello with a vengeance.

"Why is everything so complicated?" McKay whined.

"When sentient beings are involved," Teyla offered, "complications are a given."

"That's why I like science! The only sentient being involved is me."

The green gelatin guzzled noisily.

"Hey, guys? Did I miss something?" Lieutenant Ford deposited his tray across from Teyla, next to Rodney, and sat down. He surveyed his dismayed and pouting teammates quizzically. "Looks like we're having fun here."

Teyla addressed the young marine with bemusement. "Do not be alarmed. Sheppard and McKay are merely experiencing the inevitable call of responsibility."

Aiden grinned and started eating. "I feel for you guys."

"Yeah, I bet you do," Rodney muttered.

"No, seriously. I just came off duty."

Sheppard slurped his last spoonful down. "Off Steve duty…"

"Yup. And speaking of Steve…" Lieutenant Ford paused to swallow a large bite, unaware that his words had sparked a brief exchange of meaningful looks. Taking a drink of milk, he glanced at Sheppard. "He was asking for you again." Ford shrugged and wiped his chin with his napkin. "You might want to check it out. I think something's bothering him…" Oblivious to the stir that statement created, he fluttered a hand before his face, carelessly spewing bits of lettuce from his sandwich. "He's doing that whole, pinching the top of his nose thing…"

Major Sheppard's chair scraped noisily across the floor as he abruptly stood, picked up his tray, and headed for the dirty dishes bins.

Ford looked after him in surprise. "Yo, man! Where ya going?"

"Answering the call of responsibility," Sheppard called dryly.

Ford looked confused.

"We all have to grow up sometime," Teyla explained sagely.

Rodney snorted. "Speak for yourself." Getting up, the scientist returned to the lunch line and got seconds on Jello.

-------------------------------------------------

The wraith was, indeed, pinching the bridge of his nose.

Hiding a frown, Major Sheppard emerged from the alcove's stairwell and made his way to the holding cell. Steve stood in the far left corner of the cage, directly opposite the bar where the finger guards still lay. As the Major approached, his gloved feeding hand dropped, and the wraith looked up, turning partially to face him.

"You came." The resonant voice was subdued.

Sheppard didn't respond immediately. He studied Steve a moment. Despite having asked to see the Major repeatedly over the last three days, the prisoner sounded surprised by his presence. He looked surprised too, if Sheppard was reading his expression right. The wraith's lean frame was tense, and he also looked… Tired?

The Major's internal frown deepened. Steve shouldn't be tired. He wasn't DOING anything. Heck, there was nothing for him TO do. He was in a cell.

The wraith's eyes narrowed under the silent scrutiny. Facing his captor fully, he moved a step or two closer. "I did not expect to see you this soon."

Abandoning the puzzle, Sheppard shrugged cheekily. "Yeah, well, I had nothing better to do." He began pacing around the cell, feigning disinterest.

Unlike during previous stalking conversations, Steve quickly fell behind. Sheppard looked back without stopping. Okay, that was a little odd… The wraith had slowed and seemed unwilling to follow him the entire length of the cage. Reaching a corner, Sheppard rounded it. Steve mirrored the motion and quickened his steps to match, paralleling his captor's path from several meters away. When Sheppard reached the next corner, he slowed again, allowing his captor time to catch up. Afterwards, he kept pace normally once more. It was almost as if an invisible wall had sprouted in the holding cell, putting two thirds of the small space off limits to the wraith…

In keeping with this theory, Steve's footsteps quieted as the Major started a second circuit. The black-coated alien fell behind again.

Stopping a few steps into the bizarre no-go zone, Sheppard turned and raised an eyebrow questioningly. Catching his gaze, Steve blinked slowly and stilled. His olive, oval-pupiled eyes, staring sedately at his captor, illuminated nothing.

Sheppard looked at the cell wall he'd been heading for. The finger guards twinkled back at him, gleaming in the bluish light… The idea that the wraith was actively avoiding the inanimate objects, the fixation of his earlier curiosity, flitted briefly across the Major's mind, but he dismissed it. Assuming things where wraith were concerned was a bad idea. Atlantis knew too little about the species…

Reversing course, Sheppard walked back to Steve. He wasn't interested in talking with the distance between them constantly shifting. If the no-go zone was connected to the summons, which he suspected it was, he'd eventually learn the reason for it. "So…" Shooting a meaningful glance at the shunned part of the cage, Sheppard propped his hands on a horizontal bar and proceeded to pointedly ignore the issue. He met the wraith's eyes lazily. "I hear you've been asking for me."

"Yes…" Steve tilted his head in a deliberately non-confrontational manner. His voice conveyed a sense of bone-penetrating weariness. "I have a request."

Major Sheppard laughed dryly. "Cause that worked so well for you last time." He sobered, dead-panning seriously, "Ever heard of the phrase, 'pushing your luck?'"

