Stargate Atlantis

The Hope : Chapter Three

SGA SGA SGA

Pain hit John like a hammer between the eyes. Blunt, direct and not without side effects. The moment his hand flew to his brow and he moaned slightly Carson was there to steady him as he pitched forward, limbs shaking slightly.

"Sheppard?" Ronon held his other shoulder.

"Aargh…she's back."

Carson grimaced but rocked back on his heels when John sat up straighter, albeit with a controlled wince. Ronon followed Carson's lead but he stood and went straight to the door waiting on her appearance when he would voice his complaints at her treatment of him.

"Why?" John muttered under his breath once the pain had receded enough.

"What do you mean, son?"

"Why when she comes back is her connection to me so strong it collapses me, but pretty soon it's manageable again."

"Manageable? Carson scoffed.

"Okay. You know what I mean." John defended himself, suddenly consciously aware he was still stabbing a shaky thumb into his forehead.

"Probably she just wants you to know she's 'home' in her own sort of way."

John smirked at that. "Good one, doc."

"Aye, well." Carson studied him carefully. "You, okay?"

"I am now, thanks. Didn't last long. Dammit, she can still get to me when she wants though."

The three friends decided to slump together on the wall beside the door and just wait on the inevitable visit. Sheppard felt well-loved sitting on the hard ground in between his two good friends and tried not to get worked up at the thought of the Queen gliding towards him. He rested his head back before bringing it forwards again in a rush of memory.

"And you really don't see how beautiful she is compared to other Wraith?"

"Have you had too much trauma to your head, son? She's as ugly as these beasts get!" Carson exclaimed. No need to wait on Ronon's reply, John thought, if his low growl was anything to go by.

"And the tattoo…?"

"There's no tattoo, Sheppard. She's probably messing with you… Sheppard?"

Sheppard didn't reply. In fact, to his two friends he appeared to be in a trance.

SGA SGA SGA

"What would you say if I told you I could help you?"

"Who said I needed any help?" John replied, not turning his head from watching the brilliant blue sea and the white horses that galloped along its length, scattering diamonds as it moved.

"Could you please look at me when I speak to you?"

The tone was gentle enough, but it caused John to shiver none-the-less, and he tried so very hard to stay with his want, but it didn't take too long for her demand to permeate his thoughts and he found he could not resist her any longer.

She stood in front of him like he had seen her many times now. Tall. In command. Red hair poking out of her huge hood, hints of it streaming down a dark grey cloak that slid open to show a slightly lighter shade of grey full -length gown underneath. Her face, unquestionably Wraith, portrayed a smiling face that tried to get past the dark tattoo that framed her face like it owned her.

"I like the hot climate your mind portrays. Wraith do not like the cold."

That got John's attention and this time he willingly raised his face too look at her. Truly at her for the first time.

"I was right? Wasn't I?" He asked, now knowing full well this more than a dreamscape she had conjured up.

"About?"

"Don't play with me…lady?" he said for want of a better word.

Mus'va'lan smiled quickly, and if John had not been mistaken, he thought he saw a sudden move of the black tattoo swish across her neckline.

How could that be?

The Wraith Queen took two steps towards him, but John stood his ground and even dared a closer look, but she pulled her cloak tighter to her neck and the hood was brought lower to hide her features somewhat.

"John Sheppard. I need you to join with me. Together with my Wraith army, and your Ancient gene…willingly given…we could rule this galaxy and have everything we always wanted. I could help you achieve this."

John laughed. "I have everything I want already." He said, just missing out the bit about being back in the two Galaxies he already shared before coming here, of course.

"Then, I am sorry, I will have to use some persuasion to get you to join with me. It's a pity Atlantis has not arrived yet, it would have been my shining glory for you to unleash these great weapons on my enemies. They are coming now to try to take my position. Time, now, is not on anyone's side. Even yours. The Great Battle is here, and I will not be defeated, so when I say I need you to help me destroy them, John Sheppard….I mean it!"

John watched her yellow eyes grow bright and serious.

"Just one thing?" John said, his own eyes shining bright with curiosity.

Hope flashed, but caution remained in Mus'va'lan's face. "Continue."

