Act 2

Involuntarily, Sheppard took a half step back as Michael turned fully and tilted his head, waiting for his answer.

"You know… Michael," Sheppard used the name they had given to the former Wraith in a deliberate attempt to regain his own equilibrium and unbalance his adversary, "of all the things I ever took you for, stupid was never one of them."

"What is it you once said to me, Colonel? Sticks… and stones…?"

Sheppard shivered, but did his best to avoid the obvious similarities to an encounter he'd had with Michael in his own universe not much more than two months ago. He pressed on with the conversation.

"You have to know that there's no way any of us are going to join your little… rebellion, not now, and not in either reality," he said.

"And you must know that it is the only possibility left to you that ensures your continued survival," Michael countered. "You also are not stupid, Colonel Sheppard."

Sheppard shook his head, "I'm not that stupid, no, which is why I know that it's no possibility at all. Even if I did agree to work with you; to join you, there's no way you'd ever trust me… or McKay, and you know that Ronon would never countenance working together, not even to ensure the destruction of the Wraith. The answer's 'no,' Michael, no matter how you look at it."

Michael sighed softly, and began to turn away. "Then you will join your name-sake from this reality."

"Some choice," Sheppard said sarcastically.

The Wraith-Human hybrid swung back to face him so quickly that Sheppard almost tripped and fell backwards through the glass door of the room in his attempt to put a greater distance between the two of them.

"I thought I made it clear that it was the only choice!" Michael snapped, raising his voice slightly.

"I guess it's a choice I can live with," Sheppard said, squaring his shoulders and refusing to be cowed, now that the startled feeling had faded. "I'd imagine it was quite some send-off."

"You flatter yourself," Michael said, jeering softly. "It was as ignominious a death as you deserved."

"You would say that," Sheppard said. A sinking feeling was beginning to assault him even as his curiosity peaked.

Michael tilted his head again, the irritation that appeared to have been growing in him only the moment before, subtly derailed by Sheppard's challenge.

"I merely speak the truth," he said, his voice clipped. "In your futile attempts to neutralise the threat my army had become to the continued supremacy of the Atlanteans, and your growing desperation to regain Teyla's good graces, you allowed yourself and your team to be lured by the Wraith Alliance as bait in a trap in which they tried to corner me."

Sheppard's sinking feeling grew as Michael described exactly what had happened in the attempt he had made to form an alliance with Todd, only to have been betrayed by the Wraith Queen on whose authority Todd was acting.

"I could not allow my army to be compromised, but neither could I risk allowing Teyla to fall into the hands of the Alliance. As I journeyed to her aid, you and I…met."

**

For many long moments Michael stood in the shadow of the rock face, watching as his adversary packed away the medical equipment he had used on the injured marine. It would have been so easy to stun, even to kill all of them where they had crouched, pinned by the Wraith – who had both proposed, and betrayed an alliance.

He felt a moment of indecision. He could let the colonel leave, and Sheppard would be none the wiser as to the closeness he had come to a confrontation, or he could, as his senses screamed at him to do, step out of the shadows, into the path of the departing Human, and challenge him.

He chose the latter course.

To credit Sheppard's reactions, when faced with the blaster that Michael pointed at his head, the colonel also raised his own weapon.

"Colonel Sheppard," Michael said, greeting him with soft menace.

"Michael," Sheppard said sourly, and added with sarcastic cheer, "I must say, you're looking… well."

"And you look somewhat cornered, Colonel."

"Hmm," Sheppard answered and he shrugged a little before continuing, "Not so much. After a minute or two, Ronon will wonder where the hell I've gotten to, send someone back – maybe even come back himself."

"If I let you live that long," Michael agreed, but made the soft threat anyway and realised in the moment he spoke the words that he did not intend to allow the colonel to so easily walk away from this encounter.

"Nah," Sheppard shook his head just slightly, "You were gonna kill me, you'd have done it already."

"You presume too much!" Irritated by the Human's overconfidence, Michael took several menacing steps toward Sheppard, who backed up. Suddenly wanting rid of the Human, Michael told him, "Your presence here is unnecessary; unwelcome."

"I could say the same about you," Sheppard said, and Michael watched as his muscles tensed. The Human's ingratitude further rankled him.

"It would be a lie," Michael snapped, "Were it not for the arrival of my cruisers, the Hive would have vaporised your ship."

Sheppard shivered and asked unexpectedly, "Why?"

"My reasons are my own," Michael growled at him, before calming in the space of a heartbeat and tilting his head, he added, "Besides, I could not allow you to join the Wraith Alliance against me."

"I don't buy it," Sheppard took another step back. It put some distance between them. "You would maybe send your minions for that, but to come yourself?"

"I told you, my agenda is my ow—"

"And you gave us the lead on the Haradians… It seems to me like you have some kind of grudge against this particular Hive." Sheppard said with determination in his voice.

Michael's anger gathered strength. Even trying to control his rising temper against the Human, he could not maintain full control. Bitterly he began, "My busine—"

"And what did you do with Teyla's baby?" Sheppard took a step forward this time and tightened his grip on his weapon, shifting his aim until he pointed it at Michael.

"He is safe, which is more than can be said for his mother!" Michael growled.

"I swear," Sheppard raised his voice to smother Michael's continued rumbling, "if you so much as try and harm one hair on her head, I'll—"

"Me?" Michael snarled, deeply offended at the suggestion. "She is in far greater danger from you! You do not deserve to have her at your side! You have used her… abused her, just as you did me!"

Sheppard frowned. "How the—" he started, but his question was abruptly interrupted.

The shot from the blaster exploded against the rock wall beside them, showering both Michael and Sheppard with shards of flint. It broke the equilibrium between them. Michael turned and automatically fired back in the direction from which the shot had originated, momentarily ignoring Sheppard as the second shot slammed into the rock beside him. More splinters of flint, like tiny daggers flew at both of them, a deadly reminder of the Wraith enemies that did not seem to care which side they vanquished. Sheppard turned and he, too, fired at the group that seemed to have appeared from nowhere.

Abruptly, Michael broke for cover and Sheppard followed, firing every step of the way, as was Michael. When they reached the safety of cover, side by side, they fought in a sudden pact of necessity.

"And so again, you would use me to your own ends," Michael snapped, pausing in his assault against the Wraith warriors to thrust the accusation against Sheppard like a knife.

Sheppard did not answer the accusation, instead he demanded, "What the hell did you do to her!"

The blast from a Wraith weapon exploded close by Sheppard's head and he half rolled around the rock behind which he was sheltering to return fire.

Michael snarled at him. How dare Sheppard suggest he had or would do anything to harm Teyla? His anger and agitation shifted the focus of his aim and he turned to fire in Sheppard's direction. His shot flew wide, but still Sheppard flattened himself against the rocks.

"Atlantis was supposed to be a place of safety," Michael growled. Even as he spoke the words he knew his own folly in the assumption. She wasn’t safe there. She would never be safe anywhere but at his side. He should have kept her with him; sheltered her with him among his creatures until it was safe to leave… until he could have gathered his forces against his former Wraith brothers.

"Maybe if whatever you did to her hadn't messed with her head," Sheppard spat, and broke off from returning fire to the Wraith, to aim a shot Michael's way.

"Her condition warrants torment? Abuse?" Michael snorted and, following a fierce barrage of fire from the Wraith, rolled into the open, coming to one knee to release a torrent of deadly fire their way. Several Wraith fell under his angry onslaught, before he launched himself to his feet again and sprinted for new cover. "And to think, you consider yourselves better than me… you are creatures… no better than animals!"

"Sticks and stones!" Sheppard yelled back, though in the tone of his voice, Michael sensed that the accusation against Sheppard had hurt the colonel deeply. The thought should have been a comfort to Michael, instead Sheppard's reaction confirmed the suspicion Michael had harboured all along, that Sheppard had feelings for Teyla; that he was a rival, and as such, the competition between them, the antagonism, and the only course of action left to Michael solidified inside of him.

One way or another, only one of them would walk away from this.

Michael paused in telling Sheppard of what had happened. Scarcely two years had passed, yet it seemed no time at all.

He studied the colonel's face carefully; saw the discomfort written there and realised that this Sheppard had lived through the experience. He knew from the way Sheppard anticipated what he was going to say.

His stomach tightened a little in transferred worry bordering on fear. Perhaps in Sheppard's universe the colonel had been victorious against his Michael. He did not dwell on the thought, only took a calming breath and continued his retelling.

The battle had taken him down into a small gulley behind the rocks in order to avoid the Wraith gunfire, only to find himself face to face with a small group of Wraith. One of them lashed out, catching his wrist a stunning blow, and the blaster he held went flying to clatter against the rock wall. Undeterred, knowing that Sheppard would soon follow and he would be in greater peril still, Michael engaged the three Wraith warriors hand to hand. Barely a moment later he heard the Human as he dove into the gulley and rolled to his feet. Expecting Sheppard to join the fight against him, Michael tried to angle himself so that his Wraith attackers were between himself and the colonel.

Michael's hands were a blur as he tried to hold back the attacking Wraith; tried to find a way through their defences to rid himself of the irritation they were, like fleas on a dog, so that he could concentrate on relieving himself of the threat that Sheppard was to his place in Teyla's considerations.

"Michael!"

Sheppard called to him and Michael could not help but glance his way. He was in time to see one of the knives the Human wore at his belt flying toward him, not in attack, but so that he would have a weapon to use against the Wraith. He could not help but chuckle inwardly as he suspected Sheppard's motives were anything but altruistic. The Human warrior no doubt wanted to be rid of him, for Teyla's sake and wanted to be the one to see it done. He caught the knife effortlessly, and immediately turned against the Wraith warriors.

