Cedarfiction.net - Enmity

Stargate: Atlantis is the property of MGM. All characters and images remain the property of the original copyright holder. No infringement is intended. No revenue is being obtained from copyright material

Act 4

Teyla's hand shook as she reached for Major Lorne's IV. She moved her eyes over his face, taking in his changed features, his mottled skin, the engorged veins around his temples and on the side of his face, and the beginnings of the twin depressions to each side of his face.

With some little difficulty she disconnected the drip from the cannula and unfastened his restraints, not really knowing why, except perhaps that she was transferring her own feeling of betrayal to him, and that seeing him held captive like that was making it all so much worse.

"I'm outside the isolation room, and I'd very much like to come inside and speak with you. I understand you're angry… and frightened – all I want to do is talk. I'm going to have Doctor McKay open the door."

Quickly she came around the bed on which Lorne was lying, and aimed the P90 at the centre of the doors. She knew it wouldn't take Rodney long to bypass the damaged control panel. Only moments later the door began to move.

"Stay where you are," she demanded as soon as she could see through the door. Woolsey stood in front of a small group of people, his hands raised and empty as far as she could tell. "I will shoot you if you move before I tell you."

"I believe you, Teyla," Woolsey said softly. "You're in control here… I only want to talk."

Behind Woolsey, Major Hollick stood tense and at the ready, his hand gripping his weapon, and beside him, two other marines stood clutching stunners. To the side of the small group, Jennifer watched, looking concerned, and beside her, McKay, tablet in hand, his nose red and swollen, his eyes already blackening. She felt a pang of remorse at that.

"Have Major Hollick and his men drop their weapons, slide them over to Doctor Keller. She can bring them inside, put them on the table." She jerked her head slightly to indicate the examination table to her left.

"The door stays open. Everyone remains where I can see them," she insisted. "If anyone moves—"

"I hope you have more faith in your word than I," she growled, "since it will be your life in danger."

She watched in silence as the marines slowly relinquished their weapons, following her instructions, and sliding them over to Jennifer. The doctor picked them up and began to carry them to the examination table Teyla had indicated.

"No, Jennifer," she said, "It is regrettable that it has come to this, but I will not be treated this way any longer. Please… return to the others."

"Doctor Keller," Woolsey said gently, encouraging her to leave the room. She complied with a sad sounding sigh. Once Jennifer had returned to Rodney's side, Teyla glanced at everyone to see that there was little or no threat remaining from any of them, before she lay down the P90 and picked up one of the handguns.

"Step inside… slowly," she told him, and waited while he did so, his hands still raised. "You wanted to talk, though I do not think there is much we have left to talk about, Mister Woolsey."

"Too little, too late," she answered without pause. "Everything you have done to me since my return… every assault on my privacy, every betrayal of trust… How can I believe anything you say to me now?"

"You have treated me with enmity, Mister Woolsey," she said, her voice like a knife in the silence, "when I have most needed your help. You have denied me everything that could have made this better."

"It was never my intention," he told her. "I was only trying to maintain the security of Atlantis."

"By punishing me for my captivity with Michael!" she shouted the accusatory question, tightening her finger on the trigger.

"You were all but ready to turn me over to your interrogators on Earth," she said.

"Listen to yourself, Teyla," he said softly, "Do you know how paranoid you sound?"

"Can you not see the reason for my paranoia?" she asked sarcastically, "When you have me followed day and night, when you put surveillance in my quarters?"

"You were concerned for yourself." she said, her voice full of contempt. "I did not matter to you – I have never mattered to you."

"Let's just… try and keep calm, shall we?" Woolsey asked mildly. Jennifer switched her gaze between the base commander and the exhausted, edgy Athosian. They were watching each other intently, never taking their eyes from each other, each trying to bend the other to their own viewpoint. She sighed. She could see the truth from both sides – though she vehemently disapproved of Woolsey's methods. He could have allowed her to guide Teyla through the days following her return to them. She had tried to tell him as much on many occasions, but he had always pushed aside her warnings; ignored her advice. Now they were each paying the price of his bombastic leadership style.

"What do you expect of me, Mister Woolsey?" Teyla snapped in response. "You have backed me into a corner. Do you expect me to just… acquiesce to your every wish?"

"Only to one," he told her, and gestured toward Jennifer. "I want you to surrender yourself to Doctor Keller's care." Keller tried to soften her expression, but the tumultuous thunder she saw beginning to form on Teyla's face made it hard. "I promise you that she, and only she, will speak with you about anything to do with the… missing time you have from your memory. Let her help you, and when she thinks you are ready, we can all meet again to consider how we might go forward from there."

The doctor saw the wavering indecision on Teyla's face, as though for a moment she was considering his words; as though she would believe what Jennifer knew he would, himself, be unable to comply with.

"Jennifer?" Teyla questioned, and Keller felt herself flushing slightly, wearing her heart – and her beliefs – on her sleeve. Teyla saw it, she must have, because she continued, "You do not believe him."

"I want to," she admitted to the other woman, "And I think he wants to try and do as he says."

"Ronon… suggested that you might like to… return to your people. You could remain with them throughout your recovery." He tried to make progress once more. "Doctor Keller could visit you there."

Behind the Athosian woman, and slightly to the left, a shadow moved and a shape lunged toward her.

"Teyla, look out!" Woolsey called out, but even his urgent call came too late. Neither could Teyla's reactions, slowed by her suspicion of him, save her. In the time it took him to blink, Lorne had wrapped an arm around Teyla from behind, and held a scalpel to her throat. In his other hand, Major Lorne held Hollick's sidearm, aimed perfectly in Woolsey's direction.

"Give me the gun, Teyla," Lorne said, his voice straining and on the edge of sibilant.

"Evan," Teyla whispered, the terrible, complicated situation becoming more so by the moment. "You have to let me go."

Slowly she drew back the weapon, turning it so that she could bring the butt of the gun toward the hand that held the knife to her throat. She kept the rest of her very still.

"Stand down, Major," Woolsey tried, but Lorne ignored him and, dropping the knife, snatched the weapon from Teyla's hand and instantly pointed it at her head.

Something in the tone of his voice made her turn her head suddenly in his direction, take a step away. He did not move, did not waver in his aim at her head, or in his aim on Woolsey. She blinked, and swallowed as she looked on the major, and then whispered his name.

"We're going to walk out of here – the three of us," Lorne said. "No one interferes, and you both do as you're told, no one will be hurt."

The three way battle was not going well. In spite of the fierce attack by a small group of Michael's hybrid soldiers, the Wraith were concentrating most heavily on Sheppard and the soldiers from Atlantis.

As fast as the Wraith were taken down, the Darts beamed in reinforcements. To Sheppard, something felt askew… something not right…

Sheppard guessed that the captain was pinned against the rocks, where he was sheltering, by crossfire between two of the groups and that, if he moved, he risked exposing himself, risked injury or death.

At Ronon's call, Sheppard looked over in the direction of the marine captain and swore softly, behind the man, another Wraith was making his way through the rocks toward Warsh.

"Don't need to tell me twice," the big man replied, and grinning somewhat grimly, he gripped his weapon and flexed his muscle ready to make the charge.

"Screw three," Ronon replied, and in the next instant launched himself out into the open, firing rapidly and screaming as he went. Sheppard shook his head and muttered under his breath before he too made a run for the middle of the fight.

Ronon's weapon sounded again and again as he fired first one way and then the other, trying to give cover to the retreating soldiers and to Warsh in particular; to discourage the Wraith behind him from getting any closer. As Sheppard caught up to him, supporting the slower, but perhaps more effective, energy weapon with the percussive rounds fired by his P90, another wave of Darts headed their way after entering the atmosphere.

"These guys just never give up!" Sheppard grumbled, as the first of the culling beams activated, seeding the ground with fresh Wraith warriors.