The wraith's pale lips twitched in a soft hiss, "No."

Well… That explained a Hell of a lot. "I see…"

When Sheppard didn't follow up that response, Steve's gaze slid towards the no-go zone, fixing briefly on the finger guards. "Those organic tools…" he refocused on his captor, "I am finished with them. You may return them to your queen."

"Her name's Dr. Weir," Sheppard corrected. "Atlantis doesn't have a queen."

Steve narrowed his eyes slightly. "You may return them to Dr. Weir, then."

Sheppard glared, his disbelief warring with annoyance. "Did you really bend Ford's ear for three days just to tell me that?" he snapped. "Cause I'm not an errand boy. Requests like that can be carried out by your guards."

The wraith continued as if he hadn't spoken. "When you do, you may also convey to Dr. Weir my apologies. I was not myself."

It took a monumental effort for Sheppard to avoid gaping in astonishment. He couldn't possibly have heard right! "Excuse me?"

"My behavior was influenced by outside sources. The problem has been rectified." Steve's eyes slipped closed. When they reopened, they were pointedly averted from Sheppard's face. The submissive intent was clear. "Please assure Dr. Weir that such a display of shameless begging on my part will not be repeated."

"I should hope not," Sheppard growled. He couldn't decide whether to laugh or get angry. Steve's bland tone contradicted his words, making this the most unapologetic sounding apology the Major had ever heard, (and in the air force, he'd heard some doozies). Plus it was entirely unexpected. Not to mention confusing. "Your behavior was influenced, huh?" Sheppard performed an exaggerated, visual search of the room. "By what? There's nothing down here but you and this cage."

Catching the Major's eye, Steve cocked his head and shifted his gaze meaningfully to the finger guards. "As I told your queen—" The wraith quickly corrected himself, "As I told Dr. Weir," his oval pupils refocused on Sheppard, "these tools contain complex, symbiotic organic circuitry. They are alive."

"Alive." Sheppard considered Ford's can openers with renewed interest.

"Yes," Steve hissed. "They require nutrients to survive."

"Nutrients supplied by the wraith wearing them," Sheppard guessed. How fitting. Giant life-suckers creating smaller suckers to do their work for them…

"That assumption is accurate." Steve's lips twitched in a brief grin, "Unlike my kind, they do not eat much. They are very efficient. Separated from their host, they can survive centuries of inactivity." The wraith's tone was almost reverent.

"But these weren't inactive," Sheppard interrupted.

Steve expelled a soft chuff of agreement. "Weren't and aren't. Self-preservation requires much energy. Decades of exposure to corrosive sodium ions—"

"Saltwater," Sheppard simplified.

"—would have taxed it's power supply considerably."

"Meaning they're probably hungry."

Steve snorted disdainfully, reminiscent of an offended McKay. "There is no 'probably,'" he hissed. "They ARE hungry."

Major Sheppard eyed him suspiciously. "And you know this, how…?"

In a testament to the weariness in his posture, Steve didn't seem to notice the warning in his captor's tone. "Because they are equipped with a telepathic interface."

"A telepathic interface…"

"Yes."

Leaning nearer to the bars, Sheppard beckoned for Steve to come closer.

Face tilted quizzically, the wraith complied. He sank to the Major's eye level.

Sheppard smiled disarmingly. "The same telepathic interface that you told Dr. Weir was TOUCH activated…?" Deliberate, pointed emphasis on the 'touch.'

Green eyes widened in belated realization.

"Unless I'm very much mistaken," Sheppard's voice dropped to a dangerous whisper, "You haven't actually touched them yet."

Steve jerked back a step, ivory hair swinging. "It IS touch activated," he hissed.

Sheppard's smile vanished, "Then how do you know they're hungry?"

Baring translucent teeth, the wraith opened his mouth to speak. Then appeared to think better of it. He narrowed his eyes and turned away, expelling a sharp huff. Long coat panels fanned as he paced a tight circle, keeping away from the no-go zone. When he stopped, it was with his back to the finger guards. Not looking at Sheppard, Steve averted his face submissively. "I know because I made an error."

Surprised by the admission, Major Sheppard frowned, "What sort of error?"

A low, prolonged hiss. "A reckless one…"

Intriguing. Whether he was tired, or had merely grown comfortable in his captor's presence, this was the first time Steve had voluntarily provided a glimpse of his personal feelings. Sadly, at the moment, it was an unhelpful glimpse…

"Afraid you'll have to be more specific," Sheppard quipped.

"You are familiar with my conversation with Dr. Weir…"

"Yeah, I'm familiar with it."

"Then you know of the tools' exceptional quality and likely origin." Barely moving, the wraith glanced at Sheppard for confirmation.

Sheppard nodded, "I've got an inkling."