In the space of barely a breath he lashed out and one of the Wraith fell away from the fight, clutching at his throat, before toppling backwards, his lifeblood pooling to stain the rocky ground beneath him. As Michael continued his hand-to-hand fight, the splintering of rocks around him began again, signalling that other Wraith had found their way to them once more, and were likely intent on reducing both he and Sheppard to smoking ruins of their former selves.

Sheppard threw himself against the support of one of the rocky mounds and began to return fire.

As Sheppard held forth against the Wraith gunfire, Michael continued his assault against those with whom he fought at close quarters. Spinning to avoid a wild strike by one of the two remaining warriors, he lashed out with his foot, driving the Wraith back against the nearby rock face. Without mercy he followed, knife leading, and drove the tip of the blade deep into the staggering Wraith's chest. With a growl he pulled the knife free and turned on the one remaining opponent that stood between him and the course he must then take, as the dead Wraith toppled at his feet.

Michael leaped toward the remaining Wraith over the fallen. The familiar touch of a reaching, confused consciousness brushed his mind. The plaintive nature of the touch, a cry for help, for solace and comfort, stole his breath and he gasped, softly – though he resisted engaging with the answering touch of his mind.

"Teyla…" he breathed and stumbled as he landed.

Sheppard turned from the gunfire even as Michael recovered from his momentary lapse. Refusing to display weakness before the Human, with an effort denying any further contact from Teyla's mind, he recovered his footing and lashed out toward the final Wraith. Caught off guard, perhaps believing that the clumsy landing had injured Michael, the Wraith was vulnerable. Mercilessly, Michael stepped forward and drove the point of the knife upwards, into the soft, fleshy underside of his chin, and into his brain. The Wraith fell away – dead before he even hit the ground.

"Stay where you are!"

Sheppard's order was cold – angry. Michael disobeyed and turned back to face him and Sheppard was already covering him with his weapon.

Unbelievably angry, Michael spread his arms to either side of him, and in spite of that anger, laughed in Sheppard's face. Sheppard took a step back, as though the action unnerved him.

"Go ahead," Michael invited. "What are you waiting for? The Wraith are withdrawing. They're not interested in us any more. They know whe—"

"You, you sorry son-of-a-bitch," Sheppard growled, "on your knees!"

"What purpose would it serve?" Michael's tone was mocking of Sheppard's desire to take him 'execution style' and taunting him, far from getting on his knees, he began to walk toward Sheppard, his hands still open, arms still spread to the side, he said, "It won't change the fact that you have lost her… pushed her away." Michael tilted his head to the side as he neared Sheppard, "How does it feel, Colonel Sheppard, to know that it's me she calls for in the dead of night; me she reaches for when she's in need, and this time—"

"I know what you're doing," Sheppard snarled, tightening his grip on his weapon, "and it's not going to work!"

"—none of it is my fault." Michael finished none the less. "Listen to yourself. You know I'm right."

"Whatever you did to her; whatever mind control you have on her—"

"If you believe that, then kill me now!" Michael demanded, suddenly, and momentarily, allowing himself to display his anger.

From away in the distance Michael heard the whine of a dart, and acknowledging the potential for danger, he reached out toward the pilot, trying to divert its course. He could not allow the Wraith to take Sheppard down. This would end, here and now, but he would be the one to end it. He wouldn't fail Teyla, not again.

"Tell me what you did to her," Sheppard demanded, and then continued in the next breath, "Where is Teyla's son! Tell me!"

"I don't think so," Michael answered.

As the Dart flew past at low altitude, barely skimming the top of the rocks, firing its weapons as it came, Michael leaped forward, and wrapping his arms around the Human, he threw the both of them aside. As they scuffed against the rocky ground, Sheppard rolled aside, scarcely making it behind the shelter of the rocks, and rolled to bring his weapon to bear against the attacking Dart. In doing so he presented his back to Michael.

Before Sheppard could move again, Michael brought himself to his feet. He charged forward, and used the weight of his body to pin Sheppard to the rock; to send the P90 clattering to the ground.

"Face me!" he hissed, grabbing a handful of Sheppard's hair to pull him away from the rocks now that the threat of Sheppard's weapon, and the Dart, was gone. "Finish this!"

As he released Sheppard to allow the man to do as he had demanded, Michael dropped into a crouch, knife ready as he saw the colonel reach for the second blade that he carried.

"Oh, you got it bad, don't you?" Sheppard taunted, as he shifted his knife from hand to hand. "How far back does it go… Mikey… from the beginning… when you tried to feed on her?"

Michael growled, struggling with the fury that was rising in him. He could not allow Sheppard's words to manipulate him; make him lose control, but with the next riposte, nothing he could do would soothe the blinding wash of it that swept over him.

"Did you think she felt the same?" Sheppard sneered.

Michael's growl became a snarl and with no moment of pause he leaped at Sheppard. The Human leaped at the same moment, the two of them still in the air when they clashed, their blades raking at each other, each drawing blood, but neither truly harming the other.

However, the sting of the gash against his thigh served to pull the wild fury into a cold, hard focus as Michael landed. As his feet touched the ground, he pulled his empty hand in an arc around toward his own shoulder, driving his forearm against Sheppard's throat, forcing the man's head back. Sheppard let out a choked grunt and stumbled backwards, gasping for breath. Beneath his own raised arm, Michael punched forward with the knife tip leading, but Sheppard still held the presence of mind to block the strike with the flat of his empty hand against Michael's wrist.

Undeterred, not expecting the battle to be an easy one, Michael used Sheppard's push against his wrist to add to his momentum as he turned and aimed a savage, spinning kick at the Human's gut.

Sheppard twisted and caught the blow against his hip, and at the same time grasped Michael's booted foot, twisting until he upset his equilibrium, and could heave him to the floor. Michael rolled as he hit the ground, putting a greater distance between himself and Sheppard, before he rolled back to his shoulders and bunched his muscles to flip himself back to his feet.

Already Sheppard was coming at him, punching out with both his empty fist and the hand that held the knife. As fast as ever he'd moved, Michael blocked the empty fist with the flat of his hand, and the knife strike with his leather-clad forearm. He turned the knife in his hand as he blocked, so that its tip raked against the vulnerable underside of Sheppard's arm, and hissing in pain, the man fell back.

Michael gave him no quarter.

He followed, lashing out against the injured wrist not once, but twice, and again until Sheppard's knife flew from his hand. Still Michael advanced, striking again at Sheppard, the blade of his own knife turned away from the man so that the hilt of the knife, gripped in his hand, beat against the man's chest, driving him backward, as the roundhouse punches he aimed at Sheppard's jaw left the man reeling.

Sheppard's increasingly desperate punches landed painfully against Michael's body and his face. He welcomed the pain of them, turned the pain inward as a reminder of all that this Human had done to him; to his Teyla…

Letting out a low and dangerous snarling growl at the thought, he delivered a powerful uppercut to Sheppard's chin, forcing the man's head backward. As Sheppard's knees buckled, he stepped forward, within the struggling man's reach, and caught him to lower him almost gently to the ground. The Human was defeated – his for the taking – but it was not enough for him to be victorious.

As he came to one knee beside his defeated Human rival, he wound his hand into the man's hair and dragged his head around until their eyes met.

"I do not need to think that she feels the same, John Sheppard," he all but whispered. "I feel her even now… reaching for me… searching for me… her desperation for me is…"

As their eyes met, he pushed mercilessly against Sheppard's mind, at the same time opening himself to the desperate, needful longing he felt from Teyla, allowing the man to see it; to feel it for himself.

"Oh God," Sheppard gasped softly as Michael allowed the enormity of it; of everything, to flood into him.

"I do not demand worship—"

-worship- -worship- -worship-

"—only that you die," Michael said, tilting his head, but never once releasing Sheppard from the grasp of his mind.

"Michael… don't…" Sheppard pleaded, but broke off, crying out in pain as Michael pushed the sharp blade under the bottom of the protective vest and deep into his lower chest.

"You always knew it would come, one day, to this," Michael told him, calmly curious at the sensations he could feel flowing from Sheppard in among the sharpness of the man's pain. There was a rush of panic, a deep wash of emotion that filled the man's eyes with tears and drew a painful sob from his wounded chest and speckled his lips with drops of blood.

"Not… like… this…" Sheppard forced the words past his trembling lips. Michael watched his face contorting in pain as he felt the trembling begin. He knew he should end it; end his pain, but he was curious to understand how Sheppard saw it would end. As he watched, he saw Sheppard's eyes beginning to dim and knew that he would never know. The man was trying to say something, and he could not help but lean closer to hear. "Tell her… tell her I…I lo— loved h—"

Michael tilted his head, considering the request. Finally, he said, "As you wish," and for the sake of that sentiment, shifted his hand that held the knife, turning the blade and pushing until the tip of the knife found Sheppard's already straining heart.

"You… mother-fu—"

The insult died on Sheppard's last breath.

**

Sheppard swallowed hard to try and find his voice, to appear unaffected by the retelling.

"Funny," he said, clearing his throat against the knot that had lodged there. "That's not the way I remember that going at all."

"Spare me your obfuscation, Colonel Sheppard," Michael said, once more cold, where his retelling had held a note almost of regret. His voice was harsh, expressionless as he continued. "It changes nothing – the choice remains."

"My answer is still—"

"Perhaps," Michael said, beginning to walk toward him. Sheppard couldn’t help but back away, turning slightly to put his back to the wall as he realised that Michael was heading for the door. Michael's hybrid guards opened the door for their master and he paused, looking back over his shoulder to finish, "if you were to see the universe in which you find yourself, it would allow you to make a more… informed choice. Bring him to my ship. We leave within the hour."

As Michael barked his orders to his hybrids, Sheppard leaned heavily against the solidity of the wall behind him, breathing hard as he ceased to hold back the genuine worry and fear at what he'd heard. He'd been in a world of trouble before, but never like this. Never in the hands of one like Michael – this Michael, who maybe had the edge over his own – with a choice he could not make.

