Sorry. That's the theme for this update.

Sorry, sorry, sorry.

Sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry.

SORRY!

I am so terribly, horribly, horrendously, tremendously, stupendously, and gargantuanly sorry about the length of time it took for me to do this update! I won't bend your eyes with my excuses, which are numerous and inordinately inexcusable, for I feel incredibly awful about how long this has taken.

And the worst part is, this isn't this chapter's final version yet!

I'm sorry! There's some editing I still want to do. But since it's been such a struggle getting this chapter done, I want to put it out now, as is. I need to feel like I've accomplished something. A more cohesive version, (which may or may not differ slightly on the plot level), will appear soon. Hopefully before 'Tactical Error: Part Two' comes out.

In the meantime, I'd like to put out a call for advice. I was away from this story for so long, (and on more than one occasion), that I'm worried about losing the 'feel' of it. If you notice any parts of this chapter where the 'spirit of the story,' (so to speak), seems forced or lacking, please don't hesitate to review. I'm very worried about this. I've experienced the issue before, and I've managed to overcome it, but input is extremely helpful to the process.

Reviewers, I thank you in advance for your insights.

And now, without further ado...

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 Eighteen: Tactical Error – Part One

3 years, 47 and ½ weeks earlier

"What do you mean, 'We can't get the data out?'"

"I mean EXACTLY what I said! We can't get at it!"

Sitting forward in his chair, Major Sheppard stared at Dr. McKay's angrily fidgeting form with vexation. "Well, WHY NOT?"

The aggravated scientist's fingers tapped furiously on his armrests. "'Cause it hasn't got any ACCESS points! That's why!"

Since when had a paltry detail like THAT ever stopped Atlantis's resident computer expert? The Major shrugged, "So? MAKE a couple!"

McKay rolled his eyes and scoffed, "It doesn't work like that!"

Seeing Sheppard frown, Dr. Beckett clasped his hands on the debriefing room's table and leaned forward. He was already beginning to regret bringing this particular subject up. "Rodney's right. The neural filaments the drive expelled were rooted outside its shell. Maintained by an outer source somewhere else—"

"Somewhere else inside the computer terminal," Sheppard clarified.

"—Aye. Without those filaments, it's got no way o' communicatin'."

Perplexed, the Major pursed his lips in frustration and leaned back, "Not even with the 'Wraith Talker' LSDs?" (He'd just recently heard about those…)

"NO!" Dr. McKay cut Carson off before he could even finish opening his mouth. "The life-signs detectors read and interpret data that's traveling through the terminals' working memory and active circuits. Stuff that's already been extracted via neural filament. We're missing the part that—"

"Extracts the stuff," Sheppard finished. "I get it—"

"—AND that translates the neural signals into viable data."

The Major blinked. Paused in disbelief. "Wait. We're missing TWO things now?" How did THAT happen?

"Actually," Carson intervened, seeing McKay roll his eyes with vexation, "we ARE only missin' one. The organic structure tha' produces the filaments is almost certainly also in charge o' compilin' and translatin' the signals they convey."

"So… One structure. Multiple functions."

"Aye."

Sheppard nodded thoughtfully. That made sense. Still… There had to be SOMETHING they could do. "Can't we replicate this structure somehow?"

Dr. McKay laughed sarcastically, "Yeah. Sure!" Ceasing his furious finger tapping, he crossed his arms petulantly and glared at the Major from across the table, "Assuming, of course, that within the next five days Atlantis manages to experience massive, groundbreaking advances in half a dozen scientific fields simultaneously—"

"So, no replicating."

McKay rolled his eyes again, "And that's not counting the BIOTECH breakthroughs required!"

Frowning at Rodney's excessive sarcasm disapprovingly, Dr. Beckett apologetically added, "Or the neurology expertise."

"Okaayy," conceded Sheppard. "What about mimicking?"

A scornful snort met that suggestion. "Even if I knew WHAT to mimic, I've got no way of getting it INTO the hard-drive's shell without killing it. There's NO ACCESS POINT—"

"Again with the access points—"

"YES, again with the ACCESS POINTS!" eyeing Sheppard darkly, McKay pulled a snarky face. The Major returned it half-heartedly. "Every single plan, contingency, and contingency for a contingency that I came up with," continued McKay, "hinged on the single, unassuming assumption that the hard-drive would HAVE one!" His disgruntled voice rose to an upset squeak, "How was I supposed to know it didn't?"

The Major shrugged, "Surely access points aren't THAT essential—"

A disbelieving laugh, "YES! YES they ARE!" Rodney's hands flapped incredulously, "All Earth based—AND Ancient, I might add—technology revolves around access points! That an organic base can throw something so BASIC out the window like this is, is," his jaw worked in silent agitation a moment.

"It's LUDICROUS!" he finally finished.

Sheppard raised an eyebrow, "That's funny. I was SURE you were about to go with infuriating."

McKay glared, decidedly unimpressed, "Well, Hardy Har Har. Aren't you the stand up comic today."

"Just thought I'd lighten the mood a bit." Not wanting to push his luck by needling the frustrated scientist further, the Major turned his attention to Dr. Beckett. "What about you? Has the infirmary got a contingency for this?"

Already prepared for this question, Carson sadly shook his head, "Ah'm sorry, Major. It's just not possible now. Our current level o' understandin' o' Wraith technology is too limited. We simply don' know wha' to grow—"

"Or how to grow it," McKay sullenly added.

"Aye. Tha' too."

Negativity much? Major Sheppard leaned forward in his chair and drummed his fingers on the table. He regarded Dr. Beckett seriously, "So there's no way—No way whatsoever—that we're gonna get data outta that hard-drive before we hafta ditch it?"

The Chief Surgeon met his questioning gaze gravely, "Not unless somethin' drastic changes between now an' then. No."

"And by 'drastic,' you mean…"

"Ah mean the Chemistry Department succeedin' in findin' a way to maintain it indefinitely."

Sheppard grimaced. Succeeding in maintaining the hard-drive indefinitely, (while a lot more likely now that they had tons of nutrient rich goo at their disposal), in no way implied succeeding in extracting data from it. "So we've hit a roadblock."

"So it would seem…"

At the subdued murmur, all eyes in the room swept to Dr. Weir. She was standing in one corner, staring intently at the flat screen monitor that Peter Grodin had obligingly mounted on the wall. The thin LCD was, as yet, conspicuously dark.

Its lack of activity had not stopped her from studying it for several minutes, however. Nor did it stop everyone else's attention from following her gaze to it.

Pensive silence stretched in the debriefing room, smothering its five occupants with the growing import of the darkened screen's presence. A stifling heaviness gathered…

Finally, unable to stand the pregnant, meaning-laden tension any longer, Dr. McKay shot to his feet, blurting, "That wraith KNEW this would happen!"

Dr. Weir glanced at him without turning.

"He KNEW! That's why he agreed to salvage it so easily!"

"Of course he knew!" Major Sheppard snapped, "Sit back down."

"No!" Rodney's knuckles smacked impotently on the table as he leaned over it, sending a clacking tremor through the forgotten data-pad lying before him. "He KNEW, and he never had ANY intention of EVER letting us get data out of it!"

Frowning, Sheppard spun his chair, rounding on McKay with a knuckle smack of his own. "We've got no reason to think that—"

"We have EVERY reason to think that! He's been playing us from the start!"

"Let it go, Mckay—"

"I will NOT let it go!" Rodney squeaked accusingly, "Why're you making excuses for him?"

"Dr. McKay has a point, Sir." Atlantis's hitherto silent Security Chief swiveled his chair about and gave his military commander a hard stare. "The prisoner had no reason to think we'd adhere to our side of the deal. If the hard-drive's data is inaccessible, he risked nothing by agreeing to salvage it."

Not impressed, (having already considered and dismissed that particular argument), Major Sheppard met Sergeant Bates's penetrating gaze with an unyielding glare. "Yeah, well he ALSO had no reason to think we'd be as short on supplies as we are." McKay opened his mouth, and Sheppard flung a hand up, preempting his confused spluttering. "YES, he was counting on us getting stuck," he conceded. "But he was ALSO counting on the new bargaining chip he'd get when we realized we needed his help again." He looked at Dr. Weir, expecting her support. "Mark my words. Steve's gonna be tickled to death to learn that chip's still in play." The wraith had undoubtedly given up on it the instant he learned Atlantis's nutrients were limited…

Crossing her arms, the expedition leader took a pace back from the still-dark screen and turned, studying her ranking military officer unreadably.

Not expecting the neutral reticence, Sheppard raised an eyebrow and swiveled his chair a bit.

"With all due respect, Sir," Bates interjected into the lengthening quiet, "All that supposed 'bargaining chip' is is a second chance for the prisoner to sabotage it."

Dr. McKay grinned triumphantly, "Hah! What he said!"

"We've no way of knowing," continued Bates, "whether he intended to sabotage the data from the start. For all we know, bringing the drive to Atlantis may have hindered his plans to destroy it."

"Ah don't buy tha'," Beckett was shaking his head, "Steve worked ridiculously hard to save tha' drive for us. If 'e wanted it dead, 'e could've killed it purposely."

Sergeant Bates regarded the Scotsman skeptically.

Dr. Beckett shrugged. "It's true. Between natural failure an' murder, ah'd 'ave never known the difference."

Beside him, McKay snorted scornfully and finally sat down, "We're talking about murdering computers now. How lovely."

"It's a livin' organism. The terms appropriate, Rodney."

"Oh, really?"

"Yes, really—"

"Knowing he'd have a second chance to sabotage it in the future," interrupted Bates, "the prisoner may have decided to keep it around precisely so it could be used as a 'bargaining chip.' We can't discount that possibility, Sir."

"Yeah, well we can't ACT like it's true either," Sheppard shot back.

"With all due respect—"

The Major raised his voice, "We can't stop negotiations because we THINK he might be playing us. It could undermine everything if he's not—"

"I'm not saying we should stop, Sir. I'm sayin—"

"No, you're saying we should treat him with overt suspicion. The end result's the same, Sergeant." Sheppard leaned forward in annoyance, "If he thinks we have no intention of trusting him, why the HELL should he trust us?"

Sergeant Bates glowered, "I'm just saying, Sir—"

"That's enough, people." Dr. Weir's no-nonsense tone stopped the budding argument in its tracks. She fixed Bates and Major Sheppard with warning stares. "We could debate our prisoner's intentions and subterfuges 'til the cows some home," her tone was clipped, bursting with dissatisfaction, "And ultimately, we'd accomplish nothing. His actions are the only windows into his thoughts we have." Her eyebrows lifted pointedly, determinedly forestalling comments. "At any rate," she continued emphatically, "interpreting those actions is not the purpose of this meeting."

Daring her wrath, Major Sheppard shrugged flippantly, "But we may as well TALK about it. Seeing as we're not all here yet."

"Are you sure about that, Major?"

Pretty darn sure. Teyla wasn't expected, 'cause she was still visiting the mainland, but Aiden… "We're kinda missing a key witness."

Weir's brown eyes flicked past him, to a previously unoccupied section of the table. Repressing a flicker of unease, Sheppard obediently followed her gaze.

He blinked in surprise, "Well, I'll be…"

Liuetenant Ford had managed to sneak into the room unnoticed during Bates's and Sheppard's argument. Under Dr. Weir's scrutiny, the young marine grinned uncomfortably and gave the assembled group a half-hearted wave. "Uh… Hi, everyone."

Raising an eyebrow at Ford, Sheppard glanced at Weir and tactfully acknowledged his defeat, "I stand corrected."

"Correction noted." All business-like, Dr. Weir uncrossed her arms and positioned herself directly in front of the darkened screen. She slid her focus to everyone in turn, silently impressing upon them the seriousness of the matter.

