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Act 2As soon as he cleared the event horizon he set off at a quick, almost forced march in the direction of the Athosian settlement where, almost four months before, he had returned Teyla to her people. The shielding trees hid the village from his eyes, though over their tops he could see a column of smoke rising into the otherwise clear sky as it darkened from evening toward night. He stomach lurched as the recall of his nightmare came on him unbidden…
… and as he broke from the tree line, he came to a halt and almost bent double in relief. In front of him the settlement bustled with activity around a huge fire in the central clearing, on which he could see some large creature roasting. In baskets, scattered around the clearing, vegetables and loaves of bread all but spilled onto the ground. It seemed that the Athosians were thriving, preparing for some kind of feast. He relaxed a little, and set off toward the settlement, to find his friend's home. "Teyla!" he called out in greeting as he approached, and several of the milling Athosians turned his way, one or two whispering among themselves. He started to feel uneasiness tightening in his belly once more. Lightly he touched the arm of one of the nearby women and explained, "I'm looking for Teyla." The woman shook her head and turned aside, but not before looking pointedly toward one of the buildings beside the clearing. Her look sent him hurrying toward the roundhouse, where he began to reach for the canvass doorway to lift it aside. Before he could, the fabric was moved aside and the tall, stocky figure of Halling appeared in the doorway. "Ronon," he said with a smile, and then reached out to place his hands on Ronon's shoulders, lowering his head to share a greeting with the man. When they both straightened he continued, "It is good to see you." Halling kept a hand on Ronon's shoulder, turning him and beginning to walk with him away from the busy community centre. "What's going on, Halling?" Ronon asked, frowning slightly, not missing the pointed expression the Athosian man had thrown his way before they started walking. "We are preparing for a feast of thanksgiving," Halling told him, "You are more than welcome to join us." "Thanks," Ronon said, "but that's not what I mean." "I know," Halling said softly, leading him further into the gathering darkness at the outer edge of the village. Once they were clear of prying eyes and ears, Halling continued, "You are looking for Teyla?" "She's not here, is she?" Ronon asked. It was obvious to him anyway. "No, she is not," Halling said and shook his head. "Barely weeks after she came to us, the dreams began." "Dreams?" "She would not speak of them, only that they haunted her, she said," Halling explained, "and she said she feared her presence here was endangering us." "So she left?" Ronon asked. "Not at first," Halling shook his head. "I managed to persuade her to stay, for a time at least." "So what happened?" "The Wraith came," Halling said. The Athosian sighed, "Teyla barely had time to warn us before they were upon us. They came out of a clear night sky. A circle of lightning, high overhead, and then, even as Teyla was crying at us all to make for the trees, the ship appeared in the sky, spilling the Darts out over us." Ronon frowned. What Halling was describing sounded as though the Wraith had come out of hyperspace in the atmosphere, or very close. "How many did you lose?" he asked softly, gripping Halling's shoulder. "And why didn't you—" "Contact Atlantis?" Halling interrupted. "A vote was taken following the attack, and my people did not wish to involve the people of Atlantis. Though many of you are welcome here, Ronon, the attitude of your leaders hurt many among us. It will be some time in healing – this rift between us." "I'm sorry, Halling," Ronon said. "You need not apologise, Ronon," Halling told him, "You, Colonel Sheppard, Doctor McKay… all of you have proven to be true friends to us, and neither me nor my people would ever turn you away." Ronon sighed. Though he could understand the Athosians' feelings, he still felt uncomfortable knowing that they were effectively consigning themselves to facing the dangers alone because of them. "So how many?" he asked again. "Some six families were affected by losses. The culling was brief and over almost as soon as it began," Halling told him. "And Teyla left because of it?" Ronon asked. Halling nodded. "No one missed the fact that the majority of those taken were women," he said. "And she blamed herself?" It did not take much for Ronon to jump to that conclusion. "We tried to persuade her otherwise," Halling explained, "but she said that in her dreams… that the warning was clear… that..." Halling trailed off with a shrug, clearly upset by what had happened. "Where would she have gone?" Ronon squeezed Halling's shoulder again, trying to be a comfort to the man, but just as worried about Teyla, he wasn't sure he was being very successful. "I do not know," Halling said softly, "but it has been several weeks now and none of us have seen her, nor have those we trade with been able to give word of her." Ronon took a deep breath as images flowed into his mind, betraying his calm.
In death, she had turned to him, why not in life, in this universe. He had her son, that was supposedly the lever he used in the other universe, much further along in time but— "Ronon, is something wrong? Something you are not sharing?" Halling's voice broke his unwelcome memories. Ronon flushed, embarrassed at being caught thinking such things of Teyla – his Teyla, his sister – she would never… "I just worry for her, Halling," he said, "but I'll find her. I'll ask Zelenka to help, and as soon as I know something—" "I know that you will tell me," Halling laid a hand onto his arm. "You are a good man, Ronon Dex." ** She tried to time her walk along the corridor so that she would not meet any of the Wraith sub-commanders coming in the opposite direction. Vega would have preferred it if she did not meet any other Wraith at all. In spite of her obvious status she still did not trust that they would not try to feed on her. Her reluctance to move was shattered by the faint sound of a sob that reached her from the shadows toward which she was trying to make her way. As she began to move, she made out the figure hunched in those shadows, a young woman, and even from the distance Vega could tell that she was in pain. As she got nearer, the woman looked up and reached out toward Vega. There was blood on her hand and from the way she clutched at herself, and from her field medic training, it was not hard for Vega to work out what had happened, or rather what was happening. "Easy," Vega clasped the young woman by her outstretched hand and, wrapping her other arm around her shoulders to support her, said, "I've got you. How long have you been like this?" "The… pain, it began a while ago, but—" the woman started, but then moaned loudly as another wave of pain came over her. "How far along?" Vega asked, carefully easing the woman to sit against the wall, trying to make her comfortable. "What?" the woman asked, trembling and pulling at her blood-soaked skirts. Vega gently laid her hand on the woman's belly. Under the touch she could almost feel the muscles cramping. "How long?" she asked again. "The passing of two months, maybe a little more," the woman answered. At her words, Vega became acutely aware of her own body's rhythm, of how she had been caring for her needs since she arrived on the Hive without really thinking about it. Now… seeing this young woman in front of her… Vega shivered. The woman continued, "My Lord's feeding must have ended it." Vega looked at the woman in something approaching horror, her eyes drifting upwards, past the fresh feeding mark to settle on her face, which was creased in the expression of her pain. "A Wraith did this?" Vega asked, but the girl did not answer, except to grip her hand tightly. "You need help. A doctor… someone—" "There is no one," the woman gasped. "None to help." "I'm here, aren't I?" Vega said, appalled that the worshippers aboard the Hive, as this woman implied, would be unwilling to give succour to this woman as she lost her child. "You are not—" the woman started, but then shaking her head told her, "You are fortunate, Handmaiden, that you do not—" "Alicia," Vega said, "My name is Alicia." "Isla," the woman gasped. "Well, Isla," Vega said, "if the position of handmaiden is of any help at all – even if I have to lie, I'm getting you some help. Try to hold on." ** Isla closed her eyes as the Queen's handmaiden began to hurry toward the Lower Station Quarters. She doubted the woman – Alicia – would find anyone willing to help, even among the other women whose role aboard the Hive was to ensure the Human population of Pureborn did not dwindle and leave the Wraith with none to serve them. It was not unheard of for some Wraith to feed and end the life of a child before it had begun, and those breeding were to see to their own care, and unless they were fortunate enough to find an influential benefactor, it was no easy task. She could not help but glance after the retreating figure of the Queen's Handmaiden and wondered how one with so little