Act 2

"So, Doctor, now perhaps I can express my concern without accusations of officiousness?"

Keller sighed and looked up from the microscope. She had been expecting the visit since the altercation with Lorne and was surprised that it had taken as long as it had for Woolsey to try and reassert his command over the whole of the base – including the medical team. Then again, there had been the events that had happened with colonel Sheppard's team on M7J-394. She sighed again as she thought on that and concluded that no doubt Woolsey would find some way to use it to censure Teyla.

"Doctor?" Woolsey said, raising his eyebrow, when she did not immediately respond.

"This isn't about giving you the chance to come in here and say, I told you so," she said. "This is about the medical team providing the best possible care for a member of this expedition who was injured in the line of duty."

"Injured?" Woolsey asked in surprise.

"Yes, injured. What happened to him after the event, I believe, was actually done to try and help him. Michael—"

"You're defending that creature?"

"Rodney said—"

"I don't see what Doctor McKay has to do with this."

"He said that Michael told him he'd done everything he could for Evan," Keller said, "and you already know my assessment of his condition on arrival."

"But Michael still—"

"Frankly, Mister Woolsey, Michael is not the issue here." Keller raised her voice in frustration. "The issue is that Lorne was just fine, even as he started to regain consciousness, until your marines went charging into his room."

"Hardly my marines, Doctor. Military personnel fall under Colonel Sheppard's jurisdiction," Woolsey answered smugly.

"They were following your orders," Keller corrected him, her tone one of contempt, "the same as they are concerning Teyla. Don't imagine for one second that I don't see what you're doing here."

"I'm doing my job," he insisted.

"No, you're harassing my patients and preventing me from doing mine," she snapped. "He might be conscious, but Major Lorne still needs medical attention and, if you throw him into the brig, he's not going to get that."

"And as the commander of this expedition I have a duty of care for the safety of all the personnel on this base," Woolsey said firmly.

"He's not the enemy," Keller all but shouted in Woolsey's face, "and neither is Teyla!"

"That remains to be seen." Woolsey's clipped voice, and the words he spoke, left Keller off balance, her position of strength fading. "They've both been compromised—"

"Compromised, maybe," Keller admitted, "but with the proper medical care—"

"I'm not convinced that medical care will be effective, Doctor Keller, as I think has been demonstrated in both cases. Major Lorne is still… mutating and Teyla is, at best, emotionally… delicate, but, quite frankly, may just be an out and out liability."

"How dare you!" Jennifer blinked at him in outrage. "After what she's been through, that you can stand there and—"

"In all honesty," Woolsey interrupted, "I rather think that 'what Teyla has been through' – the fact that her child is missing, has begun to sound somewhat like an excuse for her erratic behaviour and dangerous attitude."

"What!" Keller's outrage multiplied under the weight of disbelief.

"When it comes down to it, Teyla's always demonstrated a high degree of sympathy with Michael and—"

"No," Keller snapped, "what Teyla's always demonstrated is a better developed moral compass than you ever stand a chance of understanding."

"I've read the reports, Doctor, including those of Doctor Beckett." Woolsey said with exaggerated patience.

"So have I," Keller said, glaring at him. "I've also read the medical notes that Carson left to his successor – which he used to inform those reports. He mentions Teyla quite a lot, as a matter of fact, and the way she ended up being bullied into participating in that mission, in spite of her, very valid, reservations – reservations which have been upheld over the course of time. But perhaps that's the problem… perhaps that's the threat you're trying to eliminate… the one person who can actually hold your own liability up in front of your face and say, 'you did this'."

"Doctor Keller, I think perhaps you are allowing your emotions to get the better of you," Woolsey snapped, looking a little uncomfortable. "No one here is suggesting 'eliminating' anyone. I am merely expressing my concerns over the care of Major Lorne and the involvement of Teyla in future missions until she's of a less volatile… emotional condition."

"Good," Keller nodded, satisfied that she had been successful in manoeuvring Woolsey into a statement that openly returned jurisdiction for the care of Lorne and Teyla to her hands, and that of the medical team. "Then I'll take your concerns under advisement and continue to treat my patients as necessary. Now if you'll excuse me…?"

She gestured toward the microscope, and began to turn back to it even before Woolsey had nodded his assent and turned to leave the infirmary.

**

…I have not thought on it until today, when we all but met in the cafeteria, and I hate to think that he could be like that, but I rather fear that he is avoiding me for some reason. Perhaps in the morning I will try and seek him out.

With a sigh, Teyla carefully closed the journal in which she had been writing and continued with the final preparations for going to bed. She moaned a little as, turning her head, she stretched the wound on the left hand side of her throat. For a moment she covered it with her hand. The skin burned beneath her touch.

She considered calling Doctor Keller, but what could the doctor do except give her more of the same medicines that she was already taking? Instead she went into the bathroom to wet a clean washcloth with cold water, and held it against her skin. She sighed softly as the coolness soothed the inflammation and for a time leaned against the mirror, repeating the process of wetting and applying the cool washcloth.

Reflected in the mirror she could see the small rocking bed that stood beside her own. He should be there with her, and as much as she wanted to cast blame for the fact that he was not – at Sheppard, at Lorne, at Michael – the one person she blamed the most, was herself.

No matter how hard she had tried, time and again since she had woken there on Atlantis, she had been unable to find the missing memories of her time as Michael's prisoner. She had even tried meditation, as deeply as she dare reach, but still there was nothing. She could not even recall moments that, she had been told by others, had happened. Jennifer had told her that Rodney recalled seeing her aboard Michael's ship… in a laboratory where Michael had been caring for him. She frowned.

"Caring for him," she said softly to herself. Still frowning, she wet the cloth one more time, and turned to sit with her back against the smooth tiles of the wall, looking out into her room, that flickered in the candle light. What if it was something that Michael had done to her that had disrupted her memories of what had happened?

Letting her eyes become unfocussed, she tried to recall the earliest memory she could concerning Michael…

~~ ~~ ~~

It wasn't fear, not exactly, but the knot in her belly felt like one of John Sheppard's infamous footballs as she walked in to the Atlantis infirmary.

"Doctor Beckett," she began with a sigh to settle herself; banish the unease so that the doctor would not see it. He turned away from the microscope to face her as she continued, "You wanted to see me?"