As she did so, Sheppard belatedly realized something.

Elizabeth was furious.

Extremely furious.

And, contrary to popular belief… Steve wasn't the only source of that fury. Not by a LONG shot.

Aw, Hell. They were about to get it.

He inwardly steeled himself for the barrage of disapproval.

"You all know why we're here," Dr. Weir began. "You all know what the problem is, so I'm going to get straight to the point." Across the table, Dr. McKay fidgeted uneasily as her words were punctuated with sardonically accusing eyebrow lifts. "Our prisoner, on THREE separate occasions, has smuggled items into his cell." Major Sheppard grimaced. "He has hidden those items from his guards." It was Sergeant Bates's turn to frown. "AND he has successfully broken Dr. Beckett's off-world quarantine protocols." Carson winced despite his lack of direct involvement, obviously wishing he were somewhere else.

Infusing her voice with command, Elizabeth stepped closer. "Now. What I want to know is WHY this happened. HOW it happened. AND, most importantly, WHAT is being done to ensure it NEVER happens again."

Behind her, the dormant display flickered to life, showing real-time security images from the prisoner's cell. An instant later the camera zoomed in, focusing on the incriminating foreign objects that rested on the floor by Steve's knee.

Already familiar with the scene, Dr. Weir didn't bother looking at it.

"Who wants to start?"

Two uncomfortable hours later…

Why?

…

…THAT was the question beating around incessantly in Sheppard's brain.

Why, why, why?

…

WHY!

…

He understood the timing. That much was obvious. Clear as day. Hell, it was EASY to interpret compared to some of the wraith's OTHER actions. It was the SUBSTANCE of the revelation that baffled him.

"Wait up!"

Grimacing in renewed disbelief, Major Sheppard resisted the urge to whack the banister as he plunged into the next stairwell, studiously ignoring Dr. McKay's high-pitched demand for him to slow. He didn't wanna hear more complaints about the scientist's mandatory presence. OR more unwarranted 'I told ya so's. He'd had enough of those during the first half of this journey, and he had no intention of slowing down until he was good and ready. I.e., when they reached the holding cell.

"Hellooo! I'm trying to keep up here!"

"Don't let me stop you!" the Major called back.

An annoyed huff, "I'm not exactly a daily jogger, you know!"

"Believe me, I know," Sheppard muttered. He grimaced again.

Of all the things Steve could've chosen…

…Why that?

It was utterly arbitrary. Needlessly complicated.

Why THAT?…

What could the wraith POSSIBLY be getting out of it beyond the fleeting satisfaction of a momentary sense of whimsical defiance?

It was ridiculous!

Or audacious.

…

Did Wraith even practice whimsy?

Feeling a dull twinge in his temple, Major Sheppard shook his head and thrust the pointless question from his mind. He was NOT going there.

The labored sounds of Rodney's winded gasping echoed against the walls behind him as the Major started down another flight.

"Scientist—" Gasp! "—experiencing respiratory—" Gasp! "—failure back here!"

"Well," Sheppard tossed back, unsympathetically, "maybe you should do a little more breathing and a little less talking."

"Humorous—" Gasp! "—Very humorous."

"I thought so…"

McKay's voice dripped sarcasm, "Your consideration—" Gasp! "—is noted."

"Always glad to be appreciated," Sheppard called.

Half a flight back, Dr. McKay's protests subsided into sullenly breathless panting.

Bereft of distraction, the Major's thoughts turned once more to the aggravating question of their prisoner's current expression of defiance.

…Why THAT!…

What was the significance?

WAS there even significance?

…

He wasn't getting anywhere.

…

GAHH! Maddening alien!

It was with a profound sense of relief, (and a fleeting hope of impending illumination), that Major Sheppard finally skipped to a halt on the last landing separating them from the prisoner's cell. He rolled his shoulders a few times and composed himself as he waited for Dr. McKay to catch up.

Beyond this door were answers. Explanations, even.

…

Not necessarily understandable ones. OR, in all likelihood, readily accessible ones. But the answers DID exist.

And Sheppard intended to ask for them.

"Okay, we stick to the plan. I interrogate him first—"

FLAWHUMP! McKay flopped against the wall by the door, propping himself against the ancient metal in a melodramatic display of exhaustion. His hands flapped half-heartedly at the door. "I'll just stay here," he panted, "Wait for your signal." One hand's fingers fluttered weakly at his mouth, "Catch my breath."

Major Sheppard stared at him.

"What?" McKay wheezed, "That's the plan, right?"

Sheppard raised a silently unimpressed eyebrow. Then he spun on his heel, waved his hand past the narrow crystal control box, and strode purposely into the revealed stairwell. McKay's voice puffed weakly into the dimly-lit space after him.

"Oh. Fine! I get it. We can't all be bodybuilders, you kn—"

Anything further was cut off as the doors whooshed closed again.

The Major continued down the steps without pause, already focused on the target of Atlantis's collective displeasure. Hitting the floor, he swung round the corner and passed into the dark alcove, acknowledging the first layer of guards with a curt nod. His determined eyes fixed on the light spilling in from the far doorway.

The wraith, an indistinct, black blotch in the bright cell, grew in size and definition as Major Sheppard strode deliberately towards the holding area. Steve was sitting on the floor. Facing AWAY from the door. (No surprise there.) His long legs crooked languidly beneath him, and his white hair painted his back with blue-tinted, eerily-still highlights. (Again, no surprise.) An irregular clacking echoed hollowly through the room as the Major approached. That was new.

Apparently, 'I'm engrossed in my recently-acquired computer,' was the latest tactic in the wraith's, 'I'm ignoring you,' game.

…

Like with McKay's exaggerated panting, Major Sheppard wasn't impressed.

Walking to the cell, he stopped less than a foot away, in a spot as close to the prisoner as he could get. He wasn't taking any crap today.

"Hi, Steve."

He stared steady daggers at the motionless back. The wraith could hear he wasn't walking around to face him. That message was clear. Sheppard was in control, and the wraith would move to face HIM for a change. If Steve understood the gravity of his situation, AND knew what was good for him, he'd comply.

If not, he wasn't half as smart as Atlantis had previously given him credit for.

Major Sheppard waited.

Hollow clacking echoed in the holding cell, punctuated by minute clicks as Steve's translucent claws scraped the keys. An image floated on the laptop's screen, blue and green splotches brightly rotating within a black window. With a tap on the touchpad's button, it was replaced by another.

Repressing a flicker of curiosity, Sheppard waited a bit longer.

More images cycled through. Steve's lack of response stretched, testing the boundaries of what might be excused as 'wrapping a few things up.' Another image appeared and stayed. The wraith was approaching the limits of his patience. Much more and he'd have to devise a few deliberate, NON-cruel-and-unusual ways to make Steve's life miserable. Sergeant Bates would happily assist.

Clack. The first image returned.

Major Sheppard held perfectly still, willing the wraith to acknowledge him. The black-coated alien remained motionless, seemingly riveted to the screen. Then… Just when Sheppard was starting to lose faith in the wraith's intelligence…

Steve hit the spacebar. An entire, rainbow-colored brain appeared, and the wraith's faceted epaulets glittered as he shifted slightly, finally drawing breath to speak.

"I am your death." It was an absent mutter, a begrudging, multi-tonal murmur of disinterest, as if the wraith were paying token tribute to a worn-out pleasantry. Leaning forward, Steve pressed a key-combo that froze the rotating image. Then he drew back and turned his head, dropping his hands into his lap and twisting his torso about so he could look over his shoulder at Major Sheppard comfortably. Ivory whispered as it slid across his black coat.

Steve's pale face dipped obligingly, "What do you want, Major?"

Sheppard held the olive, oval-pupiled eyes coldly for a moment, (to get the extent of his displeasure across), then flicked his stare pointedly to the conspicuously benign conglomeration of smuggled items resting on the floor by the wraith's left knee.

Expression inscrutable, Steve followed his gaze without moving.

They both stared at the contraband for a few seconds. Then the Major caught Steve's eyes again and lifted an eyebrow warningly, voice low and dangerous.

"What's with the flowers, Steve?"

Flashback to the Emergency Meeting…

"It's a vase of flowers, Ma'am."

In the circular debriefing room, Dr. Weir surveyed Lieutenant Ford with a distinct lack of amusement. "Oh, it is, is it?"

Unsure why his answer was wrong, given the close-up on the viewscreen and what he'd witnessed in the cell earlier, the young soldier shifted uneasily. Echoing their expedition leader's seriousness, Sergeant Bates came to his rescue.

"It's a collection of smuggled objects, Ma'am."

Eyeing the LCD with a mixture of bemusement and fading dismay, Major Sheppard silently added, 'Cleverly disguised as a vase of flowers.' 'Cause that's what it was, really. The Xex tube, glisteningly devoid of chemical residue, (no doubt it'd been rinsed thoroughly during the wraith's showers), had been weighted down with two round shells and filled to the brim with clear liquid. (Water, he fervently hoped.) The shells, which looked like they'd come from a bizarre hybrid of snails and trilobites, were nestled securely against the stem of a single sprig of tiny, suspiciously familiar, yellow flowers, WHICH Sheppard strongly suspected he'd encountered before…

Despite its solely aesthetic function, however, for the purposes of this meeting, the diminutive vase needed to be thought of in terms of its constituent parts.

Hence, 'a collection of smuggled objects.'

…

Sheppard wisely refrained from commenting on the quibbling as Dr. Weir accepted Bates's impartially presented answer with a cool nod.

"How did he get them?" she demanded.

"He smuggled them in, one at a time." The Security Chief glanced at the screen with disgust. "Each item was acquired from a different trip out of his cell."

Bothered by the fudging, Dr. McKay lifted a pair of fingers and interjected, "That's not entirely accurate. Two of the items were acquired on the same trip." Weir's lack of amusement abruptly redirected, and hurriedly he added, "And, uh, two of those three trips could be categorized, technically speaking, as, um… one…"

Weir stared. "Is that a fact?"

Rodney grimaced. "Shutting up now."

"Good." She quirked an eyebrow disapprovingly and returned to addressing the entire gathering. "The Xex tube is easy. He stole it from the infirmary while he was stabilizing the hard-drive. Does anyone know how?"

"No." Spreading his hands on the table before him, Dr. Beckett unhappily shook his head. "Ah've questioned my staff. Everyone who was on duty. No one saw anythin'." He grimaced, "The entire operation was a study in controlled chaos. After tha' tube was empty, 'e could've pocketed it anytime."

"None of the guards present noticed the theft either," Sheppard added.

Sergeant Bates nodded agreement, "He probably used everyone's distraction to cover some sleight-of-hand tricks."

Dr. Weir glanced at the viewscreen. "What about the shells?"

That was easy, too. Major Sheppard cleared his throat. "When we took Steve into the flooded lab, he kinda excavated a bunch of fish corpses from the sand banks." When Weir looked at the Major expectantly, he shrugged, grudgingly apologetic, "Woulda been simple to stuff a few pebbles or shells up his sleeves."

"Especially considering the manual dexterity the prisoner's displayed in the past."

Catching Bates's deadpan stare, Sheppard acknowledged the criticism, "Yeah… Especially considering that." The annoying part of this mess was that Atlantis had been on the lookout for Steve pocketing things. They'd counted all the beads and circuits he'd handled, etc. Unfortunately, what Sheppard HADN'T anticipated was Steve pocketing useless bits of debris. How do you predict something like that?

"Kinda makes you wonder what else he's got hidden up his sleeves," Dr. McKay muttered. He cast a querying look at Carson, who frowned worriedly.

"What about the flowers?" Weir wasn't interested in speculating at the moment.