understanding of the Hive and its community of worshippers could have risen to such a position. ** McKay turned away slightly as he passed the Wraith in the hallway, so that his hand-held computer couldn't be seen. He had followed what he thought were the right hallways to lead to where the laboratory should have been situated – at least according to his map – and had been disappointed when he walked into an empty room. He'd had no choice but to turn back; get back to Sheppard before he was discovered. His sense of direction held true, and after turning at the third dead end in as many corridors, McKay sighed heavily. "Come on, McKay, you got out, you can get back…" he told himself, setting out for the main corridor again, feeling uncomfortably as though he were being watched. ** Sheppard pulled himself up into a sitting position again and began to wonder if he should send out a search party for McKay. The scientist had been gone for… well he had no idea how long, as he had lost all track of time, but it was a long while, and he was starting to get worried. With an effort he pushed himself up from the cot on which he had been resting and swayed slightly, and reached out to steady himself against the wall of the Hive before heading for the door. His path across the room was one that, in other circumstances, might have been funny. It made him seem as though he were drunk, but given that, over the past few hours he'd almost been able to feel his body mutating, the fact that he couldn't even hold a straight line across a room did not amuse him much. As he staggered against the wall on which the panel was fixed that opened the door to his and McKay's quarters, he gasped softly and reached out a hand that trembled toward the controls. He took the time to square himself up to anyone that might have seen him from the other side. He would not show weakness. He fell back when the doors opened to the worried face of McKay. Startled he swore softly at the added jarring to his already sore muscles and bones. McKay, however, yelped. It was a very feminine cry. "Jesus, Sheppard, you nearly gave me a heart attack!" the irritated scientist said. "I did?" he snapped, starting to try and get himself up off the floor. After a moment McKay leaned down to help him, supporting him as far as the nearest chair where he sat, slightly breathless but recovering, until at last he asked, "Well?" He looked up and saw McKay shake his head. Then McKay said, "I did find the way to where Todd keeps the worshippers though." "Well that's great," Sheppard said sarcastically, "but how does that help us to find Jennifer." "I don't know," McKay said, whiny in his irritation, and somewhat crestfallen, added, "You try… walking around out there, Wraith at every turn, not like there's signposts. We could maybe ask one of them, or—" McKay cut off at the sound of the door opening behind him, and Sheppard glanced that way in time to see Todd striding through the widening gap. "Doctor McKay," Todd said even before he was fully into the room. "If there was something you needed you could simply have asked for assistance instead of… wandering the halls of the Hive." "Yeah," McKay said defensively. "Well, no offense but—" Sheppard cut him off quickly and got to his feet, turning to face Todd as he said, "I thought you said we were your guests here, not your prisoners." He watched as Todd looked between him and McKay. The Wraith looked somewhat perplexed, he thought, though in a slightly irritated kind of way. Eventually Todd broke the silence. "Indeed, you are most welcome to walk around where you wish," he purred, and spreading his arms to the sides of him, added, "I merely mention it because, by all reports, Doctor McKay seemed to be a little… lost." McKay's face became a picture of embarrassed indignation as he answered, "For your information, I wasn't… lost – okay, I may have taken a wrong turn here and there but—" "Had you asked," Todd interrupted, his voice rumbling softly across the scientist's hurried prattle, "I believe you would have found the Humans of this Hive's Lower Station to be… most accommodating." Sheppard bristled, more than aware that Todd had, without a doubt, just informed them of the limits of their freedom. Challenging, he said, "So, we can visit with your worshippers, but stay away from the Lab, right?" "Our research is at a crucial stage, Sheppard. For the time being you should not disturb… Jennifer," Todd said, and though he spoke mildly, the familiarity with which the Wraith spoke Keller's name, coupled with the underlying warning growl on the syllables at the end of it, lent fuel to the suspicions pricking at Sheppard's spine. Before he could speak, however, McKay's overly righteous indignation flared in the face of the Wraith's interdiction. "Not disturb…! Who the hell do you think you are?" McKay snapped, even taking a step toward Todd. "She's not your personal slave, she's our friend." "I'm well aware of your relationship to her, Doctor McKay," Todd answered, his voice sharp as he took a step toward the scientist. Then, however, the Wraith took a deep breath and letting it out, softened both his vocal inflection and his body language as he added, "However, as I said, our research is at a crucial stage and it would be… beneficially if, for the time being, distractions were kept to a minimum." The warning fingers still prickled along Sheppard's spine and he was, not in the slightest, convinced there wasn't more going on than either he or McKay could understand. Agitated, he demanded, "What the fuck are you playing at, Todd?" "Playing, Sheppard?" The Wraith asked and an eye ridge rose in query before he growled softly, "I can assure you this is no game." "Listen to me, you sorry son-of-a—" A sharp and deep biting pain flared in the centre of his chest, cutting off his words; all awareness of everything but the straining of his heart against the twisting and gnawing inside of him. He gasped, a breathy sound as the agony cut off even his strength to cry out, and stumbled forward slightly, one of his legs beginning to give way under him. He saw both McKay and Todd step forward, but Todd was both the quicker and the stronger of the two, catching his arm supportively, holding him while the wave of mutative pain held him in its grip. ** The air in the Lower Station was rank with tension. Hushed oppression met every turn of the corridors through which Vega hurried, moving from person to person, trying to get even one of them to give her more than a disparaging look. As she moved further, the Human population of the Hive was revealed to her, in a wider, open chamber where benches and tables were scattered and individuals, both men and women, busied themselves in near silence about their tasks. Those who were in groups barely spoke louder than a murmur, their heads together even then, as though they feared to be overheard. "Please," Vega approached one such group. The worshippers turned their backs even though the eyes of at least one of them widened at seeing how she was dressed. Undeterred, Vega reached for the arm of one woman in the next group she came to. "Please, it's one of you, she needs he—" The woman pulled away, then steered her companions away from Vega as the sound of booted feet began to echo in the murmuring silence. Vega turned, expecting some faceless drone, or arrogant sub-commander. She gasped softly as two men approached. They were clad in the same tooled leather coats as their Wraith masters, though theirs were less ornate and shorter than those worn by the Wraith. The leather rustled as they moved, in a way that reminded Alicia of a hissing cobra, presage of trouble. "You're causing a disturbance, Handmaiden," one of the men said as he approached. "And I apologise," Vega answered, urgency lending her the audacity to answer. The man quite obviously had status in the Hive, "but it's Isla. She needs help. She's losing a lot of blood and—" "Taevun, you—" the other man said. "How do you know this?" Taevun demanded, cutting off his companion. "I just came from her," Vega said. "She's in trouble. You have to—" "An individual among us shirking her duties?" Taevun said. "Perhaps this is her reward for it. She—" Vega was incensed and without thinking about what she was saying, snapped, "How dare you! It is not for you to mete out justice and I do not think Our Queen would be pleased to hear of your disregard for the lives of her servants. Bad enough that you care not for the life already lost, that could, in time, have served her pleasure!" He glared at her, and she knew that she had caught him, so before she lost her nerve completely she demanded of him to follow her. "Stay here," Taevun said to his companion. "Restore what decorum this one has disturbed." ** Isla heard the footsteps approaching, booted feet, and the lighter, hurried fall of slippered ones and looked up, her hand immediately travelling to the shawl she had laid down nearby, reaching for the reassurance of the solid hilt of her master's blade. The Handmaiden was coming, closely followed by Taevun, and the Handler had murder written on his face. She'd seen his anger before, when she had refused him; when she had told him she had no leave to allow him the use of her; when he had done this to her.