"The Empress? Last time I was in your Hive, she was supposed to have visited. Where is she now? Surely you would have to fight a few Queens' to get that top position you hint at. Should she not be the one heading this battle?"

And, oh god, did not her face then betray John's worse fears. The smile on her beautiful face turned ugly as the others knew her to be, and the truth was there in front of him.

She was the Empress.

Like some horror movie she pounced on John and began pummelling his face and body in an all-out uncontrolled frenzied attack. He tried to stop her. He raised his arms to deflect most of the blows, but they rained down on him in torrents and he could do nothing to protect himself, save…

'…wake up, John!'

John floundered on the ground where Ronon had him pinned by his shoulders, his face etched with worry and fright. Carson had been pressing down on his knees, but let them go when John started to struggle to get away from their grip and stand up. Ronon hauled him to his feet and braced him until he could stand on his own.

He began to frantically pace, pulling at his leather bound arm.

"She…god!" John grimaced as he sped to the door and looked down the corridor.

Carson and Ronon looked at each other, unused to John looking as indecisive as to what to do next.

"John? What's happening? You were talking to us one minute and then trance like the next. We were starting to worry."

John ran back to them. "She is coming. It's my last chance…I know it. Promise me, if it gets too tough, if I can't …if I…nothing can jeopardise everyone, and…Earth."

Ronon grabbed both his shoulders. "I will do it if I can." He promised, John, knowing full well what he required of him. "If I can." Ronon repeated softer and almost to himself.

John looked him in his eyes and knew it to be true. He nodded and walked back to the doors.

"She's coming. Atlantis is too late. The war is about to happen."

"How do you know, John? Your dreams?"

"They are no dreams, Carson. Dreams don't exist, her connection to me does!" John turned to face them again. "She's the Empress."

That shocked them into silence for a second.

"She is…the Empress!" Ronon was visibly stunned. "Makes sense. She's so powerful."

Carson then gulped. "I hear her coming I think…John?"

John ignored his friend's comforting hold of his arm and instead whirled to face him, noting that he was seeing shimmering lights in his peripheral that was obviously her doing. "Doc, this could be really bad this time. Follow Ronon's lead and do not stray away from him. Promise me?"

Carson shook his head and sucked in his bottom lip. "Lad…"

"PROMISE ME!" John shouted.

Carson breathed out, catching a quick glance from Ronon who nodded towards him. "Yes, I will."

The room's light seemed to brighten then, sparks hurried across the ceiling and goo poured off the walls like they were melting. A hot breeze settled in their cell and John suddenly understood just how important these conduits were he had been working on when held captive in the Hive.

They were the food – sustenance for the ship, and her. Her energy that she needed to keep her and the Hive alive. This living ship was what she drew her strength from. There was something in it that was as powerful an energy as sustained her very being.

"The walls." John whispered, stuck to the spot as they all were.

Carson got it. He understood what John meant, and the scientist in him was already looking, studying.

In no time, the Queen…correction, Empress was at their cell, standing in an exposed doorway no-one saw open.

Boots scuffing on the ground was the only noise they heard. It was that of John suddenly and with speed being brought to stand in front of her, the toes of his boots dragged along the ground left their mark. He made no effort to fight her. Better to see what she had in store for him AWAY from his friends who could be in the firing line.

His fears that this was going to be worse than anything he had encountered with her before became true the next second. Because it WAS worse. Way worse.

Van'te'enna walked slowly behind Mus'va'lan with a smile that inspired a magnitude of hatred his way. Gripped tight; but struggling, was Arla, held in his grip to show off Mus'va'lan's plan to get him to join her.

John felt truly afraid now. They were playing him well.

She had known his weak spot all along.

The look she gave him was one of 'got you!'

She had known that Ronon and Carson, although his friends, would still have been tough bait…but, Arla. Beautiful, strong and proud Arla, whom he had promised to find her husband for, and failed…was a weak spot - second only to perhaps that of Teyla and Torren in the human term of things, but they weren't here right now.