"M1X-347," Sheppard had been waiting for that one. "Dr. Corde was handing around samples of local vegetation. Steve handled most of them." He remembered watching the wraith pass his cheeks over the sprig. Watching him go in for a second sniff… "The flowers were the last sample passed out before we discovered the base had been disturbed. I imagine…" Sheppard paused, shrugging, "he took a liking to them."

"Aye. 'E liked 'em enough to break quarantine."

"Technically he couldn't have known we had a quarantine protocol in place," interrupted Dr. McKay.

Dr. Beckett looked at the physicst in disbelief. "For a scientist, it's only natural to assume—" he cut off, sighing, and decided not to pursue the issue.

"We already knew the flowers came from M1X-347." Unimpressed with the brief digression, Dr. Weir regarded Dr. McKay critically. "I want to know how they got here. Those weren't transported in his clothes. They'd have been crushed flatter than pancakes." Everyone glanced at the screen. The twig and its tiny spray of yellow flowers were in pristine shape. Not a stem bent or broken. Not a petal wrinkled.

They looked like they could've still been on the bush.

"They've been on his person for almost 48 hours. Survived several bouts of extensive physical activity. Why aren't they mangled?"

Major Sheppard had, admittedly, been baffled by this for a while. However… There was one possibility…

"His hair, Ma'am."

The Major swiveled his chair towards Ford, surprised the young Lieutenant had jumped to the same solution.

"His hair, Lieutenant?" Dr. Weir turned to Ford skeptically.

"Yes, Ma'am." Ford nodded. "He, uh, has a high collar." He gestured to his neck, illustrating, "His hair's so long, it kinda pours over his back. That leaves a sorta space between his neck and collar. Something small could hide there. It'd be protected…" Dropping his hands, Lieutenant Ford glanced at his small audience sheepishly, "We'd never see it. Not through all that hair…"

Silence. Then…

"Oh my God," McKay blurted. "Junior flyboy's explanation actually makes sense. He could've pulled that off!"

"The idea had occurred to me," Sheppard murmured.

"That wraith's hair's a veritable curtain! Who know's what's hiding behind it?"

Sergeant Bates turned to his commander with a frown, "If that's the case, Sir, it might be a good idea to consider shearing him."

The Major startled, "Wait a sec. I don't think that's necessary yet—"

"Aye!" Carson instantly agreed, "An' ah'll tell ye now, ah won't support tha'." He turned to Weir earnestly. "The only time Steve reacted negatively to my staff while not under the influence o' those tools was when someone suggested we shave 'im. 'E won't like it. An' forcing tha' would be a serious breach o' trust."

"It doesn't have to be a shave," Bates pressed, "Just something short."

"'Ave ye ever seen a wraith with short 'air, Sergeant?"

"No, but—"

"Neither 'ave ah," Dr. Beckett frowned emphatically, "For all we know, there may be some sort o' social stigma attached. We can't just—"

"We haven't exactly been exposed to a large sample of their population, Dr.—"

"We're not shaving our wraith." Carson and Bates both snapped their mouths shut as Dr. Weir's impatient retort cut the air. She skewered Sheppard with a glare before he could jump in, "And we're not giving him a buzz cut either."

"Believe it or not, I wasn't gonna suggest that." The Major's hands lifted placatingly, "There are less extreme deterrents at my disposal."

"Good." Dr. Weir tapped the debriefing room's table and leaned over it. "He hid the flowers under his hair. I can accept that possibility. That leaves us with water."

"Assuming it IS water," muttered McKay.

Weir ignored the interruption, "How'd he smuggle water into his cell?" Lieutenant Ford shrugged and started to speak, but she hastily added, "And don't try to tell me he had that tube balancing on his neck for two days."

"I wasn't going to, Ma'am."

Sergeant Bates rested his hands on his armrests, "Obviously the water was obtained during one of his trips to the shower."

"Obviously," Sheppard echoed.

"But how'd he get it out?" Dr. Weir pressed. She gestured to the screen, "I see no cap for that tube."

Carson nodded, "Tha's 'cause we 'ave it. Dr. Morgan found tha' li'l bugger stuck in a vent this mornin'. Ah took it to inventoy myself."

"Ford knows how he did it."

All eyes snapped to the young marine. Ford in turn glanced at Major Sheppard uncertainly, still intimidated by Dr. Weir's forestalling of his last comment.

The Major raised an encouraging eyebrow. "Go ahead, Lieutenant. Tell us what you saw." Having been personally monitoring the cell when Steve revealed his contraband, Lieutenant Ford was the only one who'd seen the wraith put the vase together, and he'd come straight from guard duty to the emergency meeting. Not even Major Sheppard had heard this particular detail yet. He had high hopes for it.

"Yes, Sir." Lieutenant Ford cleared his throat. "Steve had already placed the shells in the Xex tube when I approached the cell to see what he was doing. While I watched…" An expectant hush fell over the debriefing room as he paused to fold his forearms on the table. Ford leaned over them, adopting a professional manner.

"…He squeezed the liquid out of the lining of his coat."

Everyone was silent for a moment. Then…

"He squeezed the liquid out of his coat?" Sergeant Bates repeated disbelievingly.

"Yes, Sir."

"That doesn't make any sense."

"How'd he get it in there in the first place?" McKay wondered, thoughtfully quiet. "It's not like there's a visible tear in the thing," his fingers wiggled at Ford absently, "Aside from the bullet holes, I mean…"

"No idea. I only saw the squeezing."

"He must've filled it somehow when he was in the shower," suggested Bates.

"Brilliant deduction, Mr. Holmes," McKay muttered, preoccupied, "Maybe he used the bullet holes to fill it…"

"Somehow I doubt that," Sheppard quipped.

"Ah agree," Carson added. The Scotsman turned, staring at Ford curiously, "Wha' part o' his coat did 'e squeeze it out from?"

"Bottom of the lining," Ford shrugged, "You know. The part hanging by his ankles."

"An' how did 'e extract it?"

The Lieutenant's brow furrowed pensively as he thought back. "He draped a corner across his knees. Then he kinda smoothed it with his free hand."

"An' where did it come out?"

"Trickled right out of the corner seam."

"Mighty convenient, that," Dr. Weir interjected. She caught Carson's eye, hinting, "Almost like…"

Getting her drift, Dr. Beckett nodded, "Almost like it was made to do tha'."

Ford frowned, "Made to do it?"

"Aye. Made to." Dr. Beckett raised his voice seriously, "'E's an organic technology expert. A hands-on technician. From wha' I've seen o' wraith tech., no toolkit would be complete without an emergency nutrient supply."

"Meaning…?" Weir urged.

"Meaning," Carson continued, "tha' tha' water might not really be water."

Crap. Major Sheppard mentally slapped himself for not investigating the wraith's outfit thoroughly, while across from him, the expedition leader straightened decisively.

"Get it out of his cell," Dr. Weir snapped.

"Whoa, wait a minute!" Sheppard protested, "We don't know it's not water!"

"I think there's some pretty heavy evidence contradicting the water theory, Major." Dr. Weir wasn't in the mood for entertaining leniency. She eyed her military commander frostily, "That wraith is blatantly flaunting Atlantis's security measures."

"Yes, he is," Sheppard agreed, "And I'm not saying we shouldn't eventually remove it. What I'm saying is we can't instantly whisk it away like that."

"Why not?" she demanded.

Sergeant Bates, Dr. McKay, Lieutenant Ford, and Carson all watched him, echoing her question with expectant eyes. Faced with their collective skepticism and Weir's carefully restrained fury, Major Sheppard lowered his voice seriously…

End Flashback…

"What's with the flowers, Steve?"

Lifting his gaze back to Sheppard's face, the wraith blinked innocently. "What do you mean, Major Sheppard?"

Major Sheppard didn't bat an eye. "You know exactly what I mean."

Still looking over his shoulder, up at his captor, the wraith cocked his head slightly. Momentary silence stretched in the dimly lit holding cell. Then…

"Ahhh… You object to their presence."

Not impressed by the knowing tone, Sheppard stared down at Steve disapprovingly. "You could say that."

"Hmmmmm…" A low hiss whispered through the sparse room as the sitting wraith studied the glaring human looming beyond the bars. With a sharp chuff, he unfolded his hands and swept smoothly to his feet. Light crackled across the cell's forcefield as he closed the distance between himself and Sheppard with a single stride and snapped to a crisply angled halt. Coat panels swaying against the barrier, Steve turned his chest aside, pressed his face close to the bars, and examined Sheppard's glowering visage intently from over a glittering black epaulet.

Not flinching at the sudden nearness, the Major endured the scrutiny without comment. When he didn't respond, Steve veered away and started walking.

Major Sheppard didn't follow.

Realizing this, the wraith stopped after a few steps and glanced back.

Sheppard stared at him.

Lips twitching in what looked suspiciously like amusement, Steve looped back towards the cell's center and stopped by the computer. Not facing the Major directly, he regarded his captor through slowly narrowing eyes and bared his teeth slightly. A low, barely audible rattle suffused the air.

"You are angry."

No, duh. Didn't exactly take a genius to figure THAT out. Sheppard raised an antagonistic eyebrow. "Took ya that long to notice, did it?"

The rattling stopped.

"Come, Major…" Dropping gracefully to a crouch, Steve retrieved the tiny vase and its controversial contents and cradled it to his chest. The liquid in the Xex tube didn't even ripple as he stood once more and glided slowly to the bars. Blinking innocently, he cocked his head and broke eye contact long enough to indicate the vase with his gaze. "Surely you do not begrudge me this?"

The multi-tonal question purred conciliatorily into the cell, and Sheppard stared at the wraith with carefully disguised disbelief. He was NOT giving their prisoner the satisfaction of an easily interpretable reaction.

"Such a harmless trifle." Steve cocked his head the other way, ivory hair whispering silkily against the bars. "Purely aesthetic in function." His olive eyes widened with deceptive guilelessness. "You remarked yourself upon the monotony of my surroundings when you first entrusted me with this device." The amber beads decorating Steve's wrist glimmered, punctuating the statement. "Surely you don't object to my desire to remedy their aesthetic failings?"

Aesthetic failings? Gimme a break! "Cut the crap, Steve." Major Sheppard kept his tone short and even. "You know what I object to."

The wraith's ungloved fingers delicately caressed the edges of the smuggled sprig's spray of yellow petals. "It is a human custom to display floral reproductive organs in this fashion," Steve continued thoughtfully. Lifting the vase, he set the Xex tube gently on the horizontal bars and peered past it, into Sheppard's face. "Does it bother you to see a member of a different species emulating the tradition?"

Tired of the charade, Major Sheppard leaned forward until his nose almost touched the forcefield. "What I 'OBJECT' to," he snapped, (the flowers loomed huge and fuzzily in his vision, partially obstructing his view of the wraith's face), "is a prisoner bringing foreign items into his cell without permission!"

Steve's oval-pupiled eyes widened challengingly, "But Major Sheppard," his smooth voice was conciliatory as he bared his teeth in a satisfied grin, "You never expressly forbade me from bringing items into my cell."

Cute. "I don't have to," growled Sheppard, "You're a prisoner. You know what that entails. No toys. No parties. No liberties that I haven't preapproved."

"Not even aesthetic modifications to my accomodatio—"

"ESPECIALLY modifications to your accommodations!"

A hissing sigh misted the metallic bar between them as Steve's voice turned smug. "You are angry at yourself for not noticing my acquisitions earlier…"

Sheppard stared warningly, "You broke Dr. Beckett's quarantine protocol."

A pleased, hissing inhalation, "It's not my fault your subordinates failed to prevent the acquisitions when they were made…"

"You also stole an item of interest from the Chemistry department."