"Aye, love," Carson stood, and with a gesture, walked with her to where they could both sit. She took her seat, but could not help but feel awkward.

"Is there something wrong?" she asked, frowning in worry for what that might be.

The doctor blinked and then made an apologetic face, "No, no, sorry," he said, "it's nothing like that."

"Then…?" she prompted him to go on.

He sighed before he began, and took the seat opposite her. "What do you know of the mission Colonel Sheppard has planned?"

"Only that he plans for us to… infiltrate a Wraith facility we discovered by tracking the path of several cruisers we believe belong to a single Hive." She tipped her head to one side. That unfortunately familiar feeling of not being entirely trusted resurfaced as Carson Beckett nodded his head to acknowledge what she'd said. "I do not know the reason or the mission beyond that. If there is more—"

"Aye, lass, there is."

"Then you are wiser than I, Doctor Beckett," she said, trying to control the annoyance in her voice.

"Relax, Teyla," he told her, "they didn't say anything to you because I asked them not to."

"Why would you do that?" She frowned. Her alarm grew.

"Because I wanted to ask you myself."

"Ask me what?" The frown deepened, this time confusion lent it fuel.

"I need you to help me find a test subject."

"For your retrovirus?" When he nodded, she continued, "Then it is true that you have continued your work on this?"

"Yes."

She got up from her seat. "Doctor Beckett, I would have thought, after what happened with Colonel Sheppard—"

"What happened to John was an accident, Teyla. There was no way to have predicted it."

"And what makes you so certain you have predicted every eventuality now?"

"What exactly are your objections, Teyla?" Doctor Weir's voice came from behind her. She immediately turned around.

"Just that…" she paused, turning over conflicting questions which she thought she had laid to rest. "I cannot help but question whether we have the right to interfere with the existence of another being in such a way."

"They're Wraith," Elizabeth reminded her, rather unsubtly fixing her with that felt like an almost accusatory stare.

The feeling of being 'press-ganged,' that was beginning to smother her, only increased when, from the doorway, Sheppard added sarcastically, "You remember those guys? Long white hair, bad attitude, tendency toward making a meal out of your people…"

"You need not remind me of the way my people have suffered at the hands of the Wraith," she snapped, "but that does not alter the fact that I have… doubts concerning the morality of this plan."

"Teyla," Doctor Beckett held up his hand to prevent either Doctor Weir or Colonel Sheppard from answering her, "believe it or not, I understand your reservations, and share one or two of them, but – given past history and that even the Ancients couldn't succeed in eliminating the threat they pose – this seems to me as the best way we have to rid the Pegasus galaxy of their threat once and for all."

"And," John added, "without having to spend years fighting a war that would no doubt mean casualties – hundreds," he made a face, "dead… tortured… fed on…"

"And what will happen then, Doctor?" Teyla turned to Elizabeth.

"What do you mean?" Weir asked.

"If your plan succeeds and the Wraith are no longer a threat to the people of this galaxy? What will you do with the people the Wraith become? Where will they live and what will help to keep balance and peace in this galaxy. You?"

"Sounds like she's been talking to Ronon," Sheppard said.

"I have not," she answered in puzzlement.

"They're evil, Teyla," Elizabeth pressed, "You've said so, many times, yourself."

"I know what I have said, Elizabeth, and as evil as we consider them to be because of their actions—"

"They feed on you."

"And fear of them prevents many other aggressive cultures from launching attacks on their fellow humans," Teyla's conscience pulled at her from several different directions at once. Nature abhors a vacuum. Without the Wraith as antagonists… aggressors in the Pegasus galaxy, who would step into their empty space? "What would come of the Genii if the Wraith were not the focus of their military aggression?" she asked.

"That's beside the point." Doctor Weir frowned.

"No, it is not," she argued. "It is a very valid point for consideration."

"Right now, Teyla," Doctor Beckett interrupted again, "as much as I understand what you're saying, I'm afraid it is beside the point. I'm talking about a single test subject."

Teyla sighed. For a very long time she looked between the three others in the room. She felt the weight of their staring gazes, their suspicion almost overwhelming. Still she asked, "What will become of this individual?"

"We'll give him a new identity; integrate him into the community—"

"Lie to him," she almost growled and, hard on the heels of those words, two others fell from her lips, "Trust him?" The following silence spoke volumes. Her concerns seemed well placed. She murmured, "I did not think so."

"Teyla, in time—" Elizabeth began.

"Until the first time something goes amiss," she cut her off, "and then all eyes will turn his way and—"

"Is this about the Wraith, or about you?"

Elizabeth's words, as harsh as they were, came as a slap. Yes, it was true that she did not always feel trusted and that, from time to time, there had been open accusation of betrayal aimed toward her, but her concern for any test subject of Doctor Beckett's retrovirus was only motivated in a genuine concern, based on the knowledge of the personalities of the Atlantis expedition. She also recognised, that by voicing such a question, Doctor Weir had manipulated her into doing as Carson asked, for if she did not, her standing amongst the expedition team could be in question.

"Why do you need me?" she asked Doctor Beckett. "It is not hard to find a Wraith, in a Wraith facility.

"That's true, yes," Beckett admitted, almost with a chuckle, "but in order to make a true test of the retrovirus and its effectiveness, I need something a little more than your average Wraith Grunt."

"What do you mean?" she asked, not at all understanding.

"The subject needs to be—"

~~ ~~ ~~

Teyla moaned softly, and her brow drew together in a knot of confused denial. With another small sound she turned her head from one side to the other. Her breathing began to quicken.

Teyla's head tipped backwards, and a trembling began to spread throughout her. She swallowed and her rapid breathing shivered in and out of her body. Her mouth opened as though she were trying to form words.

Her trembling barely subsided, and a deeper sound came from her now, amid her erratic breathing.

"Michael, please…" she moaned softly, "…please…"

She cried out, and pressed her hands against her belly as she woke, gasping for breath. The candles had burned out and pale curtains wafted gently into the room, like ghosts in the light of the New Lantean moons.

She looked around her in complete confusion, and at the tangled bedclothes that lay around her feet. She could not even remember coming to bed. On the tail of that thought she pressed her forearm hard against the corner of her bed frame until she winced from the dull pain of it, and then, with tears gathering behind her eyes, she ran a hand over her face.

Her hand shook, and as the breeze fluttered once again around the room, she realised how chilled she had become and reached for a blanket from among the tangled wreck of her covers. If she were still dreaming she did not have the energy to fight it.