Ronon abandoned his blaster in favour of his heavy sword as he scrambled over the rocks toward Warsh. The blade flashed, reflecting the bursts of light from the energy weapons that blazed all around.

"Damn it," Sheppard turned and backed toward them, firing all the way. The rest of the Lantean soldiers had retreated and it was just the three of them, with Wraith and hybrids all around. "This is insane." He keyed his headset, yelling above the sound of his weapon, "Daedalus, this is Sheppard, any chance of an emergency beam out yet? Warsh is hit."

"Negative, Sheppard." Caldwell sounded apologetic, as well as obviously in the thick of the fray. "Our engineers are still working on it. You'll have to do it the old fashioned way."

"Understood," Sheppard said. He scrambled over the rocks and crouched beside the stricken marine, trusting Ronon to keep them both covered from attack by the nearby Wraith. Warsh had taken a hit to the top of his chest, the bleeding looked bad, and the captain was grey with the pain of it.

"Take it easy, soldier," Sheppard said. He reached into the pocket of his flack jacket and took out the emergency medical pouch. It didn't contain much, he knew – just something to pad the wound, and a single shot of morphine, but at least it would give them the chance to get the man out of immediate danger – if that was even possible for any of them.

The Wraith grinned at Ronon as if in anticipation of their fight to come. Ronon responded by stepping closer, turning the blade around full circle, taunting the Wraith to dare to try and reach him; reach his friends.

Still grinning, the Wraith reached behind him, and without a warning, came at Ronon, a wicked looking, long, barbed knife in each hand. The speed of the attack and the ferocity of it were astonishing and, Ronon thought, against anyone other than him, would probably have been devastating. He stepped toward the Wraith and met each of the incoming strikes, sending sparks into the air around them.

Time slowed as Ronon found his rhythm, his blade weaving first one way, and then the other, meeting the Wraith's incoming strikes both high and low. His momentum built until he was able to do more than just defend and was able to step forward, into an attacking posture. Higher and higher he forced the Wraith to defend. He aimed a strike at the creature's chest, and next his shoulders, forcing the Wraith to shift his balance, and back away to keep out of reach of the long, sharp blade with which Ronon fought.

The Satedan warrior raised his free hand to equalise his balance for the coming strike. His enemy grinned as Ronon telegraphed exactly how he would be coming at him, striking for the Wraith's head. The Wraith pulled back on himself, concentrating all of his defence against the attack that would come at his throat.

Without warning, Ronon dropped his back foot and came down onto his knee as his arm drove the sword forward. Far from aiming at the surprised Wraith's heavily defended throat, he took him in the belly. Bracing himself, bunching his muscles to rise, the Satedan warrior turned the blade to find the Wraith's cold heart before he recovered enough from his surprise and used the strength of his pain to drive the knives into the momentarily vulnerable Ronon.

The barbed knives fell, harmlessly, to the ground as Ronon twisted the blade again, ignoring the hot rush of Wraith blood against his hand. The Wraith's last breath hissed against the side of his face as the macabre embrace that stole his life came to an abrupt end. Ronon pushed him away in disgust.

"Warsh?" he asked Sheppard as he cleaned his blade on the bottom corner of the Wraith's coat.

"Bad," Sheppard answered, and turning Ronon saw for himself the condition of the injured man. "We're going to have to carry him out of here. You cover me and I'll—"

Teyla rarely panicked, but in those next few moments she felt the beginnings of it like a hard spike driven deep in her belly. She had begun to waken to the realisation and the enormity of what she had done, and what was occurring. Everything of the last twenty four hours began to whirl violently around in her mind and she had no anchor, no point of safety.

Each step of the way they were followed by a growing number of marines – those that had not gone in support of Colonel Sheppard – who cautiously kept pace with their slow advance toward the Gate Room. Lorne had released his hold on her in favour of Woolsey, though he still covered her with his second weapon and she was no freer to make an escape than she would have been had he still held her.

She would not risk trying to resist, or to free Woolsey. She knew, as unsettled as she was, any mistake she made could cost either, or both, of their lives. They moved painfully slowly and she felt that the eyes of the entire city were on her, watching her every move, judging her, and finding her wanting… this is all your fault. Her head was pounding, her heart raced and she felt hot and dizzy, as though she was sick, and the wide corridor closed in around her.

"I've already admitted I took the wrong approach, Major," Woolsey said cautiously. "If you let us both go, I'm sure we can—"

Lorne growled, "No more talking!" and backed them into the Gate Room, where the rest of the base security was waiting.

As much as she saw it, Teyla felt Lorne tense. She could see the stress building in him; in everything about him. "Hollick," she said to the obvious commander of security, "Tell your men to back away – their presence is… agitating Major Lorne. No one need get hurt."

"If Major Lorne leaves Atlantis, and no one here is hurt, surely that is a favourable outcome," she pressed.

"For Michael maybe," Hollick argued. "With what Lorne knows about this bas—"

"You do not understand," Teyla said with a sigh, "What Evan knows, no longer matters. Anything Michael wishes, or wished, to know of this base is likely already open to him, Major Hollick."

"I said no talking!" Lorne pushed the handgun violently against the underside of Woolsey's chin and then called up to the control room. "Dial the gate."

"Sir?" the technician called down, uncertainly, as Lorne backed them toward the Gate. They stopped close enough to be within easy reach, but with enough clearance that the activating wormhole would not catch them in its initial rush.

"Under the circumstances," Woolsey said quietly, "perhaps it would be wise to follow his instructions."

Lorne instructed. "To join Colonel Sheppard—" He suddenly broke off talking, grimacing as though some terrible cramp had grabbed his middle and was eating away at him. Some of the marines took the opportunity to inch their way forward. "No," Lorne gasped, straightening up and momentarily taking the gun from Teyla, to wave it in the Marine's direction, "stay away."

In that moment she could have done many things. She could have run. She could have taken advantage of Lorne's distraction and made a safer attempt to relieve him of the guns; to free Woolsey.

For each thought of helping to resolve the situation, another, born of her anger, her disappointment, her fear for what would become of her, filled her mind with indecision. If only she could leave the city – find somewhere she could have a moment's peace to settle the whirling torrent of everything inside of her. She jumped as the wormhole rushed in to disturb the tension with a chilling rush.

"Come with me, Teyla," Lorne said, for the second time, echoing her thoughts with his words.

"It wasn't an invitation." he insisted, and started to move toward the, now stable, event horizon, still holding on to Woolsey.

She kept her eyes on Lorne as he moved; as he gestured to her with the gun to move closer to the shimmering blue puddle, fighting with herself as much as she was cautious of giving in to the major's request.

"Major Lorne, you don't need to do this," Woolsey tried once again to dissuade him from entering the Gate. "Come back to the infirmary. Let Doctor Keller—"

"She can't help me!" Lorne moaned, and for a moment, faltered. That moment was the one for which Hollick had apparently been waiting.

Teyla saw his movement only as a blur in the corner of her eye that came, like a shadow, barrelling toward them. The movement of the shadow slowed, became horribly drawn out as Lorne responded. He pushed her hard, toward the Gate, and all but threw Woolsey after her. The last she heard from Atlantis was the percussive ring of two shots fired, and the dull sound of a body hitting the floor.

Sheppard sent Ronon on ahead while he cleared up from treating Captain Warsh. It did not occur to him that the sounds of fighting around him had diminished, as though the Wraith had followed the battle elsewhere, much less had it crossed his mind why that should be so.

He quickly put away the items he hadn't used, and fastened the pouch, ready to put it into the pocket of his flack jacket once more, before standing and turning to go. To his credit, when he almost walked into the business end of the blaster aimed at his head, he had the good sense to raise his own weapon as well.

