Act 3

He was dreaming. It was a terrible dream wherein he was trapped in a hole barely big enough for him to crawl around on his hands and knees. He was hurt and bleeding, but still scrambling around searching for something; something important that could mean the salvation or destruction of the Pegasus galaxy. Just when he thought he'd found it, some screaming Banshee had flown at him out of the rumbling fire of another explosion. She robbed him of his senses as she carried him down into the pit of hell filled with half Wraithlike men. They dragged him to a chamber where he was subjected to torture and partial dismemberment…

Rodney McKay surfaced slowly. The dream had been so real that the back of his head and his arm still ached from the memory of it. Moaning he tried to sit up and move his hand to wipe the last vestiges of sleep from his face. After a moment of struggling, that became increasingly more urgent as the seconds passed, he realised that he couldn't.

"Please try not to move around, Doctor McKay. I should hate for you to undo the work I've put in to ensure your good health."

"Michael!" Rodney's eyes flew open and he watched as the menacing figure that was Michael came to his side and looked down on him, where he lay, restrained against the bed.

"Of course, whether you continue to enjoy that good health is entirely in your hands," Michael continued, quietly intimidating.

"Sure," Rodney managed, somewhat more confidently than he felt, "threaten a helpless man."

"Hardly," Michael said.

"Oh yeah?" he asked, unable to help himself as he rattled his good arm against the restraints. "What am I going to do?"

"It was hardly a threat," Michael corrected him with even softer menace.

Rodney watched in alarm, refusing to take his eyes off the former Wraith as Michael attached a bag of a strange, almost luminescent, straw-coloured fluid to an IV line and then adjusted the flow. The line disappeared beneath the bandage around Rodney's forearm

"Relax, Doctor." Michael said and he cringed as Michael looked at him with wry amusement. "You lost a lot of blood after you were injured…"

"What do you care?" he snapped.

"…and I wouldn't want you dying before you tell me what I want to know." Michael concluded without missing a beat, the mild amusement replaced with a definitely threatening undertone.

Rodney swallowed hard. His bravado suddenly evaporated in the heat of Michael's gaze. "What do you want from me?" he asked.

"In time," Michael answered and then left his side to cross the room and stop next to another bed. He looked down at the occupant, whom Rodney couldn't properly see, and said almost thoughtfully, "Your companion was not quite so fortunate."

"Major Lorne?" Rodney swallowed again. "What did you do to him?"

Michael turned and glared, making Rodney wish that he could take back the words and sink into the surface of the bed. He whimpered slightly and stammered, "Well, I can't believe you'd help him purely out of the goodness of your heart – altruism, you know—"

"I fear that there is little more I can do for him," Michael cut him off, adding somewhat coldly, "even out of the goodness of my heart."

Slowly Michael return to Rodney's side and looked down at him again. For a long time his wraithlike eyes bore into Rodney's, awakening every fear, every nightmare that the scientist had ever know.

"Now, tell me what you saw," Michael said almost gently.

"I don't know what you're talking about," he said, his voice trembling.

"Don't be a fool, Doctor," Michael's gaze did not waver and the room receded into a darkness that pressed around him, threatening to suffocate him. It grabbed his primordial fears and crushed him with them until a scream began to gather in his throat as Michael asked again, "What did you see?"

-did you see- -you see- -see-

"You… I…" he squeaked.

"You will tell me."

-will tell me- -tell me- -tell-

**

"Ronon!" Carter called a warning to him in the same moment that he sensed the Wraith behind him and turned to catch the enemy warrior by the arm. He pulled him into the fist he swung into the bone cover of his face.

Without waiting to see if his pugilistic attack had been effective he snatched his weapon from his holster to fire point blank at his would be assailant , and then beyond to the others that were already running in, raising their weapons as they came.

"Ronon, get out of there!" Carter repeated the warning, as more of the bone faced warriors began to rush toward his position. He growled and instead faced off against them even more, firing time and again into their midst.

"We need to get back to the Gate while we stand at least half a chance of taking them down." He called to her. He knew he was taking a risk in rushing the Wraith as he was, but he couldn't help but notice the change in them since the incident at the compound. It was almost as if something had knocked some of the wind out of them. Though it didn't necessarily make them any less deadly, he knew they had to take advantage of even the smallest weakness.