"Crap!" he sighed vehemently as the hybrids came into the room to take him roughly by the arms and pull him from the room. He knew that, short of a miracle or some kind of divine intervention, he and his friends were as good as dead.

**

"How long has he been gone? Where do you think they've taken him?" McKay rattled off the questions at his usual breakneck pace, "He should be back by now. Shouldn't he be back by now?"

"Shut up, McKay," Ronon growled, his irritation not because of the nervous prattle, but because he thought he'd heard something, and with all the jabbering coming from McKay's mouth, he couldn't hear what was going on beyond the hum of the force field.

"No, you shut up," McKay snapped, "it's not like you've not been pacing for… for however long it's been."

Ronon swung around and held up a hand menacingly as he said, "Shhh! I think I hear something."

McKay sidled closer, his worried look quickly replaced by one of panic.

"Michael's people?" he hissed.

"Well, if you ever shut up, I—" Ronon began to answer, but was cut off as the hybrid left as the lone guard was enveloped in the blue crackle of energy from a stunner, and a moment later crumpled to the floor.

Ronon raised an eyebrow and exchanged glances with McKay, and then glanced back to watch as the figure moved cautiously into the space left by the unconscious guard. The figure was not alone, a second newcomer sidled past him, flat against the wall, stunner at the ready until he cleared the corner, and then he stopped and peered into the holding cell – the expression on his familiar face one of astonishment.

Ronon echoed the expression on his own face. To see the man looking so hale and healthy – so normal – was more than a welcome surprise.

"Lorne," he said softly in greeting.

"Ronon," he said and smiled at last. "My God, are you a sight for sore eyes, and McKay too."

Lorne shook his head, his astonishment returning. Ronon smiled, just a little. He could understand how seeing them again whilst knowing that in this universe they were dead, must be as unsettling for Lorne as the knowledge of their death was for him.

"I'm guessing you're not exactly on their side," Ronon suggested, gesturing toward the fallen hybrid.

Lorne grinned, "Here for a little prison break," he confirmed, and glanced back toward his partner. "We'll have you out of here in a second or two."

"What are you doing here? How the hell did you get here?" McKay asked, barely pausing for breath between the two questions.

"It isn't easy, I can tell you," Lorne said, and then stepped back as his companion finally patched in to the controls for the cell, and lowered the force field and began to open the door. "And it's not something we do very often. Too great a risk, but…"

Ronon slipped through the door as soon as there was space, then reached back inside to grab McKay by the shoulder of the jacket as the scientist dithered.

"What about Sheppard," McKay said, tugging his jacket from Ronon's hand. "We can't just leave him."

"We can't risk waiting," Lorne said apologetically. "Like I said, we don't come back often, it's risky and it's difficult."

"We can't leave him behind," Ronon said gruffly.

"You want to get out of the city alive, you're going to have to," Lorne said sharply. "The ship that arrived in the city a while back is getting ready to leave. We have to be ready too, it's the only way."

He stepped away from the cell door as it closed and the force field activated again. He reached into a pack, and handed weapons to Ronon and McKay before nodding to the cell.

"Some things can be explained away as glitches," Lorne said seriously, "especially with the city as damaged as it is, and submerged. Other things though, they monitor more carefully… and traffic in and out of the shield is one of those things. We'll just have to find another way to reach your Sheppard, we can't risk exposing ourselves."

Ronon frowned, and ran everything he knew through his head, trying to make sense of it all, trying to decide his best course of action – whether to insist, or to go along with Lorne and trust the major would have some to ensure that they could reach Sheppard if they left.

"The ship that came in…" McKay said to Lorne, "it was probably Michael."

"If that's true then he'll keep Sheppard with him," Lorne answered.

Ronon frowned, "What do you mean? Why?"

"Look," Lorne snapped, and started to turn to walk away. "We don't have time for a Q and A right now."

Ronon grabbed his shoulder, refusing to let him go. "What aren’t you telling us, Lorne?"

Lorne turned back with a sigh and shifted uncomfortably as though he didn't really want to be the one to give them the news. Finally he said, "Sheppard – our Sheppard – didn't live to see the city fall to Michael's people. He died long before that. Michael was the one that killed him."

"What!" McKay paled. "And you expect us to leave him here with that—"

"Teyla always said she felt regret," Lorne said.

"From Michael?" Ronon spat incredulously.

"Look," Lorne pulled himself from Ronon's grasp. "I didn't risk exposing my cell, coming in here to get you out to have all this crap laid at my door. The truth of it is, Ronon, if Michael takes Sheppard out of here, it'll be a hell of a lot easier for us to pick him up later."

"And what if he tries again?" McKay asked, mild panic still evident in his voice, "to kill Sheppard, I mean."

"He won't." Lorne said. "He wouldn't have bothered coming here if he wanted Sheppard dead."

"You can't know that," Ronon argued.

"Yes… I can." Lorne answered. "This place is one giant prison – Michael's dumping ground – he doesn't need this place, not any more, if he ever did. He just wanted Atlantis out of the way… wanted his revenge for what we did to him. If he wanted Sheppard dead – out of the way – he would have just left him here to rot, like the rest of you."

"Lorne," the man standing at the entrance to the room called in a warning, "we're running out of time. Are these people coming or not?"

Ronon took a deep breath, inwardly reeling from both the vehement bitterness in Lorne's voice, the hard edge he displayed, when Ronon was used to a mild-mannered, almost over-gentle man, and the knowledge itself.

"All right," he said at last, "I trust you."

"Ronon!" McKay protested.

"No, McKay," Ronon rounded on the scientist, "this isn't our universe – things here won't play by our rules. He knows what he's talking about."

"Ronon's right," Lorne said. "We have to go."

**

Sheppard couldn't help but let out a quiet exhaled breath when he first set eyes on Michael's ship through the front screen of the Jumper.

The ship, the belly of which they were fast approaching, was horribly reminiscent of the Mother Hive he knew, that had been uncovered on M3X-667. He couldn't help but wonder if this Michael had somehow captured that ship in his own universe; where the differences had begun that had lead to the terrible truth of his, and McKay and Ronon's demise - or presumed demise, he thought, and looked once more at Michael's profile. The Wraith-Human hybrid did not appear to notice Sheppard's eyes on his as he concentrated on safely piloting the Jumper into the Dart Bay of the Hive ship. The last Sheppard remembered was that Michael had been operating out of Wraith cruisers, not a fully-fledged Hive ship.

Another disturbing thought crossed his mind. His Michael - he snorted slightly at the phrasing of the thought - had disappeared off radar some time ago. He couldn't help but worry that he was somehow flying through the galaxy in such a Hive, unrecognised... unopposed.

"I can only assume from your expression, Colonel Sheppard, that there are no such ships in your reality," Michael said as he set the Jumper down in the Bay and rose from the pilot's seat.

"No, no... I know of one," Sheppard almost sang the words and then couldn't resist taking a crack at Michael as he added, "Michael doesn't control it though. He's strictly a 'cruisers only' kind of guy."

Michael chuckled slightly. "If you are attempting to disquiet my composure, Colonel, it will take much more than that."

Sheppard felt himself taken quite roughly by the arms and pulled to his feet.

With a sarcastic smile Michael's way, he said, "You gotta give a man credit for trying."

Michael's only answer was to stride, leading Sheppard, Keller and the hybrids into the vastly cavernous Dart Bay. Even the echo of his footsteps was lost in the greatness of the open space through which they moved. Coming toward them from the corridor that let further into the ship were others of Michael's lieutenants. One of them carried a Wraith tablet in his hands. From their manner, Sheppard could only assume this was a normal occurrence whenever Michael returned to his ship. Those underlings he had left behind, working on God-only-knew-what, reporting to their commander.

"Take us out of orbit," Michael instructed without breaking step. He took the computer tablet into his hand and began to study its contents. "Once we're clear of the planet, go into hyperspace. You have the coordinates."

One of the hybrids fell into step at his side, while the other scurried away, Sheppard presumed, to the bridge to carry out Michael's orders. The hybrid waited while Michael finished his study of the data presented to him.

"Excellent," Michael said and nodded as he handed back the Wraith tablet. "See to it that the commander is adequately rewarded. Then dispatch our secondary unit and neutralise the area completely, no prisoners, no quarter to any Wraith you find still there."

"The Queen?" the hybrid questioned, and Sheppard did not miss the look of uncertainty that crossed his face.

"I have given you your orders," Michael snapped, "why do you question me?"

"Forgive me, I—"

"Take our guests to their accommodation, and then return to me. I will be in my laboratory."

Michael stopped walking then, and turned to face Sheppard. He had a placid expression on his face and was obviously trying to smile. Sheppard thought he looked constipated.

"There is no need for you to suffer discomfort as we travel," he said. "I'm certain that you'll find the facilities adequate to your needs."

"Well," Sheppard replied sarcastically, "that's mighty neighbourly of you."

Either ignoring the sarcasm or missing it completely, Michael nodded and then turned and swept away down the corridor. The hybrid lieutenant tugged on Sheppard's arm, as his hybrid guards jabbed him in the small of his back to encourage him to move.

As they led him, somewhat forcefully along the twisting blue veined corridors of the Hive ship, Sheppard looked one way and then another, trying to count junctions; recognise the patterns of veining in the walls, anything that would help him to find his way back to the Dart Bay if he had the opportunity for freedom. It was a long shot and he knew it – and even if he did get back to the Bay and take the Jumper there was no way he could leave the ship while they travelled in hyperspace, though he was sure that if it came to a choice between joining Michael in his insane campaign to conquer the galaxy and certain death in the oblivion of subspace, he knew which option he'd prefer.

**

From the outside its appearance was nothing short of primitive. The cloaked Jumper that skimmed the tops of the trees – far too closely for McKay's stuttering heart – suddenly dipped into a natural clearing, drawing a startled yelp from the scientist.