Steve dipped his chin with a superior blink, "You cannot blame me for your security expert's failure to provide adequate precautions."

Ignoring the obvious goading, the Major held the smirk-filled gaze without wavering, "You removed items of potential interest from an excavation site."

"I cannot be held accountable for your scientists' inability to catalogue finds adequa—" Pausing suddenly, Steve swayed his face to one side of the vase and studied Major Sheppard from an unobstructed angle. His smug voice lowered conversationally. "Why are you so upset, Major? As you say, I'm a prisoner," he slid his shoulders sideways, observing Sheppard from the other side of the Xex tube now. "Surely my actions were expected. Why, it's practically an obligation."

Obligation. The Major could understand that. Were the situation reversed, he would've done something similar. And honestly, he WASN"T angry about the smuggling, per say. Heck, he was impressed by the skill it must've taken.

No. It was what the smuggling MEANT…

"What is troubling you, Major?" Steve pressed, "Is your Queen displeased?"

To Hell with it. Steve wanted a reaction? He'd get one.

"I am ANGRY," Major Sheppard snapped, "at YOU!" He glared through the bars and raised his voice, allowing the wraith to see real emotion on his face, "For betraying the trust Atlantis placed in you these last few weeks!"

Olive eyes narrowing, Steve drew himself to full height and glanced away, casually hooking hair behind his ears with gloved fingers. "Trusssst…"

"Yeah! Trust! Understand why I'm pissed now?"

A low, unreadable hiss… The wraith somehow managed to lose his toothy grin while retaining the full extent of its canary-swallowing smugness. "An interesting reason." Long fingers retrieved the Xex tube from its perch with a deft scissoring motion, and Steve eyed the smuggled flowers thoughtfully before sweeping his cheeks past them. Major Sheppard frowned at the action. "I understand, of course…"

Oh, he DID, did he? Well then, he had only himself to blame for the consequences. "Good!" Leaning forward, Sheppard grasped a horizontal bar and poured on the sarcasm, "Since we're on the subject—AND since we're being SO understanding with each other—I'm sure you'll APPRECIATE the necessity of Atlantis taking additional precautions with you. Starting now."

Silence… Steve eyed the Major suspiciously.

"Got your attention, I see." It was Sheppard's turn for smugness.

"Additional…" The wraith's voice lowered to a wary murmur. Nostrils flaring, he dipped his head to sniff the tiny flowers, "precautions…?"

Sheppard quickly feigned sadness, "You had a good thing going, Steve." He indicated the Xex tube with a short nod, "Too bad ya had to go and ruin it."

Oval-pupils fastened on his round ones accusingly. "What type of precautions?"

Experiencing a surge of petty satisfaction at the wraith's discomfort, Major Sheppard crossed his arms, "Oh, not much." He shrugged unconcernedly. "Just a standard Earth procedure, or two."

Steve hissed impatiently at the lack of elaboration, "What do they entail?"

Sheppard shrugged again, this time with an expression of casually nonchalant innocence. "A mild invasion of privacy."

Steve froze.

Amused, the Major raised an eyebrow at the indignant stillness suddenly permeating the holding cell. "What? It's nothing painful or worrisome—"

The pale face snapped towards him. Yellow petals winked brightly against the ebony leather covering the wraith's chest as Steve rounded on his captor with a disbelieving snort. "I am surrounded by your kind constantly. Watched every second of every day." Steve's olive eyes darted to his guards before flicking pointedly among various parts of the ceiling, "Every breath I take is recorded by your primitive surveillance devices. What privacy, Major, have I left to invade!"

Given the unexpected vehemence of the reaction, (especially considering he hadn't revealed specifics yet), Sheppard almost felt guilty about the coming revelation.

But only almost.

The wraith had only himself to blame for the tightened security, after all.

Straightening, he fixed Steve with a steely, no-nonsense glare and turned serious once more. "As of right now," Sheppard announced, "every time you leave this cell, you will be searched thoroughly before you reenter it. This includes hair. Boots. Clothing."

Steve's spine stiffened.

"Every inch of you will be scoured for contraband. You will be stripped of ANYTHING that might offer concealment—"

At each detail, the wraith's eyes widened further.

"—and those possessions will NOT be returned until they've been declared contraband free—"

Steve's breathing visibly accelerated.

"And FURTHERmore," Sheppard continued, "this confiscation will be performed by MY people at MY discretion. Should I give the order, YOU will not lift so much as a FINGER to assist."

Snarling furiously, Steve lunged towards the bars, "You wouldn't dare!"

Sheppard met the outraged challenge with a mockingly angerless bark. "Maybe you shoulda thought about that before ya started the sticky fingers routine!"

"HIIIIIIIIIIISSSSSSSSSSSSS!"

Blue lightning crackled across the forcefield as Steve struck it with his ungloved hand. Black shadows and angrily reverberating hissing flooded the cell.

Sheppard wasn't impressed. Ignoring the impotent display, he went on with his speech as if nothing was happening, "If at ANY time, ANYTHING unapproved is found upon your person, I WILL order my men to perform a cavity search!"

A look of almost comical confusion flickered on Steve's face. The shadows faded slightly as he cocked his head, clearly baffled by this new term.

Resisting an inappropriate urge to laugh, the Major took the break in the tantrum as a cue to lower his voice ominously. "And believe me, Steve…" For dramatic flare, he punctuated his final words sinisterly, "You. DON'T. Want. That."

Steve's translucent teeth bared in a fresh snarl. "You are bluffing!" he spat.

Sheppard's reply was a dryly-raised eyebrow. "I'm not exactly in a position where bluffing is required, Steve."

The wraith studied his captor for several excruciating moments. The shadows thinned and winked out. Amber glimmered rhythmically on his wrist…

Idly, Sheppard noted that the 'vase' of flowers cupped in Steve's hand hadn't been damaged during the outburst. Odd… A human prisoner might've smashed the object of contention out of spite. The wraith protected it. Why?…

…

That infernal question again. The Major thrust it aside as Steve haughtily lifted his chin and drew back a pace, snarl vanishing with a disdainful sniff.

"I suppose not." Eyes narrowing, the wraith pushed his ivory hair back and expelled a sharp chuff, quickly regaining his composure. The reverberating hissing stopped. "Do you truly wish to alienate me this way, Major?"

Now who was bluffing?

"Are you threatening to stop cooperating, Steve?"

The wraith flashed Major Sheppard one of his best, creepily-toothy, amiable smiles. "Of course not, Major," oval pupils flicked briefly to the gloved wrist, "I am aware of how important uncovering the secrets of this device is." A pointed pause, then… "For BOTH our speciesss."

"Good. I'd hate to think a few flowers could derail scientific discovery."

"That, Major Sheppard," Steve tilted his head conversationally, thinly veiled condescension dripping from his tongue, "is entirely up to you."

And what was THAT supposed to mean?

"Oh, really?" Sheppard held the arrogant gaze coolly, sensing a barrage of passive aggressive resistance looming in the near future. He was prepared to deflect it, of course, but… Naively, he'd been hoping he wouldn't have to.

Oh, well…

Unsurprisingly, the wraith declined to elaborate on the comment. Attention shifting to the 'vase,' Steve caressed the Xex tube with a translucent claw and brushed his fingerpads delicately across the sprig of blossoms, deftly tracing their star-clustered petals. "The presence of this life form in my cell bothers you," he murmured.

Hadn't they covered this already? Warning bells ringing, Sheppard raised an eyebrow. "Yeah, Steve. 'Cause it shouldn't BE there."

The ivory framing Steve's face rippled with a brisk nod. "Very well."

With a sharp snap of leather, Steve turned abruptly and strode to the center of his cell. Circling the waiting laptop, (which now displayed a twisting, techni-colored screensaver), he dropped to a crouch and placed the Xex tube carefully on the floor. Watching intently to make sure it was well balanced, he released the fragile conglomeration slowly and stepped back. As soon as it was out of range of his coat panels, Steve caught Sheppard's gaze and straightened.

Tension crackled through the cell as the wraith's olive eyes widened challengingly.

"Come and take it."

Flashback to the Emergency Meeting…

Faced with his colleagues' collective skepticism and Dr. Weir's carefully restrained fury, Major Sheppard lowered his voice seriously.

"'Cause he waiting to see what we'll do."

A pensive silence met his words. Lieutenant Ford fidgeted while McKay and Carson exchanged glances.

Dr. Weir frowned, "Explain."

Relieved that his protest hadn't been nixed outright, Major Sheppard got straight to the point. "Steve didn't have to reveal he'd been pocketing stuff."

Apparently this wasn't as revelatory as it was supposed to be.

"Um," Dr. McKay blinked, confused, "What does that mean, exactly?"

Sheppard stared at him, "It means Steve didn't have to let Ford see the Xex tube."

McKay's eyes rolled in exasperation, "No, no. I get that. It's the subtext. You always assume everyone understands, but you should know by now I—"

"Major Sheppard has a point, Ma'am." Sergeant Bates turned to Weir, ignoring Rodney's grimace at the interruption. "The smuggled items are all small. If our prisoner wanted to dispose of them, he could've shoved them down the drainpipe—"

McKay scoffed disbelievingly, "Down the drainpipe?"

Bates sent a grim glower McKay's way, "In the shower." He returned his attention to Dr. Weir. "We'd have never known they existed."

Beside Rodney, Dr. Beckett considered the Security Chief with surprise. "Are ye sayin' Steve wants us to know 'e took 'em?"

"That's exactly what I'm saying."

"What WE'RE saying," amended Sheppard.

Bates acknowledged the correction with a nod.

"But why?" Lieutenant Ford stared around the table, bewildered. "He has to know there'll be consequences."

"Consequences OTHER than drainpipe speculation, I assume."

Ignoring McKay's snarky mutter, Dr. Weir crossed her arms, "It's those consequences that he's after." She pondered the briefing room table before turning briskly to the wall-mounted LCD screen, "He's testing us." The magnified Xex tube glimmered mockingly as the wraith's shadow swayed across it.

Everyone studied the image for a moment. Then…

"Testing us?" McKay's skeptical huff shattered the collective quiet, "Why do something that basically forces us to tighten security?"

"'Cause he wants to see HOW we tighten security."

McKay shot Sheppard an annoyed glance, "Unless I'm mistaken, for a prisoner, tightened security generally equals BAD. Hence I repeat. How is that a test?"

Dr. Weir turned back to the table, "He's trying to figure out our boundaries."

A disbelieving laugh, "By pissing us off?"

Seeing Rodney's confusion mirrored by Ford and Dr. Beckett, Major Sheppard attempted to explain. "Pissing us off's the only thing that guarantees he'll get a response." McKay's bafflement deepened, and Sheppard sighed, "He does something good, he might get a reward or he might not. We can't praise him for every non-threatening move he makes. But if he misbehaves—"

"We have to punish him," Ford finished. "I get it."

"BUT," Sheppard lifted a finger, forestalling further potentially erroneous assumptions, "we can't punish him out of proportion to the offense."

"Good God," McKay gasped, "It's like a little kid stealing candy for attention."

The Major inwardly winced at the comparison. "No, it's not. It's a lot more complicated. What WE have to decide—"

Dr. Weir smoothly hijacked the narrative. "Is how offensive this… offense is." She punctuated the word 'offensive' with a raised eyebrow.

Major Sheppard nodded sagely in agreement.

Conversation lulled as everyone looked at the 'vase' some more.

"So, uh…" Ford shrugged expectantly, "How offensive is it?"

"Very offensive," McKay quickly interjected. "My examination of the new wraith room was interrupted. I'm extremely offended by that—"

"You're offended by everything," Sheppard quipped.