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

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

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

"You presume too much!" Michael took several menacing steps toward him and Sheppard, in spite of himself, backed up. "Your presence here is unnecessary; unwelcome."

"I could say the same about you," Sheppard said, tensing still further. Of all the times he'd seen Michael in various states of agitation, this seemed to be the worse of them. He tried to work out why, beside the danger they were all of them in, from the Wraith and the firepower of the massive Hive ship.

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

Sheppard shivered at the truth of that… and the added realisation that if Michael and his hybrids hadn't shown up on the ground, they would likely be fighting a losing battle here as well.

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

"I don't buy it," Sheppard took another step back, trying to put some distance between him and the Wraith-Human hybrid. "You would maybe send your minions for that, but to come yourself?"

"And to give us the lead on the Haradians…? Seems to me like you have some kind of grudge against this particular Hive." Sheppard knew he was playing with fire, taunting Michael as he was, but he was determined to get some answers.

"And what did you do with Teyla's baby?" Sheppard risked a step forward, tightening his grip on his weapon and aiming a little closer at Michael. It was meant to be menacing.

"He is safe!" Far from being worried by Sheppard's actions, Michael grew angry. "Which is more than can be said for his mother!"

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

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

Sheppard frowned, worried and uneasy. It seemed to him that Michael knew exactly what had been going on in the city – exactly what Teyla had been subjected to, "How the—" he started, but his question was abruptly interrupted.

Alarms began to sound as yet another dart made a strafing run against the ship. Sparks lit up the bridge from the explosion caused by the weapons' hits.

"Shields are down to thirty percent," Marks said solemnly as he silenced the alarm, "Colonel, we can't take much more of this. Whatever Sheppard is doing, he better do it fast. We're in bad shape."

"You don't need to tell me that," Caldwell nodded and returned to the command chair from looking out at the chaos of battle outside. As he threw himself into his seat, he ordered, "Take us out of orbit."

Caldwell shook his head, "I won't leave them behind, but as it stands we're no use to them in orbit either. We can't beam them out of there until the engineers have gotten the beaming technology operational again. No… put those cruisers between us and that Hive. Let's at least use what resources are available to us… even if they don't belong to us."

"Let's hope it's enough," Caldwell said darkly. He turned his attention to a study of the HUD, and couldn't help noticing that a single dart was somehow weaving its way through the battle toward the Hive ship.

The Queen snarled over her shoulder and Vega jerked her hands away quickly. She barely had herself away in time when the Queen got to her feet and began to descend the steps.

Agitation flooded over Vega, and it was only when she raised her head that she saw the reason for it. Todd strode across the chamber, and was clearly not in the mood for the Queen's idle seduction. Neither was the Queen in the mood to give it, Vega realised, as the Elder Wraith snarled at him.

"It would have been more prudent for you to tell me that you intended only to use the humans to lure them here." Todd did not seem at all intimidated by her anger.

"I do not need to explain myself to you!" she hissed, and began to reach for him.

The instant before her hand struck his chest he lashed out and caught her wrist. Her other hand struck across, like a slap to his face, except that her fingers were leading, and left four parallel slices across his cheek. Almost immediately blood began to trickle from the cuts. Undeterred, he caught that wrist also, spinning her round to pin her in his arm against his chest. She struggled, snarling at him wordlessly, and Vega could only image the silent argument that must have been taking place. Finally the Queen began to still.

"Do not make the mistake that lesser Queens would make," he rumbled against her cheek. "These humans are not predictable, not able to be controlled as you are accustomed to. Take great care if you are to use them further."

"I mean to bring the Renegade to heel," she hissed at him, though Vega could see and feel that she was calming somewhat more. Whether it was that she heard an implied respect in Todd's words, though Vega doubted that was what he was implying at all, or the fact of being pinned in his arms the way she was, Vega wasn't sure. The Queen went on, "And if the only way to do so is to threaten the humans of Atlantis, then that is what I will do."

Finally she pulled herself out of his arms, and, turning, reached up with the back of her hand to coat her fingers in the blood that seeped from his cheek. She tilted her head at him.

"You do not believe it has… affections for them?" she asked, and Vega guessed she had just read his mind. "…concern?"

"I believe that if defending them suits his agenda, then – as now – he will do so," Todd said, and Vega thought that he had carefully schooled his expression toward neutral. "But I believe it is as dangerous to assume that you can bend that one to your will as it is to assume that the humans will co-operate."

The Queen turned away, and began to walk back toward her throne. "And will they?" she asked.

"Doubtful," he said, "Now anyway. They were ready to do so, before you launched your ill advised attack. Now it is unlikely that they will trust even me."

"Then we must find a way to restore their faith in you." she purred as she sat. She held out her hand for cleaning, and absently said, "Call off the attack on the humans. Concentrate only on the Renegade."

Todd took in a breath, "Yes… my Queen," he added, perhaps sounding momentarily reticent. But he bowed, and turned ready to go and carry out her orders.

The Queen's mental command was like a whip that travelled through the room, and split Vega's head like an axe, leaving it aching. The Elder Wraith Female turned her head to face Vega.

Vega whimpered slightly at the crushing command and began to move her feet even before she fully understood the meaning of the words.

"I assure you that will not be necessary," Todd said, somewhat quickly. "I will wear the scars that you have given me with pride, my Queen."

The Queen's hold on her ended abruptly, and Vega, already half way across the chamber, almost fell to the floor as though her legs had been cut out from beneath her.

"She can at least tend to you," the Queen said. It was clearly an order, even though her tone had softened. "I insist."

Todd gave a bow, and without waiting, turned and started for the door. Vega hurriedly got to her feet. Her legs were still shaking, but she knew that if she delayed, if she did not follow then it would be the worse for her.

"Find something to tie his hands," Lorne said as the Gate disengaged, and she was left in the dim light of the planet's late afternoon. Teyla shivered.

"Really, that won't be necessary," Woolsey said, "I have no intention of trying anything foolish. I mean to cooperate."

"Do it," Lorne snapped. "I don't want to have to keep the gun on him the entire time. There are other things to worry abou—"

"There are Wraith here," Teyla said, she felt the gnawing sensation in the pit of her belly and started looking around her as though she expected at least a dozen to jump out at them at any moment.

Woolsey sighed, but none the less did not struggle as she tore a strip from the bottom of her shirt and used it to tie his hands tightly behind his back.

She turned her head in time to see and catch the weapon he threw to her. She frowned at him in confusion.

"I had to get you out of Atlantis," he told her. "They were not going to let you go, nor let you rest until you told them what they wanted to hear – no matter what he said." Lorne jerked his head toward Woolsey, and then turned and looked first one way and then the other. "Come on, this way."

"The Wraith are all around us, Teyla," Lorne said as he started walking, pulling Woolsey along by the arm. "It's why you're not supposed to be… but I had no choice."

"In case you didn't realise," Woolsey said to her as Teyla followed them, "he's probably taking you right back to Michael."

"I told you to be quiet!" Lorne pushed Woolsey sharply as he spoke through gritted teeth, as though the pains of his transformation were becoming strong again.

Teyla shook her head, though whether in denial of Woolsey's warning or in sympathy of Lorne's pain she was not sure. She hurried a few steps to bring her level with the others.

"Evan, listen to me," she said, "We are only two, and you are not well. We cannot stand against the number of Wraith on this world. We should go back to the Gate, find somewhere—"

"No," Evan grimaced, and for a moment faltered in his steps, raising his gun toward her again. "Here… here!"

"All right," she raised her hands, "All right… but Evan, at least let us find somewhere defensible… wait until there are fewer of them."

He looked at her intently for a moment or two, and then nodded. "Which way?" he asked.

She closed her eyes for a moment, a long, slow blink, before she began to lead, almost predatory in her movements, along a narrow gully in the rocks.

Vega's hand still shook a little as she poured water into a bowl. She jumped when the door of Todd's laboratory closed behind her.