"But not to get ourselves killed in the process." The colonel, and the men with her, advanced to his side. They fired into the Wraith warriors to give him support against the onslaught.

He turned his head and almost grinned at her, "I hadn't intended to," he said, before once more, firing with each step, he lead the colonel and the marines deeper into the Wraith held vicinity of the Gate.

**

She woke suddenly and even before she was fully awake began running her hands over herself, checking for injuries; checking for anything out of place, before opening her eyes into the dim, blue lit interior of the holding area aboard the Wraith cruiser. Quickly Alicia Vega scooted backwards until she made contact with the solid wall.

"Fine mess you made of it this time girl," she told herself softly under her breath. She reached inside her uniform, inside the front of her shirt to make sure that the core she'd taken from Doctor McKay was still nestled there against her bust. She breathed a sigh of relief when, disturbed, it pinched her soft skin until she could resettle it again. "Maybe not quite a complete mess then."

Narrowing her eyes a little she peered beyond the confines of her cell to try and see what she could of the rest of the ship. She could see little enough – and no Wraith at all, which as far as she was concerned was more than all right, because it meant she might live for a little while longer before one of them decided to feed on her. She frowned, her memory of how she reached the holding cell was at best hazy, at the worst, it made little sense to her…

Scrambling over the lip of the mound she threw herself at Rodney McKay, taking him down to the ground in an inelegant tackle that knocked the breath out of her lungs and jammed the butt of her P90 painfully against her ribs.

The scream of the Dart grew louder, reminding her that she did not have time for discomfort, and she rolled to the side. As she did she quickly grabbed the object from the doctor's hand and quickly shoved it down inside her shirt before she snatched her weapon into her hands and began firing

A tingling cold spread through her body and she lost awareness of herself for a moment. In the next heartbeat she opened her eyes to the dim interior of some kind of cavernous chamber. She lay on her back, her P90 still clutched in her suddenly unresponsive hands. Beside her lay the stunned Doctor McKay, and next to both of them the badly injured form of Major Lorne.

And around her, several shadowed forms. It didn't quite take the mind of a genius to work out that the outstretched arms were no doubt holding some kind of weapons…

"They weren't Wraith, they were men," she remembered with mounting horror. That could only mean one thing, and she didn't expect it to be good news. Quickly she unfolded her legs, and climbed to her feet, approaching the web-like bars of her cell to try and find a way out.

**

In spite of her fears, things had taken a bit of an upturn as they committed themselves to Ronon's insane charge. She didn't dare let herself get complacent though, the sky was still ringing with the sound of mosquito-like Darts that were still flying search patterns, randomly firing into the ground and air alike to try and find the Jumpers she had ordered to the other side of the planet. On the ground the Wraith still outnumbered what amounted to little more than a small guerrilla force of marines by at least four to one and worst of all, it would soon be dark. However, they had managed to take, and hold a defensible position within site of the Stargate.

Ronon ducked back down, breathing hard as he pressed his back against the natural barricade behind which the two of them sheltered. Around them the sounds of gunfire provided a staccato accompaniment to his laboured breathing.

"I think I can see a way past this," he say, his voice a little hoarse from all the yelling he'd been doing.

"What do you mean?" she asked.

She watched him glance around and then he picked up a stick, and with his booted foot levelled a section of the ground in front of them to make a pallet for his diagram. Quickly he started to draw.

"Here's the Gate," he said as he made some marks in the dirt, "and here and here are the Wraith guards." He looked over at her to make sure he was following so far. She nodded and he continued, "We're here… and beyond us – here," he made another series of marks on the ground, "is the tree line. This—"

Whatever he started to say was interrupted as the natural barricade of fallen logs, overgrown with tufts of grass, exploded behind them. Almost as one, she and Ronon turned to lean up over the lip of their cover, opening up on the Wraith who had tried to take advantage in the lull of their assault.

"I got it," she yelled at him over the combined sounds of their weapons, telling him she had the diagram in her memory, "go on!"