Dr. McKay huffed defensively, "That's not true—"

"Focus!" Dr. Weir snapped. The physicist's mouth snapped shut guiltily, and her glare flicked to Major Sheppard, who blinked innocently.

A soft, throat-clearing sound drew everyone's attention.

"Ah don' want to burst any bubbles," Fingers knitting together, Dr. Beckett laid his hands on the table and leaned forward, "But ah'm not offended in the slightest."

Dropping the act, Sheppard swiveled his chair, surprised. "You're not?"

"You're not?" echoed McKay disbelievingly.

Curious but displeased, Sergeant Bates surveyed the doctor with a frown.

"No, ah'm not." Carson's blue eyes darted to the image of the Xex tube before returning to Dr. Weir again. "Wi' all due respect. Conglomeration o' smuggled items aside…" He paused, then indicated the LCD screen, "Tha's a vase o' flowers."

The expedition leader's brown eyes narrowed disapprovingly.

"Ah know wha' ye said," Carson continued, quickly mollifying, "but it's true. Seashells, flowers, an empty chemical bottle—"

"A clear substance of indeterminate makeup and origin," muttered McKay.

"—There's nothin' dangerous 'bout 'em at all." Beckett's white, lab-coated shoulders lifted earnestly as he held Weir's gaze, "They're harmless."

Sergeant Bates's frown deepened, "You can't be sure of that."

Brow furrowing, Carson looked at the Security Chief. "Ah've seen lots o' injuries durin' my career, Sergeant. None were caused by flowers."

"Maybe he's hoping to give his guards allergy attacks," McKay grumbled.

"Ah highly doubt tha'." Shooting Rodney a bemused glance, Beckett turned to Dr. Weir again. "He's testin' us. Ah agree with ye on tha'. But it's not our security 'e's testin'. Not directly, anyway."

Lieutenant Ford was puzzled, "If it's not our security, what is it?"

Carson's reply was clipped, but earnest. "Our morality."

"Our morality?" Ford glanced at his superiors, confused. Bates was studying the Chief Surgeon thoughtfully, and Major Sheppard, (though he suspected where Carson was going), wasn't inclined to explain. Not yet, anyway…

"Aye," Beckett continued, "Our morality. 'E's tryin' to figure out where his restrictions as a prisoner, an' his rights as a sentient being, begin an' end."

Dr. McKay snorted, "And he's doing this by smuggling flowers?"

"Aye. Tha' 'e is."

"At the risk of sounding repetitive—How does that work, exactly?"

Eyeing the overtly skeptical physicist, Carson shrugged seriously. "By smugglin' somethin' totally an' completely harmless, like flowers, 'e can judge our reaction wi'out any extra, unnecessary variables. 'E's tryin' to isolate a single response."

"Experimenting with our behavior," murmured Weir.

"Now that's creepy," Ford grimaced.

"No creepier than anything else he's done," observed the Major.

"True."

Carson ignored the exchange, "The way we react now tells Steve 'ow we're likely to react to him takin' similar liberties in the future."

Remembering Sheppard's account of Steve's unorthodox entry into the 'Octopus Room,' Dr. Weir turned to the LCD screen pensively. "He already knows he'll get leniency if his actions benefit Atlantis." She and Sheppard had agreed the wraith shouldn't be penalized for forcing the premature investigation.

"An' this'll tell him wha' to expect from neutral activities."

Sergeant Bates glowered at the holding cell footage. "I don't like where this is going. What if he tries negative experiments next?"

Worried, McKay fidgeted nervously, "Negative? What, like attacking someone and measuring how long we take to shoot him?"

"Ah doubt 'e'd choose tha' particular method—"

"But it IS a legitimate concern," Weir pressed.

Dr. Beckett began to protest, but then paused and reluctantly conceded, "Aye."

"Well!" Sheppard announced, "In that case, we need to make sure our response to THIS liberty discourages Steve from taking negative ones."

Lieutenant Ford nodded in agreement, "And how do we do that, Sir?"

How indeed. He quickly bullshitted. "We need to be firm."

"But we mustn' over-react." Carson caught Sheppard's eye, "It's no coincidence tha' Steve did this after we delivered tha' computer. 'E's tryin' to find out how much 'e can trust us. We're enterin' a very delicate stage o' this relationship."

"Then we need to be gentle, too."

Dr. McKay stared at Major Sheppard with perplexed disbelief. "What? Firm and gentle?—Are we breaking in a horse now!"

"Nooo," Sheppard waffled, "We're breaking in a sensitive, intelligent alien predator—"

"A sensitive, yet intelligent, alien bug," McKay mimicked. He glared at Sheppard. "You're bullshitting, aren't you?"

"Not entirely. I just haven't fleshed the plan out completely yet."

"Well flesh it," Dr. Weir interrupted. She glowered at Major Sheppard warningly, "I understand your desire to keep us on good terms with our prisoner, but this security breach HAS to be taken seriously."

Sheppard bristled, "I AM taking it seriously!"

"Firm and gentle?" she demanded.

"Yes!" Sheppard snapped his fingers as the thought that'd been taking shape in the back of his mind abruptly clicked into focus. "Firm on the smuggling! Gentle on the flowers!" He grinned cockily, "Deter one, while going easy on the other."

Dr. Weir raised an unamused eyebrow, "And how do we do that?"

"Investigate the flowers. If they're truly harmless, he gets to keep 'em."

"And if they're not?"

"We deal with that as it comes."

"What about the smuggling?" Weir pressed, relenting on the speculation.

An evil twinkle glinted in Sheppard's eye. "Two words. Strip and Search."

Silence stretched excruciatingly through the debriefing room as everyone digested the ramifications of the term. Then…

"Ew!" McKay squeaked, "You want us to strip-search a Wraith?"

"Every time he re-enters his cell."

"This is ridiculous! We're talking about strip-searching an alien bug!" Impossibly, McKay's voice rose in pitch again, "Who's gonna DO that!"

Miffed, Sheppard glared at him, "Whoever I order to do it!"

In the chair beside the Major, Lieutenant Ford gulped and tried to make himself invisible. It didn't work.

"Strip-search," Sergeant Bates was nodding thoughtfully, "That's a good plan."

"Glad you like it—"

"We should've been doing it from the start."

Sheppard gave his Security Chief a deadpan stare, which Bates returned unabashedly.

Dr. Weir looked from Bates to her military commander critically. "You think strip-searching our Wraith will be a strong enough deterrant to prevent smuggling?"

Uncertainty niggled briefly at Sheppard's confidence, but he quickly squelched it. "Yes. I do."

"Why?"

Gut instinct, mostly. Unfortunately, saying that Steve struck him as a very clean, primly prudish alien bug wasn't gonna cut it here. "It's one of the few privacies we haven't taken from him yet."

"Nakedness can be disempowering," Sergeant Bates added.

"And what if Wraith don't care about nakedness the way humans do?"

At Weir's challenge, Major Sheppard and Bates exchanged a glance. Neither had considered that yet…

Carson unexpectedly rescued them. "Actually, ah think tha''ll work. When we started allowin' Steve to shower, 'e was dead set on wantin' privacy." Sensing confusion, the doctor raised a forestalling hand, "Not exactly the same, ah know. But strip-searches ARE a form o' takin' tha' privilege away." Beckett's blue eyes darted among his companions earnestly, "It's an intrusion tha' is unrelated to his cooperation wi' Atlantis, but which negatively affects his comfort on a personnel level."

Satisfied, Dr. Weir nodded while pacing thoughtfully before the screen, "And though he won't like it, he can't reasonably protest our doing it."

"No. 'E brought it on 'imself. 'E knew we'd do somethin'."

Across the table, Ford muttered, "I doubt he predicted THIS something."

Sheppard frowned and swiveled towards him, "You got a problem, Lieutenant?"

Ford quickly straightened, "No, Sir."

A knowing chuckle. "He just doesn't want to do it."

Dr. Weir looked at McKay reprovingly, "I don't think anyone here WANTS to strip a Wraith, Rodney."

If he caught the subtle reprimand, Dr. McKay didn't show it, "Well I seriously doubt our Wraith WANTS to be stripped." Huffing irritably, he leaned forward, "What if this backfires? I mean, Steve's got everything he needs. Food. A computer. …Food. That's everything a Wraith needs to survive—Hell, that's all I'D need to survive!—Coffee not withstanding—What if he refuses to leave his cell?"

Dr. Beckett glanced at Weir worriedly, "Tha' would be a problem. The punishment's no good if 'e can avoid it easily."

Unconcerned, Sheppard shrugged and swiveled back to the table, "Oh, he'll try that, all right. We just have to provide incentives to derail it."

"What sort of incentives?" Sergeant Bates asked.

"Something Steve can't resist…"

McKay scoffed loudly, "And what would that be?"

"Things he wants that he can only get OUTSIDE his cell."

The physicist's eyes rolled long-sufferingly, "Really? Outside his cell? I hadn't thought of that."

Major Sheppard spread his hands across the table musingly. "Just give me a moment. I'm thinking." He studied the live images of the Xex tube, pondering recent activities… "The flooded lab's last few rooms haven't been excavated. He might be coaxed out for that." An idea struck, "AND there's the morgue!"

Rodney laughed disbelievingly, "You want to coax him out with a rotting corpse?"

"He seemed interested in his 'deceased brethren.'"

"I doubt he's THAT interested—"

Sheppard's arms crossed with a clothy fwap! "Ya got a better, juicier carrot up your sleeve, McKay?"

"What? No! That's why I'm asking y—"

"Actually…" Sheppard and McKay both looked up hopefully as Dr. Weir shot Beckett a knowing glance. "I believe I have exactly the carrot you're looking for."

"You do?"

"I do." Weir raised an eyebrow expectantly, "Care to explain, Doctor?"

Carson looked at her in confusion. Then his eyes widened. "Oh! Tha'!" Confidence quickly illuminated the Scotsman's features. "Aye, tha' will work!" Grinning excitedly, he gave Major Sheppard a sharp nod, "Definitely!"

End Flashback…

"Come and take it, Major Sheppard." Taking another step back, Steve cocked his head with a hiss while spreading his arms nonthreateningly, "I will not stop you."

Sheppard didn't respond. The wraith's daring tone and challenging stare belied the benignity of his words. This was another power game…

Another test…

He glanced at the Xex tube, sparkling cheerfully on the floor, smack in the middle of the brightest circle of light. There was no doubt in Sheppard's mind that he could waltz in there and retrieve it without resistance. It was tempting.

His gaze flicked back to the wraith.

Steve smiled at him, translucent teeth baring in a creepily inviting grin.

…

Like Hell he was taking that! It went on HIS terms! NOT the wraith's.

Major Sheppard adopted an indifferent air. "I think I'll pass," he quipped.

Though his smile faded, Steve's eyes glinted with amusement as he nodded deferentially and straightened. "Suit yourself, Major." Unblinkingly maintaining eye-contact, he side-stepped the sparkling 'vase' and drifted towards the bars. A soft hiss whispered through the cell as he sank slowly to Sheppard's level. "What else did you come to ask, Major? Or did you visit solely to inform me of new protocolsss?…"

Perceptive alien.

The Major quirked a mocking eyebrow. "Actually, there WAS something else. I have a few questions for you about the hard-drive."

Steve's gloved fingers brushed the metal barrier, "The one I salvaged?"

"Yeah, that one."

"Ahhhh…" Pale lips twitched with a sharp chuff, and Steve purred, "Your Dr. McKay has discovered the fault in his plan to extract data from it."