"John?" Arla questioned, only to be slapped in the face horribly by one of the drones. John flashed anger towards Van'te'enna who's grin got wider with a murderous glare back. John could not look at Arla less he failed her right there and then. Instead he kept his eyes glued to the Empress.

"Who is she?" He directed at Mus'va'lan.

She laughed. A Wraith laugh. "Very good, John."

Arla fell to her knees when an invisible force forced her to. The pain made her cry out, but John still refused to move his gaze her way. He could vaguely hear Carson cry out to Arla. Ronon even. He could not, would not, give in to this bitch's demands that easily.

So he stared at Mus'va'lan whilst Arla cried out more, when Arla was met with fist into her elderly stomach. John was frightened to look at her and gritted his teeth.

He continued to stare at the Empress whilst he heard Arla cry his name out loud again. His teeth ached with his jaw clenching tight as it did.

He kept staring at her even when the screams from injecting her with goodness knows what made her body seize on the floor. His fists clenched and unclenched as Ronon was knocked to the ground with a heavy blow to the head when he tried to run to her aid. When Carson was knocked on the shoulder by the butt of Ronon's blaster that they taunted them with. All to get him to do what she wanted. She knew she had not the real strength or means to fully turn him so she resorted to wild measures to get him on side. Their cries were almost his undoing, but he remained focused on watching her face…and then, there it was…

It was just a flicker, but the black tattoo had definitely moved.

John noticed it. Drew his eyes to her neck and Mus'va'lan understood he had noticed it and her head drew back just ever so slightly…it was enough.

John didn't know what the fluid tattoo was, but it was something Mus'va'lan was frightened enough of to want no-body else to ever know about. Her deportment changed in that second. 'It' was her weakness.

John took that moment of indecisiveness on her part and dived for her like a silent jaguar.

He went for the jugular.

At the same time the ship roared and moved when Mus'va'lan flew backwards and landed on the ground with John Sheppard's hands attached to her throat. He pressed for all his life even though they were jigged about and everything and everybody were thrown about on the unsteady floor.

Mus'va'lan attempted to enter his mind and throw him off but he resisted her, sweat pouring off of him, making his hands slick on her throat. This was a vital moment to get control of her to save everybody's lives. He could feel her try to rape his mind and thoughts, so along with the physical, he was mentally fighting her for all he was worth.

Somehow he managed to raise himself up of the ground and he pressed his right knee hard into her stomach and he kept pushing in until he knew it hurt her, whilst still squeezing tight her throat. The inky black tattoo feeling hot under his skin.

She seemed confused and unable to retaliate. At one point he actually was able to strike her face with a fist but the next was caught by Van'te'enna and he felt his fist weaken and bones creak with the Wraith's powerful grip.

He roared out loud, blind to everything that was going on around him, his body twisting towards Van'te'enna. A kidney punch followed and he knew he was hurt internally with the force of the enemy's blow. Still, he squeezed and fought her controlling mind, ignoring Van'te'enna's arm that had started to surround his throat. Wanting instead to extinguish the life of the Empress come what may.

A thousand stars vied for attention in his closed eyelids and the roaring in his ears suddenly became a cry from the very ship itself. Something was happening around him but he couldn't take the time to open his eyes and see just what it was.

Suddenly, in his mind's eye, a feel of something creeping over his hand and the cry of a bird in distress assaulted his hearing. Startled at this strange sound he loosened his hold of the Empress, Van'te'enna squeezed tighter. It was enough for the Empress to get her breath back and she stood up, hauling John with her by his throat now. With her superior strength she held him up until his toes dragged, raised her left hand and slapped him once, to the left, and once to the right until his ears rattled and blood began to flow from his nose. Realising he was in the here and now, John opened his eyes with ringing in his ears and pain battering down on him in droves from all directions. His time to do something had shortened considerably. He was too battered.

A quick look back in the cell saw a bloody Ronon helping Carson to his feet and then they seemed to move and sway as if standing on a ship in a sea's storm.

There were no battering waves, but soon no-body had a firm grip on the ground beneath them and with a great noise and confusion, they all surged to one end of the room as the huge Hive ship seemed to topple over. Surely a ship this size had dampeners?