"Are you insane, or do you just have a death wish?" she asked when she felt Todd move closer to her. In spite of her brave words, she flinched when he reached across her to pick up something from the bench and add a few drops of it to the water.

She thought he sounded tired, so she said, "Sit down, and let me take care of that."

"I can manage," he rumbled, and picked up the sponge from the water, beginning to dab it against the cuts on his face.

"I'm sure you can," she hooked his arm and pushed him toward the stool beside the workbench, and then plucked the sponge from his hands. She dipped it into the water, before wringing it out and asking, "So, which is it?"

"Insanity or Suicidal tendencies?" she asked again. Growing bold, she took hold of his chin, and set about cleaning off the blood from his face.

"I was merely trying to make the Queen listen to reason." he told her, and with some little irritation, he plucked the sponge back out of her fingers, and continued to try and clean himself up.

"After the warning you gave me, about her," Vega said, pacing away a little, "you go and pull a stunt like that?" She turned around in time to see Todd tilt his head to one side, to regard her with curiosity. "What?"

"Look," feeling uncomfortable with the way he was looking at her, suddenly making her remember her state of undress, she wrapped her arms around herself, across her chest and belly, "I won't pretend that I like you, but as Wraith go, you're…" she struggled to find a way to describe him and eventually gave up, continuing anyway. "I figure you're my best chance of survival in this god-forsaken place… and if you go getting yourself killed by pissing off the uber-bitch, then—" she stopped when she realised he was laughing at her. "What!"

"Yes," she said, "to tend to your w—" again she stopped mid sentence, and tensed as he got up from the stool and started to walk toward her.

"You, my dear girl, are her attempt to bring me to heel," he told her as he advanced on her, and she backed still further away, "the prize for my future co-operation; her attempt to… blind me to the many schemes with which she fills her every. Waking. Moment."

The back of Vega's hips and legs collided with the work bench at the side of the room. She had nowhere left to go and he, she thought, looked more than a little feral; hungry, though she doubted his intention was to feed.

"I… I don't…" she tried to slide sideways along the bench, but quickly found her escape cut off by his hand that slammed down beside her. "…you… I mean…"

She moved again, this time trying to duck under his arm, to move to the other side and slip away, but he was too close. He caught her as she ducked, his fingers closing almost delicately beneath her chin. She leaned backwards, her heart a frantic piston in her chest, blood ringing in her ears, certain that the entire ship was trembling in sympathy with her. Surely he could not be serious… he would not… they didn't – did they?

"Never forget," he growled as he held her against the work bench, barely a breath away from her, "where you are, and who you are with."

The shot from the blaster exploded against the rock wall beside them, showering both Michael and Sheppard with shards of flint. It broke the equilibrium between them. The speed with which Michael turned and automatically fired back in the direction from which the shot had originated stole Sheppard's breath. He'd known from the start that Michael possessed strength and speed – all Wraith did – but he had never expected something as deadly as that. In spite of his antagonism, Sheppard had to admire him for it.

A second shot slammed into the rock beside him, the splinters of flint that flew at his face, stinging sharply, reminding him of the danger he was in. Sheppard turned and he, too, fired at the group of Wraith that seemed to have appeared from nowhere.

Abruptly, Michael broke for cover and, wanting to keep his enemy within sight, in spite of the dangers it presented, Sheppard followed, firing every step of the way, as was Michael. The irony of being in a sudden pact of necessity with Michael against the Wraith did not escape him.

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

Sheppard ignored the barb, instead demanding accusatorily, "What the hell did you do to her!"

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

Michael snarled at Sheppard, and in his agitation turned and fired in his direction. The shot flew wide, but still Sheppard flattened himself against the rocks.

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

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

"Sticks and stones!" Sheppard yelled back, though in truth the words cut deeply. He hated the hurt he knew Teyla was suffering, blamed himself for it. He hated himself for not protecting her, from Michael, from Woolsey and Hollick… and sometimes even from herself. The thoughts and the pain they brought him built inside of him, until, growling from it all he pushed off from the rocks, and firing from the hip at the Wraith, who tried to cut him down, he rushed across the open ground toward where Michael had retreated. He was not going to let him get away this time.

"How much farther?" Lorne gasped, and stumbling pushed Woolsey ahead into a small niche surrounded by rocks.

"We will rest here," Teyla said, looking around and assessing the bolt hole to be defensible – sheltered and relatively safe. "If any Wraith find us here, we can easily defend ourselves."

"I rather think," Woolsey said, lowering himself to a sitting position, "that it will be you doing the defending, Teyla. Look at him… he can hardly wal—"

"You need to rest," Teyla told him. "Gather your strength, I will watch Mister Woolsey. You need your strength to fight this, Evan."

Lorne shook his head, "It's too late for that," he gasped, in spite of his words, still fighting the change that was creeping more rapidly over him.

"Besides," Woolsey added cheerlessly, "where would I go? With Wraith all around us, I stand more chance with you even as your hostage, than out there alone."

"Then you also rest, Woolsey," Lorne told him. "And keep it down – they may be Wraith, but they're not deaf!"

Teyla walked to the only other exit from their little pocket of respite and peered into the darkness ahead. It was quite a steep climb to a dense wood of some kind, though not of any trees she knew. They were gnarled and twisted, and looked more like a strange kind of rocky sponge, than wood. Sighing, she set her back to the rock there and slid to a sitting position.

Why were they here? Why were the Wraith here? Was Woolsey right, and Evan, in some pre-programmed hybrid instinct, was heading for Michael, or his people. Could it bring her to her son…?

Tired, she closed her eyes, opening her other senses to compensate for lack of vision, and breathing softly, she began to reach out with her mind. After only a moment she gasped softly.

Anger…an almost jealous need flooded through her, clouding her inner vision for several long heartbeats. Concentrating, she reached for the touch of the mind she sought…brought to mind the strangely long hallway and pictured the doorway at the end of it standing open and ready to receive her. She pushed aside the worry, the concern and sense of danger she felt nibbling at the edges of her vision. Slowly she walked down the corridor toward the chamber she knew would be waiting beyond it.

She gasped, and cried out at her sudden awakening to find Lorne crouching in front of her. His hands were on her shoulders, and he was still shaking her slightly. She reached out and grabbed the front of his medical scrubs.

"Get me up," she snatched a breath and her voice trembled. "We must leave here!"

Vega stayed within the shadow of the doorway, not wanting to approach the Queen when she was in a meditative state. She had done so once before and it was only the arrival of one of the Queen's commanders that had prevented her from being fed upon.

The Queen did not seem to be at peace. In her meditation she twitched and her face often fell into a frown. After another moment she let out a loud and angry hiss, and then moaned as though she were troubled or in pain.

Vega knew she should approach, should waken the Queen; soothe her needs and her desires and deliver Todd's message, his assurance to her… but after his untimely reminder of her condition, she did not in any way feel inclined to do anything for him, even if he had allowed her a moment or two of rest.

She was half way across the chamber when the Queen's eyes flashed open, glowing brightly, it appeared, in the agitation, the fury she felt. The lights in the chamber swirled from orange and yellow to deep, blood red in response to the Queen's mood.

"Find her!" The Queen growled and her voice was louder than Vega had ever heard, as though it echoed like cannon fire throughout the ship. "Bring her to me!"

The mental command was more than Vega could stand, and the last thing she saw as consciousness slipped from her was the looming presence of the Queen standing over her, menacing – deadly.

She had something to say, she could barely remember. Whispering, she quickly mouthed the words of the message over and over again, barely taking breath between each recitation.

Sheppard leaped, and dove into the small gulley behind the rocks to avoid being blasted out of existence by a bolt he knew he would not otherwise avoid. He rolled and came to his feet in time to see that Michael, weaponless and surrounded by three of the faceless Wraith warriors, was engaged in hand to hand combat.