"Hang on, Doc," Lorne said from the co-pilot's seat. "It gets pretty rough from here."

"From here?" McKay echoed and then yelped again as the pilot of the Jumper turned the small craft on its side and slipped them through a small fissure in the side of the mountain like thread through the eye of a needle.

The narrow fissure widened after a short while into a rough sided, irregular shaped cavern, and as he peered through the front screen of the Jumper, its running lights illuminating the darkness around them, McKay realised they were inside some kind of lava tube.

"Huh," he said in surprise, "Volcani—I take it these mountains are inactive."

"Relax," Lorne told him, chuckling. "Zelenka and the team from Geophysics both agree that it will be decades before these babies are ready to blow again."

"Comforting," McKay said, not meaning it at all.

"Look, it was the only way to keep ourselves shielded from the city's sensors," Lorne said.

"What, to hide in caves like some kind of… primitive indigenous culture?" McKay snapped as they began to descend through the lava tube.

"It might not look much just yet… but you wait," Lorne told him. "What we didn't manage to bring with us from Atlantis, we've managed to salvage, or to trade for with other worlds sympathetic to the resistance."

"Resistance?" Ronon questioned from the rear compartment.

Lorne nodded, "Pockets of Humans scattered through the galaxy that haven't fallen to the Wraith or to Michael. They're all around, and for the most part operate independently. Most of them though—" he broke off with a shrug.

McKay frowned, "What?" He didn't miss the slightly strange tone in the major's voice.

"Well," Lorne said, "Most of them are less than effective – uncoordinated, all we can really do is survive."

The Jumper jolted slightly as it touched down, and as soon as it had Lorne got up from the seat and headed for the rear compartment, where the door was slowly lowering.

"Rodney McKay, as I live and breathe…"

The rich, rolling tones of the Scottish accent rolled over McKay like a balm. He couldn't help but smile. Beckett was the last person he had expected to see, his own still safely locked away in stasis until they could find some way to counter his dependency on Michael's serum.

As McKay rose, he found himself enfolded in the warmth of a hug that he remembered so poignantly it was almost painful.

"Carson," he said in greeting and his voice had a catch in it as he pulled away from the hug and immediately took the man's hand and began to pump wildly in a vigorous handshake.

"When we heard," Beckett said, "there was no way we weren't gonnae come in there and get you out."

McKay saw Ronon frown and then Lorne said, "We routinely monitor communications out of the city. When they sent the message to their comm. network…" he shrugged again.

"We intercepted it," a new speaker said coldly and McKay turned to face the figure at the bottom of the Jumper's ramp. The dark haired Athosian stood with his arms folded, looking up at them with a serious expression on his face. "Anything to hamper Michael's operation – that is our reason, not out of any kind of loyalty to any of you. Do not make that mistake."

McKay blinked, and looked between Beckett and Lorne, before looking back to the speaker.

"You remember Kanaan, right?" Carson said, sounding profoundly embarrassed.

"Kanaan," McKay nodded, "yes, of course."

He thought better of mentioning the fact that in their universe, Kanaan, still a hybrid, had died at the hands of the Wraith – according to Teyla – because of his involvement with Michael.

"Well," Ronon growled, beginning to move down the ramp toward the Athosian. "It's nice to be appreciated."

**

It was only a matter of time, Keller knew, before he would want to speak with her of the reason for his bringing her. It didn't surprise her, therefore, when a hybrid came to the quarters to which she had been shown, to summon her to the laboratory.

Michael barely looked up as she was abandoned inside the door. He did not need to in order to keep her cowed and obedient. Merely being in his presence was enough to suffocate her into submission.

"It is an unwise course you take, Doctor." Michael's voice, measured and clipped, finally broke the silence. She knew better than to answer until invited. He looked up at her then, and the smouldering anger she saw in his eyes made her back up a step. "To believe you know my mind; my intentions for Sheppard and the others…"

He began to advance on her, almost stalking her as she continued to try and keep a distance between them – a futile endeavour as her knees felt like water that would no more support her than would her failing courage.

"…to believe that you can manipulate Nethaiye into turning against me…"

In the panic at his belief in her disloyalty, she blurted out, "I wouldn't—"

It was only partly the truth, and she knew even as the crushing presence of his mind in hers tightened and cut off her protest.

"Oh, you would, Doctor Keller," he rumbled at her. Far from keeping away from Michael, she collided with his workbench, and having no place left to go, cringed visibly as he leaned down until he was uncomfortably close – right inside her personal, intimate space, truly a threatening presence. She couldn't help but whimper. He continued bitterly, "If you thought for one second you could get away with it, you would do anything to undermine my influence."

"I, I just—" she stammered.

At her attempt to answer, Michael straightened and folded his arms, tilting his head as though inviting her to finish. The sardonic expression on his face irked and filled her with a sudden rush of brave anger.

"You want to talk about influences," she snapped, dread growing in her belly but unable to stop the words from spilling from her mouth, "let's think about who keeps him on a pretty even keel for the most part! If it weren't for me—"

Michael snarled, "If it weren't for you I wouldn't have to keep reminding him of where his loyalties lie!"

The adrenaline of her anger still holding the fear at bay and fuelling her folly, Jennifer almost laughed and said, "Loyalties? That's rich, coming from you. Dumping him in Atlantis like some… failed experiment to—"

It was a step too far.

Faster even than the firing of her own, panicked synapses, Michael grabbed a handful of her hair, pulling her head back painfully, and bracing her against his forearm. At the same time he picked up an instrument from the bench beside them. It was a fast delivery hypodermic 'gun' and was loaded with a serum she recognised only too well. As he pressed the barrel of it painfully against the side of her neck, the panic won over the anger and she started, futilely, to struggle against him, pushing at him, almost clawing at his arm to try and free herself.

"You may not be a suitable candidate for hybridisation, woman," he warned, his voice low – deadly, "but there are other ways to ensure—"

"Michael, don't!" she begged, "Please… I'm sorry, I—"

"What is it?" Michael cut across her pitiful pleading as one of the hybrids appeared in the doorway.

"We have achieved a stable orbit around the planet and have taken the prisoner to the bridge as you instructed." the hybrid reported.

"Has the scout ship been launched?" Michael asked, without releasing her from his painful grasp.

"As per your orders," the hybrid confirmed.

"Very well," he said, and finally let go of her. "I will join you directly."

Jennifer sidled out from between Michael and the bench, rubbing her neck where it ached from being held at such an angle. She was trembling so hard her teeth chattered, and she couldn't help but watch as Michael, more gently than he had snatched it up, set down the hypo.

"Learn your place," he snapped at her as he began to move toward the door. "I will not warn you again. Come with me."

She took a shuddering breath, and forced her unsteady legs to carry her in his wake. She did not dare to disobey.

**

Sheppard looked around the bridge as they brought him there. It was not quite the typical bridge experience – okay, it was nothing like typical in his experience, he admitted to himself – but he'd been on board Wraith bridges before, albeit not manned by hybrids; not manned by anything much at all, really. He sighed, and was finally forced to admit that he was way out of his comfort zone… and he knew it was about to get worse.

"Colonel Sheppard," Michael said as he stepped onto the bridge. "I trust your quarters were adequate to the needs of your comfort?"

"Look, Michael," Sheppard said, not in the mood for pleasantries. "What do you want?"

"It is my intention to show you that your… first impressions, your… existing prejudices are in error," Michael answered.

"Error?" Sheppard asked incredulously, not able to believe what he was hearing. "Look around you. You command a ship, stolen from your former people, crewed by people you changed against their will to some… hybrid creatures with no wi—"

"I did nothing that you had not already forced upon me!" Michael raised his voice, cutting him off.

"That excuse, Michael, is getting old and tired." He gestured to the hybrids. "These people… who were they? Athosians – Teyla's people? You think she's going to thank you f—"

"What is your point, Colonel?" Michael cut him off again, and Sheppard thought he'd caught a nerve.

"My point is that whatever you're trying to show me, whatever you think is going to persuade me that your cause is just, isn't going to work. These people aren't with you willingly, and even if they were, there's nothing right about what you're trying to do here. The genocide of two entire species in favour of your own twisted existence, your creations, is—"

"Just…" Michael raised his voice again, his eyes flashing, before taking a breath, and letting it out in a more controlled manner. "Wait until you have seen, Colonel Sheppard. There are great… benefits to the stability I have brought to the galaxy."

He nodded to one of the hybrids who activated the viewing screen before Sheppard could reply with the words that sat on the tip of his tongue.

"This world, I believe you call it M5G-443, was all but wiped out by the Wraith in an attempt to prevent them from making technological advances that might have… jeopardised Wraith supremacy over the Humans here," Michael explained, as the screen resolved itself into the image of a thriving pre-industrial town. The inhabitants walking the streets seemed to be going peacefully about their business, and did not seem to be in the least way deprived or struggling to make a living for themselves. He had to admit, grudgingly, that the normality of the place was, perhaps, a somewhat reasonable argument for Michael's assertion of the value of galactic stability. "As you can see, they are happy, they lack for little, and what few things they do need, my people and I try to provide."

"It changes nothing," Sheppard said. "They stepped out of line you'd… wipe 'em out the same as the Wraith. What did you do to them? What did you give them? The Hoffan protein…? Something even more insidious?"

Behind Michael, Sheppard saw Keller shake her head, looking almost panic stricken. He frowned, and glanced back at Michael to see his expression darken.

"You dare to talk about insidious?" Michael was agitated again, angry. His eyes flashed at Sheppard. "Do you not consider your own behaviour to be—?"

"Bottom line, Michael," Sheppard interrupted, "I'm not buying into your little… vision of utopia. It doesn't change the fact that these people have no freedom; they're just as oppressed under you as they would be under the Wraith. More so… and I, for one, don't plan on joining them."

Michael took an angry breath, and then nodded. "So be it, Colonel Sheppard. You have, at least, decided your own fate."