Blood continued to pour from his nose, but John ignored it, even when it entered his mouth – or was that exit his mouth. John didn't care.

"Ronon!" He coughed, a mere second of reprieve, but he had his attention. "…get them…safety..cough..'jumper. You need…C'son …alive…find it…get out of…"

John was thrown up against a wall when a moment of steadiness gave Van'te'enna the chance. He held him in a tight grip and dragged him down it. Gloop entered his hair and clothes but John just had eyes for Ronon until his head and open mouth were forced down deep into the ships fluids and he struggled to breathe, arms and legs struggling against the strength of the Wraith second in command.

Ronon reared up like some wild brown bear and went to town, dispatching anyone that wasn't human in his path as a seemingly never ending line of drones came in to subdue the prisoners. Carson knelt on the floor in a daze: not knowing what to do to help anyone. He searched for Arla.

John struggled against his attack, only hoping he could keep up the strength to get his three friends out of the open cell and away somehow whilst he fought his own battle.

Suddenly the Hive pitched again. Something was definitely wrong. John clung to anything he could get a grip on as he wildly came free from near drowning to suddenly fly through the air again. He roughly turned about when he came to a stop, a hand going to his bruised and aching throat. Stone faced he grinned at Van'te'enna. He had somehow landed on his back at Ronon's feet, to the Satedan's glee. At last, one of them had the upper hand.

John watched as Ronon managed to get a hold of the Wraith's head and he punched him twice in succession before copying the Empresses earlier move with John and bodily turned him around before the Wraith's head between the now side-ways Wraith webbing that made for a dividing wall. With momentum, Ronon managed to drive his head into too narrow a space and he struggled to free himself, giving Ronon vital seconds to collect his bearings. John then spied Arla backing into a corner and Carson making his way to her on his stomach like he was swimming. Hands shrugging off gloop from his fingers as he went until they were near the exit.

Somehow the enemy knew and two drones despatched their way to capture them again. Then John remembered it was all about telepathy.

Through the throng he verbally cries out, "STOP!"

Mus'va'lan hears his cry and the link to her drones is broken. She moves forward once again towards John. Ronon takes the opportunity and cracks Van'te'enna throat with a chop downwards on his exposed neck whilst he is trapped. There is a sickening crack and the Wraith slumps, suspended in death. His neck broken.

Mus'va'lan screams a high pitched cry. Her arms arching up and then she hugs her stomach with her left hand as if in mourning.

Sheppard has no time to be pleased at his passing, he has other concerns.

Whatever was happening to the Hive was something to take seriously.

SGA SGA SGA

Mus'va'lan is temporarily distracted by the murder of Van'te'enna. Her mouth gapes open in surprise and then like a statue having life breathed into it she continued forward towards John when everybody else is sliding about on the moving floor once again.

John helps Ronon dispatch the last of the drones until only two of them are left. Mus'va'lans connection to them broken on the death of her second in command and life-long friend. Her eyes, now black with hatred, have their sights set on John. Somehow, he is all she now cares about. That and his death if he cannot be turned.

Carson and Arla manage to reach the exit of the holding cell as they fall about near her. She kicks out at them, scoring a blow to Carson's stomach. He curls in on himself, but fights the pain to haul Arla up by her arm and with a swift look at the now unguarded and open door, takes the initiative and runs with her not even looking back, but knowing this is what John wants.

He is correct. John witnesses their escape with growing relief, ignoring just now the look of pain on their faces. Now for Ronon.

The big man had been tackled to the ground by the last two drones but he was already up and breathing hard. No other drones were coming, but John knew that with the alarms now going off through-out the ship, more would inevitably appear looking for their Empress.

John stood and watched the glowering, but strangely unmoving, Mus'va'lan, and taps his chest. "Me." He says simply. "Only me."

Mus'va'lan cocks her head to the side and John gets another glimpse of her tattoo shining black. She looks once at him, smiles in a ghastly way and reaches for Ronon as he rises from his fight with the last two drones. Before John realises what she is doing, Mus'va'lan easily grabs Ronon's leather coat and uses the weight of it to swing him around until he goes head first into the wall behind her, and slumps down in an uncomfortable heap to lay still. John starts to move forward but his feet suddenly feel like they are encased in concrete and he cannot move to his friend's aid. He snarls at the Empress. She laughs back and picks up Ronon again, only to throw him outside of the cell before slapping her hands clean of his blood. Mus'va'lan then turns towards the immobile Colonel and slides her hands down her heavy dress, smoothing down the material as if she cared about her appearance.