"Just the other side of the trees is a small gully, and from the shape of the ground over there," he nodded to their side, "the gully runs out from the woods, through to the other side of the Stargate. If we could get to that point – I think it's a blind spot that could get us close enough to take out the guards."

He stopped talking for long enough to fire an uninterrupted volley of shots into an overgrown patch of foliage up ahead until a Wraith warrior came tumbling out with a smoking hole in his chest.

"How do we know there aren’t more Wraith in the woods further down?" she asked, not to challenge him, but to better understand his thinking; to encourage him to develop his plan.

"We don't," he answered, "though I'd think if there were, we'd have Wraith breathing down our necks from both behind us and in front as well."

He started firing again. The high pitched sound of his weapon against the percussive sound of her P90 was staring to make her ears ring. "Good point," she yelled, and then she glanced behind her toward the trees. "It could work," she decided after a moment or two. "We'll need cover."

"Go," he told her, "I'll cover you."

"No." She put her hand onto his arm. "Your plan… you're coming with me."

"What," he turned his head to grin at her, "So you can kick my ass in case something goes wrong?"

"Something like that," she said with a smile and then she keyed her mic and called for one of the other subdivisions of her team to give them both the covering fire they needed to reach the woods.

**

Nothing she could do made the slightest difference to the bars of the holding cell. She could find no control panel to tamper with – not, she thought to herself, that doing so was a particularly good or safe idea – and neither could she damage them with anything she had to hand. With a sigh she rested her forehead against the bars.

"There is little point in your struggles."

She started, and jumped away from the bars as the figure that had spoken approached the cell. From beyond arm's reach she peered at him, taking a measure of him and shivered at the appearance of the hybrid soldier.

His skin, obviously once tan, was mottled and the veins at his temples and along his forehead stood as though engorged. His pupils were wide in the dim light, but even so she could see the pale quality of his irises.

He regarded her with cold dispassion and continued, "He will come to speak with you when he is ready."

She glared at the hybrid, trying not to let show just how much the thought of it disturbed her. "Then what do you want with me?"

The hybrid shrugged, and blinked as if the question made no sense to him, and then, holding out the bowl he had in his hands, said, "I was told to bring you food."

She took a step backwards, away from the outstretched hands and looked at the bowl as though it was a weapon pointed toward her. The hybrid remained in that posture, waiting patiently for a time, before he took another step forward and set the bowl onto the floor just inside the bars.

Vega couldn't help but take a look. The food inside had the appearance of porridge, though she doubted very much that was what it was. Taking another step back she said, "What makes you think that I'll take anything you give me?"

The hybrid shrugged, "It does not matter to me if you do, or you do not," he said. "But I was told to say to you that the Geneva Conventions state: The basic daily food rations shall be sufficient in quantity, quality and variety to keep prisoners of war in good health and to prevent loss of weight or the development of nutritional deficiencies."

Vega blinked. If she could have made a guess at the answer he would have given, that was the furthest from her mind.

"Excuse me?" she said, nonplussed.

"The Geneva Conventions st—"

"I heard what you said," she took a step toward the bars, to peer at him more closely, wondering perhaps if she had been mistaken in identifying him as a hybrid. The same pallid skin and bulging veins, the same paling of the iris met her eyes. She had not been mistaken.

"Then what is your confusion?" he asked, creasing his face in confusion of his own.

"Since when did your..." she struggled for a way to describe the part-Wraith, part-Human creature; eventually settled on, "…boss comply with the Geneva Conventions?"

"I was told to bring you food," he repeated, starting to turn away.

Vega's mind began to race. She could use this. She could turn this to her advantage and use it to find a way out of the cell and off the ship.

"Wait!" she called. He turned back and waited for her to speak again. "What about…" she glanced around, "…you know, facilities."

"Your needs will be catered for," he said, fixing her with the kind of expression that told her he knew exactly what she would try to do, "at the appropriate time."

"And when is that?"

"He will speak with you when he is ready." The hybrid soldier turned and began to walk away, as he did so, he said, "In the mean time, I suggest you eat."

