Act 4

Teyla fought the weariness that threatened to cement her feet to the organic floor of the Hive; to break the wall of denial she had built around her pain to prevent the burning of it filtering along the mental bond she felt as a tangible presence, brushing now and then against her resolve.

She did not fear that the rebuff would alert him to the fact that there was anything wrong. He would expect such a rejection of contact, given the orders he had just issued, no matter how much she might understand the necessity.

"The woman will see to your needs," Michael told her softly as they reached her chambers. "There is work I must attend to."

"Of course," she answered and even to herself sounded colder than she had intended.

"If there is anything you need—"

"I am fine," she told him. "I wish only to rest with my son."

She did not miss the brief flash, akin to pain, that passed across his eyes, before the curt nod he gave her tore his gaze away from hers, and tried to soften her countenance, adding, "Perhaps later we can…"

She trailed off. What? Any contact she had with Michael now would reveal the injury she was attempting to conceal from him. She had little doubt, still, that it would bring about reprisals against those that had willingly submitted themselves to his Cause were he to discover that she was hurt.

She swallowed, realising that he was looking at her curiously, his head tilted to one side, and could not prevent herself from flinching when, in the following moment, he reached out toward her cheek, barely grazing her skin with his fingertips.

"You need to rest," he told her, swallowing and looking away as he did. "Clearly you are tired."

"Yes," she admitted.

"Then I will not delay you further. Rest, and if you have need of anything you have only to—"

"I will ask," she interrupted. She did not understand why she did not wish for him to voice the means by which she could fulfil her needs, but it frightened her to think that he might tell her what she already knew – that she had only to reach for him. Swallowing again, she said, "Thank you."

With a nod of acceptance, he dismissed himself from attending on her, and walked quickly away along the corridor. She did not move until she could no longer hear his footsteps echoing back to her, making him still seem to be at her side.

**

Michael barely turned his head and did not at all slow his almost forced march as Rissek fell into step with him.

"Have they been inspected?" he asked without preamble.

"Testing is underway now, as is decontamination," his lieutenant answered. "Many of them are nervous – afraid."

"Of course they are," Michael took advantage of the pause in Rissek's report to ricochet the words from the side of the man's head, striding ahead and then turning to face him. Michael braced his arm against the wall of the Hive to cut off his underling's path, snarling slightly as he asked, "Are any of them infected?"

"None so far," Rissek answered, slightly breathless.

"Good," he growled softly. "Then we were in time. The settlement has been neutralised?"

"As per your instructions," Rissek confirmed. "The Headman's wife is in isolation. We've prepped her for your attention."

"I will come to her when I am ready," he said, his voice clipped. "It is doubtful that the splice held. It does not seem to have in any of the others."

Rissek stepped back, an apologetic expression over the whole of him, not just his face.

"Your orders?"

"See to it that the neighbouring settlements are secure, and then set a course for our facility on the former Devien home world," Michael instructed, and for a moment he reached back along the bond, seeking Teyla.

**

"Madam!" Teyla flinched slightly as Midani's greeting reached her and immediately turned her eyes to the crib in which Nethaiye lay sleeping. Obviously following the direction of her gaze, Midani said, "He is resting peacefully."

"I told you," Teyla said, moving toward her son, still not trusting Midani in spite of the woman's previous revelation, "when we are alone, you must call me Teyla. I will not treat you as some kind of—"

Teyla was cut off by Midani's gasp of horror, and by the sudden rush of pain from her side as Midani moved the leather of her coat.

"What has ha—?"

"Do not!" she cried, and instinct had her lash out, catching the woman a glancing blow that sent her staggering backwards. Trembling guilt at her treatment of Midani, whom she knew sought only to help, hampered her efforts to steady her breathing and maintain the walls she had attempted to erect around the pain. "Forgive me, I—"

"You must allow me to tend you, Ma—Teyla," Midani said.

**

Michael's steps across the laboratory faltered as the ghost of discomfort that had been nagging at the edges of his psyche blossomed into a cry of pain, and snarling, he picked up his medical equipment and strode purposefully toward the door.

It did not take him long to retrace his steps to Teyla's quarters in the middle of the Hive, where he did not hesitate to enter without invitation, storming across to catch Midani's hand as she reached for Teyla's side.

"Leave us," he instructed firmly. "Take the child with you."

"Michael, no!" Teyla tried to move past him, but was too slow as, releasing Midani to do his bidding, he caught Teyla around the waist. Instead of fighting him, she barely struggled, and pressed both hands, one bloodied, against his chest and gasped softly, "Please…"

She let out a cry as his hand closed, vice-like, around her wrist and turned her from view of the serving woman he had assigned to her lifting the child from the crib to carry him out. He ignored the whisper of his name as it came again from Teyla's lips in an appeal for clemency as the door closed behind Midani.

"Why?" he snarled angrily, "Why did you try to keep this from me?"

"What good would it have served you knowing?" she spat, pushing at him now that they were alone.

"This wound must be tended," he countered. "Should already have been – what did you expect—?"

"What would you have done to those people?" she demanded, beginning to struggle with him.

"No more, or less than I have already done," he all but roared. "Each person's actions commands their own future. When will you stop seeing me as the enemy?"

"When you stop behaving like it!" she cried, finally managing to pull out of his grasp. Unbalanced she stumbled away, barely preventing herself from falling and backed up as he advanced on her. "Those people, you offered them false mercy – little better than an ultimatum – join you, or die. That is the truth of what you offered. How many did you leave behind? How many did you neutralise?"

"You do not understand," he began, but she shook her head, not allowing him time to finish as she interrupted.

"I understand that you ordered them killed. You—"

"They were already dead!" He caught her by the arms as she wavered, stubbornly trying to remain strong in spite of her injury and the obvious loss of blood. "The Wraith they served would not have allowed them to live."

"Because you infected them with the Hoffan drug," she accused, looking up into his eyes. His own flashed frustration as they met hers. Why couldn't she see the truth that was before her? Had she really become so tainted by her Atlantean friends that she could no longer read him, understand his intent?

"When will you think, Teyla!" he snapped, shaking her slightly. She cried out, and reflexively he drew her closer, his arms sliding from her biceps to encircle her; hold her against him in protection from himself. "When will you stop allowing yourself to be an Atlantean puppet and think like the leader that you are?"

She pushed against him, rejecting the embrace even as her eyes pleaded for explanation.

"Do not think that just because of what we have shared, you can do as you please," she growled. "You cannot deny what you have done. You. Released. The Hoffan protein upon the unsuspecting people of this galaxy. An opening salvo, you called it."

"And where does it benefit my Cause if all of those people I would turn against the Wraith sicken and die?" he demanded, trying to make her see, to work out that the mortality rate of the drug was never his intent, just as Beckett had led him to understand that it was not that of the people of Hoff.

"So that only those that are strong will remain and—"

"Listen to yourself!" he cried. "These are not your words, but the words of your Atlantean friends. They have poisoned your mind; prevent you from understanding. How can you not see?"

He let go of her then, turned and paced away before spreading his arms and turning back to her as he said, "How do you no longer understand my actions?"

"Then show me. Tell me," and there was such a note of appeal in her voice that for a moment his frustration faded and softening, he began to speak.

"After it became clear that my earlier attempts to build an army against the Wraith were doomed to failure because of the… crudeness of their nature I began searching for another way, refining my experiments until I could genetically engineer the hybrids you have come to know, but even then it was not enough. Though they were stronger than any human, they still lacked a viable defence against Wraith feeding.

"Searching for new subjects, new recruits for my Cause I stumbled upon a pocket of those people that had survived the initial plague on Hoff. Blood work revealed their deadly nature, to me, as well as to the Wraith, but it began a line of thought I had not previously considered as a defence for my hybrids against my former Wraith brethren.

"Many died. Even though I returned to Hoff and collected all of the research that the Wraith had failed to destroy in their vengeance against the Hoffans – followed it faithfully – I was unable to prevent my formula from breaking down, even when I used samples taken from the survivors, the result was the same - catastrophic breakdown of the molecular structure of the formula resulting in the death of the subject. I was ready to abandon the idea, when one of the Hoffan people mentioned a certain… Atlantean doctor that had assisted in refining the original drug."

"Doctor Beckett," Teyla confirmed.

"My goal was not to cause suffering among the people of the Pegasus galaxy, Teyla. My intention was to weaken the Wraith. Their Queens' narrow minded arrogance and rigid adherence to genetically apocryphal redundancies marked them as a species already headed for extinction. I sought merely to… hasten the process."

"But so many dead and suffering, Michael. Doctor Beckett had to have warned you – the Hoffans' own research—"

"I believed that I could… eliminate the danger. Refine the drug so that it would be undetectable and completely without symptom… and over time I have come close."

"Then why did you not wait?" she implored him.

"Do you think the Wraith would wait to eliminate a growing threat they perceived against them?" he asked, tilting his head in curiosity.

Teyla closed her eyes, breathing out slowly, sorrowfully, lowering her head. He felt the shift in her, her resignation to the verity of his words.