Her Lord's words rang through her memory and in spite of her pains, she picked up the blade and pushed herself to her feet again, and as the Handmaiden and the Handler came closer, she flew from the shadows toward them. ** Isla rushed from the shadows. Her shoulder struck Vega's chest and the motion of her arm pushing hard against her sent Vega sprawling to the floor, off to the side, out from between her, and the Handler. "Isla, what are you—?" Vega began. Then she saw the blade in Isla's hands. "Isla, no! Don't!" Isla slashed with the blade, a huge, wide slash that caught Taevun unprepared; drew a gash down along his cheek and the hand he raised in self defence. She drew back her arm then, preparing for another strike, blade leading, aiming for his chest, but he turned aside, and she stabbed his bicep, dragging out the knife in such a way as to leave his arm useless. Vega gasped. This was no opportunistic, fearful attack. The woman knew how to fight, how to harm, and was intent on doing more than that. As he started to fight back, Vega climbed to her feet. She had to stop this before it went too far. Timing her move she tried to push Isla as the other woman tried to strike again; to send her away, off balance, but Taevun lashed out at the same moment, catching Vega a glancing blow against her shoulder as he attempted to backhand his attacker's face. Isla leaped at him again, growing more frantic, actually snarling at him and trying to latch on, catch hold with nails and with teeth, even as she tried to stab at him repeatedly with the blade. Like a feral thing, a wounded animal reacting to her pain, Isla tried again and again, and Vega could not get close for the wildly swinging blade to be of much assistance. "Isla, stop it!" she cried out again, but the woman could not, or would not hear her. She tried once more, and this time managed to catch Isla's wrist, to pull her away from Taevun. "Let me go!" Isla snarled, and snatching her hand away from Vega's grasp, turned back to Taevun in time to all but walk into his defensive assault. She fought him, locked together, yet still trying to bring the blade to bear against the man. ** He was prowling. The Hive Second slowly walked the halls of the Hive toward the Lower Station. Since leaving the Queen's antechamber he had been unable to settle, and around him the Hive itself poured oil onto the fire of his disquiet. As he drew nearer to the corridors and chambers surrounding the Lower Station his sensitive hearing began to pick up the sounds of scuffles… scuffles and growling, striving; the sounds of a fight. Frowning, he picked up his already increasing pace, and headed further in. ** Vega gave a short cry as another of the woman's wild swings caught her across the arm, slicing against her skin even as she tried to block the passage of the blade. Greater troubles appeared at her back a moment later, when Taevun's companion arrived from within the worshipper's quarters with a handful of men in support. They each of them sought to reach the struggling pair, and the press of the newcomers pushed Vega closer to the two combatants. Limbs tangled, making the fight seem much larger than it was. Worshippers reached for each other, grabbing at random, and ducking to try and avoid getting caught by Isla's desperately swinging blade, while Vega found herself pressed more and more closely against the struggling pair. "What is the meaning of this?" A two-toned demand for answers cut into the cries and the striving moans, but did little to halt the tide of the fight. Vega felt stronger hands grasp her arm than those of the worshippers, tugging against her where she was trapped in the press of several others, as the Wraith sub-commander tried to find his way through the confusion to the desperate knot of pain and anger at its centre. An almost sharp pain in her shoulder accompanied the pull, as sudden as it was, but she was trapped until the man at her side was sent sailing away by the angry push the Wraith gave to him. However, the arrival of the Wraith only seemed to make Isla more desperate – more determined. ** The scent of blood, heavy in the air was the first observation to reach the Hive Second as he stepped into the junction where Wraith and worshipper were embroiled together in a single conflict. He frowned in deep distaste that it should be. Then he spotted the Queen's Handmaiden, or rather scented her first, trapped in the middle of the knot of striving bodies, a sharp clear scent that sent his every instinct into battle with his intellect. Without a thought to his own safety, his own involvement, he reached into the thick of the Humans and wrapped his arm around the Handmaiden's waist, lifting her away from possible harm amid the confusion; then driving her toward the nearest of the bulkheads. ** Vega yelped as the vice clamped around her waist, and clutched at the arm that hauled her free of the others. She had no time to catch her breath before she stumbled as she was set down, before her gut clenched and her heart twisted as she saw the open trembling maw of a feeding hand descend toward her chest as she collided with the bulkhead. "No!" she pleaded and grasped at the wrist, clawing as best she could with her dull nails; trying to free herself, expecting the sharpness of an unsuccessful feeding to burn at her chest. Her breathing quickened, the sound of the fight receding to a dull sound as if through water as the rush of her own blood in her ears filled her with deepening panic as the fingers of the hand pressed, spread against her chest. "Cease!" {cease} {cease} {cease} {cease} {cease} The expected pain did not come. ** The multi-tonal command echoed around the chamber, swirling around him, and through him even as the word left his own lips. A long, breathy growl issued from his throat as the Handmaiden's desperate struggles with him lessened, and though her fingers did not leave his wrist, she no longer tried to claw away his hand. The touch of her skin against his was scalding, a test, and testament to his self control as his biochemical response twisted itself around his consciousness. {do not fight me, girl} {do not fight} {not fight} Even as he spoke to the Handmaiden, his eyes turned toward the others; toward his servant, held now between the Handlers, and to the other Pureborn, on their knees before these Wraith and drones the Hive Second had summoned. ** Vega shuddered as she felt the trickle of fluid passing down her chest to run between her breasts, soak into the velveteen bodice of her dress. Her skin tingled, almost as though tiny feet were walking a random pattern over her skin where his hand pressed against her, and her stomach turned, over and over, a lurch of adrenaline induced trepidation, and mingled excited uncertainty. The junction of the corridors had fallen silent, like the lull before some great destructive force of nature was unleashed on the land. "Speak," the Hive Second commanded, looking at Taevun's companion, but Taevun, still breathing hard; bleeding from many gashes to his body, spoke up harshly. "This bitch," he shook Isla, and Vega winced as the woman stifled a cry. "She jumped me. She—" "Silence!" The Hive Second snapped, and though he did not raise his voice, Taevun stumbled back, away from Isla, and fell to his knees as soon as he could stop stumbling. "He will speak." "My Lord," the other Handler answered hurriedly. "The Handmaiden came to ask us to bring help to this one. Taevun went with her. Some time after, the sound of a struggle reached me and I brought others, meaning to end the disturbance." Vega thought the Handler looked and sounded terrified to have given such an answer, and knew she had brought trouble to the worshippers. "Please, I—" she started, but the touch of his mind in hers stole her breath and compelled her to silence. {do not speak} {do not speak} {not speak} The Hive Second tilted his head, and looked toward the sub-commander, standing arrogantly beside the knot of now subservient worshippers. The other Wraith nodded slowly once."Take her to my quarters," The Hive Second instructed, soft and yet unyielding. Vega almost fell against the Second when he released her from the pressure of his hand holding her in place. The reprieve from his touch was only temporary as, a moment later, his fingers clamped around her wrist. Her entire arm ached at his touch. She watched as two drones came to take the place of the Handler, supporting Isla, one on each side, holding on to her arms as they began to lead her away. She wanted to ask if the Hive Second would see to her care; would bring her the help she needed. Vega dare not speak again, not even to ask. Another moment passed and the Hive Second began to walk, pulling her along behind him like some errant child. "And deal with that!" he said with great distaste. As they hurried from the corridor, Vega turned her head to look back the way they had come. She was in time to see the sub-commander leaning over the kneeling Handler in the split second before Taevun's agonised cry began. ** The drones took Isla no further than the threshold of the door, and opened it so that she could make her way inside. Without the benefits of the adrenalin that had been flowing through her, the pains became more noticeable again, rising swiftly toward unbearable. She paced at first, wondering why he had insisted she be brought here. She had failed him. He had given her an instruction and she had been unable to comply, but that would be little mitigation in her favour. Yet, if he had wanted to punish her, why did he not do so there, and make an example of her to the others. It was not long, however, before her energy began to fail, the ability to stand becoming harder as the pains became intense once more. She barely made it to the corner of the room; to slide down to the floor, where she finally gave voice to her utter desolation. ** The journey through the Hive had been at breakneck speed, the Hive Second's grasp around her wrist as they went aching more and more with each passing moment. Vega was sure she would bruise. All through the Hive he had practically dragged her, and she could do nothing but hurry to keep up, almost having to run to match his long strides until they had finally reached the door to Todd's laboratory.