**

"This is so not good," Sheppard said quietly as he manoeuvred the cloaked Jumper into orbit and threaded his way through the collection of Wraith ships gathered around one of the largest Hive ships he could ever recall seeing. Worse still, it wasn't the only one.

Beside him, he heard Zelenka take a breath. The doctor then began swivelling his head one way and another, muttering under his breath.

"I have to agree with you, Colonel," he said at last sitting down and pushing up his glasses. "By my count there are two Hives, at least three cruisers and… well I lost count when it came to the Darts."

"We are so screwed," Sheppard said, studying the heads up display that activated even as he began to wonder how accurate Zelenka's count had been. "Even if the Daedalus were to show up right now and we could take all the 302s at them, with so many we'd be hard pressed to make even an insignificant dent in their numbers."

"Maybe it would be better if we…" Zelenka said, cringing a little as they got closer to the Wraith fleet of ships, "…didn't get too close?"

"Relax, Doc," Sheppard said lazily, "We're cloaked… we're perfectly safe."

"Yes, well, you'll forgive me if I'd rather not risk my life on that," he answered. "The modifications I had to make to the cloak on the planet's surface were somewhat hasty and—"

"Now you tell me," Sheppard interrupted, and instantly began plotting a course to take them out from under the noses of the Wraith.

"I'm sorry I thought you knew."

Sheppard shook his head, and sighed as they pulled away, setting them back into their own geosynchronous orbit.

"Why did you want to get so close anyway?" Zelenka asked him after a moment.

"What… after what Sam told us you expect me not to try and scan for McKay, Lorne and Vega aboard those ships?"

"I figured, the closer we got the more likely we would be to find them," Sheppard said.

"And what would you have done if you had?" Zelenka looked at him with honest curiosity. His eyes blinked owlishly behind the lenses of his spectacles.

"I dunno," Sheppard had to admit. "I hadn't quite gotten that far."

"I see." Zelenka pushed his spectacles back up again and added, "As you say, it is unlikely that we would be able to pull off any kind of daring rescue, not with so many of them out there."

"Well we can't just… leave 'em." Sheppard said, horrified at the thought. "God knows what they're going through."

"On the contrary," Zelenka said sadly, "I think we can make a pretty good guess as to exactly what is going on."

"Well you're a bundle of laughs, Radek. Thanks for that."

"I am only trying to be realistic, Colonel." He said. "Perhaps we should let Colonel Carter know what we have discovered."

Sheppard sighed again and turned his gaze back out toward the Hive ships, and in particular the larger of the two. He couldn't help wondering at the disparity between them.

**

"Colonel Carter, this is Sheppard. Come in."

Slowly she lowered herself back down into the gully beside Ronon as Sheppard's voice came uncomfortably loud in her ear. She and Ronon had managed to come almost to within arms reach of the Wraith at the postern side of the Stargate and she was sure that they would have heard the Lieutenant Colonel's overly cheerful voice.

Carefully she keyed her own radio and in a stage-whisper answered, "Go ahead, John," then added after a second's thought, "quietly."

When he spoke again his voice was much more subdued. "We have a little more company than we expected."

"What do you mean?" she asked.

"Two Hives."

"Two!" she yelped, forgetting herself, then jumped as Ronon grabbed her and dragged her further down into the gully, all but covering her with the bulk of his form. Dressed as he was in more natural earthen toned clothing, he was much better camouflaged than she.

"Stand by," she hissed into her radio as she heard the Wraith start to move and then, daring to raise her head, watched as a pair of warriors left their positions and approached, peering into the undergrowth and the trees beyond. She held her breath and tightened her grip on her weapon.

Beside her, Ronon moved slowly, reaching down to the sheath on his thigh to close his hand around the hilt of the knife it contained. He barely moved more than an inch with each of his slow breaths. Every muscle was under tight control.

Step by step the booted feet of the Wraith came closer until one of them stood on the very lip of the gully almost directly above them. She could hear his breathing, his almost growling hiss as he continued to peer beyond their hiding place.

An intense chill began to descend on Sam as she prayed Sheppard would continue to be patient. The click of her radio now would give them away as surely as if she were to stand up right in front of the Wraith.