Once again he found himself breathless in admiration of the Wraith-Human hybrid's strength and speed, only this time it angered him. Even with the superhuman speed and agility Michael possessed, against three Wraith, there was an outside possibility that one of them would get lucky, and would steal, from him, the chance to punish Michael for making him feel the way he did… for meaning even what little, he had to believe it was only a little, that Michael meant to Teyla.

"Michael!" he called to the beset hybrid, and when Michael barely glanced his way, Sheppard tossed the knife he wore at his belt to be caught effortlessly, and immediately turned against the Wraith warriors.

In the space of barely a breath, one of the Wraith fell away from the fight, clutching at his throat, before toppling backwards, his lifeblood pooling to stain the rocky ground beneath him.

He wanted to watch; to make sure that neither of the other two would gain the upper hand, but the splintering rocks beside him reminded him that there were still others out there intent on reducing both of them to smoking ruins of their former selves. He threw himself against the support of one of the rocky mounds and began to return fire.

He saw first one, and then another of the Wraith who pinned them in place by their gunfire, fall to his onslaught and couldn't help but wonder just how many of them there were. He glanced behind him to find Michael still holding his own, another of the Wraith fallen at his feet, but as he turned back to continue the gun battle with the others he heard an almost painful gasp from Michael's lips.

Teyla pushed her way through the branches of the trees. They were uncomfortably warm to the touch and seemed to respond to the brush of their bodies against them… sometimes recoiling from the contact and at other times seeming almost to crave it, their branches curling in response.

"Wait…!" Lorne gasped, and when she turned she saw him leaning heavily against the trunk of one of the trees. "I can't…!"

"How?" Woolsey shrugged his shoulders as best he could with his hands tied behind his back.

Sighing, looking around them for several moments and cautiously reaching out with her senses. Finally, satisfied that they could afford a few moments, she said, "We will rest here for a moment."

She turned and came to Lorne's side to look on his with concern. His features now were fully those of Michael's hybrids, but his complexion was pallid, sickly. Biting her lip in concern, she helped him to sit and then to lie down on the ground. She slipped off her jacket, what little use it would be to him for warmth, and carefully laid it over him.

He reached out suddenly and grasped her wrist. "Teyla," he gasped, "You know what you have to do…. please…"

"You can stop this," he told her, squeezing his hand around her wrist until it became painful. She began to pull against the touch.

Abruptly he let go, curling up on himself a little, his face contorting with another wave of pain. She stumbled backwards, her heart twisting and feeling inadequate and suddenly cold with uselessness.

"Michael did this to him, you know," Woolsey said, looking between her and the major. "It could, just as easily, be you lying there."

"Save your accusations, Mister Woolsey, I have been told what happened, and that he survived because of this."

"Teyla," Lorne cried out her name again, struggling to sit up, but overwhelmed by the pain again he ended up merely falling back to the ground.

Almost in tears she slipped her hands into her pockets, and almost snatched them away again, as her fingers came into contact with the small cylinder – the vial she had taken from the refrigerator in the infirmary back on Atlantis. Cautiously she reached in again and took out the vial and the syringe.

"Please…" Evan locked his eyes with hers for a moment, until she looked down at the substance she held.

Through the tears blurring her eyes, she dimly saw Michael 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.

She didn't understand. She knew that for some reason Michael had given this to her, and suspected it was this which Lorne now pleaded to be given, but so many questions, so many doubts warred within her. Would it help or harm. If she gave this to him what would it mean, for her… for him…? What hidden agenda of Michael's would she be furthering in administering this to the major?

"Don't do it, Teyla," Woolsey said, strongly, authoritatively, "You have no idea what's in that thing. You could be killing him."

She looked between the two men, indecision raged inside of her, twisting every nerve and fibre of her. The major moaned again, biting his lip until he drew blood. She could not stand his pain any more. Quickly she went to his side, and began to draw up the fluid into the syringe.

"Quiet," she hissed at Woolsey. Her hand trembled as she raised the syringe to press gently against the plunger and expel the air.

Her trembling only increased, along with the chaos of indecision inside of her, as she pushed back her jacket from where it covered Lorne's arm, and tried to find a vein into which she could inject the liquid from the vial.

"Hurry," Lorne gasped, his entire form shaking with the pain that was flowing through him.

"Teyla, this is not who you are," Woolsey stumbled across the small clearing toward her, falling to his knees at her side. "Michael wants you to do this; wants to have something he can hold against you—"

"Teyla," Lorne's voice, breathless with pain, grabbed her insides and twisted hard, adding to the confusion inside of her.

"—You have no idea what's inside that vial, you could be taking another man's life at that creature's behest—"

Teyla shivered, trying not to listen to the two men, trying to find a point inside of her where she might see clearly the best cause of action, but their voices confused her, stopped her from thinking. "Don't…" she said, more loudly than before.

"Shut up!" she all but cried out into the evening air, and reached out suddenly with her mind to try and find the one stability she craved.

Sheppard turned suddenly at the sound of Michael's gasp. The Wraith-Human hybrid stumbled backwards a step, only a momentary lapse before he recovered his footing and lashed out toward the final Wraith. Caught off guard, perhaps believing, as Sheppard had, that he had injured Michael, the Wraith was vulnerable. Mercilessly, Michael stepped forward and drove the point of the knife upwards, into the soft, fleshy underside of his chin, and into his brain. The Wraith fell away – dead before he even hit the ground.

"Stay where you are!" Sheppard ordered, already covering Michael with his weapon.

Unexpectedly, Michael laughed, and spreading his arms to either side of him, turned to face Sheppard. In spite of himself Sheppard took a step back.

"Go ahead," Michael invited. "What are you waiting for?" When Sheppard didn't move, or pull the trigger, he went on, "The Wraith are withdrawing. They're not interested in us any more."

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

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

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

"If you believe that, then kill me now!" Michael demanded, suddenly, and momentarily angry.

Somewhere in the distance Sheppard barely registered the whine of a dart, but his own anger, risen as it was, refused to acknowledge the danger. He wouldn't fail Teyla, not again.

Without warning, Michael dove aside as a Dart flew past at low altitude, barely skimming the top of the rocks, firing its weapons as it came. Sheppard rolled aside, scarcely making it behind the shelter of the rocks, and rolled to bring his weapon to bear against the attacking Dart. The second Dart, following in its wake, activated its culling beam and swept over the rocks as it went.

Sheppard heard a familiar high pitched whine, and the sound of running feet. Ronon came running into the clearing, firing at the retreating Darts.

"Damn it!" Sheppard spat as he got to his feet, peering into the darkened sky after the retreating Darts. He cursed himself for seven different kinds of fool that he'd let Michael's taunting get to him… buy him time to call in his men.

"We got problems," Ronon growled as he reached his side. To give the Satedan his due, Sheppard was glad that he'd ignored his outburst.

"Whoever's in charge of the Wraith out here has sent in the hunters." Ronon told him. "They're looking for someone… and I don't think it's Michael."

"Colonel, I just received a coded message from McKay, via subspace. Major Lorne has taken Woolsey and Teyla hostage. He brought them here through the gate."

Sheppard exchanged a frown with Ronon. Overhead, the whine of a small number of Wraith Darts flying a search pattern disturbed the silence of the evening air. The worry on Ronon's face became intense.

"Teyla," he said, and snatching his blaster out from its holster again, he set off at a run in the direction of the Gate.

Her eyes blurred with tears, and her hand still shook as she lowered the needle toward the raised vein in Lorne's arm. She was fighting with herself… if only she could be sure.

"Teyla," Woolsey said, his tone almost pleading with her to stop, more than warning her of the consequences.

Lorne barely winced as the tip of the needle pressed into his skin, but it was enough to draw the sob from her chest. She pulled back her hand, and the needle away from him.