"You had no other choice than to release the drug into the worlds of this galaxy," she said softly, "or face destruction at the hands of the Wraith."

"Even then it was only select worlds, to protect the operation of my campaign against them, and Doctor Beckett and I had been able to improve the protein; reduce the mortality rate."

"Michael…"

His name on her lips was little more than a sigh, but she reached for him, swaying slightly as she did. Her hand trembled, and the blood still staining her fingers refocused his attention on the urgent need to tend to her wound.

He came to her, gently stripping away the heavy leather of her coat before slipping an arm carefully around her back to lead her to the bed. As he eased her to sit down, he said softly, "Do not ever attempt to keep such a thing from me again, Teyla."

**

"I sought only to protect those people," Teyla whispered, gripping his arm, no longer needing to conceal her pain from Michael. She closed her eyes against the hurt that flashed through his.

"They were never in need of your protection," he told her, voicing it in the thick tone of her voice, "save for a few that had proved themselves to be… little better than the Wraith."

"I… underestimated you," she admitted, opening her eyes as he began to carefully lift the lower edge of her shirt, his eyes running over the knife wound and narrowing in concern.

"You did," he said softly. "And you have paid for your mistake. I will need you to remove your clothing and lie down so that I may treat this."

She nodded, and swallowed as a sudden flush of nervousness assaulted her. He offered his hand to her, his right, and she could not help but caress the centre of it, smooth and warm beneath her fingertips. His breath caught, softly, but she did not miss the hitch before he closed his fingers around hers and gently drew her to her feet. He did not let go until she was steady, and then turned away even as she turned her back to him.

"It was not an… easy transformation," he said quietly as he began to move and as she slipped out of her skirt, letting the bloodied ruin of it fall to the floor by her ankles she followed the sound of his movements as well as his voice – the footsteps that took him only a little way from her, followed by the sound of catches being snapped open; the medkit he had carried. He sounded tired, and she could not help but wonder how much rest he had allowed himself since their escape from the Elder Hive – indeed how much rest he had enjoyed in all the time of which he now spoke.

"The first time I performed the manipulation necessary to remove the necessity for feeding in myself, I misaligned the genetic coding and caused massive cellular damage, almost akin to a cancer in Humans, that took months to repair and constant medication to maintain my health."

Then she heard fabric unfold, and his footsteps again before she felt the warmth of him at her back.

"It was a stupid mistake," he concluded, his voice more clipped, and sensing the change in him she unfastened her shirt and began to reach, meaning to lift it over her head. "One that I did not and will not repeat."

As she lifted her arms to remove her shirt, a ripple of increased pain squeezed a gasp from her lungs, and biting her lip she told him, "Michael, you may have to help me."

The warmth of his hand settled briefly against the small of her back, before he carefully manipulated the shirt off over her head without the necessity of her raising her arms more than a little.

"Lie down," he told her, but even as he spoke, his fingers closed around her upper arm to guide her almost tenderly to lie, part on her belly, and part on her side with the wound uppermost, on a sheet he had spread out on the top of the bed. As she settled, he covered her with two others, and feeling less exposed, she began to relax as much as her pain would allow.

**

Isla's chest burned where the Wraith had fed and her face stung from the lashes and scratches of pushing hurriedly through the dense vegetation in the underbrush. Though her blow had rendered the already injured Wraith unconscious, she doubted he would remain that way for long, and sought to push as much distance between them as she could before he woke to come after her.

For the first time in as long as she could remember, she wished that she had conscious control over her ability to sometimes sense her commander and his thoughts; to send her own to him. She could feel his agitation, and knew, therefore, that he lived, but beyond that… nothing.

Blindly, fighting the sobs rising in her chest, she scrambled on.

**

Sheppard slid to a halt in the open doorway of Keller's quarters, arriving only marginally after Beckett and the medical team.

"What the hell?" he gasped, unable to prevent the exclamation from escaping him as he watched the orderlies desperately trying to support Keller as her body trembled with what looked like some kind of seizure.

"I'm sorry, Colonel," Beckett said, almost without looking up, "I can't answer your questions right now. I'm going to have to ask you to not to get in the way."

As if to underline what the doctor was saying, a voice from behind called, "Coming through," as another pair of orderlies wheeled a gurney rapidly toward the scene of the medical emergency.

He swallowed hard as Keller became suddenly still, whatever seizure she was having at an end, and he could almost hear her rasping breath faltering even as Beckett put the stethoscope to her chest.

"Right, let's get her up," Beckett said as he moved back. "Any luck with getting that line in, Marie?"

"Sorry, Doctor Beckett, as fast as I—"

"Her pressure's dropping!"

"Damn it, Jennifer!" Beckett's voice rang with desperation, and Sheppard bit his lip, the doctor's obvious fear contagious. "All right, on my count…"

Sheppard filtered out the back and forth of the urgent medics – much of which he didn't understand, focussing instead on trying to make sense of everything else.

She was sick; he got that – the evidence for that was staring him in the face. It had started some time after they got back from Todd's Hive and Beckett was keeping unusually tight-lipped about it… aside from with McKay… McKay knew something – he wasn't saying either.

Maybe he could beat it out of the scientist. Maybe he—

"Stand aside, please," Beckett's urgent voice broke through his bitterly angry thoughts. "Coming through!"

"Carson," he started.

"Not now, Colonel," the doctor answered. "I'm sorry, I really must get her to the infirmary."

Sheppard nodded, and moved even further away from the gurney bearing the too still, sallow figure of Doctor Keller.

"Keep me posted," he said, lacking conviction as he called after the already retreating backs of the medical team, Carson among them.

First Teyla, now Jennifer – and with Ronon missing, just to compound what they had suffered because of Todd and the Wraith… and Michael…

How does it feel, Colonel Sheppard…?

Growling in hurt, hot anger he lashed out at the nearby wall; shattered a panel with his fist, and then spun away to go and find McKay. Someone was going to tell him what was going on.

**

Hanna scratched ineffectually at his wrist, panicking as his sharp talons pierced the skin of her throat at each side, cutting off her airway in an assault of pain as he dragged her closer, her feet barely touching the floor of the home he had claimed as his quarters.

"Please…" she rasped, barely able to make herself heard. "It is not my fault. I did as you said, just… he was there!"

"And you failed to keep your solicitous mouth shut!" he snarled, pushing at her mentally, showing her that he knew what she had tried to do.

She fell at his feet, clasping the leather of his pants as she did; a supplicant gesture. Slowly he lowered himself to his knees and closed his hands around her arms, in support, as she climbed her way upward over his body. He allowed her increasingly fervent touches over his neck and shoulders… even onto his face.

"Mercy… yes, Lord… mercy, please," she whispered with each touch, as she took his face between her hands and cradled him there for a moment, her cheek to his, her whispers in his ear. He wound his arms around her back, moved one upward into the spill of her hair.

"I… was… afraid…!" she half sobbed, half screeched hoarsely. "Please… I had no… choice."

"You answer to me!" he roared in her face, even as he released the grasp on her throat.

Almost numb with fear she staggered backwards before her legs folded beneath her like wet paper, unable to hold her up.

"Yes," she wept. "Yes, my Lord, to you and only you."

She did not even try to stop the blood that ran from the gashes his talons had made in her soft flesh. Trembling on her knees before him, she tore at the front of her dress, baring herself to him; breasts peaked with emotion as she offered herself to him.

Growling he drew back his feeding hand, and she closed her eyes, in part relieved that at last she would see her end, but the harsh bite did not come, instead she gasped with emotions of another kind as the sharpness of his talons ran over the hard nubs fear had made of her nipples.

"Perhaps there is yet one other thing you can do for me," he rumbled, the edge of anger still sounding in his voice, but muted now as if in thought.

"Name it, my Lord," she whispered, opening her eyes and looking into the burning amber-gold of his. "I will do—"

"Anything… yes," he murmured softly. "And to do this thing… you must beg forgiveness… of the Queen."

Hanna swallowed, what little resolve she still possessed draining away with the blood that ran from the cuts on her throat to branch like roots over her chest… or the tendrils of the Hive organism that would have taken her – taken them all – if she had followed through with the commander's plan.

**

Floating… weightless, Teyla allowed the hot deep water of the bathing pool to soothe the remaining ache in her side. The wound had, at least in part, healed, but Michael had warned that the muscle would likely take some time to knit after a wound of that kind, and the healing gel he had applied would be only of limited assistance.

The peace they had reached was a fragile one as the hurt of myriad rejections, and many assaults on compassionate sensibilities stood between them still, but there was the beginning of an equilibrium forming, an understanding of their different similitude that she had before refused to accept. Teyla closed her eyes and breathed out a long, slow breath. It was an entirely difficult situation, her feelings for him, and Michael himself such a dichotomy.

"There," he said softly, beginning to move his hands away from her side. "It is done. You will need to rest."

"Michael," she half turned, in spite of the added sting it brought her, and caught a hold of his hand just as he moved to rise. He froze, tilting his head to look first at her hand on his, then up to her face. "I wanted to apologise."

A frown creased his face and she felt his confusion.