"I don't believe that for one second," Sheppard spat back. "I know you too well."

"You do not know me at all," Michael growled. "Perhaps, since I cannot make you see sense – another can."

He barely turned his head to one of the hybrids and said, "Take the Colonel to see his former commander." He fixed Sheppard with an intense stare and added, "You have until we reach my laboratory facility on M4G-584 to change your mind."

Sheppard wasn't given the chance to tell him that it wasn't going to happen. Two of Michael's hybrids grabbed him by the arms and dragged him from the bridge. It wouldn't have mattered anyway. Michael had already dismissed him, and had turned his attention to taking control of the ship.

**

As he tried to keep his temper, as Michael's hybrids pushed and prodded him along the twisting corridors, past featureless blue veined junctions, Sheppard wished he could have better understood Keller's warning.

Obvious enough that he shouldn't antagonise Michael, but he was sure that there was something, something that she was trying to tell him he shouldn't say, and if he shouldn't say it then naturally he wanted to know what it was.

He tried to recall his exact words, and couldn't bring to mind anything he had been saying for all of the pushes and harsh blows to the middle of his back.

One of the hybrids moved ahead of him to activate a doorway on the left hand side of the hallway. Sheppard turned to the others and with a threatening look on his face told them, "The next one of you to so much as touch me with your blaster, I swear I'll—"

"Colonel Sheppard…"

He stopped cold and, painfully slowly, turned to face the man who, barely hours ago by his own reckoning, had argued against any of them leaving Atlantis, and had only agreed to McKay's foolhardy mission to investigate M3F-227 and the three Gates there because of Sheppard's own idiotic support for the scientist.

"Woolsey," he almost snarled the man's name as the anger he'd been holding back coalesced and found direction in the man that now stood before him – hale and whole, unguarded, and definitely not hybridised. A bitter picture began to form in his mind.

As if he anticipated the understanding Sheppard was coming to, Woolsey held up a placatory hand.

"This isn't what you think," he said.

Sheppard's mind, as well as his heart, was racing as he stepped inside the door and started toward the man.

"Oh, this is exactly what I'm thinking it is," he advanced on Woolsey, raising his hands, meaning to grab the man by the lapels of the Atlantis jacket he still wore, "you sorry son-of-a-bitch!"

"Colonel Sheppard," Woolsey wrapped his fingers around Sheppard's wrists as he all but lifted him off the floor and carried him back toward the bulkhead, "John… wait! Wait, you don't understand."

"I understand you sold out to save your own misera—"

"It wasn't like that," Woolsey said, "and you'd do well to listen to me; to try and understand before you end up getting yourself killed… or worse."

"Fine!" Sheppard spat, and let go of Woolsey so suddenly that the man stumbled and almost fell. Sheppard paced away. "Go on, explain it to me."

"I was given… a choi—"

"And in a true, manly fashion your decided that serving Michael wou—"

"—a choice between my cooperation and the destruction of Atlantis and everyone on it: McKay, Ronon, Lorne… Michael had what he wanted. There was no difference to make other than to save the lives of the people under my command." Woolsey pressed ahead, raising his voice at first.

"How very noble of you," Sheppard answered, but in truth, at Woolsey's words, his righteous indignation was beginning to fade.

"I didn't want to see their lives needlessly wasted," Woolsey said.

"Yeah, well, newsflash, Mister Woolsey," Sheppard said bitterly, "they died all the same."

"Something I very much regret, but was not of my doing," Woolsey said with a sigh.

Sheppard sighed too, still angry, still bitter, still suffering the effects of the myriad emotions flying around inside of him. Finally, he said, "He didn't… you know…" he gestured to the man's unblemished, unchanged face and pulled a sour expression of his own.

"It was never an option," Woolsey told him. "I made it a condition of my surrender. You seem to have a very bleak opinion of Michael. He's not unreasonable."

"Michael's insane!" Sheppard spat.

"If you believe that, you'll make the same mistake your counterpart in this universe made," Woolsey warned softly. "He's reasoning, methodical… he has a very clear plan…"

"And is a complete and total freaking psychopath," Sheppard cried, "and that you can't see that is almost as disturbing!"

"John—"

"Don't 'John' me," Sheppard ran a hand through his hair as he regarded Woolsey, almost desperate in his need for the former base commander to understand him. "I mean… Atlantis? What the hell happened? Did I really fail so entirely in leaving people behind that were capable of defending the city? Was—?"

"He came for Teyla," Woolsey said softly, cutting Sheppard's rising tone to silence in an instant.

"Wha— How?" Sheppard asked, unable to decide which of the questions to ask.

"Tricked us into letting him and some of his army through the Gate with a stolen IDC and a modified Jumper we'd thought lost to Wraith gunfire months before," Woolsey said. "Before any of us knew what had happened he'd taken over Atlantis – locked us out of all the city's major systems; demanded she go to him or he was going to activate the self-destruct…"

"Let me guess," Sheppard said, knowing that Teyla would have found a way to turn even that kind of disadvantage around and find the positive.

"Teyla being Teyla," Woolsey said, shaking his head slightly, "She wasn't about to let anyone else suffer because of what Michael wanted from her, and besides, she wanted her son."

"She went to him?" Sheppard asked.

"She agreed to go with him, yes," Woolsey confirmed, "and in return he would leave Atlantis and all her people, and he would reunite her with her son."

"So… I'm guessing she…" Sheppard couldn't yet see how such an event could have led to Michael capturing the city, "…changed her mind – somehow pissed him off?"

"Kanaan, along with Doctor Mc—"

"Kanaan?" Sheppard blinked. "Teyla's Kanaan?"

Woolsey nodded, and then said, "He and Doctor McKay figured out a way to disable Michael's control over Atlantis, only…"

He trailed off with a sigh, and Sheppard frowned as he prompted, "Only?"

"It turned out to be a very wrong thing to do…"

**

Hatred flared strong and sharp, cutting a swath through his patience that let Kanaan's recklessness surface as he saw Michael at last. His former captor stood, overseeing the work of two of his hybrids in the Control Room. Just a little further, to the head of the steps and they would have him.

Ronon caught his arm, holding him back and shook his head sharply, pushing him back, behind the two marines that accompanied them. He understood the message. Teyla would never forgive Ronon if she thought he was in any way responsible for anything happening to him. Kanaan was not so sure.

The movement on the stairs cost them the advantage of surprise, and Michael ducked behind the console even as Ronon pulled the trigger on his gun, taking down one of the hybrids, before ducking as they returned fire. The marine, who stood where Ronon had, a moment before, been standing, crumpled to the ground. Kanaan bent to pick up his fallen weapon.

"Find Teyla!" Ronon yelled back to him, even as the Satedan had to roll aside to avoid the shot aimed toward him by the second hybrid. He didn't have time to say more, as Michael leaped toward Ronon.

Kanaan hesitated.

"Go!" the Satedan yelled, but if Ronon kept Michael busy, Kanaan might have a clear shot at him and it would be over. He started to raise his weapon.

Ronon blocked the punch Michael aimed at his face and then swung a roundhouse that connected with the Wraith-Human hybrid, but it was not enough to stop him from ducking beneath the second roundhouse, coming from the left. Michael came up, already aiming a blow toward Ronon's middle. Ronon caught his hand and instead began a rapid back and forth exchange of blow against blow.

The movement became confusing and Kanaan, who tried to find an aim, growled in frustration. Each time he thought he had Michael in his sights the momentum of the fight would carry Ronon into his line of fire. He could not risk hitting the man.

"I should have fired anyway," Kanaan told them, his voice a low rumble in the silence, and Ronon and McKay exchanged glances. "I know what you're thinking, but even if I'd hit Ronon, I still would have had time to take Michael down, I know I would."

His voice was bitter, not at all regretful, and still the hatred loomed, a dark shadow over the Athosian man that Ronon knew, from Teyla's description of him, to be a gentle and considered man. The difference bothered him.

"So what happened?" McKay asked, breaking the silence that had fallen. "Where was Teyla?"

The Satedan and the former Wraith fought bitterly, neither giving ground, neither showing mercy, as the fight grew more and more ugly. Ronon caught hold of Michael's arm and swung him toward a bank of control panels. The shadows were briefly illuminated by the shower of sparks that flared as the Wraith-Human hybrid shorted the circuits.

Ronon roared, as if in triumph and for a moment Kanaan allowed himself to believe that it was over, but even stunned, Michael fought back, landing a blow before being blocked, and then lifted by the Satedan, who slammed him once more into the control panels, before he tossed him aside.

As Michael found his feet again, to continue the fight against the relentless Satedan, a flicker in the doorway drew Kanaan's attention away from the struggling bodies. Teyla stood there, a horrified expression on her face.

"Teyla, run!"

Ronon had seen her too, and urged her to escape before he resumed his attack on Michael, but she shook her head and stretched out her hand toward them.

"Ronon, don't!" she cried, "Stop!"

Ronon did not stop, and Kanaan's anger flared again, as he believed his suspicions well founded. Abandoning the attempt to intervene in the fight between Michael and Ronon, he started toward Teyla, intercepting her as she began to cross the room toward the others and grabbed her by the arm.

"Kanaan, let me go," she demanded hotly.

"No!" Michael yelled in anger, and redoubled his efforts against the Satedan, jarring the man's elbow backward on itself and causing a loud crack to echo across the Control Room, even above the sounds of their growling. "Let her go!"

Kanaan took one look behind him at the two still fighting, before he grabbed a firmer hold of Teyla's elbow, and all but dragged her away.

**

"When I caught up to the two of them," Woolsey said, "Kanaan and Teyla were arguing, almost fighting really. Neither of us listened to her, and we were the greater fools for it."

"Boy, do I ever know that story," Sheppard said softly.