Still struggling against the urge to cry, she turned on her side and curled up beneath the blanket, trying to make sense of what she could recall of the dream…

"Trust," she whispered to herself.

-trust-

**

Rodney had just pushed aside the first of two trays as Radek Zelenka found him. It hadn't been hard to guess where he'd find his fellow scientist. It was, after all, breakfast time.

"You wanted to see me, Rodney?" he said as he reached the side of the table.

"Hmmm," McKay nodded, his mouth full of food, and gestured with his empty fork to one of the seats. Radek lowered himself into the seat and waited for McKay to empty his mouth and say, "Yeah, yeah I did. Thanks for coming to find me so early. It means we can get an early start."

"We?" Zelenka queried in surprise.

"Yes. I've been going through some of the data I brought back from M3X-667 and I need another pair of eyes – a second opinion." McKay said.

"And you asked me?" Zelenka said.

"Yes, I asked you," McKay said, irritated, "I may complain about… the added complication of explaining things to you rather than just getting on with that I'm doing, but, truth is, you have a… reasonable grasp of Wraith technology and… I… I'd value your input."

"That hurt," Zelenka observed, enjoying watching McKay squirming and dancing around the issue.

"Look, all right," McKay snapped, realising what the Czech was doing. "What do you want me to say? I need your help."

"All right," Zelenka pushed his spectacles back up on his nose, "You have it. What's the problem?"

"I'm just not certain that I'm reading some of the data correctly. It's not quite the same as what I'm used to." He started to tuck into his second breakfast. "If you like, we can take a look when I'm done eating."

"Rodney McKay, you are never done eating," Zelenka couldn't help but chuckle as Colonel Sheppard invited himself to sit with them.

"Very funny," McKay came right back at him. "You have to properly nourish a brain like mine."

"With bacon and hash browns?" Sheppard said, nodding at his plate.

"It's very important to have a decent breakfast," McKay said, "Right, Radek?"

"Yes, of course, the right kind of nutrition is always very important for stimulating the production of—"

"Colonel Sheppard, do you have a moment?" A shadow fell across their table, and the marine cut Radek's explanation short.

"Saved by the bell," Sheppard sighed, and then looked up at the soldier. "What can I do for you, Warsh, isn't it?"

"Yes, sir, Captain Lewis Warsh." The marine stood beside them looking a little awkward.

"At ease," Sheppard said lazily, "you made it sound like it wasn't particularly a military matter.

"It's rather awkward, Colonel." Warsh said.

"It's all right," Zelenka offered, "Doctor McKay and I were just leaving."

"No, no," Sheppard said, "Lewis, whatever you have to say, you can say it in front of these guys. I'll vouch for them."

Zelenka saw Warsh hesitate for a moment longer before he said, "I thought you'd perhaps want to know that Major Hollick and Mister Woolsey have a meeting with Teyla this morning, and I don't think they're going to be discussing fabric swatches – if you catch my drift, sir."

"Ah, crap!" Sheppard said, pushing his plate away and starting to rise. "All right, Captain, thank you. See if you can find Ronon; have him meet me in the gate room." Sheppard turned to the two scientists and excused himself, hurrying off ahead of Captain Warsh. After a moment, McKay shrugged, and tugged Sheppard's discarded tray toward him.

**

"You asked to see me, Mister Woolsey," Teyla said as she walked into his office. She frowned to see the Major standing beside him, but nodded a polite greeting just the same.

"Yes, Teyla," Woolsey began, gesturing to a chair by his desk, "please sit down."

She sat uneasily, perching on the edge of the chair as though she meant to bolt at any moment.

"Can I get you some coffee?" he offered. "How are you feeling?"

"No, thank you." she said warily, "I am fine."

"And your neck?" he nodded toward the gauze padding that Doctor Keller had applied before she came to the meeting with Woolsey.

"Doctor Keller worries that the wound on the left hand side of my neck will leave a scar." she told him honestly, but shrugged as if it was of little consequence to her.

"I'm sorry to hear that," Woolsey said, and sat back in his chair, making a steeple of his fingers.

Teyla shifted uncomfortably under his regard, and flicked her gaze to the Major, still hovering at his side. "Mister Woolsey," she began after a moment or two, "If this is about what happened on M2H-423, I accept that I behaved inappropriately."

"That's not the reason for our concerns," he answered mildly.

"Then…?" she asked.

"We need to know what happened… when you were with Michael."

"When I was his prisoner," she corrected, and then she sighed, "I have already told you, I remember nothing of the time between when I was taken from Lorne's ca— You do not believe me."

"It is not a case of not believing you," Woolsey said, and he leaned forward, "Put yourself in my position, Teyla."

"No," she started to get up, "Mister Woolsey, you put yourself in mine."

"I can't," Woolsey told her, also getting to his feet, "And given some of the things you've said to Colonel Sheppard, I'm not entirely sure that I should; that anyone should."

She had turned, and was starting to walk toward the door, but, hearing this, spun around to him.

"What is that supposed to mean?" she demanded. "What has John said to you?"

"What do you remember?" Woolsey came around the desk toward her and, behind him, Major Hollick shifted to a more watchful position.

"I know nothing. I can tell you nothing!" Teyla snapped at them. "Except that he has Nethaiye and every moment you keep your teams standing here doing nothing, is another moment that you keep him in peril!"

"I don't think you believe that," Woolsey accused softly.

"What!"

"I don't think you believe that Michael poses any threat to your son, in spite of what you say to all of us. I believe that something you learned; something that happened when you were with Michael has—"

"How dare you!" she said, angrier than she had ever been since coming to Atlantis. The only thing that stopped her from striking out at him was the knowledge that he was deliberately trying to provoke her, and that was why the soldier was behind him.

"I dare because what I see of your behaviour and the things that you say do not support each other, Teyla." Woolsey said.

"You think I'm lying?" Teyla could not believe she was hearing the words. The room around her started to recede into the distance. Her breathing became laboured in her chest and she began to feel panic creeping in to leave her limbs tingling with the ache of it.