"There is nothing that you have done. Keeping this wound from me, I understand. You feared what reprisals would be visited on the people of that world from the actions of few. I supposed I deserve that," he nodded as if in agreement with himself, his head still slightly tilted, "given our… history together."

She shook her head and said, "You have shown me nothing but…honesty and I—"

"You were left with little choice to act as you did, as was I," he interrupted, "We are both products of circumstance, and the actions of others who do not know, or care, what they have done. It's ironic…"

He trailed off, obviously deep in thoughts that she could not, for the most part, access. Nor did she understand those that she could feel.

"What do you mean?" she asked when he had not spoken for several moments.

As she spoke, he blinked, his golden eyes clearing of the distance of thought, and he straightened, becoming once more businesslike and freed himself from the touch she still had on his hand. She knew she would receive no answers.

"Rest," he told her, standing. "I will instruct the woman to return with your son when you have slept."

The shrill cry filtered through to her and she woke disoriented for a moment. Her heart raced as she identified the sound as that of her son's cry. He needed attention – where was Midani?

Climbing out of the pool as quickly as she could, she wrapped herself in the long robe, folding its softness around her tightly so that it would absorb the moisture that still clung to her, and padded barefoot toward the door leading back into her quarters.

By the time she had reached the doorway, Nethaiye had stopped crying, and she paused assuming that Midani had reached him. Teyla froze as the door opened.

Michael had Nethaiye cradled against his shoulder, his hand, obviously gentle, ran up and down the boy's back to soothe him. The baby was partly undressed, and nearby was the discarded, soiled breech-cloth.

"Be easy, little one," Michael said softly, his face turned toward Nethaiye, who gripped his shoulder with his tiny hand. "All is well… we are together again now."

Teyla's heart paused in rhythm; the tenderness she felt through the bond sweeping through her like a spring breeze, flower scented and renewing. She felt her own feelings of a kind of tenderness toward Michael bolstered by his obvious and genuine concern for her son… she closed her eyes for a moment… his son too – by his words – if not by the manner of his conception, then by their shared genes.

As Nethaiye relaxed, Michael returned with him to the bed, where the rest of his clothing, little more than a simple single piece garment, lay waiting, and with infinite care dressed him, before he picked him up once more. All the time his eyes remained focussed on those of the child, and shone with a softness that Teyla had rarely seen.

"You are very good with him," she said quietly as Michael picked up her son.

A faintly ironic smile spread over Michael's now lowered face. He tilted his head sideways to regard her as he turned her way and said, "He needs his mother."

"His mother is here," she answered, and walked toward Michael, reaching up to stroke Nethaiye's hair softly.

-but will she stay?-

"How do you feel?" he asked aloud. "The wound—"

"Is mostly healed, Michael," she said, accepting the baby from his arms as he handed the boy to her. "Only a little tenderness remains."

"Good," he said, nodding, and turned to walk at her side as she moved to return Nethaiye to the crib. He was almost soundly asleep. "I came to inform you that we will soon be leaving hyperspace – arriving at one of our facilities."

"Where is this?" she asked. She did not expect an answer.

"Formerly the planet was home to the Devian people," Michael told her.

"Now?" she asked him, turning her head to look at him, and she knew he had seen the haunted, frightened look in her eyes. She did not wish to hear him tell her that he had decimated the settlement there in favour of his Cause.

"Another world laid waste… The Devians were killed by the Wraith for their defiance. It was unfortunate – there was much we could have offered one another."

**

The pull of his mind led her onward, even though the woodland through which she was fighting her way over hill and rise, and stumbling through troughs was falling toward dusk. Every sound: every moaning branch; each rustle of desiccated leaves; near and distant cracks of fallen twigs forced her exhausted limbs to move her onward toward her goal, towards safety.

Isla had long since exchanged the near paralysing fear that the injured Wraith she had left at the downed transport ship would find her, overpower her and feast on the healing she could give to him in favour of a more worldly fear of other, unknown predators following her ill concealed tracks. Yet even with the sounds she heard, though they added to her fear and spurring her on, she detected no immediate pursuing presence.

The biggest danger to her now was the failing light as dusk came on fast and thick. The terrain beneath the trees was uneven at best, and there were many hillocks leading to unexpected drops, the base of which were lined with fallen trees wielding jagged wooden blades to catch the unwary or the mere unfortunate. Were she to stumble against any of these obstacles it could easily mean the end of her journey, perhaps in a long, slow and lingering death at the behest of a broken bone or torn and twisted muscle.

Isla paused at the foot of one such steep rise which she hoped would lead to a plateau, and not another drop to negotiate as the last had done. She doubted that her exhaustion would allow her that luxury. Doggedly, and with a deep breath, she started up the rise, pulling herself along on the protruding loops of roots, and tangling vines; using the same for footholds in the crumbling, loamy soil.

Her foot slipped, and she began to progress backwards at a greater rate than she should have, a vine or root, or some hindrance wrapping itself around her ankle… she reached down, keeping her other hand wrapped around the narrow branch of a low shrub, to try and free herself.

It was no grasping vegetation that met her touch, but cold hard flesh. Isla screamed as bloodshot amber eyes drilled through her as she turned her head to see what her fingers already knew. At the panicked sound, the Wraith snarled and began to pull harder, drawing her closer and abandoning her attempt to free her ankle, Isla grasped another root with her flailing hand and kicked with her other foot, trying to find the Wraith's face. She'd come too far in her journey to fail now.

It was a fight she couldn’t hope to win against the Wraith's superior strength. He pulled, her hands slipped painfully from their desperate grasp and she tumbled down the steep slope, wrenching her nails in the dirt all the way.

"No!" she hissed.

As she hit the bottom, and the Wraith reached down for her, she kicked and scratched; the perfect impression of a cornered rat, desperation driving her primal, snarling fight.

"You will pay for your defiance," the injured Wraith raised his armoured hand, the back of it toward her face. If the blow connected it would knock her senseless and all would be lost.

She felt around desperately, her fingers scraping against a rock, fallen from the slope at the foot of which they fought. Its sharpness cut her fingers, but heedless she pulled it from its leafy bed and with all her strength hurled it toward the Wraith.

He diverted the blow he meant to give her to block the incoming projectile, and howled as the sharp edges drew lacerations over the back of his arm. Isla took full advantage of the distraction and turned to scramble away, all four limbs scrabbling at the dirt to propel her upward on the rise, the loosened soil falling down into the Wraith's snarling face. She had to get away.

One second, two… then three and another of freedom; higher she climbed, hearing him beginning his own ascent… his heavy boots like the voice of some angered titan as he set each one deliberately into the loose earth. He was taking his time. Did he know she had no place to run?

She was almost at the lip of the rise when the talons came down, cutting deep scratches along the length of her back. She cried out, and twisted aside, intensifying the pain as she opened the scrapes his claws had made.

"Don't touch me!" she cried, then as he grasped her thigh to pull himself closer to her, added, "Let me GO!"

Almost over her, the Wraith mantled, drawing back his feeding hand, ready to slam it against her heaving chest. The moment between life and death hung heavy over Isla. Myriad thoughts and regrets and fears commingling into a single remembered command:

::survive::

As if guided by providence, Isla's bend knee came up off the dirt at her back and caught the Wraith a heavy blow that made him draw away, snarling with the pain of it. His hand still mantled back behind his head as he pulled back; his balance was fragile and failing. Isla bent both legs toward her belly and kicked out hard, connecting with the staggering Wraith's chest, tipping the balance and sending him tumbling backwards, growling… away.

Isla braced herself, ready to turn and continue her desperate scramble for the top of the slope. The snarling of the Wraith ceased abruptly in a sickening wet squelch. The lack of noise became as terrifying as the fight had been, and breathing hard, Isla grasped a root to tether herself to the spot, and sat up, cautiously, to peek downward.

The Wraith lay still, his eyes open, staring… unseeing, and from his chest the dark blood dripping from its jagged, barbed edges, the broken branch stood, pointing toward the now almost purple sky.

::survive::

Isla put back her head, and keened.

**

Anger lent his steps punch as he strode into the lab and looked around for McKay. He spotted the man, as usual hunched over a computer console, and without preamble Sheppard stormed over to the man and grasped his shoulder, spinning him around.

"Sheppard," McKay spluttered in surprise, "Wha—"

"All right, McKay, enough dickin' around. What's going on?" he demanded.

"What do you mean?" McKay yelped, wriggling to free himself from Sheppard's grasp.

"Todd," Sheppard spat. "Keller!"

"Ah," McKay slumped in his grasp, as if the words, so vehemently spoken had taken all the fight from him, "that."

"So?"

"Look, Sheppard," McKay said, "it really isn't my place to be—"

"You tell me, McKay," Sheppard's voice cracked, and squeaked with the stress of everything. "I'm sick of people keeping things from me! You tell me or so help me, I'll—"

"Colonel Sheppard…"

From behind him, Woolsey's voice poured oil onto the already burning fire of his temper and, releasing McKay, Sheppard spun around to face the objectionable little man, further irritated to see Caldwell at Woolsey's back.