Vega pressed her hand against her chest, and finally dared to move away from where she had curled into a ball once he'd left, as abruptly as a summer storm. She stood for a moment watching the now locked door. "Afraid?" The voice came from behind her, in one of the alcoves. "He… I…" Vega started, answering without realising the fuel she was giving to the hybrid. "I was supposed to go to him if there was trouble. Todd said—" "He tells you a lot of things, but never enough," the hybrid said, not without a mocking tone in his voice. Vega turned away from the door, though kept the bench behind her until she was level with the alcove in which the hybrid was confined, "What's that supposed to mean?" The hybrid shrugged. "How much about the Hive has he explained to you, I mean, really?" "About the Hive?" Vega frowned, confused. "Yes," the hybrid spread his arms, "this place. Short of telling you the dos and don'ts as far as the Queen is concerned, what has he actually told you? What has he done for you at all?" "You mean apart from save my life, and keep me safe in this god-forsaken place?" Vega spat, she knew the hybrid's words were meant to sow seeds of doubt inside her. "He did that all for himself," the hybrid countered. "You were just a secondary consideration." "No. You're wrong, you—" "He's as self-serving as any Wraith," the hybrid interrupted. "You're wrong," Vega said, "And you know you are! If not you'd be as... as… dead and melted as those others of your kind that Michael sent here." "So sure." "I know you made some kind of deal with Todd to keep yourself safe," Vega said accusingly. "Now who's self-serving?" "I never denied it," the hybrid said. "I don't have to listen to this!" Vega snapped, and coming away from the bench she approached the controls, trying to remember which of the controls would turn the doorway to a solid, opaque barrier between them. "You can shut me out," the hybrid told her, "but you can't keep the truth out forever." "You… wouldn't know the truth if it leaped up and bit your ass!" Vega said, and keyed the control, shutting out the hybrid. ** Todd accepted the equipment that the drone brought to him and dismissed him without a word, returning only moments later to Sheppard's side. The Lantean was curled on his side on the cot, McKay crouching at his side, trying to talk to him, keep him lucid, Todd supposed, since the pain must have been great. Without waiting for invitation and ignoring protests from both Sheppard himself and McKay, Todd quickly drew a sample of Sheppard's blood. "Maybe," Sheppard gasped as he did so, "it's time to send for Jennifer now." "Have no fear, Sheppard," Todd said, "I will be sure that Doctor Keller sees what is necessary to bring you relief from your affliction." "Affliction!" McKay answered, raising his voice. Todd breathed out a long slow sigh as the Human scientist went on. "Michael did this to him!" "Indeed," Todd purred, slipping a prepared slide into the side of his Wraith tablet, and looking at the magnified results. As he did he tilted his head to one side, puzzled as he did not see all that he had expected to see. The specific strand of the retroviral DNA that he expected was not quite as he had seen in the hybrids he had recently used as test subjects while on the Elder Hive. He let out a quiet growling 'hmmm' as he studied it. "What?" McKay said, almost sounding panicked, "What is it? You can fix it, right? You can—" "Doctor McKay," Todd interrupted, looking up from the Wraith tablet. "You have my word that I will do everything I can to find a way to reverse the effect of this retrovirus—" "Well that's good to hear," Sheppard put in, making a sour expression. "—however… it may take some time," Todd said, "until we are ready to administer a cure." "So what now?" McKay asked, obviously worrying for Sheppard's pain. "You can't just leave him like this!" Todd had to admit the physiological effects of pain on the Human nervous system did seem to be particularly detrimental, sometimes even hazardous to their survival, and above all of its other effects, this version of the retrovirus that Sheppard had been given did seem to be particularly formulated to cause as much pain as possible. "In the meantime, Doctor McKay," Todd purred, "I will find something to relieve Sheppard's pain." ** The Hive Second took in another deep breath to try and calm his racing heart as he lowered himself to one knee in the centre of the Queen's chamber. He, like the Commander at his side, kept his eyes downcast, knowing where the Queen walked only by sound, and by the strength with which he scented her as she came closer to the two of them. He felt the press of her irritated enquiry concerning the altercation in the Lower Station, among the worshippers; the involvement of her handmaiden, and his own intercession, apparently on her behalf. {the situation also involved my… body servant, my Queen} =concubine= =concubine= =concubine= The Hive Second let out a long slow breath. It was true that on a number of occasions, though that number was few, he had used his servant in that way, but… it was not her role, not specifically. =and my handmaiden?= =my handmaiden= =handmaiden= {is well, my Queen. She awaits the return of your scientist. It is for him to discipline his concubine, not I} =his, not mine?= =not mine?= =mine?= The pressure of the Queen's mind in his own increased momentarily in order that she brought his gaze up from the floor of her chamber to meet the steely cold anger in her eyes in that moment. {no, my Queen, for she has not wronged you} {not wronged you} {not you} She tilted her head, her curiosity surrounding him as she stepped closer. He took a breath, forced himself to stillness. {she sought to defend your pleasure, those that might… tend your needs come the future} {come the future} {the future} She reached out to him then, to run the back of her fingers down the right hand side of his face, blades curled toward her own wrist. He could not help but let out the long slow growling hiss that bubbled up inside of him both at her nearness and her touch that scalded the side of his face were she barely grazed him, skin to skin, nor could he help that his head tilted in primal response to her. =show me= =show me= show me= ** On hearing the growl from his Second, the Hive Commander risked lifting his eyes from the floor of the Queen's chamber and glanced across the short distance between them. When he did anger flared and burned through every part of him. His Queen, his Queen was stalking around his Second, her hand trailing over the right side of his face as she leaned down from behind him to lay her cheek alongside his, as she hissed a soft breath against him. "My Queen," he began, impolitic at best, unforgivable if she so chose, and yet his anger drove him to draw her attention away from the lesser Wraith. Her head snapped around to bring her angry gaze to him. "Silence!" =silence= =silence= =silence= "How dare you interrupt," she snarled as she stalked away from the Hive Second, approaching the Commander. "Particularly when you ignored my warning and still sought to challenge my scientist!"His face fell from the frown into a scowl and he turned his head sharply to look at his Second. "He has nothing to do with this!" the Queen snapped. "Do you truly think I have no idea what occurs aboard my Hive?" "My Queen, forgive me, I—" "Forgiveness must be earned, in this you must see you erred, Commander!" the Queen sneered, leaning down to pin him in place with her eyes. "If and when I want him removing I will do so myself!" He lowered his eyes again, feeling the painful thrust of her mind into his, seeking the truth of their argument, their fight. As quickly as he could he shored up the memory, his feelings toward that one and everything concerning him behind flimsy defences that would not hold for longer than a moment. "Of course, my Queen," he said, pushing contrition back along the mental link that was the battering ram within his mind, weakening her assault, wrapping her with the emotion he knew she wanted from him. "I acted beyond my rights, it will not happen again." "No, it will not," she told him, only in part accepting his apology. "Take us to hyperspace, Commander. You have the coordinates of our rendezvous. Leave us." She jerked her head toward the door, but had already dismissed him, turning slightly, her head tilted as she returned across the short distance to stand before the Hive Second. Every part of him burned with the humiliation of his dismissal. ** The Queen's treatment of the Hive Commander did not bode well for the ease of his continued service as Second on this Hive and yet, he could not move on, nor could he act to relieve the Queen of such an ineffectual Wraith as her consort. Too many tangled strands of scheme upon scheme existed here, and until he was confident in the knowledge of them all he could not, would not act. "It is almost time," the Queen purred as she reached him, "for The Abomination to receive the next dose of my scientist's serum. You will see to it." He lowered his head in a respectful nod as acceptance of her command, then raised his face, his eyes meeting hers again as she barely touched the underside of his chin with her blade tipped fingers. "My Queen?" he queried, speaking aloud for the first time. =demand of you= =of you= =you= The Second hissed out a long, slow breath as her words, and the sensations of her command wrapped themselves around his mind, his body – all of him humming with the contact. He opened himself to the rapid succession of thoughts and images… sensations and emotions, fighting with himself not to respond to everything there and then; to maintain control against the ache in his entire being. {it… shall be as you command, my Queen} {as you command, my Queen} {my Queen} ** The faint half light of a dreamed sunlit morning began to fade toward the dim interior of the Hive ship that hummed beneath her with the rhythm of the hyperspace engines. Jennifer Keller stretched, languorously, a heavy though not unpleasant lethargy weighing her limbs. She felt swollen, sensitive and pressed her limbs together to feel the tingling of delicious sensation spread through her at the action.