Hearing the smug pleasure in the wraith's tone, Sheppard felt vindicated. Steve was every bit as tickled at regaining this bargaining chip as he'd predicted. "Well, he's certainly discovered 'A' fault. Whether it's 'THE' fault…" He leaned closer and shrugged dismissively, "I can't exactly confirm that, can I?"

Taking the bait, Steve dipped his chin and obligingly elaborated, "You do not possess a compatable interface. Nor is he capable of constructing one."

Straight to the point. Sheppard grinned approvingly, "Since we've got THAT outta the way." He tapped his earpiece, "Sheppard to McKay. We're ready for ya."

Dr. McKay's voice crackled nervously, "Good, good. I'm coming."

On the other side of the bars, the wraith's expression turned wary.

Clicking his radio off, Major Sheppard studied Steve seriously, "Here's how this works." The olive eyes narrowed. "McKay's coming in to ask ya stuff. You, Steve, are gonna answer." Translucent teeth bared in protest, and the Major lifted a warning finger. Steve obligingly stilled. "Politely, Steve. And I suggest you consider your position before refusing to cooperate. Dr. Weir's not too pleased with you right now."

That last was an exaggeration. Weir was angrier at Sheppard for missing the smuggling than she was at the culprit. Steve, however, didn't know that. And, irrespective of whether the wraith actually cared about Weir's opinion, dropping her name had the desired effect. Glancing away, Steve sniffed primly and drew back. As McKay's footfall's began echoing down the stairs, their captive veered away with a haughty, leather-flaring flap and stalked towards the cell's center.

Sheppard watched the retreat with interest as McKay clattered noisily into the alcove. Maybe he should mention Weir more often? The wraith seemed to respect the authority she represented—

Steve stopped beyond the waiting laptop and stared, motionlessly, at a wall.

OR he was getting ready to ignore McKay again…

Great. This was turning out splendidly! Was everyone having fun yet?

Fervently hoping that the wraith would follow the politeness instruction, (for simplicity's sake, if nothing else), Major Sheppard turned as McKay briskly entered the room. The physicist seemed to have recovered from their trek down…

He looked a bit jittery, though. What part of 'trapped safely behind an impenetrable forcefield' didn't reassure the man?

Data-pad clutched to his chest, Dr. McKay moved quickly to the Major's side, huffed a fortifying breath, and briefly eyed the cell's occupant.

"Okay, I'm here," he announced.

Sheppard studied him, "I can see that."

"Right," McKay's eyes darted nervously at Steve, who didn't acknowledge him. His mouth opened, then shut again as he glanced back. "Sooo, I take it you're finished?"

Stalling tactics. Definite jitter symptoms. "Yup. That's why I called."

McKay jerked his thumb towards the cell, "You told him about the—"

"YES."

"And he's cool with—"

"McKayyyy," growled Sheppard.

"Right! Sticking to the plan." Steeling himself to address the deadly predator within the cage, Dr. McKay squared his shoulders and faced the cell. "Steve."

No response.

McKay cleared his throat, "Uh, Steve?"

Silence… The aloof figure remained rigidly still.

"Right," Rodney muttered, "Ignoring means walking. As if I haven't walked enough in the last hour…" Skirting Major Sheppard with a disgruntled sigh, he paced around the cell until he was standing in the wraith's line of sight and shrugged with exaggerated impatience. "Well? Are you gonna talk to me?"

Steve sniffed disdainfully and looked away.

"I've got questions!"

Sheppard inwardly winced. Good McKay. A+ on the diplomacy.

"Questions about the hard-drive!"

The oval-pupils snapped back to the human scientist. With a soft hiss, the wraith's face swiveled to follow them. "And I have answers, Doctor McKay." A defiant, emphatically exhaled, chuff. "A great many of them." Leading with a sharp dip of his head, Steve turned on his heel and began stalking along the inner edges of his cell.

Caught offguard by the abrupt move, Dr. McKay scurried to catch up.

Major Sheppard watched the undignified scramble and groaned mentally, resolving to drill Rodney later on the subtleties of maintaining control in prisoner conversations. He might not master it soon, but—

McKay tripped on the smooth floor and stumbled. "Slow down!" he griped, "It's not like we're actually GOing anywhere!"

—at least he'd be thinking about it—

"It's not like it's a race!"

…

Geez, this was embarrassing.

"What do you want to know, Doctor McKay?" Steve's ivory hair fanned behind him as he turned the next corner without slowing.

McKay's annoyance morphed instantly into seriousness. "The dying neural filaments," he shot out.

An impatient hiss and short bark, "What about them?"

"Is it possible to access the hard-drive's data without them?"

"No."

Rodney's brow furrowed. "Are they salvageable?"

Another quickly clipped, "No."

"How about synthetic substitutes?"

A low, distasteful chuff, "I know of no such technology."

Major Sheppard stepped away from the cage so Dr. McKay could move past him without breaking stride. Focused on the cell's occupant, McKay didn't seem to notice.

"So you're saying, our only option is to find a new one."

Steve's olive eyes narrowed, "That is what I would do."

Nodding pensively, McKay glanced at his data-pad, "What about growing one?"

Sheppard's eyebrows lifted in surprise. It seemed their recent discovery was making Atlantis's Head Scientist ambitious. Not that this was a bad thing…

Within the cage, Steve slowed abruptly, lithe form pivoting to face his interrogator. "Growing one?" A distinct note of incredulity had entered his voice.

Belatedly realizing the wraith wasn't with him, Rodney stumbled and looked back, "That's what I said, isn't it?" Olive eyes followed him unblinkingly as he retraced his steps with an annoyed huff. "Look. Zelenka's desalinating the purifier. Once it regenerates, we can grow incubators. With incubators, we can grow neural filaments."

Leaning towards the bars, Steve hissed disbelievingly, "Do you have any idea how long that would take?"

McKay grimaced at the condescending way the wraith had drawn out 'long.' "Of course not," he griped, "We've never tried it before! That's why we need advice. You have to admit, the idea itself isn't THAT far-fetched—"

"No!" Steve snapped, "It is merely impractical." Eyeing McKay superiorly, he quickened his pace once more. "What you propose, the regrowth of an entire micro-biology lab—from template, no less." A disdainful rattle suffused the cell as he shook his head, "Solely for the purpose of obtaining a single neural filament seed—"

"It's not like we wouldn't use it for anything else," McKay huffed.

"—Such tasks require a considerable investment of time and resources. Resources," Steve repeated, "which you freely admit, are limited."

"Not once the purifier is regenerated," Sheppard called as they walked past, "We've got plenty of compost to feed it."

McKay shrugged his shoulders dismissively, "What he said."

Pausing midstride, the wraith glanced conspicuously at Major Sheppard, apparently weighing his last comment. From his skeptical expression, Sheppard got the impression that he was unsure how seriously he was supposed to take McKay's plan.

He eyed Steve warningly and nodded slightly. Yeah, we're serious.

With a disgusted snort, Steve's attention returned to McKay. "To assume regeneration will be complete in time to suite your purposes is preposterous—"

"No more preposterous than assuming it won't be," McKay retorted.

"The regenerative progress of the hard-drive is an indicator."

Rodney scrambled to keep up as they rounded the cell's next corner, "It's a sample size of ONE. Not exactly reliable."

Steve's lips twitched with annoyance, "It is not dismissable, either."

Dr. McKay let out a disparaging laugh, "Yeah, well. We've got you. And seeing as you're, you know, down here?" he hugged his data-pad and looked smugly about the cell, "It would be idiotic NOT to get an accurate time estimate from you."

The wraith stared at McKay out of the corners of his eyes, not responding immediately. Rodney fidgeted under the scrutiny, but stared back, trying to look self-assured and victorious. Footsteps echoed in the void of their silence…

Finally, after completing a circuit of the cell, Steve narrowed his eyes deferentially. "Regrowing the entire lab will require considerable patience."

Elated by the minor win, Dr. McKay chuckled in relief and rolled his eyes, "You say that like you don't think Humans have any."

Steve expelled a condescending chuff and looked away, "Your lives are too short to truly cultivate the skill."

"Heh. Funny. Believe it or not, I'm actually a fan of long term projects."

"It will take several hundred guard shifts for the purifier to regain full functionality—"

"What?" Dr. McKay blinked in confusion, "Guardshifts? What does—" Realization dawned. "Oh. Right. Guardshifts."

"And several hundred more," continued Steve, "to regrow the nutrient regulator."

Still walking, Rodney turned to Sheppard in exasperation, "A little translation, if you don't mind!"

Feigning enlightenment, the Major did some quick mental math. "That means a couple months, Rodney."

"A couple months?" the physicist paused, "That's not too bad—"

"Each," Sheppard added.

McKay's face fell. "Four months to grow two machines?"

"Roughly. Several hundred isn't exactly a specific number."

The physicist rounded on the wraith accusingly. "I thought you guys were supposed to be efficient!"

Steve's pale chin lifted haughtily, "There are many kinds of efficiency, Dr. McKay. The inorganic properties of your environment are not ideal for organic reconstruction. Nor is your lack of resources." A smug hiss permeated the cell, "That duplication of the original lab is even possible, given the state of the original, is a testament to my kind's technological resourcefulness."

"Four months to regrow two machines," McKay repeated.

Ivory alien lashes dipped in a languid blink, "We are a patient race…"

"Lazy's more like it."

The wraith's face swung towards him in amusement, "No need to be insulting, Doctor."

"You haven't even glimpsed insulting yet."

Alarmed by McKay's glower, Major Sheppard decided it was time to intervene more proactively. "Stay on track! You're discussing neural filaments."

Rodney huffed irritably and stalked around the next corner. "Four months until we have reliable nutrient production doesn't give us neural filaments now," he snapped. "Our current hard-drive's left hanging!"

Inside the cage, Steve watched the physicist's mini-rant with blatant curiosity.

Noting the interest uneasily, Sheppard frowned. "So go on to the next option!"

"The next option's a long shot," McKay groused.

The wraith cocked his head and swayed closer to the bars, black coat panels swinging, "Perhapssss I should be the judge of that…"

At the sudden close proximity, Dr. McKay startled, "Whoa! Don't do that!" Blinking innocently, Steve tilted his head the other way. "Don't blink innocently at me, either! I know what you're doing!"

A querulous hiss whispered through the holding cell. "And what am I doing, Dr. McKay?" Not drawing attention to the action, Steve smoothly slowed to a stop.

Keeping pace, Dr. McKay unconsciously followed suit. "You're trying to intimidate me!" he accused. He shook a finger at the wraith, "Well, it won't work. You're in a cage, and I'm not."

Searching Rodney's flustered face for a moment, Steve narrowed his eyes consideringly and drew back. "Such an interpretation was not my intent…"

"Right. Like I'm supposed to believe that."

Chuffing softly, Steve regarded McKay with restrained interest and changed the subject. "What did you wish to ask next, Doctor? What is Atlantis's 'long shot?'"

Rodney's agitation visibly subsided. "The computer on M1X-347."

The wraith stared blankly at him.

McKay huffed an impatient sigh and snapped his fingers repeatedly, "The computer you pulled the hard-drive from."

"Ahhh…" Understanding sparked in the olive eyes. Understanding and puzzlement. "It is relevant to this discussion?"

"Yes," replied McKay, "Very relevant. Seeing as it's the only wraith computer we know of that's NOT rotting from excessive hydrogen dioxide exposure, Carson would like to know if its neural filaments might still be salvagable."

Within the cell, Steve's lithe posture went eerily still. Watchfulness electrified the atmosphere as the guards lining the walls detected the abrupt change.

Characteristically oblivious to the tension, McKay shrugged. "What? It's a simple enough question."

No response. Major Sheppard frowned as the stillness persisted. Then he side-stepped to the cage's nearest corner for a better view.