"Don't 'Colonel Sheppard' me," he growled. "Ever since we got back people have been… treading around me, soft shoes and I've had enough. Someone is going to tell me what's going on!"

"Just who are you angry with, Sheppard," Caldwell asked astutely. "Us or them?"

"And which them," Woolsey added, making Sheppard want to punch the both of them into the middle of the next week. His blood raced around his body and his breathing quickened. They were mocking him; had to be.

"Seems like everyone around here knows something," he said sarcastically, "and doesn't give a fuck about Teyla, or Keller, or—"

"John, that's not true," McKay's soft voice failed to halt his bitter diatribe.

"—anything that's happened. Ronon's gone – bluffed his way offworld with Charlie team and—"

"I'm well aware of Ronon's actions, Colonel," Woolsey said smoothly and in spite of the tension Sheppard could clearly see in him. "The point is, you have to decide what you intend to do. One minute you're swearing revenge against the Wraith, the next you're determined to pursue what's left of Michael's organisation – or maybe you plan on going after Todd. Just who do you think is to blame for Teyla's death?"

Before he knew what he was doing, Sheppard reached out and grabbed Woolsey by the front of his Atlantis issue jacket, twisting the fabric into his hand as a better purchase with which to draw the man closer. Caldwell's hand closed around his wrist.

"Sheppard," Caldwell said, "all he's saying is that you need to make a choice. Daedalus is up and ready to go, but I'm not taking my ship out there without a clear rationale… a clear target…"

"And frankly, going after an unknown—" Woolsey began.

"None of them are unknown," Sheppard snarled, not letting go in spite of Caldwell's steady backward pressure on his arm.

"You have no clue what's out there should you choose to pit yourself against the Wraith from whom you tried to rescue Michael," Woolsey countered.

"It was never intended as a rescue!"

How does it feel…?

Growling in frustration, and finally letting go of Woolsey; pulling his arm out of Caldwell's grasp, Sheppard turned and stalked away, running both hands into his hair, fingers spread.

"Even so, you can't deny, Sheppard," Caldwell said firmly, "that going after what's left of his people is treading a fine line between reprisal and insanity."

Sheppard let his hands fall and pointed at Caldwell. "And they still have Teyla's son."

"And you do him no good going off half cocked," Woolsey said. "John—"

"No," Sheppard said, "Don't try that."

"—I understand you're grieving, but I need you to focus. Atlantis needs you to focus," the expedition leader continued regardless. "It does morale no good seeing you like this. Either you need to pull yourself together or—"

"I am together!" Sheppard's voice rose to a near bellow. "What I need is for people to start levelling with me."

His frustration nearly overflowing Sheppard looked in appeal toward McKay.

"You're already blaming Todd for Teyla's death," McKay told him, the look of pain in the scientist's eyes as he spoke of Teyla almost overwhelmed Sheppard with its transference of sorrow. He took a deep breath and forced himself to listen. "What difference would it make to the way you feel even if I did tell you what I suspect happened with Jennifer?"

"It… I…" Sheppard began, and then sighing said, "I just need to know."

"Trust me," McKay said glumly, looking away from the look Sheppard fixed him with. "You don't."

Woolsey sighed, and before Sheppard could speak, asked, "Do you truly hold Todd and his Wraith responsible for causing Teyla's death, Colonel?"

Taking a deep breath, Sheppard nodded.

"Then find him – find Todd and his Wraith faction – and you'll find answers to the rest I'm sure, because right now, we haven't the resources to spare to pursue all three paths," Woolsey said, not quite an order, Sheppard thought, but close enough.

**

Rodney leaned his forehead against the glass separating the observation lounge from the isolation room, and clenched his fists against the slight lip where the glass met the lower wall. His knuckles were white as Jennifer's voice sounded, shrill and breathless over the intercom as she writhed and twisted – restrained on the bed below.

"Convergence… divergence… lost… corrupt!"

She cried out, as though a wave of pain had overtaken her and her back lifted from the mattress. Her pale flesh caught the glow of the overhead lights and reflected it almost luminously back up toward McKay. Her fingers clawed at the sheet, leaving bloodied streaks where her nails had lifted, and broken, and torn, and then her strange litany began again.

McKay reached over thumbing the button to activate his side of the intercom. He saw Beckett pause in scurrying around Keller amid his medical team. The doctor looked up.

"For God's sake, Carson, can't you… sedate her or something?" he asked, his voice mirroring Keller's physical pain in the emotion it held.

"I'm sorry, Rodney," Carson answered, his voice low. "This is sedated. I daren't administer any more drugs until we know what we're dealing with."

Jennifer's cry interrupted them, and Carson returned his attention to her, while McKay resumed leaning desolately against the glass, and as much as he wanted to close his eyes and shut out the sight of the stricken woman, some frightened, morbid curiosity made him keep watching.

**

The quiet rumble of the trolley on which the med-techs had brought the scanner drew Beckett from his frantic analysis of the readings on Keller's monitors, and he moved aside so that they could wheel it into place.

"All right, all non essential personnel out," he ordered. "Marie, will you check on the status of that blood-work if you please."

"Yes, Doctor," she said quietly, and squeezed his arm before hurrying away.

"Doctor Beckett," one of the orderlies called softly, "Do you need us to—"

"I can manage, lad," he said automatically. He wanted to clear the room; was afraid of what he might see when he started the scan, and wanted to ensure that as few people were privy to the information as possible, unless he absolutely had to tell anyone.

Jennifer gave another cry and began her breathless chant once more, making him turn to hurry the others out, and pull the overhead arm of the scanner into place.

"Convergence… divergence…"

"Easy now, Jennifer," he said softly.

"…lost… corru—!"

"You won't feel a thi—"

He spoke over her, and almost yelped when she slipped one of the restraints and lashed out a bloodied hand to catch his wrist.

"Car-son…" she broke from the litany, looking up at him in desperate confusion. "He… knows. He… knows… He—"

"Rodney?" he asked, frowning. Keller managed to shake her head. "Todd?"

Again Keller shook her head.

"Then who, love… who knows…?" he asked, his own confusion beginning to prickle with the frightening edge of suspicion. She couldn't answer. Another spasm of pain wracked her body and she cried out before lapsing into the same chilling, repeating plea.

"Convergence… divergence— He knows! Lost… corrupt. Converg— Help me…!"

Carson's blood began to chill as it dawned on him just what she was, most likely, asking. With false calm, he forced himself to begin the scan.

**

Jethera watched as the Queen toyed with the woman on her knees before her. Formerly one of the senior handmaidens, and known among the worshippers to be the Commander's whore – though none would speak the open secret within hearing of the Queen – Jethera knew Hanna had been dishonoured for the part she had played in the entire fiasco that had eventually led to the destruction of the Hive. Her life had been spared only because she could not, as servant to the Wraith, disobey a direct command, and spared a flogging only by circumstance, she now pleaded her obedience to and love for the Queen.

"…no matter what price I demand, and submit yourself to my mercies?" the Queen hissed, the sarcasm heavy in her voice.

"Anything, my Queen," Hanna sobbed, and Jethera could not help the contemptuous bile that rose in her at the woman's performance.

This was what she had been set to watch for, she realised, and also knew that she would be called upon to share exactly what had happened with the Hive Second. The prospect was not one that warmed her.

The Queen shifted, a prelude to speech that was interrupted as the door burst inward and the Hive Third swept into the room, dipping himself into a sweeping low bow before coming to a halt with one knee almost, but not quite, touching the floor.

"My Queen," he spoke fervently, almost excited. "The cruisers you have recalled have entered orbit. Their commanders—"

"And where is my commander?" the Queen demanded, her focus shifted in an instant, her game with the other woman forgotten.

"Communing with the growing Hive consciousness… that he may better serve the Hive," the Third answered, and Jethera thought she detected almost a hint of amusement in the Wraith male's voice.

"And my Second?" the Queen growled harshly.

"I am here, my Queen."

Jethera turned her head toward the smooth soft voice of the imposing Wraith as he seemed merely to step from the shadows in the corner of the room. She blinked in surprise. She had not known he was there.

The Queen tilted her head toward the Hive Second.

"Gather the commanders of the cruisers," she told him. "I would address them myself."

"As you wish, my Queen," he gave a low bow, and swept past the other startled looking Wraith to carry out her command.

**

"And you're certain you'll be able to pick up the trail once we exit hyperspace?" Caldwell asked, eyeing McKay, Sheppard thought, with more than a healthy dose of scepticism.

"Yes," McKay said in his characteristically irritable tone of voice. "I've recalibrated the sensors so that once we exit hyperspace they'll be able to pick up the specific bio-resonance of the Hive that made the attack, and then we'll be able to use telemetry from the relay stations around the Pegasus galaxy to pinpoint the whereabouts of that specific Hive from—"

He broke off, and Sheppard glanced at Caldwell, to see what had caused the otherwise overly verbose physicist to come to a screeching halt mere seconds before the persistent man began his explanation anew.

"Look," McKay said, "We discovered quite early on that each individual Hive has its own particular bio-signature, traces of which can still be detected in—"

"Colonel Caldwell?" Marks appeared at Caldwell's shoulder, carrying a small tablet computer, looking at it intently even as he spoke.