Weeping, Teyla put the cap back onto the needle, and wiped angrily at her tears. She felt sickened at her own indecision, at her failure to help a friend.

Overhead, the sound of Wraith Darts made both Woolsey and Major Lorne look up. She merely said, "They are coming."

Lorne reached out and gripped her hand. "It's all right, Teyla," he said. "Go. Leave me here. I'll only slow you down."

She looked at him and shook her head, her face creasing, her mouth opening and closing wordlessly. He took the weapon from beside him and pressed it into her hands.

"Please, Teyla… Go," he gritted his teeth to get the words out, "you don't have much time!"

"Evan," she breathed, and putting the syringe into his hand, she leaned down to softly kiss his brow. He closed his eyes as she scrambled to her feet and angrily snatched at Woolsey's arm to drag him along at her side.

"You did the right thing, Teyla," he told her solemnly, then winced as she pressed the gun against his ribs.

"One more word from you, and I will shoot you where you stand," she growled. "You are worthless compared to men like Major Lorne."

Tracking in such a rocky terrain and with the poor quality of light was testing every level of skill Ronon possessed. As he crouched beside what few visible scuffmarks they had been able to find, Sheppard covered him.

"Give me a minute," Ronon said, shaking his head. "The tracks are only partly visible, like… someone else came this way."

"Which means they're being followed and we haven't got much time… so which way?"

Finally making a decision, Ronon got to his feet and tapped Sheppard's arm. "This way. Come on!"

"Teyla…" Woolsey said, though he did not need to give her the warning as they rounded a bend in the rocky path that led down from the elevated woodland toward the Gate.

From behind the rocky columns three Wraith Hunters stepped out to block their path. In their arrogance none of them carried stunners, only bladed weapons, which they turned, tauntingly over and around their hands.

Without a pause, Teyla pushed Woolsey aside. He fell, but without complaint scrambled toward the shelter of the rocks there. Teyla fell into a crouch in the middle of the pathway between the Wraith and Woolsey.

Woolsey shivered as Teyla tipped her head slowly to the side as she watched their approach. She looked almost Wraithlike herself. It was a moment held on the most slender edge of equilibrium, like a single strand of a web, and then one of the Wraith moved, lunging toward Teyla, knife blade leading.

She responded by throwing her arm out in an arc before her, opening her hand and letting the dust she had gathered fly out toward the faces of the Wraith. At the same time she reached past the incoming blade to grasp the wrist of the wielder, and dropping below his centre of balance, she used his momentum to tip him over her shoulder, twisting his arm until there was an audible crack. The Wraith roared in pain, and opened his hand, to allow her to take the blade herself. Without waiting she plunged the blade into the Wraith's chest, and twisted it.

The other Wraith, recovered from the dust she had flung into their eyes, and enraged by her audacity, came at her. Both of them together they reached for her as she still crouched over their fallen brother. Teyla rolled between them, kicking out with one foot as she went past them, bringing one of the Wraith to his knees, and giving her time to find her feet behind them.

Woolsey tried to make himself smaller, to fit between the rocks and avoid notice. As he did, his hand came down on a sharp piece of broken flint rock, and he winced. His luck held, however. The Wraith were too focussed on Teyla to bother with him. He quickly manoeuvred his hands until he could pick up the flint and begin sawing at his cloth bonds.

Teyla blocked first one side and then the other, blocking with her forearms and then spinning to lash out with a kick toward the leading Wraith. He grunted and fell back a little, leaving Teyla the space to concentrate on his companion. Balanced on one foot, she spun again and leading with her elbow, passed inside the longer reach of the Wraith, and connected heavily with the pointed part of her elbow against the Wraith's nose. Completing her spin she snatched the knife from his hand, and fell back to crouch, waiting, and turning the two knives she now held over her hands.

Woolsey shivered again at the feral look in her eyes as she faced off against the Wraith Hunters… one armed, the other not, though he did not seem in the least bit worried by that, as he came on in a vicious blurring attack against the smaller Athosian woman.

Teyla met and blocked each of his open handed attacks, slashing out with the knives to keep his hands at bay, trying to slip past his defences again.

She backed up, one step at a time, and Woolsey redoubled his effort to try and get his hands free of the bindings. If she went much further she would have her back to the rocks, be cornered, and pressed against them. Before she could get that far she dropped one of the knives and made a grab for the Wraith's arm, and all but rolled around him, all in a blur of motion that put her behind him. She turned the remaining knife over in her hand and drove it home into the base of his skull, kicking at the middle of his back to send him away from her and headlong into the rocks. Then she bent down to scoop up the fallen knife.

The remaining Wraith came at her as she did, grabbed her by the hair and pulled her off balance, backwards against him. Taking her feet off the ground, he wrapped his fingers around her neck. Quickly she turned her remaining knife in her hand, and thrust it backwards. The Wraith roared out his pain as the knife embedded in his side, and he tossed Teyla toward the rocks, where she fell heavily, and moaned a little as she tried to find her feet.

Seeing her momentarily stunned by the fall, Woolsey redoubled his efforts to free his hands. He had almost cut through most of the twisted fabric and could barely reach any more, taking a deep breath he began to strain to pull his hand apart, all the time keeping his eyes fixed on Teyla and the Wraith.

He had barely seconds, he knew. The Wraith was steps away from her, and Teyla was only just beginning to rouse herself. There was no way she would be able to fight as she had been.

The grinning predator leaned down, his hand extended toward the barely mobile Athosian.

The sound of it startled Woolsey and he suddenly jerked his hands apart. He let out a small cry as his hands scraped against the rocks to either side of him. He looked up to find Teyla standing over him, weapon pointed in his direction. She was breathing hard, and a small line of blood trickled from a cut to her forehead, but she appeared, otherwise, unharmed.

"Over here!" Ronon's urgent call spurred his aching legs to make the climb through the spongy woodland at a greater pace. His muscles burned, but the ever increasing sound of wraith Darts, drawing nearer in their search pattern, reminded him he couldn’t afford to give up.

Sheppard crouched beside the two of them, trying to be careful of the tracks. "What happened here," he asked. Carefully, he moved Lorne, from the curled up position he'd adopted. The marine's muscles were almost rigid, contorted as though in great pain. He swore softly as he looked at the man.

Ronon studied the ground beside him, "Looks like two people were kneeling here… I'd say Teyla here," he pointed, "and Woolsey here. She was leaning toward Lorne, Woolsey leaning toward her. Something about his balance is off… like maybe… maybe his hands are bound or something."

"What's this?" Sheppard carefully unwrapped Lorne's finger from around a syringe filled with a strangely luminous liquid. He held it up for Ronon to see.

From beside Lorne's arm, Ronon picked up a vial, which held traces of the same liquid inside. "There's another one here."

"I'm starting to get a picture here," Sheppard said, darkly, "And I'm not sure I like it." He keyed the headset mic, "Daedalus, this is Sheppard. How're those repairs coming?"

"If you mean do we have beaming capability, the answer is no. How's it going down there?"

"We've found Lorne," Sheppard said. "He's hurt, or sick… something. Wraith are concentrating on searching for the others, looks like."

"I'd send you a medic if I could," Caldwell answered, "But it's all we can do to keep those cruisers between us and the Hive."

"We'll have to get him to the Gate," he told Ronon as much as he told Caldwell, "Come on."

A single gunshot rang out, echoing in the night sky as though it came from nearby, inside of caves or rocks. Sheppard looked in the direction of the sound, hesitating until Ronon thumped his shoulder.

"Teyla, stop and think about what you're doing for a minute," Woolsey said urgently. She ignored him, concentrating on the DHD in front of her, and on keeping the weapon levelled in his general direction. Her head hurt and she ached from her head to the middle of her back, and along her left leg, where the Wraith had thrown her.