Rodney fidgeted with renewed irritatation. "Is there a chance they're salvagable or not!"

As the silence lengthened, Major Sheppard knew, with sudden, epiphantic certainty, that the answer was a resounding, 'YES!' The damn thing WAS still salvagable. And Atlantis was gonna need Steve's help bringing it back.

But now that Steve knew about the new strip-search protocol, he wasn't likely to be in a helpful mood.

He strode quickly towards McKay. "What's our time window?"

The wraith's olive gaze darted to Major Sheppard unreadably as Rodney looked at him in confusion. "What? What time window? What're you talking about?"

Major Sheppard held Steve's eyes intently. "The filaments are alive. Steve knows that. Don't you, Steve?" A low hiss met his words. The wraith's expression remained neutral. "But they won't STAY alive," the pale face angled towards him as he continued, "The console was too heavily damaged for that. Wasn't it?"

No response. Dr. McKay opened and closed his mouth, looking from Sheppard to the wraith, and back again. "Wait. If they're alive, we've got to go back! We can extract them an—" he rounded on the wraith, "You can do that, right? Extract them and make them portable?" Steve's attention stayed rooted on Sheppard. "What am I saying? Of course you can," McKay brushed the lack of answers off. "After they're brought back, we can house them with the hard-drive to conserve nutrients—"

Major Sheppard raised a hand, cutting him off. "First we have to get 'em." He advanced on the bars, giving the wraith a warning look. "How long, Steve?"

Ivory brushed the metal in front of Sheppard's chest as Steve titled his head, studying his captor with inscrutible, oval-pupiled eyes…

After several seconds, Sheppard glared and barked, "How long!"

Steve bared his teeth in a pleased grin, and a musical, reverberating chuckle chimed thoughout the cell as he stepped back. "Your persistence is admirable, Major," unmistakable amusement suffused his tone as Steve dipped his chin, watching Sheppard with wide, not-quite challenging, eyes. "You are correct. The neural filament seed you seek may indeed survive within the damaged terminal on M1X-347." Leather scraped across leather as he inhaled a rattling hiss and began slowly weaving back and forth beyond the bars. Shadows shifted rhythmically. "And your Dr. McKay is correct in his assessment of my ability. I am capable of bringing it back intact. However—"

"However…?" Sheppard echoed, low and dangerously. He'd expected a 'however.' The wraith was enjoying this too much for there not to be.

"However," Steve continued, "the window for its survival is closing rapidly. It may already be too late." A soft, punctuating chuff, "And also—"

"Also?" Sheppard raised an eyebrow in mock surprise.

"Yessss. Also…" Steve swung away from the bars and paced past the Xex tube, eyes glinting eagerly. He stopped by the sleeping laptop and faced his captors, "I am discinlined to perform this task for you at the moment."

"What!" McKay squeaked disbelievingly, "You're 'disinclined?' Aren't you supposed to be cooperating out of penitence, or something?"

"I am cooperating," a smug hiss. Beads glimmered as the wraith indicated the waiting laptop with a sinuous sweep of his feeding hand. "I am assisting Dr. Beckett with the analysis of his results by providing my own insights. The work is most engaging—"

McKay scoffed derisively, "Yeah, I'll bet it is."

"—and complex." Steve lifted his chin with an air of lofty satisfaction, ivory hair swishing. "I suspect it will be sometime before I am satisfied with my conclusions."

Major Sheppard adopted a neutral expression, "Meaning…?"

The wraith looked at him with wide-eyed, (obviously feigned), innocence. "Meaning, Major, that there is much to occupy me here. I see no reason to delay my observations for a potentially fruitless errand that will result in personal discomfort."

This was it. The passive aggressiveness Sheppard had predicted. Their captive was about to begin refusing to do anything unrelated to the glove—

"No, Major," Steve continued, "Rather than subject myself to the indignities waiting for me upon my return, I believe I will remain here." His pale lips twitched in a mirthless smirk, "Perhaps indefinitely…" He cocked his head consideringly, then nodded slowly, as if deciding he liked the idea. "Yessss. Indefinitely should be adequate…" His slim shoulders straightened resolutely, "I shall remain here—"

"Adequate for what?" Dr. McKay spluttered, "How is staying HERE gonna—"

"—indefinitely. OR!" Ignoring McKay, Steve dropped the innocent act and sharpened his scrutiny of Sheppard. His multi-tonal voice deepened, reverberating with innuendo, "Until such time as the circumstances of my imprisonment seem more…" he chuffed musingly, "How shall I put it?" Lowering his ivory lashes smugly, Steve hooked some hair behind one ear with a delicate, twisting flourish and made a show of studying the ceiling before sweeping his gaze back to Sheppard, "Favorable."

The Major studied the daring spark in their prisoner's eyes for a moment. There was a challenge in there. And a definite air of triumph, too. It would seem Steve believed he had the upperhand in this skirmish…

Time to squelch that crap before the wraith got too full himself.

Gesturing for Rodney to let him handle this, Major Sheppard adopted an expression of mockingly feigned regret and rested his hands casually on the bars.

"Well, that's too bad, isn't it Steve?"

The wraith surveyed him haughtily.

Sheppard let the expectant silence linger for a moment. Then… "'Cause it just so happens, your good pal Carson wants to study your brain," he raised an eyebrow, "WHILE you're feeding those organic tools."

A flicker of uncertainty, so brief it might've been wishful thinking on his part, caused the daring look to waver slightly. Sheppard savored a surge of perverse satisfaction and ruthlessly pressed his advantage.

"And it so happens," he continued, "that Dr. Weir said he could."

The flicker wasn't imagination this time. One corner of Steve's mouth twitched with an inaudible chuff, and his eyes darted away for a millisecond. There was understanding dawning in the olive orbs. Understanding and realization.

…Tempered by belated wariness.

Knowing the wraith was powerless to change where the conversation was heading, Sheppard confirmed his suspicions with relish.

"But only AFTER you help us retrieve some neural filaments."

Steve's features twisted in a frustrated snarl, and Major Sheppard shrugged. He smiled through the bars with insincere apology. "Too bad about that whole, 'staying in your cell,' thing. Must be lookin' pretty dull, right about now."

The wraith glared daggers at him.

Holding the angry gaze, Sheppard lowered his voice seriously. "Care to reconsider your 'disinclined' statement?" he added ominously, "Steve?"

"NEVER!" Steve spat. The beads ringing his wrist flared violently.

Major Sheppard raised an eyebrow and backed away from the cell a few steps. No need to rub the salt in TOO much. "I'll just give ya a moment to think about that answer," he replied graciously. "'Cause I don't think you really mean it."

Steve snarled again, but didn't reply.

Raising a hand to placate McKay, who was edging unsubtly towards him, Sheppard studied their fuming prisoner in silence. He could practically see the gears turning in the wraith's head. Refusing to participate only worked as leverage if the refuser was willing to commit. A single exception transformed the tactic into empty posturing. Steve would realize that. And if Sheppard had read him right, (which, admittedly, wasn't necessarily the case), he was practical enough not to waste time engaging in futility. If he caved here, negotiations SHOULD return to normal.

Well… As normal as they'd BEEN going so far…

"Uh, Major. I don't think—"

A stern hand wave hushed McKay, "Just give him a moment."

"But he's not—"

"I said, 'give him a moment.'" Sheppard glanced reprovingly at McKay, then looked back at the cell. "Steve's a smart cookie. He'll make the right choice."

"For him, or for us?" Rodney muttered before quieting.

"Theoretically they're the same thing…" Sheppard absently murmured.

"HISSSSS!"

Steve's coat whipped the air with a loud SNAP! as he spun on his heel and began pacing angry circles around the sleeping laptop. His pale forehead furrowed in displeasure.

Startled by the sudden move, Dr. McKay clutched his data-pad in a deathgrip and deliberately looked away from the cell. "I hate it when he does that…"

"We can tell." Ignoring the exasperated look McKay shot his way, Major Sheppard watched the stiff-legged stalking with approval. The change was good. It meant Steve was over his initial fury enough to be thinking about his predicament rationally. They should be getting his 'Real' answer anytime now…

Silence… Punctuated by the abrasive, staccato clacking of Steve's boots and a renewal of McKay's nervous grumbling…

…

Anytime now…

…

Okaaay… No change. Sheppard frowned as the wraith continued to pace without showing any signs of stopping or changing his pattern. Drawing the matter out interminably was another passive aggressive tactic. A petty tactic, but a tactic nonetheless. And NOT one he wanted to encourage.

"Perhaps I should mention that this is a limited time offer, Steve."

No response. The laptop and Xex tube continued vanishing and reappearing as Steve strode circles around them, staring angrily at the metal floor.

Sheppard gave the repetitive non-decision another minute and a half before declaring himself tired of the game and calling their prisoner's bluff.

"Oh, well," he heaved a melodramatic sigh of disappointment, "Guess I'll have to find Carson a new friend to play with. See ya around, Steve." Clapping Dr. McKay on the shoulder, he turned away, as if to leave, "I'll contact ya if we find anything new in the flooded lab." Dragging a confused McKay behind him, he headed briskly for the alcove.

The wraith's footsteps stopped. Sheppard pretended he didn't hear.

Letting the Major steer him, Rodney spluttered under his breath, "What are you doing? We need him—"

Sheppard squeezed his arm, muttering, "Zip it."

"Ow! What was that for?" Sheppard shot him a quick, 'you're ruining my plan,' glare. McKay rolled his eyes, "Fine. I'll wait."

An explosive chuff reverberated through the holding cell as they reached the alcove. "Very well, Major. You have made your point!"

Major Sheppard grinned, and McKay rolled his eyes again at his 'told ya so,' expression. "Good!" Spinning on a dime, Sheppard faced the cage once more. The wraith was staring defiantly at him. "I was starting to worry there for a second."

Steve hissed softly, a dangerous, warning sound. His oval pupils held the Major's eyes unblinkingly as he spat, "The neural filament seed on planet M1X-347 will likely survive for another four or five guard shifts. Six at the longest. But no more."

"And you'll help bring it back here safely?"

The warning hiss returned, vibrating through the room, a long, drawn out expression of displeasure. Sheppard weathered the aural protest stoically. Capitulating so soon, bare minutes after making a stand, was humiliating. The wraith's ego would be tearing itself to pieces right about now.

The hiss faded finally, and Steve inhaled sharply, defiant eyes never leaving Sheppard's face. His multi-tonal words bit crisply past tightly clenched teeth. "As well as ensuring its correct maintenance and installation."

All that too? Sheppard raised a surprised eyebrow. He'd expected more posturing first. "Just clarifying. You're gonna help Carson put it in the hard-drive?"

…Silence. Then…

"Yessss…"

Bonus! Sheppard had been planning on tackling that next, but it seemed the wraith knew exactly when and how badly he'd lost. And the lack of further posturing meant he was better at swallowing his pride than Sheppard had thought. His grin widened. "Four or five guard shifts, huh?" he made a show of mulling that over as he returned to the cell, "That's roughly what? Sixteen… Twenty hours?" He glanced meaningfully at McKay, "Decent amount of time. Almost an entire day."

Opening his mouth to agree, Dr. McKay frowned suddenly, "You'd think that, wouldn't you?"

"Huh?"

Within the cage, Steve's baleful stare shifted to the fidgeting physicist. "The timing is more than sufficient for effecting a successful extraction."

Waking up his data-pad with a quick tap, McKay let out a short, disparaging laugh, "Hah! Actually, I'm pretty sure you're wrong."

The wraith's lips curled distastefully, but before he could disagree, Sheppard decided to intervene. Unnecessary arguments got Atlantis nowhere.