Sheppard frowned as Caldwell, focussed on listening to the explanation McKay was giving, dismissed the Major almost out of hand. A warning shiver passed down Sheppard's spine.

"Not now, Major," Caldwell said.

"—space even days after a visitation by the Wraith Hive. We've not been able to come up with the specific reason why, though we suspect it has something to do with the organic nature of the ships, perhaps stripped away in the thruster-burns but—"

"I'm sorry, Sir, but this is important," Marks was insistent, for which Sheppard was grateful a moment later when Caldwell nodded at him to give his report. "Long range detectors have pinpointed several Wraith ships in orbit around a planet at our target coordinates. We'll be on them in moments, Sir."

"What! Let's see it. Heads up!" Caldwell turned, and with Sheppard sticking close by, took the command chair. Sheppard leaned on the back of it, peering at the HUD that materialised in the middle of the Bridge's foredeck and through which a rather bewildered looking McKay stood deserted, his mouth still hanging open mid-sentence.

Sheppard swallowed hard as he counted at least a half dozen Wraith ships in orbit of one of the planets in the system that Daedalus was hurtling toward at faster-than-light speeds.

"Oh crap," he breathed.

"Not quite my sentiments, but close enough," Caldwell said, and then ordered, "Take us out of hyperspace, Major Marks. No sense in us walking into that mess."

"No, wait!" Sheppard put a hand on Caldwell's arm. "This is the only chance we've got to find the son-of-a-bitch, Steven. If we come out now we're way too far away for McKay's modifications to be effective. We need to be—"

"Colonel Sheppard, in case you hadn't noticed, Daedalus is in no fit state for a full on battle against a half a dozen Wraith ships. She's barely flying as it is." Caldwell protested.

"And McKay's people are working on that," Sheppard answered. "Look, I'm not suggesting that we wade on in, guns blazing. If we came out on the edge of the system, used the other planets to mask our presence, McKay could get his scans and—"

Caldwell appeared to consider this, and then nodded.

"You better hope they don't spot us, Sheppard, because if they do, I'm not sticking around to let us get blown out of existence, Todd or no Todd," he said.

"Aren't you in the slightest bit curious," McKay piped up suddenly, looking at them through the HUD, "why all those Wraith are gathered here in the first place?"

**

The six Wraith commanders were on their knees and did not even seek to rise when the conference began, and they were called upon to give their reports before the Queen and her two highest commanders.

"And you are certain of this?" she hissed, leaning down to pin the leftmost commander to the spot with a withering stare.

"Quite certain, my Queen," he said. "The Humans we took from the scant settlement on a nearby world spoke of it most… cooperatively."

"They spoke of repeated visits by its hybrid creatures for supplies… strange requests," another said, daring to look up. The Hive Second hissed at him and even Hanna took a step back and away from her place behind the Queen.

She had not forgotten her encounter with him, nor the questions, and the terror he had brought to her and had no desire to encounter his wrath again, even if it were not directed at her. She glanced to the side, to find the other handmaiden watching her with barely concealed contempt.

"Strange requests?" the Queen turns away from the kneeling commanders, a frown on her face, holding up her hands that she might be supported on her ascent of the less than stable stairway to the hastily erected dais. The Hive commander moved to escort her to her throne, while the Second put himself between the Queen's turned back and her cruiser commanders.

"Minerals, metals… other elements," the first commander spoke again.

As Hanna climbed the steps to wait on the Queen as she sat to listen to the rest of the report, she watched the Elder Wraith's eyes narrow in suspicion.

"We believe the creature's underlings may have been trying to build something."

"They would give us no other information," a third commander joined the report, "preferring death."

"He commanded loyalty if nothing else," the Queen mused. She waved Hanna away when she attempted to offer the press of soothing fingers to the Elder. She stepped back and felt, as well as saw, the Queen retreat into a momentary but deep contemplation of all she had been told. Finally, her voice dripping sarcasm, she said, "Ship… the Renegade must have been attempting to build himself a Hive."

None of the commanders on their knees in the chamber spoke. It was the Second's smoothly triple toned voice that broke the ensuing silence.

"Indeed, my Queen, it seems most likely," he said. "After all, during our previous encounters, your forces did cause much damage to his scant fleet."

"And we will continue to do so," she snarled triumphantly. "The remnants of his rebel forces will be no match for our alliance."

"My Queen…" the Second began, but if the Queen even noticed he had spoken she did not acknowledge the tone which, Hanna thought, was one that counselled caution.

"Commanders," instead she addressed the commanders of the cruisers, "You will proceed to the location and investigate further. Whatever of his creatures you find – destroy them. I will join you as soon as the construction of my new flagship is complete."

The commanders rumbled their assent and one by one, rose cautiously to their feet and backed away, as if they did not realise that they had been dismissed.

**

"Bad idea," McKay chanted under his breath, "really, really bad idea…"

Sheppard ignored him and concentrated on piloting the Jumper carefully out from behind the planet shielding the Daedalus. He needed answers, and it wasn't enough any more simply to know where Todd had run to after destroying the Elder Hive. He wanted to know why there was a gathering of Wraith above the planet that was nearest to the location of the battle. He needed as many answers as he could get.

He'd known as soon as they'd come out of hyperspace and picked up the more accurate details on the ship's scanner that it was vitally important to understand what was going on so that they didn't walk into some kind of trap while pursuing Todd. At least… that was his excuse, and he wasn't going to change it for anyone.

He glanced over at McKay and saw that the other man was gripping the co-pilot's seat hard enough to turn his knuckles white, and figured he should probably say something, or he was going to have to listen to McKay's whining the whole trip and it was beginning to affect his concentration.

"You said," he started, reminding the scientist, "that you needed us to be closer if you were going to pick up any of their sub-space communications."

"Look," McKay snapped as he broke off from his near maniacal chanting, "just because I say I can do a thing, which of course is gonna happen pretty much all the time because there isn't much I can't do, as a matter of fact, doesn't necessarily mean that it's a good idea or it should be done. In fact this is a bad idea… a very bad idea. Dangerous and—"

"McKay!" Sheppard called sharply and when the other man looked his way, added, "Get a grip." McKay glared at him and opened his mouth to fire some kind of sarcastic retort his way but Sheppard wasn't about to allow the scientist to get his verbal stride again and said, "This is no different to any other time we've done this. We're cloaked. We—"

"Oh, it's plenty different, believe me," McKay insisted, his fear making his voice even more shrill than usual. "There are four Wraith cruisers out there, hanging over a planet about which we know absolutely nothing. We have no idea what's waiting for us there and—"

"And we need to know in case whatever's going on down there has any bearing on what we might find when we catch up to Todd!" Sheppard's voice carried the weight of a punch that he knew should have finished the conversation – would have in any other situation and at any other time – but he didn't count on the sudden movement from the Wraith cruiser closest to the Jumper's approach trajectory.

McKay yelped, and Sheppard automatically banked the Jumper as the massive carapace turned ponderously toward them. Sheppard imagined he could almost hear the roar of the sub-light thrusters powering the massive craft as it began to move through the vacuum between them. At McKay's second yelp, he swore.

"They've seen us," McKay shrieked.

"They can't have," he assured him.

"They must have," McKay argued. "Why else would they—"

"Sheppard, this is Daedalus. The lead cruiser has opened a hyperspace window. If you're planning on capturing their ship to ship, you better do it now."

"McKay," Sheppard growled even as Caldwell's voice urged swiftness of action.

"I'm on it," McKay said, and as if his fear were suddenly forgotten, the scientist threw himself out of his seat, and making frantic alterations, his computer tablet interfaced with the panels in the rear of the Jumper.

**

The single word echoed in her head until it was a maddening cacophony of compulsion. She stumbled on legs that were scratched, bleeding and exhausted, afraid to slow down, afraid to stop in case her crime should catch up to her and make of the command she followed a convenient excuse.

Isla stumbled, her knee grazing against a rough, rocky patch of ground as she immediately pushed herself back to her feet to continue her stumbling run in the direction from which the pull within her ached the most.

An image burned in her mind and stung her already reddened eyes… the damning sight of the Wraith sub-commander, impaled, and dripping his dark blood to wet the soil with the seeds of her betrayal.

**

"No," Sheppard argued, "The relevant point is that their comm. chatter says they have him… pretty soon he'll be on the run and then—"

"They have his people, Colonel," Caldwell corrected him. Sheppard nodded his acknowledgement as the commander of the Daedalus went on, "Michael's dead. The explosion on that Hive—"

"If he was ever there at all," McKay said, clearly sulking.

"Teyla was sure of it," Sheppard reminded him. "When it comes to sniffing out that rat-bastard, I trust her."

"So my question becomes, 'what's the point in changing our plans and going after Michael's people, when we could simply continue on to find Todd?' You said that was the best course of action." Caldwell said.

"But this is new Intel. It changes what's best. If we hit Michael's people while they're already cornered by the Wraith, we stand a far better chance of actually achieving our objective." Sheppard said.