She woke with a gasp as the warmth of the dream faded and realisation of the reality of where she was, how she was, possessed her fully. She started to sit up, scooting upward toward the pillow as though she could escape herself, but the feelings and sensations followed her, as did the raw ache she had begun to feel. "Oh God," she breathed, and ran her fingers through her tangled hair, catching the scratches that ran the length of the inside of her arm from the corner of her eye. Her peripheral vision screamed accusation at her awareness, and she trembled in answer, snatching in breaths as she remembered.
She could not stifle the moan that escaped her lips, and ran the fingers of her other hand along the welts on the inside of her arm, wincing as she came to the bite mark at her wrist. She wanted to deny the truth, but could not. She had reached, and he responded. She threw back the blanket that still covered her, and almost sobbed as the extent of the truth surrounded her, like the strongly male scent that possessed her in a second skin.
She needed to bathe, to free herself of it, of all of it, and finding her feet, the simple act of standing, of moving sending deep, sharp pains through her at the movement of her limbs, she began to stumble to the bathroom… once there to throw herself on aching arms – her shoulders screaming protest – to her hands and knees to key the control that activated the many jets of water to fill the sunken tub.
Memory and sensation flooded her as the bath tub filled, as if she were reflected in the water. How could this have been? What had she done? Turning off the jets she slipped into the water, hissing as the heat of it stung against the bruises and the scratches on her thighs. Ineffectually she began to scrub at the bruises, at the scratches, opening them to the cleansing heat of the water as the burn of tears washed her eyes. She could not accept this; would never have been the one to begin all of this. She had been tricked… manoeuvred into place. It was him. Everything she had been feeling since she came aboard this god-forsaken Hive had brought her to this…
** The Hive Second closed and locked the door to his quarters with a sigh, and interfacing silently with the semi-sentient awareness of the Hive, brought up the light to a comfortable level for his sensitive Wraith eyes. He tilted his head, remaining where he was in front of the door, sensing and scenting the air. Blood and death hung heavy in the room. Slowly he turned his head from side to side, listening with the intensity only his kind could muster, and caught the sounds of shallow, slow breathing from one still-dark corner of his quarters and reaching out he sensed her sorrow – her fear. Throwing off his heavy leather coat he approached, and quickly came to one knee at her side, where she was slumped, in her tenacity barely holding on to consciousness, against the corner of the bulkhead wall. He turned her onto her back, supporting the back of her neck, her head as one would do a newborn, as he laid her against the deck. "No," she murmured, rousing slightly to clutch at him with a bloodstained hand, "Show me the stars one last time, my Lord." He could not help but glance up to the viewing port that she, as she had been wedged into the corner, had been facing. They could not see the outside of the Hive from the Lower Station, and her love for star light had amused him from time to time, enough for him to tease. "Not now, Isla," he said, the two tones in his voice merging almost to one in their soft resonance and though he knew the cause of her peril, still he ran his hands over her slight form in examination, thorough to check that she had not been further injured in the fight. His hands came away from her abdomen and thighs cold and sticky with her blood. "Lord…?" she whispered, as though she did not have the breath to speak, yet tried anyway. "Now is time to live," he told her, and slipping one hand behind her head again, he brought his feeding hand down heavy against her chest. His eyes closed, and his head tilted back, releasing the growl from deep inside his chest, and her back arched in his pain, trembling as he pushed his life, and healing, into her frail and failing form.
Her hand, like ice against his neck, pulled him back from the depths of his delirium, and he gasped, snatching his hand away from her and leaned his head heavily against the bulkhead until he caught his breath; opened his eyes to see her, trembling, in shock, yet breathing more deeply; further from death. The momentary lapse forgotten, he climbed to his feet and made his way to the bathroom, knowing he must warm her or his travails would have been for nothing; wasted, and he did so hate waste. Once the tub had filled, he returned to her side, kneeling down to lift her into his arms, to carry her and lower her into the gentle waters.
"Why are you doing this?" Isla asked softly as he pulled the ruined dress from her form, and reached for the soft natural sponge with which to wash away the evidence of her distress. "You serve me well, Isla," he told her, "and I caused this. It is only right that I give you succour." "But I—" "Hush now," he instructed. "Do not speak again, until we are done." She fell silent as he knew she would, her eyes closed, her breathing laboured still. Under his fingers he could feel the terrible cramping of her internal muscles as her body sought to rid itself of what lay dead within. So fragile – Human life – and yet so pivotal in all endeavours. She whimpered, and he looked at her face, wet with mingled tears and the sweat of her pains. He tilted his head, curious as to the reason for the tears. Surely not shed in sorry for the life she had briefly carried, conceived, he knew in an act of Human violence. He growled softly, and she whimpered again, almost pulling away from him where he supported her in the deep, warm water. "Forgive me," she whispered. Ignoring that she had disobeyed his instruction to remain silent, he tightened his hold on her, reaching for a large soft cloth in which to wrap her, and lifted her from the water. "The only fault I can find with your actions is your timing, Isla. Let it go, and obey me now," he said firmly, drawing her close against his chest as he carried her over to the bed, still wrapped in the drying cloth, and set her down carefully. "Rest. I will bring you something for your pain." As he started to rise she caught his wrist, and he looked down at her, as she opened her eyes. He could see the pain seated there, deep and sharp, but still the reflected devotion; adoration. In a rare and gentle moment he laid his hand against the side of her face, caressed her cheek. "Thank you, Isla," he intoned, and she turned her head to kiss the centre of his aching palm. Standing, he slipped his hand from her cheek and even as he crossed the room to his personal supply of salves and medicines, he started to strip off his shirt, soaked as it was, and tossed it into the container at the side of the room and quickly locating the substance he needed, mixed the paste with an intoxicating liquor into a small bowl which he carried back to the bed. It was a poison to Humans, and he would have to neutralise it before allowing Isla to take even the small dose he had prepared. He sat down on the bed beside her and took her into a light embrace. She stirred and moaned softly, reaching to grip his skin with a hand that trembled. He quickly took the small dose of the drug he had prepared into his mouth, holding it there for a time, then cupping her cheek once more in his hands, brought her lips to meet with his, nipping at the lower of hers. Her fingers tightened against his arm and her moan shifted to another cadence entirely as she responded to the beginning of his almost-kiss. Carefully, controlled, he allowed the exchange of fluid between them. Bringing his lips away from hers, he breathed out a long, slow breath… his own tiredness beginning to catch up with him as the residual effects of the drug slowed his own system. He set his servant back down to rest as her breathing slowed, and her face eased with the signs of the pain receding. She would remain here until it was done, he decided. No sense in sending her from him when she was still vulnerable. It would mean a waste of his time, his effort to heal. He stood and finished undressing to slip himself into the bed at her side. He did not reject her when, in her sleep, she turned to rest against him. ** Keller's skin puckered with gooseflesh as she stepped through the laboratory door and saw the all too familiar, black clad Wraith already at work. She saw him straighten slightly as she entered, but he neither turned, nor acknowledged her presence otherwise. Everything she remembered, everything she felt, all came together into an incredible outburst of emotion. "You fucking bastard!" she spat. He turned slowly, still not speaking, merely tilted his head slightly, his eyes boring into her. A shiver went through her. She felt hot tears gathering behind her eyes and a sick feeling began in the pit of her stomach. When, after a moment, he still had not spoken, she started to cross the lab toward him. How dare he! "You fucking bastard!" she said, louder this time, her voice thick as emotion constricted her throat. He still made no acknowledgement of the anger; of anything concerning her emotion. His face remained impassive, his eyes hard, unyielding – Wraith. Tears burned against her cheek, her throat was raw, and the closer she got, the more her breath became difficult to catch. "You. Fucking." She collided with him, her sides of her raised hands beat once against his chest, completely ineffectual. She raised her hand further, drawing it back before letting it fly toward the side of his face as she cried, "BASTARD!" Even before she got close to hitting him, his hand lashed out and caught her wrist, and turning them both he pushed her toward the workbench, twisting her arm behind her to keep her in place. She yelped at the sudden movement, the air coming out of her as the weight of him settled behind her, pressing her forward, her belly against the bench as he leaned down to nip lightly at the side of her neck. "You will not raise your hand to me again," he told her, his voice an uncompromising growl beside her ear, his breath hot against her cheek. She whimpered, feeling her stomach twisting with the flurry of butterflies inside of her, her breath starting to come in little snatches as he purred against her. "My dear… little Jennifer… Make no mistake…" ~mistake~ ~mistake~ ~mistake~ "Please," she moaned, the way he spoke to her, the way he called her… Little Jennifer, "Please… I…!" The press of his mind within hers was almost suffocating, but as he nipped at her neck… as the hand that had once held her wrist moved against the side of her breast, slipped between her body and the bench as it slid lower, she moaned at the touch, her whole body trembling, and she opened to the contact.