"Correction." She says, and her voice has never sounded so Wraith. "Me…and you!"

John inwardly laughs. She has mistaken his intent. He had only wanted her to fight with him, but he understood by that that she believed he would now join him. Could he honestly trick her enough?

John kept his upper body still, arms down, to comply with his legs. He was really tired and sore. His side where Van'te'enna had hit him was making it hard to breathe properly and he hurt enough to just sit down and give up. Turning his head slightly to his left though he watched as Mus'va'lan took some time to approach the fallen Wraith. She looked tender in her approach as she touched the top of his head. The long white hair that John had detested the feel of so much, was being fed through her fingertips in an almost sensual way. John found it very disturbing and looked away. She seemed to contemplate something for a moment, but then stepped back from the body. Could she not have done something to regenerate him?

Obviously not when she stood up straight again and after one final look Van'te'enna's way, she was in an instant standing in front of John with a height he had never noticing she had before.

John opened his mouth to say something sarcastic but was instantly silenced when she used the favourite Wraith trick of running a sharp finger nail down his cheek. The one that silenced you no matter how hard you tried to speak.

"You will join me now."

It wasn't a question. It was a statement, and John had to buy some time for the others, so. "Yes," was his reluctant reply, and the Empress threw back her head and screamed a piercing cry. It went ship wide.

It was a cry of celebration and this time different alarms were set off in motion. The Empress crouched in surprise. The walls flashed on and off red and blue.

More Wraith.

Soldier and drone Wraiths' appeared at his open cell where he was still stuck fast. Wordless orders were dispatched. A new Wraith, deeply scarred on his cheek appeared and he seemed to instantly take over from the fallen Van'te'enna and silently took charge, allowing his Empress the freedom to have eyes only for John. The Wraith knew this and followed her demands in tune with his own towards the drones.

The pounding pains in his body seemed to match that of the sirens and he started to feel woozy. His body seemed to follow his feet's condition and he felt tight all over in rigor. Having only his fingers loose, he pressed the nails into his palms, hoping the pain of that would occupy his mind from going under. He kept this up the whole time Mus'va'lan watched him, until he could feel blood pour down his hands from his own inflicted wounds, but she kept cocking her head to the side and back again, watching him; always watching him. John could only hope his friends had made their escape because he severely doubted he could keep this up for much longer.

SGA SGA SGA

"You gave in." A statement. A fact. Not a question. But John nodded in agreement. Sick to his stomach.

"Liar!"

John nearly passed out then as she unleashed everything she had into his mind. Jumbled images of past missions where he had killed many Wraith flashed in front of him without them wanting to. Immediately he could tell she was shocked at the many he had killed. She continued to enter his mind. John's enemies from strange lands that he had killed exploded from his memories like a movie showing for two on a never ending reel of emotions; good and bad, then:

He watched as she faltered for a moment as the unbridled images of his unknowingly awakening the Wraith back in the Pegasus Galaxy abandoned his mental filing cabinet and she could see it all. John used up all his strength fighting back images of Earth and of those he loved along with these scenes but it was like she was feeding from it.

And boy was she going for it.

She assaulted John's mind with pain, and heat. It was breaking him apart. He stood gasping, wanting to fall down in a heap, but his legs still refused to move. The lights around the cell continued to blink. He didn't think the huge ship was rocking anymore, but his head was so mixed up with pain and scattering thoughts, he didn't even know if he was upright any longer or if Ronon had managed to escape as he could not see him anymore.

SGA SGA SGA

The Empress towered over him, drinking in the glory of John Sheppard, writhing in pain and confusion. Outside she knew her Hive was under attack, but she had more soldier Wraith awakened and take to the skies in darts. Let them deal with it. She had enough of them to keep her safe whilst she turned her full attention to the Atlantean.