Finally the memory of the address she wanted came to the front of her uncooperative memory. "I must leave this place," she told him, without looking around. Finally she began to dial.

She glanced around at him, correcting her aim on him, and paused in dialling to shake her head, warning him to stay where he was. "It is of no concern of yours," she said coldly.

"Look," he said, "I know you want to find your son, maybe even exact retribution against Michael for what he's done, but… don’t you think you stand a better chance of doing that with the resources of Atlantis behind you – with the help of Colonel Sheppard and the team?"

She snorted at him in disgust. "Do you believe I could ever trust you again, Mister Woolsey, after all that you have put me through. Even if John… and the others are not acting under your authority and the authority of your IOA – how could I ever know or trust that you act for the good of the people of Pegasus?" She shook her head. "No… I have to leave this place."

Feeling hollow, as the meaning of her own words trickled through her consciousness, to seep into her limbs and fill them with lethargy; dull the beating of her heart, she turned and completed the dialling sequence. Waiting with tears beginning to gather inside of her, tears she refused to shed, until the initial rush of the wormhole had died away to a shimmering stability, she leaned against the DHD.

"Teyla, don't—" Woolsey started, but she did not – could not – allow him to complete the sentence.

"Perhaps," she said, pulling herself away from the console, "after I have had the time I need to gather my thoughts, and piece together my fractured mind…" she shook her head and checking the breech of her weapon, and emptying it of the round already in the chamber, then removing the ammunition clip, she tossed the weapon over to him. A second later, she threw the ammunition to land on the ground beside his feet.

"I would imagine Colonel Sheppard and the others would have heard the gunshot. It will not take Ronon long to track us here." She nodded to the gun in his hands, "If any Wraith find you in the meantime, you have the weapon to keep yourself safe."

She turned then, and took a step toward the Stargate, and with a glance up the trail from which they'd arrived, she stepped within.

Michael paused in packing the vials into the padded case and breathed out an audible sigh, tilting his head. His hand moved to a new position against the side of the refrigeration device from which he was taking the results of his endeavours. He did not need to hear the slight scuff of boots against the rocky ground to know that he was no longer alone. Nor did he need to hear the sibilant growl to know that it was not his lieutenant that disturbed him. He made no move to turn around.

"I wouldn't do that, if I were you," he said softly, almost calmly in warning. "If my hand leaves its place, we will both of us be dead and locked inside this rocky tomb."

"I find it hard to believe that you would sacrifice yourself, and so many years of toil, simply to prevent me from achieving what I came here to do," the other said.

"If that is a risk you wish to take; is what you choose to believe," Michael almost purred, adding in bitter sarcasm, "then go ahead, pull the trigger… take your prize back to your Queen."

The other growled softly in response and Michael felt the tension in the laboratory increase, as though the very air itself had thickened around them, but he heard the other lower his weapon, none the less.

The pressure built slowly, but with an undeniable strength, pushing at the centres of his mind that could be used to force his motor functions… He expected it; was already guarding against it. He knew this one – they had faced off against each other before… and no doubt would do again, should they survive this first, true encounter in many, many centuries. He allowed the contact briefly, before he brought down the force of his own mental strength… in sufficient measure.

As he met the resistance, recalled the touch of the mind within his own from the last, brief touch, when he had used the scientist's weapon against him, he could not deny that the mind, at least, was untouched, untainted by the stain of the human transformation. He pushed against the dark spaces he could sense within the Renegade's mind, but could not pass the painful confusion set up as a barrier – a defence.

After several long and breathless moments, Todd gasped and broke off the mental assault and the covert attempt to use it as a mask to slip beneath the safeguards The Renegade had in place against its former brothers. As he fought to regain his breath he watched as it finally turned away from its equipment, quickly keying a security code as it stepped away.

He couldn't help but draw in another gasping breath at its appearance. Certainly the pallid, slightly mottled skin and raised blood vessels were a testament to The Renegade's former self, but the colour in its hair, the ancillary sinus grooves, and his eyes… the strange combination of Wraith and human was too much for Todd.

"You should know better than that," it said, and slowly began to circle the room toward Todd.

"Come now," Todd moved with him, circling in the same direction, to keep the same distance between them, more than aware of how dangerous this individual could be. "Surely we can settle this like civilised—"

"What?" The Renegade spat bitterly, spreading its arms to either side of itself, "Wraith?"

Almost as though by tacit agreement, each of them suddenly broke from their circling to rush at the other. Growling and snarling, each snatched a weapon from their belts and clashed together. Sparks illuminated the dimly lit laboratory, revealing the many grotesque specimens, preserved in jars, previously hidden in the shadowed corners of the room.

Pain lanced along his upper arm, as the other's blade cut deeply as they spun away from each other. Hissing, he threw himself into a roll that took him beneath the spinning leather of the other's coat, masked his counter attack as he came up beside him again, blade leading, to strike, fast and deep against the Wraith's side.

The other roared as they separated again… to circle warily, bloodied knives extended, neither giving ground to the other.

"I never would have believed that her plan would work, not where you were concerned," The other purred, "To lure you here with the threat to the Lan—"

"They mean nothing to me!" Michael snarled. "My work is here. Did you think I would allow her to take what is mine, without the slightest resistance? Those times are long gone."

"I believe it is more than that," the other challenged, an edge of amusement in his voice. "I believe you received intelligence of our proposed alliance against you and sought to prevent it."

The Renegade flew at him again, knife leading, faster than ever he had seen another move. He stood his ground, as long as he dared, and at the last second ducked aside, hooking the Renegade's arm and twisting violently until it had no choice but to release its hold on the knife.

Still holding fast to its arm, Todd began to drive it toward the nearest bank of shelves; to smash it headlong into the dusty scientific paraphernalia. Glass shattered, and covered them both in the foul smelling contents; preserving fluids and the accumulated slime of centuries.

Neither flinched. There would be time for the niceness of bathing and cleansing later, should either of them survive. Snarling, pain flaring from the injury in his side, Todd spun The Renegade, holding him in place against the broken shelves. The instinct for survival gnawed at him, the deep wound would weaken him. He could not afford for that to happen. At his side, his hand twitched slightly.

"I would have thought that you were wiser than that," the Renegade gasped against his hold. "Do you not think I would have protected myself from that eventuality, infected myself with the Hoffan drug?"

"How do you know I have not found a cure; a protection… after all – you did send the Queen that wonderful little human, as a gift." Todd countered, and with mounting anger, challenged, "Did you think I wouldn't realise?"

"I protect myself!" Todd snarled, and flexed his wrist as he thrust his hand suddenly toward The Renegade.

Michael tensed, accepting the pain of the blade that had extended from the sheath in the other's wrist-guard and was now embedded deep within the top of his chest, right beside his shoulder. Ignoring the added pain the movement caused he reached suddenly forward, beneath the Wraith's extended hand, and with the jagged piece of broken glass he held, twisted it in the wound already there.

The other roared in pain, and pulled away, stumbling backwards, and coming to rest, breathless and on one knee. It did not take his acute sense of smell for Michael to know that the other was bleeding badly.

He pulled himself from the shelves where he still leaned and approached the Wraith, circling him, but making no move to strike the killing blow. He had something far more insidious in mind. Almost leisurely, he reached down for his fallen knife.

"You know, the irony is, I never asked for any of this," he waited until the breathless Wraith looked up at him. "I was taken prisoner by the humans, tortured, experimented on." Again he reached down and picked up the Wraith's discarded blade, as well, weighing each in his hands. "And when I finally escaped and returned to my Wraith brothers, instead of being welcomed back, I was met with scorn."

"You know you cannot deny her for long," the other said, pain evident in his voice.