He let out a long, low growl against her shoulder, and she shivered feeling herself flooding for him again and let out another needful sound as she pressed back against him. "You are mine." ~mine~ ~mine~ ~mine~ "No," she whispered, belying her actions. "Please, Todd, I…" "Oh come now, my little Jennifer," he purred, lifting his touch away from her body and starting to straighten, move away. "I do not remember such protests before you… slept." She did not move, but gripped the bench in front of her, not trusting her trembling knees to support her. She whimpered at the tone in his voice, and the way the butterflies in her stomach ignited from it. "There are matters I must attend to," he told her, and she realised that he was already part way across the laboratory. "I will return later and we can continue our… research." Not until she heard the doors open and close behind the Wraith did she allow herself to release the death grip on the bench that held her upright, using what strength she had to turn so that her back was against its solid surface as she crumpled into a sodden heap at the base of it. She put her head in her hands, and unable to deny the desire that was coursing through her, Keller finally let her tears fall. ** "Why am I confined here," the young Queen demanded of him the moment he stepped foot inside her chambers. "If this is my Hive, why do those drones keep me trapped inside these chambers like some kind of prisoner?" "It would be a weakness in any commander to allow his queen to roam an unfamiliar Hive before she had learned her place." Todd bristled at her arrogance, but kept his tone as neutral as he could, phrasing his answer in the third person so as to be less personal. It did not appease the young queen. Obviously already angry at her treatment, her temper erupted as she clearly realised his gambit. "Learned her— Learn my place!" she roared. "My place is to be Queen of this Hive!" "And what, my Queen, did your Guardian name as the duties you would have, as Queen of a Hive?" Todd asked, his voice dripping sarcasm, but otherwise keeping his considerable irritation under control. "The duties of any queen?" "Duties?" she echoed imperiously, and though she continued in an effort to sound strong, her voice held a clear note of uncertainty. "I will command this Hive as its Queen!" Todd took a step toward her, growling softly, and she retreated in the face of his strength. "The primary duty of any queen is to secure the protection and future of those she serves." "Serves?" The young queen snorted, and in her nervous arrogance began to turn away. Todd's patience snapped, and moving quicker than she, he reached out and grabbed a handful of her hair, and even as she gasped her protest all but dragged her toward the dais; tossed her into the queen's throne that seemed, more than ever too big for the creature that occupied it. "Make no mistake," Todd snarled and leaned over her, his voice rising in anger, "As Queen you will serve those you would rule as surely as if they commanded you. You will earn their respect; their adoration." She shrank from him, pressing against the back of the throne as if to get away, and though a part of him was pleased that she seemed to understand the power he wielded over her, he could not stand to see her weakness. "And do not cower like some wounded animal!" he rumbled angrily in his disgust. He straightened then, moving away from her, allowing her to sit up, pressing his mind in hers until she regained her composure, and regarded him with quiet acquiescence. "I… value your guidance, my Commander," she told him. "Better," he purred, "and when matters are more settled…" When he had the more complete control over this volatile young Queen… when Sheppard and McKay ceased to be a troubling influence in his thoughts… and Keller – when he could be more secure in the truth of his findings... "…then I will convey you to the bridge and other key areas of… your Hive." ** Keller shivered, and looked up from the DNA sample she was carefully dissecting. She could not help flinching away as the black clad arm reached across, close to her to pick up a new slide from the pile in front of her, pausing at her movement. She could feel his eyes burning into the side of her face, and her insides turned somersaults in response, shortening her breath and leaving her slightly dizzy until she had no choice but to turn her head enough that she could see him. "Is something wrong… Jennifer?" Todd asked, purring the words softly into the space between them. "Something with which I can assist you?" "No," she said, her voice cracking on the single word, "I'm fine; almost done with this sample. We can—" "May I?" he enquired softly, and moved closer still, slightly behind her so as to bring himself level with the powerful microscope.