Steve hissed softly. "The technology for creating telepathic interfaces accessible from a distance is bulky. Reduction is impractical due to prohibitively high metabolic requirements. Specifically, a rate of exponential increase."

"The smaller it is, the hungrier it is," Sheppard muttered.

"That is correct," Steve's pale face turned towards his captor slightly, "Attempts to circumvent this problem have all resulted in failure. Progress has been stalled for millennia. However…" Ivory strands slipped from Steve's shoulders as he craned his neck and looked behind him. His oval pupils fastened on the organic tools. "The hive that produced those was known for making revolutionary technological advances. Its scientists were especially skilled at refining and manipulating micro-circuitry."

Major Sheppard's eyes wandered involuntarily to Steve's feeding hand and the Ancient glove. Micro-circuitry… Why was he not surprised?

"Knowing the origin of these tools, I… became curious…"

Steve fell silent, staring at the finger guards.

Sheppard looked up. The wraith showed no signs of elaborating. After a few seconds, he cleared his throat conspicuously. "Curious about what?"

Startling, Steve snorted sharply, then shook his head as if clearing it. "Curious about what was in them." Long hair rippling, he tore his gaze from the tools, stepping further away from the no-go zone. "If a long distance interface exists anywhere in this galaxy," rapidly blinking eyes darted to the Major's face, "It would—"

"—probably be in those things," Sheppard guessed.

"Yes…" The wraith was breathing quickly.

Sheppard shook his head disapprovingly. Messing with unknown tech accounted for at least half of Atlantis's problems… "Steve, what the Hell did you do?"

Instead of bristling at the hostile tone, Steve averted his face again. His light-washed hair swung down, like an obscuring curtain, and he inhaled a deep breath. The exhalation was long and slow. And devoid of answers…

"Steve…" Sheppard growled, warningly.

No response. The wraith inhaled and exhaled once more.

Sheppard skirted the cell's nearest corner and stopped directly in front of the prisoner. Steve looked down and closed his eyes. "I asked you a question, Steve."

Another slow breath. The startled posture calmed. "I heard…"

"Then answer it!" snapped Sheppard.

The downcast eyes slit open, olive irises studying the floor. The shadowed face tilted slightly. "I," pale lips twitched, emitting a soft chuff, "probed them…"

If it was possible for a life-sucking alien to look guilty, Steve was doing a passable impression of it. Sheppard raised an eyebrow. "You probed them."

A subdued hiss followed by a jerky nod, "Yes"

"Telepathically," Sheppard pressed, crossing his arms.

Steve tilted his head the other way, "Yes…"

"Through the force field."

The wraith's eyes finally snapped to Sheppard's face. "Obviously," he spat.

Not amused, Sheppard met the annoyed stare unwaveringly. "And let me guess," He mirrored the tilt of Steve's head flippantly, "They noticed you."

Hissing, Steve bared his teeth, guilty attitude vanishing. "One-way telepathic sensors are much easier to reduce than interactive interfaces."

Sheppard deadpanned. "Is that right?" A snorting chuff was his answer. He leaned closer to the bars, asking, "What exactly did you trigger?"

Eyes never leaving his captor's, Steve lifted his chin and turned away slightly, hooking some hair behind one ear with a black-gloved finger. "Another self-preservation mechanism… One designed to protect against starvation."

"Starvation?" The Major grimaced, remembering what the little suckers ate.

"Yes," The wraith gave a sharp nod. "The one who made these invested much effort in their creation. If lost or stolen, he wouldn't want that effort destroyed by careless ignorance. He'd want to recover them alive. And intact."

"And he'd need time to do so," Sheppard guessed.

Coat rustling, Steve lowered his chin and stepped closer to the bars. "If they could feed themselves, they'd be more likely to survive separation…"

Sheppard was pretty sure he wouldn't like the next answer… "How, exactly, do they feed themselves?"

A low hiss whispered through the cell, "By attracting a new host…"

Yeah, he called that one, all right. "Attracting… a new host…"

"Yes." Steve cocked his head, snorting softly, "Upon sensing my presence, the tools began emitting a low-power, telepathic signal." His oval pupils idly drifted to the ceiling, "It… stimulated the urge to pick them up and use them."

"And you didn't mention this at the time, why?" Sheppard snapped condescendingly.

Green eyes glared daggers at him. "Because, Major John Sheppard," Steve hissed, "I didn't notice it, then." The wraith's pale lips twitched with dark amusement, "The signal is subtle. Specifically designed NOT to be noticed." Admiration abruptly flooded his voice, "Actually, I suspect a pairing of signals. The secondary being designed to inhibit reflection on the origin of urges created by the first—"

"When DID you notice?" Sheppard interrupted.

Steve huffed irritably, "Roughly nine guard shifts ago. When I realized I was repeatedly stopping myself from trying to reach for them."