She had allowed his friends to escape in the end. Just something that would keep him guessing and allow her drones some hunting techniques.

No. The time had come for John Sheppard to join with her or die, as he had cost her too many distractions already. The only trouble was she had lost someone dear to her and for some reason it was affecting her more than she had ever thought possible. Perhaps her old human side weakened her. It was as if something that normally held her up had gone and she hadn't even realised she needed it. Mus'va'lan took a step back and appraised her prisoner.

His eyes were clenched so tight, it looked painful. He was fighting her although he said he would join her. The funny thing was she knew he had probably been lying to distract her. Enough of this. Today was to be a day of glory when her Hive took on those who first dared to take her crown. Today, she would not mourn for her old friend who had known her when she had been but a frail human. Today she had given John Sheppard one last chance and he still fought her. No more!

Mus'va'lan instead sagged against the wall and frowned.

For the first time in a long time, the death of her friend, had brought back long forgotten images of when she had been human and married to Santana. They had had a son and she had as good as killed him. It had broke Santana and their relationship, even after her transition into Wraith when he had remained with her; although tenuously in both their eyes – what else could they have done.

Then she remembered that he was bringing her Atlantis. But perhaps she would not need it after all if this new Hive ship would bring her great glory anyway. Mus'va'lan licked her lips. Decades earlier her son had vanished into the same white light that appeared periodically in his small expedition craft, and from what she knew of it; John Sheppard being an example, it was possible to journey into the light and survive – although in her case it had ended in something else altogether. She pondered the fact again that her son might be alive today and living a life somewhere else in a different Galaxy to the one he was born. He would not recognise her now. She had no particular feelings about that, but she had promised Santana the intel on where and how to access the mysterious white light that she knew as some sort of portal to try and find their son –or join him.

She also knew that was why Santana was on his mission. For she held the technology to try it out again…he would be the one to offer to do it, that she knew of him. He had not been a bad husband, but she had had no option when caught in the white light itself as the 'gate was opened by her predecessor, and a Duk'tarra had wandered by at the same time, the three had become one…the original Wraith Queen being the dominant and Mus'va'lan, as Santana knew her, had died within the merge.

There was not much left of Mus'va'lan after that save memories and human traits that weakened the Empress occasionally. Fra'kaa was the living tattoo…the winged creature from myth that was very real and was forever stuck in limbo within the merge – a constant, defiant being that wanted no part of its life and constantly tried to bring the Empress down by blocking her thoughts occasionally. He had had enough power to stop her commands on the Atlantean time and time again. He was the only thing standing in her way. He had enough will power to stop her in her tracks at times when something caught his interest; in the past and now.

As she had stumbled somewhat at the sight of her fallen friend, Fra'kaa took that moment to move around her bruised throat from her fight with John earlier. His tail lashed free with the strength he stole from her sometimes and flicked around her neck and she could actually feel his life force want something. There was a primal need in him she had not felt before.

Her musings took her to stand in front of the frozen John Sheppard. Without his will or understanding, John lifted his sore arm up to let it dangle in the air, eyes wide open and staring. Taking time out from the battle raging outside was not what Mus'va'lan thought she would be doing to this degree but before she knew it she was untying the bindings to the leather covering Ronon had made for the Atlantean.

She moved her head up to look him in the eye and the painful expression was gone. Left in place was one as dumfounded as she was; it was like he had no control of that movement even more than she did. Puzzled she snatched her hand back from his arm where is stayed suspended in the air. She perhaps would have been none the wiser if it had not been for John Sheppard's startled expression that something was behind her.

Except it was not behind her, it was on her. It was part of her.

A strangled cry escaped her mouth and she clenched her eyes closed at the cold and vacant feeling of something leaving her body. It inwardly made her cringe and she tried herself to turn away but she was frozen in time and her eyes latched on to that of John's for an explanation.

In fact, she did not need for him to open his mouth at all. Uncoiled from her neck, she knew it was his force that was in control. The dormant feeding force of a Duk'tarra had found a way out of the trio it had been forced into.