"Look, whatever," waving off McKay's statement as if it were irrelevant, he deliberately caught Steve's eye to regain his attention. "While he's doing that—" (whatever THAT was. McKay was tapping a mile a minute, so engrossed he hadn't noticed the brush off) "—why don't you tell me what sorta supplies we'll need. For example. Does this extraction require special equipment?"

Shifting his weight, Steve folded his arms loosely across his stomach and flexed his ungloved fingers against his right bracer. He cocked his head slightly. "While the use of the organic tools you're studying would undoubtedly be beneficial—"

Sheppard inwardly snorted. Like Hell THAT was gonna happen.

"—a simple tank of nutrient fluid for transportation will suffice."

THAT he could do. Major Sheppard nodded, "I'll get Carson on it."

The wraith's expression turned musing, "And… if your medical experts possess it. A sort of," a short, noncommittal chuff, "epidermal patch…?"

Like Liquid Skin? Or Band Aids? "Yeah, we've got that."

"It is likely that I will require a larger surface area of membrane than the console currently possesses. If that is the case, an artificial substitute will be useful."

"I'll add it to the list."

"If you're making a list," Dr. McKay suddenly snapped, "you'd better finish it fast. Our time window's closing rapidly!"

Steve hissed in annoyance, and Sheppard turned to Rodney in exasperated confusion. "Care to explain that? We've got almost twenty hours—"

"Yes!" McKay irritably barked, "Twenty hours before the filaments die." He shoved his data-pad's screen towards the Major's face. A fuzzy, too-close view of an alien planet's statistic entry dominated the open window, "Which is entirely and TOTALLY unrelated to our ability to get at them."

Jerking back, Sheppard snatched the pad from McKay before his efforts to read its glowing, bobbing letters permanently damaged his vision. "What's this? M1X-347?"

"Yes!" huffing impatiently, McKay jabbed a finger at some numbers scrolling across the confiscated screen. His urgent voice was tinged with worry, "And we've got less than two and a half hours before its next night cycle starts."

Sheppard's eyes widened, "You're kidding me!"

"You wish," Rodney muttered.

They stared at each other in mutual disbelief for a moment, until an insistent hiss drew their attention. The wraith was watching them seriously.

"Two and a half hours?" Steve asked.

"Half a guard shift," Major Sheppard explained, rounding down.

Brow furrowing, Steve looked away, olive gaze darting distractedly about, "That is not enough time." Outside the cell, the Major cursed loudly. "I cannot safely perform—"

"The travel time alone—" McKay blurted.

"—an extraction this delicate—"

"We have to get Teyla," Sheppard muttered. The Athosian was still on the mainland, visiting her people. "That's almost an hour round trip."

"Assuming whoever we sent found her easily," added McKay.

Ivory shifted as Steve looked quickly to his captors, "We must extract the terminal."

Sheppard and Rodney both looked at him. "Excuse me?"

Steve chuffed urgently, "We must uproot the entire console and bring it here."

Dr. McKay stared at him, surprised, "You can do that?"

A curt nod, "Yesssss."

Glancing at Rodney, Sheppard stepped closer to the cell, "Even with the shortened time-line?"

Another nod, "It is the only viable option."

Studying the inscrutable alien face, Major Sheppard held Steve's olive gaze seriously. The wraith seemed earnest enough…

Exhaling audibly, Steve inclined his head slowly towards his captor, carefully maintaining their eye contact. "I wish to study the organic tools, Major."

He paused expectantly, and Major Sheppard deliberately nodded back.

"And we wish to study the hard-drive."

"Yesssss…"

They had an understanding, then. Major Sheppard decisively turned to Dr. McKay. "We're doing it."

Rodney rolled his eyes, "Was there really any doubt?"

The Major ignored that comment and tapped his earpiece, "Sheppard to Sergeant Bates." The radio squawked to life almost instantly.

"Bates here. Is there a problem, Major?"

"You could say that," Sheppard quipped. Sobering quickly, he started barking orders. "Get Marcum and Stackhouse in a jumper. I want Teyla back ASAP. And I need an off-world security detail for our prisoner."

"May I ask where we're taking him?" The Security Chief sounded suspicious.

"I'll brief you on the way to the Gate Room. Sheppard out." Knowing he'd catch an earful for that, especially considering recent events, Major Sheppard tapped his radio off and turned his attention to Dr. McKay. "Rodney, I want you—"

"To brief Carson and get the nutrients and epidermal substitutes ready," McKay interrupted knowingly, "I'm way ahead of y—"

"No, you're not," Sheppard interrupted, "I can do that over the radio. What I really want is for you to grab an engineering team and rig up a wench and pulley system in the back of one of the Puddlejumpers."

Dr. McKay blinked at him in surprise, "What on Earth do we need THAT for?"

Sheppard's eyebrows lifted, "For transporting the console."

Laughing nervously, McKay's tone turned hopefully dubious, "Um, unless I'm seriously misremembering something—which I'm certain is NOT the case—I could've sworn M1X-347's atmosphere was dangerous for flying."

Sheppard shrugged dismissively, "Only the upper atmosphere."

"Oh. Right," McKay laughed again, "How silly of me. The upper atmosphere is the Certain Death zone. The lower parts are only, 'Enter At Your Own Risk."

Sheppard glared, unamused, "As long as we don't get too far above the treetops, we'll be fine. It'll save time."

"It's still a risk!"

"The branches will act like a shield."

"But—"

"Look, McKay. I don't care how bad the upper air currents are. I'm NOT lugging an entire wraith console through a mile of uncleared jungle."

Silence. The military commander and chief scientist stared at each other.

Then…

"Technically it's deciduous forest," Dr. McKay corrected.

Major Sheppard rolled his eyes, "You get the picture."

Tucking his data-pad under one arm, McKay grudgingly conceded, "Yes, unfortunately I do." He turned to go. "I'll meet you in the Gate Room."

As the physicist tapped his radio and left through the alcove, already chattering at Zelenka, Major Sheppard returned his attention to the cell and the wraith inside it. Steve was watching him with expectant urgency. The Major squared his shoulders. "Okay, Steve. You know what happens next."

Hissing softly, the wraith dipped his head, "A security detail will arrive. To ensure the neural filament seed's survival, I will cooperate extensively."

"Good." Moving close to the bars, Sheppard held Steve's gaze and lowered his voice seriously, "Now… I want you to think about what happens later. AFTER we return to Atlantis and finish transplanting the seed."

Steve's translucent teeth flashed in a grimace, and he curled his upper lip distastefully. The strip-search, it seemed, had not been forgotten.

"I am aware," he growled.

Nodding in approval, the Major hardened his stare. "If there is anything—And I mean ANYthing—that you do not want found on your person when we search you—"

Steve's eyes widened at the sudden threat in his tone.

"—I suggest you give it to me. Now."

The word 'Now' reverberated through the holding cell. As its echoes faded, Steve glared at his captor with renewed defiance, "Am I supposed to believe, Major Sheppard, that relinquishment, under these circumstances, will not be met with further," he exhaled a sardonic, meaning-laden hiss, "consequencessss…?"

Firm, yet gentle. Adopting a neutral expression, Sheppard replied, "You can believe whatever you want. All I'M saying, is that right now, at this moment, any 'relinquishments' on your part are much more likely to be overlooked."

"I sssee…" The wraith studied him skeptically for several seconds before releasing a mirthless chuckle and gliding quickly to the bars. "Perhaps I will make use of this opportunity. However, before I do…" Sinking to his captor's eye-level, he pushed his face close to the forcefield and inhaled deeply. The beads ringing his wrist flickered and glimmered, and he flexed his feeding hand, exhaling with obvious relish. "Tell me, Major. Do you believe I possess other objectsss?"

Mildly unsettled by the blatant reminder of his tastiness, Sheppard hid his discomfort behind a mocking shrug. "What I believe doesn't matter, Steve."

"So you ssssay…" Inhaling deeply once more, Steve placed his fingers on the horizontal bar separating them and dragged them lightly across its metallic surface. Amber shifted upon the silvery barrier. "Yet my curiosity remainsss."

Tough luck! Sheppard leaned forward, glowering warningly, "Yeah, well, the only way your 'curiosity' is gonna be satisfied is by reading my mind."

Steve laughed, a sharp bark of amusement, "Regretfully, that is beyond my telepathic ability." When the Major didn't say anything more, he chuckled softly and narrowed his eyes, "Very well, Major. My curiosity will go unsated. I, however, will answer the question you did not ask." Blinking with deliberate slowness, Steve grinned smugly while swiping his gloved palm over the bar one last time.

Orange glinted against black fabric. Glancing down, Major Sheppard saw the wraith's feeding hand reveal an object. A tiny, unassuming, glittering object…

One of the Ancient beads.

Shit.

He glanced up again, growling, "You're damn lucky my people didn't find that on you."

Steve hissed superiorly, "What makes you think they would have, Major?"

For the love of—Irked almost beyond reason by the wraith's audacity, (not to mention the failure to detect the sleight-of-hand tricks that had led to this in the first place), Major Sheppard glared at the amber sphere and grudgingly admitted, "Nothing, actually…" Watching the wraith out of the corner of his eye as he said it, he saw Steve's grin widen into an expression of canary-swallowing insufferablity. That was unacceptable. Thinking quickly, he added,

"Aside from the fact that you chose to reveal it, of course…"

The smug grin vanished.

Meanwhile, on M1X-347…

Cloaked by the deepening twilight of the Night Beast world, a slim figure dug its rag-wrapped fingers through the soft loam hugging the bark of a tree trunk. There was a root here. A large, fungal tuber that glowed palely in the dim moonlight. This variety could not be found easily during full daylight, but for those willing to brave the encroachment of night to find it, the tuber was a worthy prize. It would sell well in the marketplaces. Rich worlds valued its delicate taste, while poor worshipped its healing uses. Of all the fruits of the Night Beast world, it was the most sought after.

White light poured from the soil, illuminating the branches above, and the gatherer paused as her buried fingers brushed the tuber's skin. Soft and tender. A worthy prize… Her eager digits explored it, loosening dirt from the protruding root fronds while taking care not to damage the delicate outer flesh. The tuber would fetch more if it retained its ability to glow, and that would only be possible if it remained undamaged…

She continued working.

After several long minutes of painstaking cleaning, the Night Glow Root lifted from the earth and rolled gently into the gatherer's waiting lap. She held her breath, willing its dimming light to steady and hold. When the pale glow didn't flicker and die out, but instead strengthened, she almost laughed with relief. A worthy prize indeed!

Not caring that she smudged her face, the gatherer pushed her hair back with pride and raised the tuber up. Its feathery fronds dangled among the trailing tails of her handwraps like a glowing curtain. She gazed upon it with pleasure for a moment. Then she glanced about her, studying the patterns of the shadows.

The gatherer frowned. The tuber's large size meant that it had taken longer to retrieve than she'd originally intended. She must pack it quickly. Frowning worriedly, she began pulling tufts of moss from the nearby tree trunk. The soft plants made excellent padding. She eyed the pile she was making critically. The Night Glow Root was quite large. It would take a lot to protect it. Likely it would fill an entire bag…

The thought filled the gatherer with a warm fluttery feeling, and she quickened her pace. The tuber would fetch a premium trade value everywhere. All she had to do was return through the Ring of the Ancestors with it. There were several hours of dwindling daylight left, and she was already near the forest's edge.

There was plenty of time left for reaching the portal.

The gatherer smiled softly to herself and continued working. Her family would eat well this moon.

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.

As we're getting further into the plot, I'll now add a three to this list.

3. Making the new and different, (and/or bizarre), things that happen seem realistic and believable.

(Once more, I apologize profusely for this last delay! I am trying very hard not to do it again.)