She quickly sidestepped, turning sideways on to the bench to watch him, swallowing hard as he leaned his tall frame forward slightly to look into the eyepieces, long fingers moving over the computer interface to adjust the focus. Taking another step back, she tried to concentrate on the science in front of them; to banish the swirling agitation that gripped her. "You," she cleared her throat, "you see the nucleotides on the longer fragment of DNA?" "Indeed," Todd said, and she could tell from the tone that he was already one step ahead of her explanation. "Separated from their parallel nucleotides on the transverse of the spiral by the RNA of the Hoffan Protein." "And that's why it appears random," Keller said, taking a step forward again, as the talk of the science momentarily banished other thoughts. "But again, if you take a look at—" She reached out, meaning to change the slide at which he was looking for another that she had prepared the day before. "Wait," he caught her wrist, and she gasped…
…pulled away from his touch as it burned through her skin to heat her blood – sent the blush of it to her pale cheeks. Tears pricked behind her eyes. She hated that betrayal her body wrought. How could she even entertain thoughts of the sensations that she could not deny were a part of her as much now as they had been before. Her stomach began to churn in self loathing, nausea creeping up from the tingling in her centre to suddenly grip her, hard, and leave her reeling – reaching for the bench in front of her. "What's wrong?" she asked, sounding a little faint even to her own ears. "What did I do?" ** "There," he said, drawing her between him and the microscope, leaving his hand beneath her elbow in support, as he felt her tremble. "Do you see it?" As she bent her eyes to the eyepieces, revealing the nape of her neck as her hair fell to either side of her bowed head he took a deep breath. He could sense her confusion, and yet, the physical changes in her were not difficult to detect, as the scent of her poured in through his sensory pits, over the taste buds at the back of his tongue. He withheld his amused chuckle. "Todd, I don't—" she started, and he reached past her to key the control that sent the view from the microscope to the larger display in front of them. "Look," he told her, using the touch of hand in hair to lift her head away from the microscope; bring her eyes to the screen even as he leaned down to guide her gaze in the appropriate direction. "I still—" she tried to step forward, but there was nowhere to go as he purred against her cheek. "The transverse RNA, you see it?" he asked. "Double stranded," she whispered, and even though still highly agitated by his closeness, he could tell that she understood the importance of the find. "We must take apart this RNA, piece by piece, Jennifer," he purred into her hair. "I do believe you may have found the key." ** His slow, measured steps brought him closer to the wreck that the serum in his hands had made of the once proud, intelligent, Wraith scientist. For long moments he stood, head tilted to one side, looking down on the creature now restrained on the bio-genetic bed. Slowly the creature turned his yellow eyes toward the Hive Second, but he did not speak. The worshipper, her eyes downcast before her Wraith master, stood tense. He sensed her growing fear, it leaked from her to infest the air around her with its pungent odour. Without even trying the Second could almost read the thoughts gathering in her head; read the awe, the terror with which their lack of action filled her. With deliberate and precise movements, his eyes never leaving those of the ruined scientist, the Hive Second raised the syringe in his hand. "So," the creature rasped softly, "he has sent you to do his dirty work this time." For a moment his eyes left the Hive Second's to glance first one way and then the other before he continued with heavy sarcasm, "What? No sub-commander; no attempt to force… another death… onto my conscience?" "I have often wondered why, knowing as you did – as you do – the truth of our phylogeny, you still allowed her to send you away," the Hive Second said, looking down to the serum in the syringe. "Or perhaps, unlike the other, you realise I do not need their Gift to withstand the blasphemy you hold; do not care for the Queen's command." "You… saw something that I did not," The Second mused, half to himself. "Something that led you to follow her command even though you knew it was the wrong thing to do." "As you do now," the scientist said. "Tell me something," The Hive Second sighed on the edges of the words, "why did you return here? For what purpose?" ** Michael growled softly. The Hive Second was fishing. He could not possibly know any of what he had said. He did not dignify the question with an answer. Instead he took several deep breaths, preparing himself for the pain he knew was to come. He did not remember the Hive Second for his patience. "No answer?" the Hive Second asked again after a few moments more of the silence that now caused the worshipper that stood at Michael's shoulder to back away. "Perhaps it is true then, that you grew… careless and were captured by the other." The Second shrugged then, and began to move the syringe toward his arm. Michael took another breath, bracing himself. "A pity," the Hive Second said, pausing again. "Not at all worthy of the Wraith I remember you to have been." "You remember nothing," Michael spat, hatred and contempt colouring his voice, "and know even less."
The memory surfaced from nowhere, and Michael knew that the Hive Second had brought it forth in him. "I also know," the Second continued, "what it is you found on the outer world, to which you gave the Queen's Scientist coordinates. A curiosity at first, but one we quickly came to realise was as dangerous to us as they were vital to our survival." "We?" Michael asked, hiding his interest behind sarcasm again. "You speak for the entire race of Wraith now?" Even he could not help but flinch when the Second leaned down, his arms either side of Michael's head and growling in warning, said, "Sarcasm will not help your cause, Scientist." For barely a second, a burst of hope almost flared inside of Michael. Could this one be trying to come to him as an ally? Could it be true that he was remembered from the time before? Then Michael growled again. He could not afford to allow himself the luxury of hope; to let down his guard for even a moment would be more suicidal than the actions he had already risked. "And I suppose you can," Michael snarled. "Spare me! Either he, or the bitch you serve sent you to try with a fresh face and a gentler gambit to make me speak, cooperate… buckle to her will." "Believe as you will," the Second said and Michael thought he detected a note of sorrow in the triple tones the Hive Second used in speaking to him as he added, "Die as you must, for you are of little use to the Matriarch now." "Matria—?" Agony, intense and burning stole the question from Michael's lips and mind as the Hive Second shifted a hand to bring the syringe he carried to meet with Michael's vein and mercilessly pushed the serum into his system. Michael couldn't hold the terrible cry that tore from his throat as the action of the retrovirus further ripped apart the shreds of his DNA, to rebuild each twisted spiral in the image of Wraith. ** The Hive Second watched with dispassionate interest as the former Wraith – former Hybrid – arched his back and gave cry after cry until even the Second could almost feel the ragged tatters that must be all that remained of the creature's throat. As the throws of the prisoner's torment began to subside, the Hive Second leaned down once more to look into his face, into the distress and pain still in his narrowed, Wraith eyes. "Know this, Scientist," he growled softly, "if your continued obstinacy further threatens the balance of this Hive, there will be no pain that you have experienced that will come close to the reward I will show you." ** Hanna gave a short cry as she bit her tongue when her Commander threw her to the bulkhead wall, the back of her head connecting with its chitinous surface. Flashes of light drifted before her eyes as she continued to fumble with the fastenings on her dress, even as the Commander came on her, the back of his hand striking hard against her cheek, before taking both of her narrow wrists into one large hand and pinning her in place, her hand held high over her head. She could already feel the bruises forming. His other hand raked the front of her, rending fabric and tearing the skin in a line along the middle of her body, exposing her to his angry sexual hunger. "My Lord," she gasped, "Commander—" The sharpness of his bite against her breast brought another wordless cry to her lips, inarticulate against the deafness of his frustration, as he released her wrists, but grasped instead at her hips to keep her in place, and trembling, her hands reached for the fastening on the leather waistband of his pants, knowing that to delay would mean more of the same. Releasing him, she began to run her hands over him, teasing at the ridges, her fingers played at the glans; hoped to heighten his desire and lessen the violent, murderous rage that coursed through him. Instead he slapped her hand away, tearing her wrist with his finger guards, and spun her in place, and grapping a handful of her hair to pull her head back, exposing the soft side of her neck to the sharpness of his teeth. He bit hard, and she cried out, but pressed back against him as the first trickle of blood ran from the juncture of her neck and shoulder, afraid to resist, and in part, aroused by the pain of his bite. "Mine," he snarled, as he lifted his head from her neck to breathe hotly against the side of her face. "She is mine." On his words he lifted her, and with the sure, possessive touch of his hand at her centre, spread her open to him enough that he could sink deep inside her. With a breathless exclamation, Hanna threw her head back against him, struggling to free herself, but only allowing him to press her closer against the bulkhead as he began to move with consuming, long and savage thrusts into her narrow body. ** As she strove to free herself, his arousal grew to match his fury. It was not enough… never enough and tearing himself free, he all but threw the Human woman to his bed, following to pin her once more beneath him, her belly against the cushions. He grabbed her hips with his sharp claws, and loving the feel of them sinking into her soft flesh, pushed his knees between hers, opening her to the questing touch of his fingers, to pinch and kneed at her until she began to flow for him… until he could scent the Human's desire that he sought to take for his own. Pressing closer, removing the touch of his fingers, save to guide himself within, he thrust against her, and sheathed himself in her with a snarling roar of pleasure. ** Her cry became lost in his snarling, her breathlessness unheeded as he pounded into her, still from behind, still with the rough abandon of his unsated frustration. Her thighs ached, and her shoulders screamed protest as he lay his weight on her, sinking deeper still. She felt him open inside of her as the rhythm of his possession changed, and clutched at the bed frame with splintering fingernails as the near agony of it triggered her body into a deep, dark climax that pulsed around him, until he too released, a flood inside of her, as scalding as his anger. Even then, Hanna knew he was not done with her. ** Michael barely raised himself to consciousness again, enough to see that the worshipper trembled as she approached the bio-genetic bed. "Please, please… hear me," she said. "You must feed, you… the Queen—" "Free me," he gasped, hardly above a whisper, still wracked with the pain of his transformations. Much more and he would lose himself – worse than death, to submit to the urges and instincts he could feel growing inside of him. The worshipper gasped, a frightened, yet excited exclamation as she snatched her hand away from the switch; as the restraints began to withdraw from around his wrists and ankles. As soon as he could move, Michael arched his aching back, pushing with his elbows and shoulders to try and bring himself to sitting. As he struggled, the worshipper began to step forward again. She reached for him. "No!" Michael relished the pain from his hand as he gripped the side of the bed to steady himself until the room ceased enough in its wild spinning for him to make sense of anything. Still the worshipper reached for him, and he waved her away with his left hand, keeping his right firmly pressed to the bio-genetic bed on which he sat. "Don't… touch me." Slowly he looked first one way, then the other, orienting himself, gathering together the twisted wreckage of his memories of this place, this Laboratory that used to hold so much interest for him, so much promise. "How," the worshipper's voice trembled as she addressed him, "…shall I call you – Lord?"