The beast slowly uncurled decades of submission. It had been forced into this uneasy alliance and when Mus'va'lan had taken over the dead Queen after being integrated into her body, Fra'kaa had used whatever powers he had had then in the beginning to go into a kind of hibernation that he could only truly be able to break free from was with restorative help from the seed of the pepo plant. Mus'va'lan had visited many planets, but had never set foot back on his home world again. A pity, as his ordeal could have been over decades ago – until this stranger had come about his life and he knew the seed he needed was bodily in him somehow, so he had helped block the Empress from taking control of him or killing him time and time again. After all he had his own agenda, and that was procuring the one thing he needed to survive the horror of his years in enforced captivity and gain freedom.

Fra'kaa drew on his strength and tore from the mind of Mus'va'lan and entered John Sheppard's. Indeed, within his arm wound was what he needed. A small inconspicuous seed that lay dormant this whole time in the humans flesh. He needed it to help him free himself of this body.

But not here.

The extraction would greatly pain the host. Fra'kaa stared at John, held his mind, and told him that, but also he would free him of the pain of carrying the poisonous seed that was hidden in his arm once it was removed. How he had got it there he did not know nor care.

John nodded, and agreed to help him, trying to get his head around this turn of events. Anything to get rid of the pain in his arm, if all this creature said was true. Fra'kaa used his last remaining dregs of energy and tore himself from Mus'va'lan. It could have been suicide, but she had never known that he had one chance of doing this, so now Fra'kaa took it. He had family he would not even have known and he wanted to meet them. He trusted against all odds the Atlantean would return him to his home world.

But unfortunately Fra'kaa was not whole when he departed with grunts of pain from the Wraith/Human and onto the new host who was fully human and had ransomed himself. He had risked a lot; perhaps he would die after all, certainly if the human did not get him home to the controlled way he can take out the seed that hurt him, but would cure him. He was in the hands of the stranger now and the seed was tentatively close enough for him to smell. He settled for that just now and wrapped his long tail around the throat of a stranger who only wanted to help and in doing so, he could inadvertently kill.

SGA SGA SGA

John felt the creature attach itself to him and he sensed he was distanced somehow from any shocked emotion he should be exhibiting. He gathered himself from the ground he had fell onto with the weight of his new burden.

The black creature would not hurt him; somehow he knew that, still – still! The he pushed back slightly onto the wall. The creature's thoughts washed back on him and he placed a hand on the gloopy wall to steady himself against the intrusion. It was as if there was a film across his eyes and he couldn't see clearly enough. His hearing, he understood, was also affected. He just had to ride it out until the merge was complete.

Then there was a great feeling of loneliness, and emptiness come over him and he almost felt the need to vomit, but it was soon there in his mind soothing him, telling him his name….

"Ronon!" John cried out blindly, needing some support, and someone to tell, but he was still out cold on the ground. "Carson?" But that's right, he had escaped out of the room with Arla, he remembered at last.

John dared opening his eyes fully after they had slid shut in horror, only to watch Mus'va'lan on her knees; a shocked look on her face and a hand clasped over her mouth left open in a silent scream.

On her neck where Fra'kaa had merged with her all those decades ago and now departed, was a large swelling; the outskirts ridged with black and the outer rim a bright red not unlike blood although there was no evidence of it.

John grimaced as he watched her clutch her stomach and rock gently backwards and forwards. He did not know what to do. Should he get up, run for his freedom; grab his fallen friend with the black tattoo now brazenly showing up on his pale flesh for all to see? Or should he attempt a coup with a Wraith Empress? With that last thought, was he mad!

Slowly, John pushed his weary body away from the wall and attempted a step towards Ronon who was stirring at last.

"Traitor!" Mus'va'lan screamed at the loss of the Duk'tarra. His knowledge of things she had syphoned over the decades now gone.

John groped mid-air as he suddenly felt dizzy and disorientated, but all he found was empty air. A familiar arm grabbed his to steady him and John looked up to read the horror written in his friend's eyes.

"Go!" He fairly yelled at him, grimacing when he felt the Duk'tarra hold tight.

Did he follow his order? John did not know because the next thing he knew was darkness.

SGA SGA SGA

To be continued….. If anybody is still interested.