The Major did some quick math. Nine guard shifts… That was thirty-six hours, the same time Teyla claimed Steve's presence had changed…

Leaning forward, Steve hissed in wide-eyed seriousness. "If it weren't for this force field," his fingers flexed, tightly gripping a horizontal bar, "I would NEVER have noticed." The black coat's faceted shoulders glittered with a shudder, "I'd have picked them up and fed them, without questioning the wisdom of my actions."

At the open display of unease, Sheppard frowned. Despite his admiration for the tools' maker, the wraith seemed genuinely shaken…

"I tried to contact you immediately," Steve continued, "But my behavior…"

"Ensured I wouldn't come," Sheppard finished.

"As I said, I was not myself. I was influe—" Shaking himself, the wraith pressed closer to the cage wall. "Major Sheppard, I wish to reiterate my request. You may return the tools to yo— to Dr. Weir… Along with my apologies."

Unwilling to give in too easily, Sheppard looked away. "I don't know," he waffled, "You have to admit, something about this situation is inherently amusing…"

Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Steve's posture slump.

"Major Sheppard…" A hissing sigh, "It would be in both of our interests for you to grant this request…"

"Really?" The Major raised a cocky eyebrow, "How do you figure that?"

Weariness pervaded the multi-toned voice, "The signal is still present. Though I have closed my mind to it, it remains… Distracting." The rustle of heavy leather accompanied a softly expelled chuff, "Luckily its range is limited—"

Sheppard hid a smile. That explained the no-go zone…

"—however, it is growing in strength. Once it encompasses the entire cell…"

The wraith's dark form shivered, making Sheppard glance at him. Steve was bracing his arms on the cage wall, lichen forehead lightly resting against a bar. His olive eyes were closed. "The signal's effect is subtle and cumulative," he continued, elaborating, "Eventually my concentration will lapse. When that happens…" His voice deepened, reverberating with resignation, "I WILL reach for them…"

"You'll… reach for them," Sheppard slowly repeated. He had the distinct impression that he was missing something…

"Unconsciously," the wraith sighed. "And repeatedly…"

Yup. Definitely missing something. "So you get zapped a few tim—"

An explosive snort interrupted him. Steve's shadowed eyes slit open.

"WHEN," he hissed, "I ultimately reach for them…" Metal rasped as Steve conspicuously flexed his fingers. "There is no guarantee which HAND I will use."

Fully dilated oval pupils fastened meaningfully on Sheppard's face.

"I see…" Sheppard murmured. His gaze slid past the wraith, landing on the insidiously twinkling finger guards. "Their presence endangers the glove."

A relieved hiss. "Unguarded impulses are, by their nature, thoughtless. Unpredictable." The beads lining Steve's wrist flickered. "If the tools remain in my presence, I will be unable to assure this artifact's continued safety."

Deciding the wraith had a valid point, (he distinctly recalled the glove's last encounter with the force field), and not wanting to get chewed out by McKay for willfully endangering it, Sheppard said condescendingly, "Well. Since you put it that way…" He backed up a step and began pacing around the outside of the cell. "Let's see what I can do about granting your newest request."

Coat rustling, Steve turned in place, following him with his eyes. "That would be appreciated," he murmured. He lowered his pale face submissively.

Reaching the can openers, Sheppard stopped and looked at the deceptive little suckers. He tapped his radio. "Dr. Weir, this is Major Sheppard."

The radio crackled, "What is it, Major?"

"Do I have permission to remove the artifacts from the holding cell?"

"Of course, Major. May I ask why?"

Sheppard glanced at Steve, "It's kinda a long story."

A short pause. "I see… Very well. Return them to my office. Weir out."

Carefully avoiding the lethal razors, Major Sheppard lifted the tools from the bar and headed for the alcove. As he did, Steve skirted the far edges of his cage, maximizing the distance between himself and the artifacts. Noticing this, Sheppard gave the cell a wider berth. He wasn't a fan of cruel and unusual punishment, and coupling a telepathic siren's call with an obstructing force field fell into both those categories…

When he reached the exit, Sheppard glanced over his shoulder and gave the wraith a mock salute. "See ya, Steve."

Steve snorted sharply, gaze fixed on the retreating back. "I will be here…"

Grinning at the dry wit, The Major headed up the stairs. His footsteps echoed in the stairwell. As the rhythmic sounds faded, tension drained from Steve's frame like grain spilling from a torn sack. Straightening, the wraith shook himself and paced a circuit within his cell. Then he turned towards the middle. Unmindful of his guards' watchful stares, he stopped under the light, and bowed his head.

His green eyes slipped closed.

A long, relieved sigh drifted from the cell…

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Thank you for reading! Please review! Again, things I'm working on specifically are: 1. Maintaining a Season 1 feel in the flashback chapters. 2. Keeping the regulars in character.