"Kanaan, you must listen to me," she said urgently as she pulled herself free of his grasp. "Mister Woolsey, please… we are all in great danger—"

"Of course we are," Woolsey agreed, "Michael almost took over the city and—"

"No," she insisted, "you do not understand. He… it isn't—"

"We must confine her," Kanaan interrupted. "Get back to the Control Room. Ronon will need our help."

"Confine her?" Woolsey asked, confused.

"Trust me, Mister Woolsey," Kanaan said, "I know what I saw, and I know what I heard; what I felt."

"Oh, Kanaan," Teyla said softly, shaking her head, "Even you do not understand."

"I understand that you are not the woman I—"

The discordant, regular beat of the Atlantis warning signal cut him off, and he made another grab for Teyla's arm. This time Woolsey took the other.

"You must let me—" she started, but Michael's voice over the intercom cut across her desperation.

"Kanaan!" he snapped. "I know you can hear me. That alarm – if you're not aware – is Atlantis' self-destruct device. I've armed it; set it for ten minutes. That is the amount of time you have to consider the offer I'm about to make you. If you will surrender Teyla to me, I'll disarm the device, sparing the lives of everyone on this base. If not, you, and everyone else…will die."

Teyla pulled at the arm he held as Woolsey looked at her in horror. "You must let me go to him," she said.

"No!" Kanaan tightened his grip, even as Woolsey let go.

"It is the only way, Kanaan, and you know it," she pleaded with him. "This is not…M—"

"Shut up!" Kanaan yelled, "I can't think with you talking at me like this; that sound… his mind…"

"Kanaan, listen," she implored him. "Listen to that mind if you will not listen to me."

"But of course, he didn't," Woolsey said. "And neither did Colonel Hollick when he arrived just a moment later. In fact he listened to Kanaan in the belief that some… unspoken command had passed between Teyla and Michael in the Control Room; that she was somehow working with Michael."

"Heard that one before too," Sheppard said darkly. "So what happened?"

"McKay and Kanaan, as I said," Woolsey answered, "While Hollick kept a watch over Teyla, the two of them figured out a way to use one of the Puddle Jumpers in the underwater bay to dial the Gate. Zelenka managed to work around some of Michael's lock-out codes and lowered the shield…"

"…and the rush of the event horizon forming took out the Jumper, like we saw in the Gate Room," Sheppard said, putting things together in his mind.

"Once the Jumper was destroyed, Michael's power failed and the marines were able to go in to… retake the Gate Room, the Control Room," Woolsey said. "Only problem was," Woolsey said, glancing toward the door. "It wasn't Michael."

Sheppard frowned.

"What do you mean, it wasn't Michael?" he asked, "He and Kanaan fought on top of the central tower. Nethaiye said, he told us Teyla finally threw the bastard down, he—"

"That was what Teyla had been trying to warn us," Woolsey said. "It wasn't Michael, and in the end we forced her hand to prove it to us, and that single action brought about the destruction of Atlantis as we knew it."

"How?"

"The destruction of his Jumper, and when Teyla threw the other from the tower, each event triggered actions in Michael's plan." Woolsey told him. "He'd already foreseen it would happen, set contingencies in place against our resistance. Michael had two Hive ships just outside of sensor range. When he received the signal, knew of the other's death, he simply sent them in against us. He brought them out of hyperspace practically in orbit, and launched the darts immediately. We didn't even have the chance to clean up."

"You keep saying 'other.' The 'other,' Woolsey," Sheppard said with a frown. "What do you mean?"

"You didn't think I would simply… walk into a place as dangerous for me as Atlantis without a failsafe, Colonel Sheppard?" Michael asked from the doorway. "I thought you said you did not take me for a fool."

"Yeah, well," Sheppard answered as he turned to face the former Wraith. "Sometimes even the most intelligent make the most stupid mistakes."

"This was not a mistake I intended to make," Michael answered with deadly calm, "and perhaps now that you understand my resolve, my… determination to see my plans to fruition, you too will avoid a costly mistake."

Sheppard shook his head.

"Answer's still no, Mikey." he said softly.

"Pity," Michael said the single word as though it were an expression of disgust. "It would have been so much easier had you agreed."

"For you?" Sheppard asked, "Well then, I'm happy not to oblige."

"No, Colonel Sheppard," Michael corrected him, "easier for you."

"So tell me, Michael," Michael tilted his head as Sheppard looked up at him again. "How did you do it?"

He had a pretty good idea of the words that were about to come from Michael's mouth, but wanted the confirmation just the same. Michael turned and began to walk away, speaking quietly as he went, as the hybrids came into the room to once more take Sheppard by the arms.

"I sent a clone."

**

That cold, heavy feeling that had settled in his belly since he arrived through the Stargate only increased as Michael's transport ship set down on the surface of the planet. Familiar rocky plains with sparse vegetation stretched ahead of him as he stepped out of the ship, and was propelled forward by the less than gentle nudge from the hybrid behind him.

He couldn't help but remember the last time he'd been here – or there, he reminded himself – nor could he forget Michael's retelling of what had happened on this planet in this universe, albeit some distance from the place that Michael had landed the ship.

He tried to catch Keller's eye as they walked, but she kept her face downturned, followed almost exactly in Michael's footsteps and refused to be drawn to look at him. If he wanted to know what was going on, he was going to have to ask.

"So," he started, almost conversationally, "more guided tours? Visits with some other poster child for Campaign Michael?"

"You already know why we are here, Colonel," Michael answered after a moment's silence in which Sheppard suspected he was communicating with his hybrids, because a moment later two of them took him roughly by the arms, and the sound of blasters being drawn from holsters told him the hybrids behind him had pointed their weapons at his back. "You have chosen your fate."

"Look," he said, testing the strength of the grips on his arms. There was little chance he would escape them. "Michael, you don't need to do this. This doesn't need to be how it is."

"I do not intend to engage in a circular argument with you, Colonel Sheppard," Michael told him coldly. "We will soon reach my laboratory, and there, if you do not agree to cooperate willingly, I will take steps to ensure your cooperation."

Michael paused and glanced behind him to look first at Sheppard, and then at Keller, who almost whimpered as his eyes fell on her.

"You need not worry," Michael continued as he turned back to continue walking. "Doctor Keller will ensure that there are no lasting ill effects once the process begins."

The heavy feeling became a sickening one, as Sheppard began to doubt the courage of his conviction that Michael was bluffing; that he had brought him here simply to frighten him into submission – otherwise, why trouble himself to come all the way to the laboratory here, when he could simply have used the facilities on Atlantis, or on his ship.

"Why would I worry about something that's not going to happen anyway?" Sheppard said, trying to sound confident in the face of his doubts.

"You underestimate me, Colonel," Michael said, and swept ahead of the small landing party into the entrance of a cave complex that Sheppard recognised, or at least partly recognised. When he'd seen the place in his own reality it had not been until after Michael had destroyed the laboratory.

With worry and fear mounting, he began to struggle as the hybrids tried to bring him inside.

**

"Nothing that you've said convinces me that there's any reason we shouldn't go back in there; take back the city," Ronon said gruffly when Kanaan finally finished speaking. The Satedan leaned back on his chair, frowning at the others around the table.

"It isn't as easy as it sounds," Lorne said, coming to join them, setting his own meagre meal down in front of him.

"You seemed to do it easy enough to get us out," Ronon countered.

Lorne gave him an apologetic look. "Timing is everything, Ronon," he said.

"Meaning?" the big Satedan was in no mood for riddles. He took offense, quite deeply, to the thought of Michael's people in Atlantis, to much of what he'd learned in the past few hours. He glanced at McKay, to see if the scientist felt the same, but couldn't read past the frightened look on the other man's face.

"Meaning we can only get in undetected if we go in masked by one of their own Jumpers – one that's expected." Lorne said.

"Why should we be undetected?" Ronon asked, raising his voice just a little. "You have the people here, the resources—"

"And we have survived precisely because we have not engaged in recklessness," Kanaan said harshly.

"Who are you calling reckless?" Ronon said. He came swiftly to his feet and took a step closer to where Kanaan was sitting on top of a barrel. The Athosian also got to his feet, and though dwarfed by Ronon squared up to him.

"Since you got here you have proposed nothing but violent, ill-thought-out reprisals against the hybrids in control of the city, and for what?" Kanaan snapped.

"They shouldn't be there," he said, becoming more and more irritated with Kanaan every time the Athosian opened his mouth.

"Why not?" Kanaan said, "Why worry about it. Atlantis is finished, it—"

"Only because you let it b—"

"How dare you. How dare you come in here with accusations and—"

"It's the truth, you—"

"Guys!" Lorne called, his voice raised. He whistled shrilly and repeated, "Guys, this isn’t helping."

Ronon fell silent, as did Kanaan, though neither of them backed down. Ronon could accept so much for Teyla's sake, but if Kanaan thought that he could justify hiding in the bowels of the earth while Michael's people walked freely in Atlantis then—

"Ronon," Lorne said, and when Ronon's anger settled enough for him to see once more, he turned to Lorne who had come to his side. Lorne pressed a hand against his arm, trying to move him away from Kanaan, "please, just listen to me for a second."

"He does not change," Kanaan muttered petulantly.

"I'm listening," Ronon grumbled, though he did not take his eyes off the Athosian, nor did his ire toward him cool. He saw the usually vociferous McKay still shocked into silence by what he'd so far heard.

"I think you're going to have to accept that there are things about this reality that might not match with yours," Lorne said. The regret in his voice finally drew Ronon's attention away from Kanaan. "It isn't that we want Michael's people walking around freely on Atlantis, but honestly, there's very little we can do about it. You knew that – recognised that even before any of us."

Ronon sighed, not ready to admit defeat – unwilling to leave the city to its fate. There had to be a way.

"How did I?" he asked gruffly, "What do you mean?"