"Which is?"

"She's been wrong before," McKay ventured before Sheppard could answer. His voice was a small sound in comparison with the two energised colonels'. Both men turned to look at him. He shifted uncomfortably and then in an irritated voice asked, "Did either of you even stop to consider what might be down on that planet those Wraith were orbiting; stop to think that it is easily within range of the battleground; that survivors of that explosion might—"

"Nothing survived that explosion," Caldwell said. "The shockwave even took out the Darts that were trying to escape the blast and even as far out as Daedalus crippled a number of major systems."

"I know, and I've been thinking about that; going over telemetry data and—"

"Nothing survived the explosion, McKay," Sheppard said firmly. "He was aboard that Hive when it blew, and Teyla was with him. Her last message said we—"

"All right, already!" McKay snapped, and Sheppard almost regretted speaking to the scientist in the way he had when he saw the expression on McKay's face. McKay wasn't done though. "But aren't you in the least bit worried about what is down there… on that planet? You're so blinded by your absolute obsession with vengeance for Teyla that you can't see that this… what's going on here, and down on that planet could be the trap you're trying so hard to avoid!"

Sheppard sighed, looking down for a moment. It wasn't that he hadn't considered that the Wraith were there for a reason, and that whatever was planet-side might pose some kind of danger, because he had. He'd thought about it a lot, but he also knew that time was running out, slipping away between their fingers and that if they left too much of a delay before they followed after the cruisers, any chance he'd have of pulling off the plan, still only partly formed in his head, would be lost.

Still, he took a deep breath, and answered aloud, "All right, McKay, point taken. Before we go anywhere, we'll take a cloaked Jumper down to see just what is going on."

**

Following in Michael's wake, Teyla wrapped her arms around herself, not only to ward off the ambient cold, but also the deeper emotional chill that seemed to come from the ruins of the settlement itself.

The entire surrounding area in the lee of the mountain was a wasteland, left barren by the after-effects of the retribution the Wraith had visited upon the people that had once inhabited this place. Yet evidence of their presence still remained and as they drew closer to those few buildings left standing in the huddle of debris at the base of the looming slope, she thought she detected movement.

"Michael…" she warned softly.

He slowed his steps to draw level with her, and moved a breath closer, protective even as he said, "They will not harm us."

"Who are they?" she asked, looking up at him.

"Survivors," he answered, "caretakers now."

"Caretakers?" she frowned, and asking for confirmation of the image of the puzzle she was reassembling in her head said, "For the facility you maintain here?"

He nodded once, before answering her softly, "When I selected this planet for the construction of the facility there were few survivors, but they possessed knowledge of technology that is rarely seen. It made greater sense to assist them toward recovery and include them in my plans than… anything else."

"You became their benefactor," she said.

"And earned their loyalty," he confirmed, then turning to look at her as he came to a halt in the centre of the small knot of buildings, asked, "Is that such a terrible thing?"

She looked up at him, falling into the amber pools of his eyes that were creased with the ghost of pain; a craving for approval. Reaching for her mentally as his emotion, rarely close to the surface, wrapped around her, and she answered with the blossoming of sympathy through her small frame. She swallowed, shaking herself a little as she tore her gaze away.

"Of course not," she told him, knowing that she meant the words she said. "It was the right thing to do."

He nodded, a gesture of acceptance, rather than agreement, and she felt the brief flutter of soft relief that trickled through the bond, but did not have time to do more, as a small voice from behind her startled her out of the partial communion with Michael.

"We were not expecting you."

"Everything is secure?" Michael asked by way of greeting.

"And functioning at optimal efficiency," the man confirmed.

Michael nodded.

"My men have the supplies you requested," he said, and with a nod to the small party of men that had followed them, turned his attention to Teyla. "Come. We should go inside."

**

Even before they came within visual range of the town, the tale the Jumper's HUD was telling him did not fill Sheppard with either confidence or cheer.

"Oh my God, Sheppard, is that—" McKay broke off, pointing repeatedly as an ominously familiar shape resolved itself on the HUD showing the scan of the fields outside of the town.

"Hive," Sheppard said darkly. "Yep."

"But they—Where the hell did they come from? I thought—"

"Looks like your worries were pretty much on the money," Sheppard told him. "My guess would be that they somehow got their Queen off that Hive and…"

He trailed off, shrugging his shoulders, as McKay continued to gape at the HUD, and then through the window as their cloaked Jumper began to pass over the dark shape on the ground below.

"They got survivors off all right," McKay said at last, pointing through the front view screen. "Look! Wraith drones, guarding the ship."

"And more in the town," Sheppard peered beyond the field. "They were tipped off, they have to have been. Looks like they got a good number of their people off that ship before it blew. Damn it!"

"Well however they did it, they did, and whoever it is commanding these Wraith just sent four cruisers after Michael's people. If you want—"

Sheppard stopped listening, his heart constricting in his chest as, on the field, one of the Wraith, tall even for one of his kind, his long hair swinging as though weighted by something, looked up, almost directly at him. His blood crawled almost to a standstill as a chill spread through his body, recognition falling over him like a heavy blanket.

"Ah crap!" he breathed, and before he could be sure whether or not the Wraith truly saw him, he powered up the Jumper's thrusters and powered away toward the atmosphere, and the waiting Daedalus.

"We gotta get to Michael's people before he does," he murmured and for once was relieved when McKay didn't ask why.

**

Aware that she was watching him, Michael moved his fingers rapidly over the keys of the data terminal, accessing the results of the constant monitoring of the facility's many sensitive systems. He felt her trying to read him and paused for a moment, tilting his head in indecision. She came to his side in that moment and the lightest of touches brushed against his arm.

"Michael…" she began.

Anticipating her question, he turned from the terminal to face her, stepping out of her reach, and said, "It is here that the Cause will take the next step, Teyla."

"How?" He felt the shiver of fear that went through her as though they still touched, and not, as was the case, as if there were space between them. "What is this place, Michael?"

"This," he said, spreading his arms to take in the room around them, "is where it begins. What you see here is just—" He spun suddenly, momentarily almost blinded by the biting, startled flare of fear that his demeanour had caused in Teyla as he turned on the hybrid that had entered the room. "Yes?"

"Several Wraith cruisers have dropped out of hyperspace on the edge of the system. Early indications strongly suggest their course will bring them within range of our facility."

"What!" Michael's face creased into a knotted frown as deep as the spasm of dread that twisted in his belly. "How did they find us?"

"I will find out," the hybrid answered, beginning to turn.

"No," Michael's voice rang out, halting the hybrid mid-turn. "Launch the cruisers from the fifth planet to intercept."

The hybrid left with a curtly nodded acknowledgement and calmed by the efficiency of his men, Michael turned again to face Teyla.

The fear he had felt through their bond was clearly written on her face and in the way she had once again wrapped her arms around herself. He took a breath and held out a hand, palm up, in her direction. She hesitated only for a moment before her hand slipped into his, allowing him to draw her closer.

"The warning came in time," he told her, pushing the confidence he felt in that fact along their bond. "It is an inconvenience, and may mean we have to leave sooner than I would have liked, but… that can't be helped."

His tone was clipped on the end of the sentence and he looked away for a moment before turning back to her and meeting her eyes slowly, he added, "If you would rather return to the ship—"

"No," she told him, interrupting his preferred suggestion. Her safety was paramount in his thoughts and while he did not expect that the Wraith would be a threat – secure in the ability of his protective counter measures – he did not wish for her to be put in harm's way.

She freed her hand from his light grasp and laid it, instead, in the middle of his chest.

"I will remain here with you," she said.

Michael swallowed the sudden rush of emotion that followed her words.

"As you wish," he said, including his head for the briefest of moments. As he did, he cautiously began to reach out along the distant edges of the Wraith neural network. If she would stay, then he must ensure the correctness of his belief that Teyla would remain safe.

**

"Sheppard, either you've completely lost your mind or you know something I don't. Either way I'm not comfortable with this," Caldwell snapped as he entered the conference room.

"As military commander of Atlantis—" He started, turning to face the Daedalus' commander, drawing himself up to his full height and squaring up, ready for a figurative battle.

Caldwell held up his hand instantly defusing Sheppard's fighting instinct as he said, "Oh, I'll follow your orders, John. I just wanted you to know that it's with a good deal of reservation."

"Noted," He said curtly. "Now, what have we got?"

"Marks can't get a clear sensor result," Caldwell said, his face fixed in an unhappy frown. "He says McKay's best guess is that something in the system is sending out some kind of interference."

"So what you're saying is that we'll be going in—"

"Blind, yeah," Caldwell said.

"Can we overshoot the edge of the system?" Sheppard asked, looking at the battle grid set up on the translucent screen in the centre of the conference room. "That was the last known position of the Wraith cruisers we're following."

"It's a risky proposition," Caldwell said, shaking his head and pointing at a spot just outside the system instead. "We'd be much better coming out here and going in sub-light. That way there'll be no nasty surprises."

Sheppard, in turn, shook his own head.