"No, I didn't say that," Woolsey held up his hand. "I believe what you say, to a degree. I believe that there is much that you can't remember about what happened, but I do think that there's perhaps something that…" He stopped and sighed, then began again. "Perhaps the memory of it is so frightening that you do not wish to speak of it; dare not, so you hide behind everything else that you truly can't remember. It's not uncommon. Colonel Sheppard said—"

Teyla turned and headed for the door, her short legs carrying her in rapid, striding steps. She had heard more than she could stand. How could these people who claimed to be her friends treat her in this way? She could barely see for the tears that burned in her eyes.

"Where do you think you're going?" Woolsey called after her. "We're not finished here."

She barely stopped in the doorway long enough to growl, "Oh yes we are. We are more than finished." before she continued on her way, virtually running toward her quarters.

**

He rounded the corner with Ronon beside him, and had to sidestep quickly to avoid being mown down by the hurrying Athosian. She did not even look at him, just pushed her way between him and Ronon, and picked up the pace of her steps still further.

"Teyla," he called, "Teyla, wait!"

"Leave me alone," she demanded as she moved on.

He exchanged a worried and puzzled glance with Ronon before the two of them began to go after her. It did not take them long to catch up, and forgetting himself, Sheppard reached out and caught hold of her arm, pulling her to a stop.

"Do not touch me!" she yelped at him and snatched her arm from his grasp, overbalancing and stumbling against the wall.

"Easy… easy," Sheppard said softly, moving toward her, with his arms outstretched.

"What did you tell him, John?" she spat at him.

He blinked in confusion. "Excuse me?"

"I thought you understood," she said, almost snarling at him, "I trusted you!"

"I don't—"

It was mostly the surprise of her back-handed slap across his face that made him stumble back a step. When she stepped forward to follow through with a second blow, born of emotion, he raised his arm to block her. The moment he made the move he knew it was a mistake. She wasn't thinking straight, and he could see she'd perceived his movement as attack. Faster than he would have imagined possible, she lashed out, her fist passing beneath his raised defences to land hard just beneath his ribs, stealing his breath and leaving him open to her following roundhouse that sent him spinning to land, a crumpled, winded heap against the opposite wall.

"Back off!" he managed to order the two marines who came running to his assistance, already raising weapons in her direction as Teyla took a defensive stance, her eyes glazed – unseeing.

"Teyla…" Ronon stepped between her and the marines, and spoke to her softly, "Teyla, it's me… Ronon… it's all right. You're safe…"

Sheppard managed to roll to all fours, and then pressed one hand against his belly as he tried to rise. He waved away the man that stepped forward to help him.

"I'm all right," he said quietly, "just… get outa here, okay?"

"Sir?" The marine looked uncertain.

"Go!" he ordered, before turning to watch Ronon and Teyla.

He was stepping slowly toward her, arms outstretched, talking to her softly – so softly that Sheppard couldn't hear what he was saying, and slowly the glazed expression was beginning to fall away from her face.

"Ronon…" she barely whispered, "John…."

"We're here, Teyla," Ronon answered calmly, taking another step that brought him to within arms reach of her.

"I… I am all right," she said, taking a breath, and squeezing her eyes closed for a moment. When she opened them she was looking at Sheppard. "John… forgive me, I—"

He gave her a weak smile and shook his head. "Just a little love tap," he said, jokingly, "barely felt a thing."

"No, I… I do not know what came over me," she argued.

"I do," Sheppard said, stepping up beside Ronon. "He's about, so tall, balding, has no idea how we do things around here…"

Again she shook her head. "It should not matter who has provoked me. I should not lash out at my friends."

"Ah," he tried to wave it off, "you can buy me a beer later. Come on. Why don't Ronon and I walk you back to your quarters? A little rest, you'll feel right as rain."

She nodded, and he gestured for her to lead the way, but soon fell into step beside her, glancing at Ronon over the top of her head in shared worry.

**

Todd suddenly jerked his head away from his microscope, and glanced toward the door before striding toward where Vega was standing peering through the viewing port. In spite of herself, she shrank against the bulkhead at his approach. It was an uneasy peace she had with the Wraith scientist and Hive commander.

"The Queen comes," he told her urgently. Without waiting for her response he took her somewhat roughly by the arm and pulled her back to her alcove. There, he began to fasten the restraints around her wrists once more.

"Is that really necessary," she asked, pulling against his touch.

"If the Queen suspects that you are still anything other than my test subject and prisoner, both our lives will be in jeopardy," he murmured, "trust me – it is better this way."

Trust him? Vega almost chuckled to herself. About as far as she could throw him, which given his enhanced strength would not be very far. Her wry amusement must have shown on her face because he looked at her in query.

"You really think you need these restraints on me to prove that I'm anything but that?" she asked. He merely rumbled in response and moved away from her, returning to his experiments. Irritated, she added, "You know, unlike you, I don't possess telepathic ability. What is, hhhrmm, supposed to mean?"

Todd chuckled, and paused in what he was doing, before he instructed, "Don't speak unless you are addressed, don't look her in the eyes, do not attempt to touch her, and above all—" he broke off, and never did finish the sentence, before the door of the laboratory opened and the Queen stalked in.

Vega did not need his many warnings about this one. She could feel the menace streaming off her like a river, flooding the room with her malevolence… her threat. She quickly looked away and tried to make herself as small as possible in the corner of her alcove and noticed that even Todd lowered his eyes, and gave a slight bow as she entered the room.

The Queen breathed out a long slow hiss, and began to walk around his workbench, trailing her fingertips over the top of it. Her razor tipped digits made a rasping sound over its chitinous surface.

It wasn't long before Vega couldn't resist temptation. The silence in the room, punctuated only by the breathy hissing from both Wraith, pulled at her curiosity until it was a burning itch that turned her eyes to watch.

The Queen was behind him now, and Todd was frozen in place. Smaller than him by several inches, she stood on the toes of her booted feet to lean closer, her cheek almost next to his as though breathing in his scent. Her nostrils flared as she ran her fingers down along his arm, grazing the back of his hand and drawing beads of blood from the lines she left on his skin. Then she began to move away and the inertia that held Todd in place broke.

"My Queen—" he began, and his voice, so suddenly breaking the eerie silence, made Vega jump and almost scramble further back into the corner. The Queen paused in her advance on the cowering woman and turned her head to hiss angrily at Todd. He immediately fell silent again. Whatever he had been trying to warn Vega, she would never know.