"Don't call me that," Michael snarled, thrusting the memory away as he all but fell to his knees as his feet touched the floor of the Hive. With everything he was he forced himself to stand taller. "I'm no Wraith!" "But you—" she stepped forward again. "NO!" he roared, and pulled back his open and dripping feeding hand, mantling in spite of his utter hatred of the need that was all but crippling him. His vision swam and every cell in his body burned with need. Trembling with the effort of holding back; breathing hard he sought to move, to take a step. The worshipper sighed; a trembling, almost rapturous sigh, and reached up to her shirt, to open the neck, to hold the fabric away from her pale, tempting flesh. Michael snarled, and threw back his head as his feeding hand flashed forward. ** "Jennifer," McKay's voice was breathy and saturated with his relief as Keller walked into the quarters that Todd had assigned to her friends. "I'm all right," she said, holding up her hands to fend him off. "I'm fine." "Keller," Sheppard said, and from his tone she could tell that he didn't believe a word of it. He was struggling to sit up, so she hurried to his side, and sat down on the side of the cot he occupied. "No, no, no," she pressed a hand against his shoulder. "You're in no fit state to be going anywhere, and I'm the doctor around here, so I'll decide who's fine and who's sick." "No one said you were sick," Sheppard told her, and she was glad that he gave up fighting with her, because she doubted that her aching muscles could have restrained him much longer if he had sought to push the issue.
"Jennifer?" Sheppard was frowning as she shook herself a little. "Sorry, just…" she took a breath to try and banish the heat she felt creeping into her face. "…it's been a long few days. I've been working almost all the time." She ran her hand over her face. "And when I'm not, I don't sleep very well." "But he's treating you… okay, right? With respect?" McKay asked, dropping a hand onto her shoulder.
Keller winced and twisted away as McKay put pressure on the many bruises and bites against her shoulder, hidden by her clothes. "We're working together, McKay," she said, getting up to move away, to the medical kit she had brought with her, intending to examine Sheppard while she was here. "He's very complementary of my work, yes." "That isn't what I asked," McKay answered. She trembled a little as she leaned over the case to rummage inside for the things she needed to complete the examination, hating herself. A part of her wanted to tell them what was going on, to run in to their arms and confess everything, but she knew she couldn't.
The moment she said anything, even hinted that there was anything wrong, they would challenge him and she recognised enough of the hyper-alpha male within Todd to know that he would not tolerate such a thing. He would kill them. Coming to her knees beside the case, Keller leaned her head against the smooth, cool metal and though she fought to remain silent she moaned softly, caught momentarily in rising despair. "Jennifer," McKay crouched at her side, placed a tentative arm across her sore shoulders. His concern broke the dam and turning, she pressed her head against his shoulder as her tears began to fall. ** "Hey, hey…" McKay tried to soothe her, feeling awkward, as he began to stroke his hand over her hair. "I can't do this," she moaned. "I can't—" "What happened? What did he—" As he started to look up, meaning to catch Sheppard's eye over the top of her head, a different sight caught his attention and he yelped. "Jesus Christ, Jennifer, is that a bite mark?" There, low against the side of her neck he'd spotted what looked like a huge welt, dark bruises marred the skin around the welt and had begun to spread upward, in shades of yellow and green. He felt her push herself away from him then. "A bruise," she said hurriedly, and pulled at her shirt to cover the mark. "Keller," Sheppard ordered, "you better tell me what the hell's going on, or I—" "A Wraith," she said, "It happened so fast, I—" "My God," McKay said, feeling his chest tightening in panic, thinking of what could have happened. "It tried to feed on you, didn't it?" "Why the hell did you try to hide it?" Sheppard said, and McKay didn't miss the scowl on his face. "Surely you—" "It's sorted," she snapped, grabbing what she needed from the kit and standing, began to move toward Sheppard. "You mean you told Todd and—" "It's sorted," she said again. ** She hated the half lies, the obfuscation created in saying not enough for them to understand. She hated that she'd broken down and made it necessary…
…and above all, she hated herself for her part in it all… for surrendering to the feelings that she could not understand, could not, in moments of clarity, believe that she had, but that she could not deny existed unless she were to lie to herself. ** Behind him she began to stir, and Michael gripped the workbench tightly as he swayed slightly, trying to reach for the equipment he needed. "Now," he ordered her softly, breathing hard simply from the effort of remaining upright. "Come here." "But… Lord… you—" He turned his head and growled at her as she picked herself up from where she had been stunned against the side of the computer terminal, where she had landed.
As he voiced his irritation she hurried to his side, and as soon as she was within reach he grabbed the back of her neck, drawing her closer so that she had no choice but to look up into the harsh expression he fixed into his eyes. "I will not tell you this again," he said, his voice uncompromising, "I will kill you before I feed on you. I have no need to feed. I am not Wraith." She nodded wordlessly, terror in her eyes. "There is a needle in front of you. Pick it up," he ordered her. "What would you have me do, Lo—?"
"If you must call me something," he spat through gritted teeth, "Then call me—"
His chest tightened, his breathing beginning to come in short gasping snatches. Everything he was rebelled and tears pricked behind his eyes. He closed them and almost whispered, "My name is Michael." * Todd sighed as he stepped into his laboratory on the Elder Hive. Breathing in deeply he could tell that she had recently been here. Her scent was unique. It warmed him at once. Growling softly he set down the data chips beside the computer and shrugged out of his coat. "Not quite the welcome home you expected?" the hybrid in the alcove behind began to taunt him almost at once. Todd tipped his head first one way, and then the other, trying to ease the tension in his neck, trying to banish the many questions he had gripping his mind with the fever of their urgency. "You will be silent or I will silence you for good," he said with measured threat as he thrust the first of the data chips into the computer, beginning the search for answers to his questions. ** Michael barely supported himself, slumped against the terminal where he waited for the computer simulation to run its course. His arm ached where the worshipper had performed the unfamiliar procedure under his direction. His head felt as though he had been running a fever for weeks – the fact that he probably had did not escape him – and he felt dizzy, weak… sick and was still burning with hunger. The computer bleeped softly. A trembling began in his limbs, fresh tears scalded his eyes, and he had to take a deep breath before he could force himself to raise his head; open his eyes and look on the results of the simulation, and on the spiralling strand of DNA rendered before him. ** Todd stared at the three genome maps, spinning side by side on his display. Even without the computer generated highlight against a particular section of the DNA spiral of two of them, it was impossible to miss the identical radical that existed in both of them. He turned his attention to the third genome map – his own – sitting above the others in mock lordship… and there as though written in the collision of blood between past and future was a single corresponding, complementary chromosome. 
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