"Look," he said, "we know for certain there are at least four Wraith cruisers somewhere in that system. Assuming Michael's people are there we can count on at least one… maybe two more," he shrugged, "who knows. What I do know is that we can't afford to get caught up in their fight. I was hoping to let them distract one another while we sneak in and steal the baby right from under their noses."

"That's your plan?" Caldwell's voice was not without a little incredulity in its tone.

Sheppard ignored his tone, looking at this system laid out on the battle-screen, and shivering a little, drawing into himself as he forced himself to try and get into Michael's head and work out just where – if he were the Wraith-Human hybrid – he would choose to go…

…to know that it's me she calls for…

"There!" he retorted and jabbed his finger on an open sector of space. "We come out there, head for the second planet. That's where they are."

Caldwell looked at him doubtingly for a moment before he sighed heavily.

"All right," he said, his tone resigned. "I just hope you know what you're doing."

**

It did not take long for Michael to realise that he had underestimated the danger in remaining any longer as the press of the Wraith neural net grew to more than a niggling ache in the back of his mind. They were closer now, in spite of his counter measures. He had overlooked something. What?

Turning his mind aside from the still present push of his former brothers he reached along his own mental pathways to find the commander of his lead cruiser. The sense of dislocation caught him for a moment before he settled to look on the mess of the forward view screen through the hybrid's eyes. His cruisers had been caught by not one, but two incoming fleets of cruisers, and a single Hive, which lay easily within range for the Wraith scanners to pick up the energy readings his facility gave off when they were not inactive.

Seething in frustration, but knowing he had no choice but to retreat from the system and return when the Wraith were well and truly diverted from exploration anywhere near the second world, his head snapped up from the console he had been working and he announced softly, but firmly.

"We must leave."

Automatically he worked to secure the systems into their dormant state once more. No sense in making it easy for the Wraith to discover what was hidden in the heart of the former Devian homeworld, if they had not already detected the facility, but his thoughts were dark, and growing more ominous with each passing moment. He turned partially to face Teyla as she came to his side, when the few hybrids that were with them began to efficiently pack up the equipment that was only partially deployed, and to head toward the doorway.

"What is it?" she asked.

"They are coming," he said simply, and without another moment of preamble, began to usher her after the already departed hybrids.

**

Sheppard stumbled, and made a grab for the back of the con officer's chair as the deck beneath his feet lurched.

"Damn it!" Caldwell hissed, and reflexively threw up an arm in front of his face as the brightness of an explosion bathed the flight deck in a ruddy orange glow. "Shields up!" He turned his head to Sheppard then, and Sheppard saw the 'I told you so' in the other man's eyes even before the words issued forth in an earnest tirade. "I told you this was a bad idea, Sheppard!"

The deck rocked again as a salvo of fire from one of the Wraith cruisers impacted Daedalus' shielded hull and from beside the cruiser, several needle-nosed Darts came screaming toward them.

"Save the 'told you so' for another time, Steven," Sheppard called, flinching and raising his voice to be heard over the rush of the fire suppression system that had activated behind him as a panel exploded. "I suggest we concentrate on getting us out of here."

"I'm open to suggestions," Caldwell snapped, gesturing to the HUD that now graced the space in front of the forward view screen, "because as far as I can tell, we bypassed the frying pan and leaped straight into the fire."

Sheppard peered at the sensor readings that intermittently ghosted in and out of theatre as the interference from whatever in the system was causing it strengthened and faded in turn.

Daedalus had come out of hyperspace right into the middle of the fighting, and all around, Wraith and hybrid forces alike were turning their way.

"We have no choice," he said gravely. "We gotta launch the F302s."

**

Michael's rapid steps had carried him ahead of the others, and he frowned deeply as he saw Rissek walking ahead of two other hybrids, leading a battered and bleeding prisoner between them. Michael came to a halt, holding out his arm slightly to signal a stop to the others behind him.

"What is the meaning of this?" he demanded of his lieutenant.

"This one's Dart was forced down on the fifth planet as the cruisers launched. He was captured trying to infiltrate the holding facility there. He carries information I believe you will wish to hear."

Rissek signalled to the other hybrids, and the two of them dragged the struggling Wraith between them to stand before Michael.

"Abomination!" the Wraith sub-commander spat, struggling with the hybrids holding him even more.

"Let him go," Michael said coldly, tilting his head as he looked on the representative of his enemy.

The Wraith snarled and as soon as he was free, made a lunge toward Michael. His feeding hand mantled and he drew back his arm, but Michael stood unflinching, his head still tilted in an attitude of curiosity. Teyla called his name, the concern in her voice more than clear, but he ignored her, instead reaching out mentally to wrap his mind around that of the Wraith.

The soft hiss that escaped him was the only thing that belied Michael's utter calm, and the mantling Wraith froze, as if grasped by some kind of invisible force field, unable to lay even the tip of one finger on Michael.

"Release me," the angered Wraith demanded, snarling against the obvious pain that twisted his features.

-on whose orders do you do this?- -on whose orders?- -whose orders?-

The Wraith sub-commander fought the mental intrusion, his whole body beginning to shake as Michael pushed still harder when he did not answer.

"Release me!" he growled again, adding with an increasingly desperate tone to the snarl in the back of his throat, "You will die here!"

Gathering the cold fury around him like a cloak, Michael stepped forward, pushing mentally until the anguished Wraith fell to his knees.

"I do not think so," Michael said icily, and before the Wraith could fight back against his mental intrusion, he wrapped his long white hair around his hand and pulled back until the Wraith's throat was exposed. His next words rumbled against the subjugated Wraith's face. "I asked you a question."

The sub-commander tried to laugh, until Michael tightened his grasp and pulled back his head still further, when he snarled again. "She will destroy you! She is coming for you!"

Michael snarled loudly, leonine in sound and forced the contact of his mind past the sub-commander's failing mental shields…

…The Queen walked along the row of kneeling Humans. Like a serpent she tilted her head first one way and then the other. The bone beads in her hair rattled together and the whisper of her silken dresses on the grass lent her an even more majestic air.

The sub-commander raised his eyes from the ground to watch her magnificence as she selected her next candidate for presentation to the almost completed Hive…

The ghost of the Elder Queen's touch in the sub-commander's mind startled Michael, and his cold fury heated to searing heat in an instant. She had survived. She would hunt – but not him. This he knew.

Behind him, even as he began to reach for her mentally, Teyla began to move toward him.

"No!" he almost roared and pushed the command even as he spoke it to his hybrids; doubly urgent as the subtle pre-sound vibrations of inbound Darts began to tingle in the air. "Take her back inside!"

**

She tried to resist as the hybrids' hands closed on her arms and began to exert a backward pressure on her; to draw her away from Michael. She tried to reach him, but their bond yielded only the chill of his anger and underlying protective fear – which frightened her more. Finally, nearing tears, she stopped fighting and though she shook off the hybrids' touch at last, she turned and walked ahead of them back inside the compound. Noting that they escorted her only as far as the doorway before peeling off to stand as silent guardians, one either side.

**

Michael growled as he gave a final twitch of his hand in the Wraith's hair, snapping his neck and pushing him away in the same movement, then he rounded on Rissek, letting the full force of his anger find expression in his words and the tone in which he addressed his lieutenant.

"How did this happen? How did she find us?" He stepped toward the hybrid, who took a step backward as Michael further snarled. "Your oversight is unforgivable. I should have been informed."

"Their arrival here was the first knowledge I had of her continued existence," the hybrid said quickly. "As soon as I knew I brought you the news. I—"

"Led them right to me – to us."

"Forgive me, I—"

"There's no more time," Michael interrupted. "Take my scout ship and try and draw them away from this area. If anything happens, I will hold you personally responsible."

"Of course. I—"

"Go!"

-Antedar, take the Hive to hyperspace. Remain away until I send for you-

Already dismissing his former lieutenant as a lost cause, and hardly expecting him to be able to do as he had been ordered, Michael gathered the rest of the hybrids, and followed Teyla into the facility. They would need to move quickly to avoid detection. He could not afford to lose what lay beneath the superficial exterior laboratory, and if needs be – if, to save this vitally important resource, he had to move it – he would.

***

Act 5

Malcolm paused as he stood at the edge of the field on which the New Hive finally stood ready. Come daybreak the Hive would leave; was already fully operational and once they left he knew that the Queen meant to follow her cruisers and take steps to attempt to eliminate the former Wraith scientist's remaining followers – to rid the galaxy of his influence for good.

He sighed. For reasons he could not explain, he did not at all expect it could possibly be that easy. There was an uneasy feeling gnawing at the back of his mind; something telling him those things he had seen in the mind of the other would yet come to pass, and there would be little – or nothing – he or any other could do to prevent it.

The breeze rippled in what remained of the grasses at the edge of the field, and for a moment he thought his ruffled imagination had conjured the breathy sobs that began to resolve in his hearing.

Tilting his head he started out toward the sound, reaching toward the mind he could almost feel at the far edge of the field, bordering the wood. As his mind engaged, believing he would find the tattered remnants of a terrified worshipper seeking escape, the unease spiralled away, becoming the sharp edge of elation mixed with an almost mortal dread.