Instead she chanted his former instructions in her head as though it was a mantra that would keep the evil at bay. Don't look at her, don't speak to her, don't touch…

Suddenly the overwhelming scent of metallic, sweet, yet musky smelling oils pervaded her every sense. Vega had to fight the urge to retch with the intensity of it, and with the sudden press of a touch within her mind. Different than before, when Michael had invaded her consciousness, the Queen's was a twisting, angry curiosity; a sickly, persuasive sweetness pressing over the top of the contempt and hate she so obviously felt for Vega… but burning with an irrepressible need, it left Vega dizzy and gasping for breath within a second and without thinking, she reached out to try and steady herself.

"My Queen," Todd caught Vega's wrist before she could, by accident, lay hand upon the ancient female Wraith. "It is not wise to attempt to join minds with these human creatures; they are not strong enough to maintain consciousness."

He gripped her wrist tightly, digging his fingernails into her flesh beneath his own palm so that it would not be seen. The pain of it roused Vega and blinking, she took a sudden deep breath.

"Then you must teach her," the Queen responded in a sibilant voice, her head tilting, snake-like from one side to the other. "If she is to serve, she must hear my needs without fainting in my presence."

"Of course, My Queen," Todd nodded his head in another miniature bow.

"When she is ready, have her delivered to my Hive," she continued, "along with your research. You will conduct your experiments aboard my ship. It will soon arrive."

"Is that wise?" he asked softly.

"I want your work where I know it will be safe!" She hissed at him again in anger, "Unlike some, I learn from the past."

She did not have time to enjoy the thought of it however. The Queen reached for her, closing her fingers enough to prevent most of the blades from cutting into her, as she tilted her chin up to study her. It took everything she was for Vega to keep her eyes downcast, and somehow, she sensed approval from Todd – barely a whisper.

~good~

"Pleasant enough," the Queen said finally. Then her voice took on a note of warning as she added, "Have her ready soon."

Todd gave another bow, and did not rise until long after Vega felt the Queen let go of her chin, and her footsteps had receded into silence.

"What the hell!" Vega demanded as soon as Todd let go of her and rose to cross the room and close the door before returning to her side. He held something out to her. "You didn't have to pinch me quite so hard. I got the message the first time."

"Indeed?" he said, once again shaking the small piece of cloth he held in her direction to attract her attention to it. She was still massaging the feeling back into her wrist.

"Yes," she yelped, "You damn near impaled my wrist and— what the hell are you doing?"

She tried to slap at his hand as he reached toward her chin, but he ignored the abuse and, grasping her chin, turned her head to the side, and pressed the square of cloth against her jaw line. She felt the sting at once.

"She cut me! Bitch!" she spat, and then added, "That stings… what did you put on it?"

"She did," he answered as he continued to hold the cloth in place. "It is merely a mild antiseptic. Once it stops bleeding it will ensure that the wound will not become infected."

"Yeah, I know what an antiseptic does, genius." she told him, pushing his hand away and taking control of the swab herself. "If she's so dangerous, why did you lie to her?"

"I lied?" he folded his arms and looked at her in wry amusement.

Trying her best to mimic his tone, she said, "It is not wise to join minds with these creatures, they cannot maintain consciousness."

"Associations?" she said indignantly, "The bastard was trying to interrogate me, not sleep with me." Todd chuckled again and her indignation rose still further, "It's not funny. You have no idea what it was like!"

"I knew the Wraith he was," Todd breathed and let out a long slow sigh, "I can only imagine how dangerous he will have become."

Vega blinked in surprise. "You… you knew him? Who was he? How did he—"

Todd blinked, and snapped himself out of whatever introspective thought he had fallen into. He reached out and took the swab from Vega's hand. "No more questions," he said with almost a note of anger in his voice. "Just heed my warning. If you wish to live, do not allow the Queen to learn of your contact with him."

**

"This had better be good, McKay," Sheppard said as he walked in looking tousled and still half asleep. "You might not need your beauty sleep, but some of us—"

"Save it, Sheppard," McKay snapped irritably. "I wouldn't have gotten you out of bed if I didn't think it was something you should know; something everyone needs to know."

"I'm just waiting on—"

"Doctor McKay," Woolsey said cheerfully as he arrived. Sheppard exchanged a long suffering glance with Ronon. "I trust you've found something?"

"Rodney and I have been tracking the Hive ship that left M3X-667," Zelenka began, "and at the same time have been trying to interpret the data he managed to salvage from the Haradian civilisation."

"Yes, thank you, Radek," Rodney pushed the Czech to one side so that he could get to his computer terminal.

"I thought you couldn't track these things once they went into hyperspace," Woolsey frowned in confusion and came to a halt between Ronon and Rodney, pushing Zelenka still further out.

Sheppard gave Radek a sympathetic look, but the scientist shrugged and simply pushed his glasses further up his nose. Sheppard had to admit to himself that he admired the man's patience.

"That's right, but…" McKay said triumphantly, and typed a rapid sequence of keys on the laptop, to bring a display of the Pegasus galaxy onto the larger monitor on the other side of the bench. "Like all of her descendents, the Mother-Of-All-Hive-Ships has to make regular stops to recover from the effects of the subspace radiation."

"Because Wraith ships are organic in nature," Sheppard drawled lazily. "We know that, McKay, get to the point."

"She made several already, as a matter of fact. Here… here…" McKay brought up a series of flashing points on the main screen, and then with the click of a button connected the dots in a slightly curving trajectory through the galaxy. "As you can see, from the stops she's already made we can predict her most likely destination as being—"

"Here," Zelenka jabbed his finger against the display screen "M6J-272 – we've been tracking Wraith activity in that system for some time. There are a number of Hive ships congregated there."

"Yes, thank you, Radek," Rodney cut in again.

"So in all likelihood the ship is joining up with the fleet – so what?" Ronon growled.

"Ah, but not just any old Wraith fleet," McKay held up his pointing finger, cheerful in his delivery of the news. "I've been going over the telemetry from the Daedalus' records of the battle between the Wraith Hives and Michael's ship. It wasn't something that was immediately obvious because… well, because we weren't looking for it really, but that's beside the point. The point is—"

"The point is," Zelenka interrupted, "that from those records, and going back over previous records we have of encounters with Wraith Hive ships, we noticed that each one has a specific resonance signature."

"Almost like its own… DNA." Rodney continued the little double act, this time coming around the table. "The ships here," he pointed his finger at the screen where Radek had first indicated the large Hive ship was most likely heading, "give off the same resonance as the ships in the battle with Michael. Well, at least two of them do."