"It wasn't long after Michael took over the city… he was chipping away at our resolve. One by one each of us was falling either to hybridisation, like Hollick, or just—"

"Woolsey rolled over and played dead. Offered himself up like some kind of prize cow to market!" Kanaan spat, then rounded on Lorne and said, "If you intend to tell them, Lorne, then at least tell them the truth."

Lorne ignored the Athosian's ire, and, turning a look of appeal McKay's way, spread his hands and said, "We had little choice."

"Ronon," McKay said softly, "please, let's hear what the man has to say."

Reluctantly, Ronon lowered himself into his chair once more and rumbled a brief, "Go on," in Lorne's direction.

"There was a core group of us," Lorne took his seat again, picking at his food as he spoke and Ronon felt a pang of guilt that it was probably cold by now. "We managed to hold out for several months, biding our time, learning what we could about the operation of Michael's forces in the city. Our chance finally came when something happened on one of his bases that he couldn't leave to others, he had to go, and left Nethaiye in charge. The kid was green. It was easy to manipulate the situation to the point where we managed to free ourselves from the lockdown Michael had us under."

"Wouldn't I have liked to be a fly on the wall when that conversation took place," McKay quipped, though entirely without humour. "Oh, by the way, Daddy, while you were away…"

Lorne smiled slightly. "Even though they'd been in the city for months, we still knew it better than they did… scattered like rats initially, but regrouped in one of the abandoned sections after a while…"

"Why are we even talking about this?" Ronon rounded on the small group of survivors as they argued about the best way to rid the city of the hybrids in Michael's absence. "There's no way we can do that. The only option we have is fight our way up to the Gate Room, dial the Gate and get the hell out of here."

"Abandon the city?" Lorne said and rounded on Ronon hotly, "After everything we've been through—"

"Look around you, Evan," Ronon snapped, "We're practically unarmed, hiding in shadows, squabbling among ourselves. We have no idea how many of them there are. Away from Atlantis we can regroup, recruit, gather our strength and when we're ready and actually stand a chance then we can come back and retake Atlantis."

"Ronon's right," McKay said, looking up from the tablet he'd managed to procure somewhere along the way. "From down here there's only so much we can do – yeah, maybe we can survive, but…for how long?"

"We can't leave Teyla," Kanaan turned from where he was staring at the wall. "She wouldn't leave us… and what about the doctor?"

"Keller made her choice," Ronon growled… and stalked away as the arguments began again.

"We didn't listen to you, Ronon," Lorne said. "We were holding out the vain hope that we could somehow, with McKay's technological command of the city, and our knowledge in favour of theirs, win out over their superior forces, greater numbers, and regain control of Atlantis."

"So what happened?" Ronon asked quietly, subdued by the recount. "What changed your mind?"

"We managed a week," Lorne said, "or thereabouts. Making forays into the main city, grabbing what we could in the way of arms and supplies… food. McKay managed to patch into the city's computers and keep them from tracing his position, but it soon became clear that we weren't even making a dent with all the things we were doing. Then Michael came back… and he wasn't happy…"

"What do you mean, escaped?" Kanaan advanced on McKay as the scientist came to deliver the news. McKay backed up, but Kanaan kept on coming, until Ronon stepped between the two of them.

"McKay?" Lorne asked, in more considered tones.

"Well," McKay stammered, looking at the information he'd downloaded from the city's computers. "Just that. He took her with him when he went to deal with the uprising on M7T-994 and, while he was busy, she…escaped."

"So Teyla's gone?" Ronon asked for clarification.

"From the city, yeah," McKay told him.

"Well, now it's even more obvious that we don't stand a chance in staying here," Ronon reiterated the point he'd made the previous week. "Teyla's out there, probably organising a resistance as we speak. We have to get to her. Find out where she is and join her."

"And what if she comes back?" Kanaan countered. "Gathers those resistance forces and head back to Atlantis – she's going to need us here, on the inside."

"She's not that—"

"Michael, it would seem," McKay interrupted Ronon as he spoke, "has anticipated that eventuality. He's already started bringing in a number of hybrids from off world to strengthen his defences."

"And she'd know that," Ronon turned to Kanaan in appeal, "you know she would."

"Then what are you saying?" Lorne asked.

"Exactly what I've been saying all along…that we have to leave," Ronon said.

"No," Kanaan said. "Not if there's the slightest possibility that Teyla will—"

"Kanaan, Ronon's right," McKay insisted, "She's not coming back."

"Another week went past and half of our number came to the realisation that it was true. Teyla wasn't stupid enough to try and attack Michael here," Lorne said.

"The others?" McKay asked, looking somewhat pointedly at Kanaan.

"I knew her better than that!" Kanaan insisted. "If she wasn't coming, it was because something else was keeping her away." He looked at Lorne as he said, "I still believe that."

"I know you do, Kanaan," Lorne nodded as he spoke, "but it doesn't change what happened."

"Which was?" Ronon asked with a sigh.

"We agreed to make an assault on the Gate Room, if nothing else than to disable the Gate and stop Michael from bringing in new soldiers." Lorne answered. "The planning was as tight as we could get it with the information we had… which was pretty accurate…"

"But I'm guessing something went wrong," McKay said.

"Aye, Rodney," Beckett joined them, carrying in his hand a loaded syringe. "Something went very wrong."

Kanaan unfolded from his seat, uncrossing his arms, and moving to the doctor's side. Ronon watched, puzzled, as Kanaan rolled up his sleeve and allowed Beckett to inject him.

"Everyone had forgotten about one thing," Beckett said as he withdrew the needle from the Athosian's arm. "Kanaan's DNA."

"Turns out that Michael had been playing with us all along," Lorne explained. "Seeing what we would do. He knew where we were. He knew our plans, and there was not a damn thing we could do about it, because he was inside. Kanaan's. Head."

Ronon, as McKay, turned a horrified look Kanaan's way. Kanaan met their eyes, unrepentant.

"It was a simple enough plan," Lorne said, trying to draw their attention away from the furious Athosian. "McKay would dial the Gate so that Ronon and those that wanted to go with him to find Teyla could escape. Then he'd trigger an overload to disable the Gate. The rest of us would give them support for as long as it took, and then go back to the hit and run operations we'd been making from the depths of the city. It didn't quite turn out that way…"

If he'd thought about it for even a minute, Lorne would have realised that there was something terribly wrong. Michael wouldn't have been so careless as to leave the corridors leading to the Gate Room, the Control Room, and other sensitive areas unguarded, even if he had moved his base of operations away from the Central Tower. They made it all the way into the Control Room before he realised his mistake.

The first shot came from the stairwell above that led to the Jumper Bay. A small group of hybrid soldiers were making their way down toward the Control Room, while from the neighbouring corridors the sounds of running feet began to echo through the otherwise empty Gate Room.

"McKay!" Lorne called out, trying to hurry the scientist.

"I'm on it!" McKay yelled back in irritation, ducking down under the control desk to pull the front panel, and try to reroute power to the DHD so that he could dial – let Ronon and the others make their escape and somehow try to join them. Sparks exploded against the side of the control desk as the hybrids in the stairwell concentrated their fire his way.

"McKay!" Ronon's frantic cry from the Gate Room cut through the sounds of gunfire.

"I'm working as fast as I can," McKay practically screamed in response. His voice rose in panic a moment later as a second shot impacted the control desk close by his ear. "Lorne, keep them off me!"

Splitting his already depleted forces, Lorne and two others charged the stairwell, firing as they raced up to meet the hybrids that were almost on top of them. Lorne dodged the gunfire, reaching up to grab, and overbalance the first of the hybrids, while Kanaan and the others covered him from below and more by luck than judgement, between them, with gunfire and dangerous hand to hand combat on the stairs, the two groups managed to secure McKay the space and time to get power to the desk.

"Now we're talking," McKay called up to Lorne, who stood guard on the stairs.

"Make it fast, McKay," Lorne called back, and threw himself to the side as another small group of hybrids appeared at the head of the stairs. "I don't know how long I can keep them off you."

"All I need is a couple of minutes," the scientist called back.

"You're not going to get those couple of minutes," Kanaan called frantically from the head of the stairs down to the Gate Room. "Make it faster!"

Lorne tried to see from where he stood the new troubles that Kanaan had spotted, and watched as, from another corridor, more hybrids were advancing on the Gate Room.

"Ronon!" Lorne called a warning to the Satedan. He was already pinned down behind the ruined Jumper by the first group of hybrids, was making some headway, but if the second group reached the Gate Room, he would be cornered, with no chance of escape.

"I see 'em!" Ronon called back, and shifted his position, leaving the men in his group to keep the first group of enemies at bay while he fired relentlessly into the oncoming hybrids.

Lorne jumped as the railing beside him crackled with the energy of a blaster impact that had missed him by inches, and was forced to abandon any thoughts of going to help Ronon, and to concentrate his fire against those hybrids that were even now spilling into the stairwell.

"I got it!" McKay cried suddenly, and from the corner of his eye, Lorne saw the man barely peek his head up from behind the desk and rapidly punch a sequence of symbols.

"McKay, we—" Lorne started, letting off a rapid stream of fire toward the head of the stairs. There was no way they would be able to escape the way they'd planned – down the stairs and out through the corridors bordering the Gate Room.

As if he'd read Lorne's mind, McKay called out, "Up! Get up to the Jumper Bay. I can lock him out of the bay controls. It's your only chance."

In the Gate Room below the wormhole rushed into existence, and Lorne knew, without doubt, that Ronon and the others would try to reach the Gate as planned, no matter what.

"Kanaan, go!" McKay ordered the Athosian, "Go with Lorne. There's nothing more you can do here."

"What about—" Lorne started to argue. He still hadn't ascended a single step – loathed the thought of leaving any man behind.

"I'm fine!" McKay said and, as Lorne watched, he started to pull the cover from one of the other control panels. "Believe me, I run really fast when I'm cornered."