{…Isla…}

A short, sharp cry of distress split the air as his communication reached her and he doubled his pace until he could drop to a crouch before the foetal ball the woman had made of herself; reaching for her.

"Lord, no!" she cried.

"Peace, Isla," he told her, taking in her appearance as he tried to coax her to rise. The cuts and scrapes worried him, but the raw and open feeding mark on her chest kindled began to stir a deeper emotion. He forced his rising anger away and continued reaching for her. "All is well now. Come with me."

He drew in a shocked breath when she tried to push him away as his hands closed around her arms to draw her to her feet. Surprised, and off balance, he had to step back, or fall.

"No, you must not," she told him. "I have wronged you… Betrayed—" She broke off, instead of finishing her sentence reached for the ruined edges of her dress and ripped the bodice still further, exposing herself to him, and spreading her arms in obedient supplication.

"Stupid girl," he snapped, and then clamped a hand around her upper arm. "What is the meaning of this?"

Her own fingers locked around his wrist, halting him once more as she sobbed, "Take me, Lord – finish your undeserved servant's life, for I have wronged you. Wronged all Wraith."

**

"Michael…" Teyla could not help the feelings of relief that flooded her as he came back inside. He cut off whatever else she might have said, catching her elbow and drawing her with him deeper into the facility. "What are you doing?"

She struggled against his grip but it was uncompromising, and she had to almost run to keep up with him as he walked the both of them rapidly along grey corridors that flashed past with dizzying speed.

"Michael, stop…"

He did not. Not until they came to the bottom of a steeply sloping corridor cut into rock that ended in a familiar organic looking doorway. Breathing hard, partly in anger, mostly in fear and worry, she finally pulled away from him.

"Do not ever—"

"I apologise," he cut her off softly, "It was necessary to reach this place rapidly. Taking the time to explain would have endangered you; endangered us all."

Teyla swallowed, completely derailed by his apology. She blinked at him and asked more softly, "Where are we?"

"Our reason for being here is beyond this doorway. The hidden, secret facility that is of vital importance to our Cause is not the laboratory above us, but this," he said, and palmed open the door.

The faint, ozone scent of recycled air washed over her as the doorway spiralled outward to admit them to the dark walled, blue lit hallway within.

"Another Hive?" she asked, confusion filling the space in her mind where Michael wasn't. She looked at him as he shook his head.

"Not… quite," he said, leading her further in. She could feel the life, and the energy of the facility both through the vibration from the organic floor, and from the whisper of its consciousness at the edge of the bond she shared with Michael.

"I… I do not understand," she said honestly.

"Wait," he told her simply.

Suddenly cold, Teyla pulled the coat more tightly around herself as she followed him, and realisation of where she was, and the function of the place began to seep into her awareness. When they finally reached the main chamber she was almost trembling with it.

"He said there were no more of these," she said, her eyes scanning the empty chambers – and one or two that were not.

"He?" Michael queried, with a frown.

"Todd," Teyla said. "When we destroyed the facility the Queen was using to increase the size of her army, he—"

"He lied," Michael snapped. His words overlapped hers, though he added after a moment, "However, this particular facility, I built myself."

Michael took a breath, and gestured with his hand toward a door on the far side of the chamber and said, "If you are to be comfortable, allow me to show you to quarters where you may rest. We might be here some considerable time before I can allow the Hive to return for us."

"You… sent them away?" she swallowed again.

"It was necessary in order to ensure the safety of your son, and the integrity of my research." Michael turned his head to look at her. "They will return when I send for them."

"But if the Wraith—" she began, and shook her head.

"You do not believe I would willingly walk into a situation from which I had no chance of withdrawing," he fixed her with a frank and fervent golden stare, "or that I would allow you to do so?"

"No, I—"

"Come then," he began to lead her through the chamber. "You should rest."

Teyla swallowed hard and turned her gaze outward and slowly looked around at the extent of Michael's cloning facility. Deep in her belly, a little knotted whirl of something alike to hope began to stir.

It was a very painful feeling.

**

"I'll be all right, lad," Beckett said softly, "You can wait outside."

The SO hesitated for a moment, then nodded to the doctor and stepped outside leaving Beckett as alone with the prisoner as he was ever going to be allowed to be.

Prisoner… Beckett shook his head. When did he start thinking of Evan that way?

Sighing, he raised his head to look properly on the immobile figure within the cell, taking in the sight of his pale skin; the indentations on his cheeks, barely formed, but enough to make the once familiar friend seem alien… unreachable.

"What do you want, Doctor?"

He was so focussed on his visual examination of the hybrid-Lorne that when Lorne spoke, he jumped, stifling the little gasp the motion brought from his lungs.

"I think we both know why I'm here, Major," he answered, swallowing back his hesitancy.

Lorne turned his head slowly, tilting it to the side to fix Beckett with an almost lazy pale eyed stare. Then after a moment longer, and much to the doctor's increased discomfort, Lorne put back his head and laughed.

"Major?" he chuckled. "You alone of all Atlantis would still call me that."

"Because I know this isn't your fault," Beckett said quickly.

Lorne regarded him again coolly and said, "No, Doctor. You still call me Major to assuage your own conscience."

Beckett couldn't help but cringe as Lorne's measured, well aimed remark hit a little too close to the mark.

"I'm no proud of what I've done, no," he admitted finally, "but—"

"Why not?" Lorne asked, tilting his head the other way as he looked Beckett up and down. "You were instrumental in delivering the single-most powerful individual in this galaxy to his destiny. You should—"

"That's Michael talking, not you," he interrupted.

"I'm merely stating the truth, Doctor," Lorne answered.

Lorne stared at him until pins and needles began to creep into Beckett's hands and arms, and he realised, belatedly, that he was digging his own fingernails into his folded upper arms. He unfolded them, trying to shrug some feeling back into his digits.

"Why are you here, Doctor Beckett?" Lorne asked again.

A long silence followed, one that Beckett hardly dare disturb with the question that lingered in his mind, chilling the very fabric of his belief. When at last he spoke his voice trembled audibly.

"He's still alive, isn't he?" he asked, "Somehow he managed to survive the Wraith, and the destruction of that Hive."

Lorne blinked slowly, long enough to give a moment when he stood with his eyes closed. When he opened them again, his gaze pierced deeper into Beckett's soul than any other living thing yet might.

Dismissively he said, "You are as much his creature as am I." Then more darkly said, "You already know the answer to that question."

Swallowing, Beckett stepped closer to the bars and lowering his voice to a near whisper, said, "And supposing someone wanted to… to speak with him…?"

Lorne frowned, tilting his head as though the question confused him, though Beckett could clearly see understanding in his eyes. Then, for the second time… Lorne laughed.

**

She could feel the explosions that were striking the ground outside, and through the window the occasional bright flash showed brilliant against the darkness. Teyla was afraid.

The sound of the door latch lifting, and then the door scraping against the floor of the room, pulled her eyes away from her fearful watch through the thick, frosted windows. She looked up sullenly as the door opened, expecting Michael. Instead she gasped in surprise as Kanaan came in.

"Kanaan," she said, and in her mind she harboured a hope that perhaps he had come to bring her from this place of clinical coldness, and rusted walls.

"Stay where you are," he told her. "You must rest as much as necessary in case we are forced to leave quickly."

"We can leave now, Kanaan," she said, and started to reach for the side of the blanket that covered her. "Take me to where he is keeping our son, and the three of us can leave together. My friends can help you, they—"

"Your friends are the cause of all this," he said, and after pointedly closing the door, he gestured toward the windows. "They have led the Wraith too close to this position."

She woke with a start to a silence that was suffocating. Its thick, heavy pall lay over everything, feeding the fear that had begun to grow inside of her as she had realised that many of the precautions that Michael was taking, many of his actions in the last forty-eight hours had been to ensure that, if the Wraith were not drawn away by the many decoys and blinds he had planted to lead them astray, she, and her son, would remain safe.

When she reached for the bond, she felt his concern, his fear echoing and magnifying her own, and the pressure of it wrapped a longing around her that was just as terrifying – perhaps more so, as she found herself more and more often reaching for the memory of a brief moment of peace…

…both breathless, he sank onto her, and she into the security of his arms…

…she sighed shakily and her confused emotions manifested into a single teardrop that whispered through cracks in her denial of them… of him.

Movement in the doorway to her quarters caught her attention, and she looked up to find the object of her thoughts regarding her with a tired softness in his eyes.

"Michael," she breathed his name in a tone to match his expression.

He swallowed, and looked away from her for a moment before he brought his eyes to once more meet with hers and said, "I wanted you to be reassured that all is well. It will be a time before we are able to leave here, or before we are forced to take a more… direct action."

"I understand," she told him quietly. "A time of calm before the coming of a storm."

"Perhaps," he admitted, taking half a step inside the door before stopping.

"It is all right," she told him. "You can come in."

Michael shook his head and she found tears coming to her eyes at his denial.

"There is work that I should attend to," he told her. "I came to ask only if there is anything that you need."

Teyla looked up and met his eyes.

To be continued…

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