"And how many ships are we talking about?"

"At this range, it's impossible for our sensors to get an accurate count," Zelenka said apologetically. "We only know that the resonances match because we were specifically looking for that information."

"Give me a rough estimate then." Sheppard insisted.

"Six?" Zelenka shrugged, "Ten maybe…"

"Ten Hive ships?" Sheppard questioned, "And the Mother-of-all-Hives heading straight for them… great!"

"That's not all," Rodney added, Sheppard noted, slightly less cheerfully this time.

"More good news," Sheppard said sarcastically.

McKay came to stand facing Sheppard and the others across the work bench. "Radek and I have been going over the data we recovered from the Haradian settlement."

"You said," Ronon said.

"And from everything we've managed to translate so far, I can tell you that ship is old. Older than that," he anticipated, as Sheppard opened his mouth to ask how old. "It's been installed under that mountain for thousands and thousands of years, and the Wraith that come from that Hive have been farming that system for countless generations – human generations that is, because of course the Wraith don't really have generations and even if they did, they'd be—"

"Your point, Doctor?" Woolsey interrupted.

"Right… yes. It's entirely possible that we just stumbled onto one of the oldest Hive ships in existence."

"And presumably one of the most powerful," Woolsey said.

"We don't know that," Sheppard said, shaking his head.

"Actually, we kind of do," Zelenka came to stand beside Rodney. "Some of the texts we managed to translate make reference to certain hierarchies that simply don't exist any more within the Wraith, and to alliances that have been held by the strength of the Queen associated with that Hive."

"Surely not any more, not since the civil war started," Ronon asked, frowning.

"Oh yes… very much so, I'm afraid," Zelenka said, starting to confirm Sheppard's fears. "There are records of transmissions from Hive ships that show deference from their ruling Queens to this one Queen the likes of which we've never even heard of."

"Well, this just keeps on getting better," Sheppard said almost despairingly.

"Farmed?" Woolsey questioned.

"Well I don't imagine, now that their little Human 'battery' farm has been discovered that they're going to keep on using it now," McKay said, "especially not since the purity of their livestock is no longer guaranteed."

"Purity?" Sheppard's increasing frown was beginning to make his head ache.

"Oh yes," Zelenka said, "The Wraith kept very careful genetic records of all of the people in their system – the Haradians, Ynek's people… all of them. They were moving people around between planets to ensure that they maintained the best of genetic material to breed the strongest, most… nourishing humans."

"And that's why they were so selective with the women they took away?" Woolsey speculated.

"Oh no," Rodney corrected, "Or rather yes… but not entirely."

"Make your mind up, Rodney," Sheppard snapped, trying to wrap his head around everything he was being told.

"The women were selected because they were the fittest and strongest candidates, yes. But they were taken to be… handmaidens—"

"Handmaidens?" Sheppard almost laughed, but the look of seriousness on Rodney's face killed his mirth before it got very far.

"Yes, handmaidens," he said. "Servants for the Queen."

"And this Queen… these Wraith?" Ronon asked, his frown matching that on Sheppard's face. "They've been controlling the humans in this system for how long? Since the war between the Ancients and the Wraith?"

"Longer. Possibly," Rodney said. "With the information we have in the recovered data, the DNA samples we managed to bring back from M3X-667, and… some… data we hold here in our systems, I think we may be looking at some of the oldest, if not the oldest, Wraith still alive." He cleared his throat, "I've asked Doctor Keller to take a look at the DNA, for a second opinion."

"Why?" Woolsey asked, "Does it matter?"

Rodney shrugged a little uncomfortably. "Just… playing a hunch." he said softly.

**

She sighed deeply and turned over to face the other side of the room for the third time in as many minutes. She tried closing her eyes, but the faint sound of the silken drapes brushing against the floor of the room sounded like breathing, and after only a moment she found herself opening her eyes and sitting up to look around the room.

It was empty of course, and with another sigh, Teyla lay back down on her back and stared at the ceiling. She could not close the windows because she was hot and uncomfortable, and nothing she could do, no position she could take, brought her the slightest relief from it. Finally she threw back her covers and sat up, reaching for a robe.

Carefully, making sure she was decently covered, she made her way to the door, and stepped out into the corridor. She had resisted it up until now, because if felt to her like something she should not do, but the discomfort she felt, the fullness of her breasts, now gave her little choice.

She turned the corner heading for the infirmary, where she could get Jennifer to help her, and almost collided with Major Hollick. She put out a hand in front of her to prevent the collision.

"Major Hollick," she said in surprise.

"Teyla," he nodded in greeting, giving her an almost nonchalant and quite pleasant smile afterwards. "Isn't it a little late to be walking around the city?"

Teyla frowned, "I… am uncomfortable," she answered somewhat awkwardly, though she saw no reason why she should have to explain herself to anyone. Perhaps intentionally trying to embarrass the young major she added, "I was going to the infirmary to see if Doctor Keller might be able to help me express some of my milk."

She felt only somewhat vindicated when Major Hollick blushed, "Oh, I er… of course. Don't let me hold you up."

"Thank you," she said coldly, and began to move around him. "Goodnight."

She barely heard the major's response as she walked on. Her mind was replaying the moments of her meeting with him. It was quite obvious to her, after she had given the matter some thought, that the marine had not been walking along the corridor as she had first thought, but had, in fact, been standing at that corner. He had been guarding the corridor, and only one person on the base would have ordered such a blatant assault on her liberty… Richard Woolsey.

**

Vega shrank back against the wall of the Queen's chamber, mirroring the actions of her companion, as the Queen came to her feet, and started down the tiered steps toward the floor of her chamber.

As Todd came into view in the doorway, Vega tugged at the scant clothing she had been given, to try and cover herself more than was possible with such revealing garments. He gave her but a single glance, but the raised eyebrow was enough to make Vega want to push his pointed teeth down his throat. Instead she curled herself up even smaller.

"You sent for me, my Queen," Todd said.

The Queen graced him with a cold expression, her eyes narrowed in a head that was tilted to the side. She reached the space before him and looked him over from the top of his head to the boots on his feet, and Vega could not help but feel the lasciviousness that streamed from the Queen as she did. It faded quickly, however, in the annoyance that was rising.

"I am aware of you presence," she snapped at him.