"She denied me!" Michael growled, in fury, and then coming to one knee behind the kneeling Wraith he grasped his hair, and pulled back his head. Pushing his knife into the other's hand, he hissed dangerously against the Wraith's cheek, "Tell her… I defy her!"

Todd barely breathed as the Renegade had him, vulnerable. He let out a long and angry hiss of his own as he was released. The Renegade would pay for what had happened here, and he would see to it that it would be long, and slow, and painful.

He heard the Renegade's rapid retreat and was not foolish enough to wait much longer than it took him to gather his dignity, before he climbed painfully to his feet, and he, too, made his way quickly from the ancient, underground facility.

He would have to feed in order to regain his full strength, but now he had an added reason to comply, albeit for only as long as it served his purpose, with the Queen's authority.

Sheppard came running down the trail toward the Gate in time to see her crossing into the event horizon.

"Damn it!" he added a second later as the Gate disengaged before he could follow, or before he could turn his head to read the signs, still lit, on the DHD. He turned full circle and fixed a desperate gaze on Woolsey. "Where did she go?"

"I… I don't know," Woolsey confessed helplessly, "I didn't see what she dialled. I was too busy trying to talk her out of it if you must know."

"Damn it, have you any idea how pissed McKay is going to be when I haul his ass back here to try and work through the… millions of permutations she could have dialled. I—" he stopped as another thought crossed his mind and sank him even further into despair. In frustration he lashed out and kicked the base of the DHD. It didn't make him feel in the slightest bit better. He threw up his hands and all but yelled. "We can't even do that!"

"What do you mean," Woolsey asked cautiously, as though fearing to further enrage Sheppard.

"Well, unless the engineers aboard Daedalus can repair the beating the beaming technology took," he gestured toward the inactive Gate, "the Gate is the only way we have of getting back to Atlantis any time soon… and it has to be soon, the state Lorne is in."

As if conjured by the mention of Lorne's name, Ronon came slipping down the path toward them. Over his shoulder he carried the unconscious man, while in his hand he held his blaster at the ready.

"Where is she?" he asked, looking between Woolsey and Sheppard, before setting Lorne gently onto the ground beside the DHD. Sheppard gestured helplessly toward the Gate. "So where did she go?"

"I didn't see the address she dialled," Woolsey said tiredly, "I'm sorry. But under the circumstances, it might be beneficial all around for her to… distance herself from Atlantis for a while… find a little perspective. It might even encourage her to cooperate and tell us—"

Faster than he'd seen Ronon move against anyone other than Michael himself, the big Satedan advanced on Woolsey, the musical sound of his blaster charging filling the air.

"Ronon!" Sheppard called, as Ronon angrily levelled his weapon at Woolsey's head. The colour at the top of the grip showed red in the dim light. "Ronon, no!"

"When will you get it through you head that she's telling the truth," the Satedan yelled, "She can't tell you what she doesn't know!"

Quickly, Sheppard moved and pushed the barrel of the gun away from Woolsey. "Leave it, buddy. He isn't worth it," he said.

In the moment that followed, Woolsey all but flew backwards as Sheppard's roundhouse caught him square in the mouth. He stumbled backwards, to land heavily in the dirt.

"This is your fault!" Sheppard snapped, gesturing around him. "If you hadn't pushed so hard, then none of this would have happened."

He would have said more, but the quiet moan from Major Lorne prevented it, which, on later reflection, he was sure he would conclude was a good thing.

In spite of his injuries, Michael walked so quickly, a smouldering anger in his step, that his hybrid lieutenant almost had to jog to keep pace with him.

"Instruct our cruisers to be ready to withdraw as soon as we are on board," Michael said. He barely paused to rapidly key a code into the Wraith tablet he carried. He pushed the button to execute the command.

From deep beneath the ground a rumbling began, and spread the length of the short valley, before the dust and smoke from the subterranean explosions burst from the suddenly enlarging fissure and undulate, wavelike, in Michael's wake.

"But I thought—" his lieutenant began as they reached the side of Michael's scout ship.

He paused as he began to climb aboard, to glance over his shoulder at the hybrid. His subordinates' continuous questioning began to grate on what reserves of patience he possessed and momentarily, he questioned the wisdom of allowing them greater autonomy. However, if his plan were to succeed, it was a necessary evil, and they remained loyal. That, for the moment, was what mattered.

Act 5

"So what are you saying, Doctor Keller," Woolsey asked quietly, as he looked down on the restrained and sedated Lorne. The major appeared to be fully hybrid, barely recognisable as the loyal soldier he once had been.

"Nothing that I haven't said before." Keller sighed. "I've done everything I can, and while Michael might be able to reverse this, I can't… certainly not now."

"That's just it," Keller said. "When I got Lorne back here and ran the tests, his human DNA had been almost completely subsumed by the Wraith DNA… but the Wraith cells were still dividing."

"Are you saying," Ronon tried to put everything together, "that he's going to turn completely? Become a Wraith?"

Keller shook her head. "It doesn't work like that. The Wraith cells need something to feed on, in order to keep dividing."

"You're saying he was literally… feeding on himself," McKay said, making the leap.

"You gave him that stuff," Sheppard said in disbelief, "without knowing what the hell it was?"

"No, of course not!" Jennifer said, irritated. "I took a sample of Lorne's blood, and added the serum to it. The result was almost instantaneous in the small sample I ran. The serum stopped the Wraith cells from feeding – stabilised them completely. I realised that it was the only way to save the major, but…"

"…it's also made this change irreversible." Sheppard finished her sentence, and she nodded sadly.

McKay sighed as he began to walk from the isolation room. It wasn't long before he heard the footsteps behind him, and the light touch fell against his arm.

"Actually, it's what I can give you," she said to him. "I have the results of those genetic tests you asked me to do. Come into my office. We can talk in there."

Frowning he followed her inside, and waited while she shut the door, and reached for a file that she had locked away in the back of her desk drawer.

"I don't think I like the way you just did that," he said, nodding toward the desk.

"I don't think that this is information that should be going anywhere any time soon," she said, glancing toward the door, "If you get what I mean."

She handed the file to him, and he laid it on the desk to open it. Test by test he looked at the result… the specific marker he had suspected would be there, stood out glaringly against all of the others.

"That particular sequence of chromosomes there – I've seen it countless times, in much of the Wraith DNA we've seen or have on file." she nodded, "I think you could probably, safely say that she's the grand-mommy of the Wraith we know today."

Rodney frowned, and began to look more worried with each of the test results he saw. Turning over another sheet he happened to look up at Jennifer. She was chewing on her lip. He couldn't recall every seeing her do that before.

"What is it?" he asked, letting go of the papers as though, if he did that, he could be spared from having to face whatever it was that was worrying the doctor.

"There's more, Rodney," she said. "I know you didn't ask me to do this, but… with all the fuss Woolsey's been making about Teyla, I wanted to try and give her something that might help – some answers, you know? Defensive ammunition?"

"You know that old saying, 'Don't ask questions unless you really want to know the answers?'"

Taking a deep breath, Jennifer reached to the back of the file, and picked up the results of a PCR test and handed it to him, before handing him a second sheet. "I ran a comparison between that, and the one I made from some blood and tissue samples I took from Teyla when we first got her back from Michael. Those are the results." she said.

Rodney looked back and forth between the two, frowning as he studied them. The more he looked, the deeper he frowned until he couldn’t deny what his eyes were telling him any longer.

"Oh my God!" he breathed in shock. "Oh my God, does she know? She doesn't know…"

This website is owned and operated by Eirian Phillips and all original works herein are © Eirian Phillips 2008. Stargate: Atlantis is the property of MGM. All characters and images remain the property of the original copyright holder. No infringement is intended. This website is for entertainment purposes only and no revenue is being obtained from copyright material. Everything here reflects a sincere love and respect for the material included and a desire to bring such quality storytelling to the attention of readers. Disclaimer ends.