Lorne shook his head and waited for another moment, watching the man below working frantically with the computer tablet to bypass the Jumper Bay controls, and lock Michael and his people out of them. It was uncharacteristically brave of the scientist, and a part of Lorne knew he shouldn't let McKay's efforts be wasted.

"Come with us, McKay!" he yelled as Kanaan joined him on the stairs. The Athosian began firing upward, freeing Lorne to come back to the doctor's side. He tugged at his arm.

"No." McKay pushed him away. "The only chance you and the others have of ever defeating Michael and redeeming the city is if we can stop his easily accessing the Stargate. I have to complete the overload. Believe me, as soon as it's building I'm down those stairs and through the Gate with Ronon."

"You'll never get down there!" Lorne argued, pulling at McKay's arm again.

"I'll make it!" McKay argued, pushing at Lorne again. "I told you, I—"

"—run really fast when you're cornered, yeah," Lorne said sorrowfully. "McKay—"

"Don't make me say it again," McKay told him.

Finally, Lorne nodded, and returned to Kanaan's side – leading the small band of resistance up the stairs toward the Jumper Bay. What he couldn't see was how McKay could possibly make his intended escape. The last thing he heard was the frantic exchange between Ronon and McKay.

"Any time you're ready, McKay," Ronon called up the stairs.

"Almost there," McKay answered. "Almost there."

Lorne felt a little better knowing that Ronon hadn't already left through the Gate with the others and simply abandoned McKay.

"…it took us a while to clear the Jumper Bay, racing against time to stop Michael regaining control of the bay's doors, but…" Lorne shrugged, and Ronon thought he looked uncomfortable. "…with the added help we got from Carson…we made it – used the Jumper to reach the mainland."

"Carson?" McKay asked, and Ronon too was curious to hear how the cloned Beckett had escaped his counterpart's fate.

"And it was what turned the tide of our fight to get out of the city. Without Carson, we would have, all of us, been captured and killed."

"But what about Kanaan," McKay asked, taking the question that Ronon had been about to ask. "You said he was the reason your plans were revealed to Michael in the first place."

"We lost a lot of good men that day, Rodney," Beckett said, "and in spite of what you might think; what impression you might have, Kanaan is a good man too."

Ronon gave a rumble of dissent, but asked, "So what did you do?"

"The only thing they could do," Kanaan said with distaste clear in his voice.

"We had to get rid of his Wraith DNA to block any access Michael had into his mind," Beckett said. "We had no choice. We had to give Kanaan the retrovirus."

**

Sheppard tried again, increasingly more franticly, to free himself from the restraints as he watched Michael filling the syringe with a deep green liquid.

"I'm telling you, Michael," he said, "this isn't necessary. You let me go – let McKay and Ronon go, and I give you my word we're out of your hair. We'll find a way back and—"

"Spare me, Colonel Sheppard," Michael said, sounding tired, "you and I both know that is something that's not going to happen, and you have refused to cooperate otherwise, so you leave me no choice but to administer my retrovirus and ensure your loyalty."

"You're insane," Sheppard growled, and struggled even more with the restraints. Dread filled his gut, threatened to suffocate him, and he began to feel the bile rising in his throat, seeking a way out. He clenched his teeth against the rising nausea.

"So I have been told," Michael said, and began to cross the room toward him. "You should save your strength, Colonel. You will need it in the hours to come. Doctor Keller…"

"Please, Sheppard, listen to him," she came closer to him, laid a hand on his arm as though she thought that would convince him to acquiesce. "I can give you a sedative. Make it easier on y—"

"Don't you dare!" he snapped, turning his head toward her so quickly it sent a shooting pain down the entire side of his body. "There's no way I'm becoming one of this maniac's creatures, I—"

He stopped as he felt Michael's hand press against the side of his head, holding it to the side, facing Keller.

"So be it," he said calmly.

"Michael, don't!" Sheppard cried out as he felt the cold sting of the needle against his neck. "Not—"

He felt as though Michael had injected liquid fire into his bloodstream as the serum raced through his veins, igniting the inferno in his brain that stole the oxygen from his lungs. Even so he somehow managed the agonised cry that escaped his lips as his muscles tensed and his body began to convulse. He bit his tongue, and tasted blood in his mouth.

"It really would have been better if you had accepted Doctor Keller's offer," Michael said as he released the hold he had on Sheppard's head.

Sheppard forced his head to turn, to look at Michael.

"You motherfu—" he growled, unable to finish as a wave of pain stole what little breath he had managed to snatch, until he could manage another sharply indrawn breath, "I'm gonna kill you!"

"There is no need for you to suffer," Michael answered. "Administer the sedative, Doctor Keller."

As though mentioning her name had been to target her, Keller was enveloped in the crackling energy of a blaster, and slumped to the floor. Her head caught the side of the bed as she went down.

Confusion cut through the pain for long enough for Sheppard to see the three figures that rushed into the laboratory. One of them was a stranger to him, but the others… such a welcome sight to his blurring eyes.

"Try to stay calm, John. Breathe deeply."

The voice was like a soothing balm, cooling the fire, and bringing tears to his eyes. He never thought to hear her voice again.

"Teyla," Michael hissed, and turned away from watching Sheppard's plight.

"Hello, Michael," she answered with such bitterness that even Sheppard cringed from it. He watched her toss something to the third figure that had entered the laboratory with her, before, in barely enough time for his racing heart to beat once, she launched herself toward Michael, striking out with a ferocity that matched the bitterness he'd heard.

"You're too late, Teyla," Michael told her as he blocked her attack, meeting the blows and answering with vicious strikes of his own. "It's done."

"We shall see," she answered, catching his forearm against her own wrist, and kicking out toward his knee.

He swept his arm around hers, out and down so that he could catch her foot, and try to lever her backwards, throw her down, but she clearly anticipated the action, and leaped, throwing herself backward and adding to the momentum, she used his attack to turn her full circle in the air and bring her back to her feet.

"Sheppard, John…" the accented voice pulled his attention away from the fight between Michael and Teyla and through the growing haze he turned his head into the concerned, bespectacled face of Radek Zelenka. "Can you hear me?"

"Yeah," he breathed, "I—"

"Don't try to speak," Zelenka told him. "I'm going to give you an injection. It will slow Michael's retrovirus; maybe give us time to find a way—"

"Do it," he whispered, and tried to tip his head back to give Zelenka access to his neck.

He barely felt the sudden stab of the needle, or heard the long hiss of the injection system in the hypodermic gun, just felt the added burn, the rush of the fight now being waged inside of him, and thought, ironically, that it mirrored the bitter conflict being waged in the lab beside him.

"It's done," Zelenka called out.

"Get him out of here," Teyla ordered without breaking stride. "Don't wait for me. I'll find you."

The last thing Sheppard remembered as Zelenka and the other man hooked his arms over their shoulders, and all but carried him from the laboratory, was the flying fabric of Teyla's skirts, and the beautiful sight of her creamy-coffee coloured skin turning circles around Michael and his vicious blows.

**

His head felt as though it was about to explode, and his mouth felt like that bottom of a latrine, and for several seconds, that seemed to stretch into many minutes, Sheppard couldn't recall where he was or what he was doing. Must have been some all nighter.

He felt as though he had a fever; as if his body were somehow wrapped in the heat of a tropical day. What the hell was the matter with him?

In the time it took him to think about opening his eyes, everything came flooding back. Michael – the retrovirus – Teyla…

He took in a massive breath, gasping for air as the weight of it all descended on him, and tried to sit up.

"Easy, John… easy," her voice again, and the press of her cool hand against his chest, worked its soothing magic over him. Slowly he opened his eyes.

"Teyla…" he croaked.

In spite of the blackening bruise on her cheek, she was the most beautiful he had ever seen her. Noble and strong as she regarded him with her head tilted slightly to one side. Her brown eyes were full of concern.

"How long was I—did he—am I—?" he asked all at once.

"You are stable," she told him softly, "for now."

"Oh God," he whispered.

"Try not to worry," she said. "The medicine we have given you will help."

"Where are we?" he asked, looking around.

It was dark outside of the small circle of light cast by her lantern, but he was sure he was inside some kind of shelter, but one that was not entirely complete. It seemed to him like some kind of hide, or tent, or—

"We are on New Athos, waiting for the transport ship to come and take us to my base," she told him. "It will not be long now. Do you think you can stand?"

"I don't know, I… can try," he said, and started to sit up.

He had to lean on her as the room around him began to spin when he moved, his equilibrium upset by the cocktail of drugs inside of him. Eventually the whirling dizziness stopped and he was able to let go. As she moved away, and the blanket fell from him, he realised that he was undressed.

"Where are my clothes?" he asked, feeling the heat of embarrassment raise his temperature still further.

"You have had a high fever, John," she told him. "We had to keep you cool, bathe you with cold water. It is a side effect of the drug we gave you."

"That wasn't what I asked," he said, feeling beneath the blanket with his hand, he was relieved to discover himself still covered with his shorts.

"Beside you are clothes you can wear," she told him, "I am sorry, we had to cut you from the others."

"Great," he said, reaching for the native Athosian clothing she had found for him. He held up the linen shirt and added, "Thanks."

She nodded and moved away to the doorway of their rough shelter, no doubt to allow him the privacy to dress. It took some effort, as weak as he felt, and he had to stop frequently, to take deep breaths and drive away the panic that was growing inside of him each time his mind brought him back to the truth that, little short of a miracle, he was going the same way as Major Lorne.

Trembling almost visibly, once he was dressed he crossed the room to stand behind Teyla as she stared out into the New Athos night.

"What now?" he asked softly.

"Now we wait," she told him, and turned to face him, slowly looking up into his face.

"Teyla, I—"

The sting of her hand against the side of his face; the burning left in its wake, completely cut off anything he had been about to say. He blinked in surprise, and then frowned in confusion as she slapped him a second time.