He gave her a low bow that Vega interpreted as apology. The apology must have been sufficient, since the Queen raised a hand to his shoulder and slowly began to circle him, pausing a moment at his back, before completing the circuit. Then she turned from him and began to ascend her steps again. After only a moment, he followed her.

The more time Vega spent in the Queen's presence, the more she was coming to be able to read her body language, and from the way the Queen moved now, slowly and carefully, she could tell that she and Todd were deep in conversation. She glanced over at him. He was far more guarded, and held himself stiffly, giving nothing away in the way he moved.

"All of my equipment and research is now installed in the laboratory facilities you have been kind enough to provide for me aboard your ship," he said suddenly, as if he realised that Vega was trying to work out the nature of their conversation.

"How dare you!" the Queen's anger exploded through the room, almost suffocating Vega as it washed over her.

Todd stepped backwards, descending three or four steps before the Queen had calmed enough and raised her hand to halt his movement. She let out a last irritated hiss and said, "You have been dealing with humans for too long, it seems."

"Forgive me, my Queen," he said softly, his head still inclined in a bow. "I forgot myself."

Forgot nothing, Vega realised, he was deliberately speaking so that she could hear. She uncurled herself a little, and began to pay more attention to everything she could see, and hear and feel.

"Hmmm," she beckoned him forward again, "since you seem to so enjoy conversation," she made the word sound like the most terrible insult, "you should use you influence with the humans from Atlantis and… persuade them to assist in our… campaign to bring their Michael to a proper justice."

"My Queen?" Todd swallowed just a little.

"I know you have the means," she told him. "Contact those that now occupy Atlantis and propose our alliance." She hissed slowly and physically bristled, "That one has been allowed far too great a liberty. It is time we reminded it of its place."

Vega began to shiver at the tone in her voice, but then frowned in confusion as a certain degree of a feeling almost like a longing washed over her.

**

Teyla smiled at the orderlies on duty in the main infirmary area as she made her way through to where she expected to find Jennifer. The room was empty, and almost completely dark, except for a little illumination from the equipment that remained active even in the doctor's absence.

Sighing a little, she began to look around for the device that the doctor had shown her. She had told her of its use and then had reminded her where the device would be stored, should she need it. It did not take her long to locate the breast pump on a shelf close by a tall medical refrigerator.

As she approached, something in the refrigerator caught her eye. With no warning of its coming, she was flooded with a rush of sensation and memory. Her steps faltered and she suddenly could not catch her breath.

Fear… no, it was greater than fear. Panic…

She stopped struggling against him and looked up at Michael, her expression dissolving into one of sorrow and need. More so in that moment than in any other she felt him… the press of his hand against the small of her back, his fingers wound into her hair and the heat of his body pressed close against hers. Her tiny hands trembled against his chest as the darkness began to close in on her.

…Michael… …why…

She felt the movement of him lowering her to the ground, the feelings in him that mirrored her own, the regret that almost smothered her as she felt it from him… but her hold on consciousness was slipping, her vision fading fast. Through the tears blurring her eyes, she dimly saw him move to retrieve a vial from a case he took from his belt… she could see no more as the dark took hold at last, but she felt him press something cold into her hand, carefully close her fingers around it.

"You will need this," he said softly.

She remembered little more, only that he moved again, that she had been able to feel him so close that she could feel his breath against the side of her cheek. He had whispered something, but she could not remember the words.

"Michael, what did you do?" she whispered, and squeezed her eyes shut tightly as she fought to remember. Her breath shook as she breathed out and opened her eyes. The vial was all that she could see. It was as though she was mesmerised by it. Without a backward glance, she opened the refrigerator and reached inside to take the vial. The sensation of it, cold within her hand, brought the memory rushing over her again, the same memory. He had given this to her. He had said she would need it. Almost as though she knew what she had to do she closed the refrigerator again, and looked around until she located the syringes and could retrieve one, and a needle to go with it. Then, slipping the three items into her pocket, she turned and headed toward the isolation room, where they were treating Major Lorne.

Her steps only faltered when she saw the two soldiers standing, one each side of the door, and she realised she would not be able to go in to see him, not alone. Before she could turn away and retreat, one of the soldiers spotted her and nodded.

"Anything we can help you with?" he asked.

"I am looking for Doctor Keller," she said automatically, "I had thought she was on duty, but she was not where I expected to find her. She is with the Major?"

The soldier shook his head, "It was a quiet night," he told her, "The doctor said to contact her if anything serious happened. She went to her quarters, I think."

"Then I will not disturb her until morning," Teyla said, "Thank you."

**

Sheppard sighed and picked his head up from the top of the conference table. He was just not fated to get any sleep. He glanced first at Caldwell, who looked as bleary eyes as he felt, and then at Ronon, who looked positively furious at being woken for a second time, and then at Woolsey with the technician sitting beside him. Both of them looked as bright and bushy as squirrel Nutkins on his early morning foraging run.

"I still don't see why this couldn't have waited until morning," Sheppard said, irritated. "If we're going to do anything with Todd, we have to do it on our time and on our terms, and as far as I'm concerned that means getting a good night's sleep so that we can come to this with a clear head."

"We've been here before," Ronon growled, "accepting proposals from the Wraith can only mean trouble, for us… for the people of this galaxy. When will you learn – the Wraith can't be trusted."

"Ordinarily, I'd agree with you, Ronon," Woolsey said, "And wouldn't even entertain the notion of going to a meeting with the Wraith to hear any proposal that they have to put forward, but the fact of the matter is that the area that he suggested would most benefit from his proposal, is one that is currently suffering huge losses because of the conflict between the Wraith and Michael… and going to a discussion costs us very little."

"And if it's a trap?" Ronon asked.

"I was under the impression that Colonel Sheppard had a good relationship with this… Todd." Woolsey said.

"Yeah, and we had an 'understanding' with Michael," Caldwell said sarcastically, "and look how that turned out."

"So, I can take it that you don't agree that we should do this?" Woolsey asked.

"Not without knowing a hell of a lot more than we already do," Sheppard elaborated on Caldwell's answer – a shake of his head in the negative.

"Well, I—"

"Mister Woolsey," Major Hollick appeared in the doorway, "Might I have a word?"

Woolsey looked up and then with a smile, said, "Of course, Major," he nodded to the others, "Excuse me, Gentlemen. Talk among yourselves until I get back."

"Anyone else getting a huge rush of déjà vu right about now?" Sheppard asked as Woolsey left the room.

"I think he's clutching at straws to try and prove himself," Caldwell suggested. "You can't blame him for that, given the way they replaced Colonel Carter."

"I think he doesn't know what he's talking about," Ronon grumbled. "And so far he's led us into nothing but trouble."

"Would you want to risk the Daedalus on this mission?" Sheppard asked Caldwell.

"What I want or don't want is beside the point, Colonel," Caldwell answered, "I have orders to assist the Atlantis Expedition to accomplish its missions, to defend the city and—"

"Oh, come on, Steven… just following orders? That's hardly original." Sheppard protested urgently.

"All right," Caldwell leaned forward and said softly, "Off the record, I'm no happier about this that you are. The difference is, I'll follow orders, but do my damnedest to make sure I can do so as safely as possible."

"You think we'll have any choice?" Ronon said, his question rolling around the room between the three of them. "This isn't a meeting to take our opinions and then make a decision based on them. This is a meeting for him to assess just how much we're against him, assert his authority, and then do… goodness knows what while we're away following his suicidal orders."

"I can see you have a low opinion of the man," Caldwell said.

"I know his kind," Ronon answered, "I've served under his kind before. He talks a lot; acts as though he has balls, but put a real life Wraith in front of him and he'd mess himself like a baby!"

"Just playing devil's advocate for a moment," Sheppard cut in, trying to change the subject a little, "Supposing he's right; supposing this proposal of Todd's does help, what then? Shouldn't we at least hear what Todd has to say – from a safe distance of course?"

Neither Ronon nor Caldwell had the chance to answer. Looking very serious, Woolsey came back into the room.

"Sorry, gentlemen," he said as he walked in, "I rather think we're left with little choice. "We've received word from our outposts near the affected areas that either the Wraith or Michael's people are on the move and they're likely to get caught in the firestorm between them. We have to go and listen to what our Wraith friend has in mind."

Caldwell exchanged a glance with Sheppard before he said, "I'll ready the Daedalus."

**

She walked a darkening, narrowing hallway, most atypical of the hallways on most Wraith facilities. She knew she had taken a wrong turn and should go back – find the others again – but something compelled her, moved her onwards.

The hallway ended in an open doorway, she could not see inside. Gripping her weapon tightly she stepped within, turning quickly first one way, and then the other to ensure the room was safe. She saw nothing and so cautiously stepped forward, one pace at a time.

There was someone there, she could sense him, but her eyes told her that the room was empty.

"I know that you are here," she said coldly, "show yourself – coward."

"I don't know whether to congratulate you on finding my laboratory, or to feed on you to ensure your silence."

The voice came from right behind her, and she froze.

"Put down the weapon," he said.

"No."

"You have no need of it."

-No need of it- -no need- -need-

"Michael…" she gasped, turning her head and moaning softly. Her skin prickled with the sensation of his presence, his touch.

"You are not like the others," he said. His fingers travelled from her shoulders, down the length of her arms to find her hands, to guide her suddenly quiescent fingers into relinquishing their hold on the P90 they contained. "There. Much better," he said softly, as the weapon clattered to the floor of the chamber.

"Let go of me!" she demanded, pulling against where his hands still covered hers.

"I will admit, when first I sensed you, I was surprised to discover than any of your kind still lived. I thought you had all been eradicated, either by my own kind or by yours. Either way, it is… interesting to see the result of it all made flesh."

"Take your hands off me," she snarled.

"Make me."

-Make me- -make me- - make me-

"Don't…" the breath came from her in a rush and she snatched another, "…Please… Michael, I want…"

She gripped the blanket beside her tightly in one hand, and the hand resting beside her face closed into a fist. She moaned again and her breathing quickened until she virtually trembled with each breath.

Suddenly she spun away from him, twisting his hand and pulling him closer again before she shifted her balance and brought her knee upward toward his middle. He let one knee bend beneath him, allowing him to turn and take the blow against his hip, at the same time releasing the hand he still held, and quickly bringing his arm across to defend against the blow she aimed at him with the other.

She used the momentum of the blocked attack to all but somersault over his left shoulder; to put herself behind him. He continued his own descent, and turned quickly on one knee, his long white hair flying behind him as he did.

This time he came at her, and he was pulling no punches. His hands were a blur that she fought to keep up with; hurried to block the incoming blows as she was forced to give ground.

"Good," he murmured, hardly out of breath, as hers came tremulously, her body fighting fatigue. Step by step he forced her toward the bulkhead wall until she had nowhere left to go, until her arms burned with the effort of holding back his blows… her eyes darting to find an opening, to make an attack of her own. He encouraged her, "Yes…"

She lashed out suddenly, sensing an opening – but it was a trick of her tired mind – and he easily caught her wrist, pressed her against the wall with the whole of him. His fingers grazed her wrist, and then passed over her palm to entwine with her own and hold her in place. His right hand pressed against her chest.

Her breathing came in startled, terrified snatches, but all the same there was something primal, almost needful in the sensations travelling through her in that moment.

"There are two possibilities from this point," he told her, capturing her eyes with his as he tilted his head, continuing in a whisper, "What are we…to do?"

Teyla moaned again, shifting her legs against each other beneath the soft blankets as though she sought to free herself from some imaginary tangle of them. The snatches of breath she took were so rapid, so shallow, that it seemed as though she had just run some great distance.

His name fell from her again, and she bit her trembling lower lip. She turned her head, pleading with him, "Please, I… don't…"

One of her hands flailed out as though fending off some contact, or perhaps reaching for something… someone… reaching as the dream shifted… the slightest change…

She took a breath that shuddered almost as a sob through her trembling body; she could feel the weight of him over her, the strength in him, and the fierce need in him that matched her own. She could feel his touch as it lingered over her, travelling toward where she most needed to feel the reverence of it.

Moaning, she shifted again, almost arching her back as though to catch the phantom touch from her dream… her breathing quickened still more, her heart a betrayal throbbing in her chest as she suddenly called out for him, a needful, breathless cry.

"Michael… Michael!"

Her awakening was as sudden as had been her release. She sat up, the bedclothes falling in a heap around her waist, his name still falling from her lips, a whisper now, "Michael…"

Just as suddenly her room was full of light and sound.