Her head began to swim and her lungs burned for lack of air, but she dare not take a breath; fought to keep her body from automatically obeying its need. She glanced at Ronon again, and saw that he was tensing, preparing for action. If they had to move against the single Wraith, who now stood over them, their timing would have to be perfect. They couldn't afford to alert the others, otherwise their careful approach would have been for nothing and with the news that Sheppard had just delivered, the need to retake the Gate was even more vital now.

As quietly as she could she took in a long slow breath and watched as Ronon turned his head to try and locate the other Wraith. She realised, somewhat sheepishly, that in concentrating on the more immediate threat of the warrior that stood over them she had neglected to consider the possibility that the other might take a position that would completely compromise their stealthy approach. Their pincer assault would be over. Carefully, she too looked around to try and see where the Wraith was, so that she could predict what their best course of action would be. The second warrior had, it seemed, lost interest in the search and had begun to return to his place beside the Gate. For the moment at least, it seemed that the best strategy were to try and wait it out.

Not for the first time she found herself cursing the Wraith's telepathic abilities. An assault against any other enemy from this position would simply be a case of making a grab for the one above them and taking him out. She had faith in Ronon's ability to do such a thing with a reasonable amount of stealth, but the minute that either one of them moved against any of the Wraith, each one of the patrol by the Gate would know of their presence.

**

"Maybe we should contact her again," Zelenka looked across at him with a frown on his face.

He shook his head, though every sense was nagging at him to do something when several minutes had elapsed without any contact from Sam. "She said to stand by," Sheppard said.

"I know what she said, Colonel," the scientist answered, somewhat testily, he thought. "But what if she's hurt… or needs something – what if she needs something?"

"If she needed us she would have called," Sheppard reasoned, but it was as much for himself as it was for Zelenka. He had a bad feeling and it was growing more and more acute by the moment.

"What if she can't?"

"If she can't she…" he trailed off, having no answer to that.

"You see," Zelenka said triumphantly, "I told you we should contact her."

Again he shook his head.

"But Colonel," the Czech began, "You said—"

"I'll do you one better than that," Sheppard said, and leaned a little in spite of the inertial dampeners when the Jumper banked as he began to search for a favourable vector for re-entry. He was looking for one that wouldn't give away their position. "After all, there's not much we can do up here now, is there?"

Zelenka frowned for a moment, and then his face came alive, his eyes going wide as he obviously realised what he intended to do. "No, I suppose not," he agreed with a quirky smile finding its way to his face.

"All we have to do is find an approach that doesn't paint a bright red bull's-eye on our ass and—"

"Wait!" Zelenka suddenly pointed at the heads up. "What was that?"

"What was what?" he asked, peering at the display.

"Go back up. Go back around," Zelenka told him.

"A minute ago you were all right with my plan," Sheppard said lazily, though it didn't stop him from doing as Zelenka said. When it came to reading sensor data he trusted the man almost as much as he did Rodney – if not more. "Now you want to stay up here with all these Wrai—"

"There." The scientist pointed at the forward display again, and this time he too saw the momentary ghost on the sensors. "What is that, a glitch? I didn't think I'd disturbed the sensors when I rerouted power to the cloaking generator, but—"

"That's no glitch," he said, his eyes narrowed as he realised what the presence of a third ship, masked behind the planet's moon, must mean. He brought the Jumper around again, bringing it to a stop at just the moment the ship became visible to the sensors.

"Then what?" Zelenka asked, still not catching on, "Another Hive? It isn't big enough for a Hive. It—"

Through clenched teeth Sheppard said, angrily, "Michael."

**

A momentary vibration passed through the ground. Sam frowned and her heart began to sink still further as she realised the vibration was a prelude to the activation of the Gate. How many more were they going to send? How many more did they need? With Two Hives in orbit, and outnumbering them on the ground, why would the Wraith need to send more troops?

A light tap on her arm pulled her out of her angry contemplation and she glanced over at Ronon, only to have him nod upwards. Following his lead, she looked up to watch as the Wraith left the lip of the gully and start toward rejoining the rest of his patrol, who were taking up positions in front of the Gate. Not the Wraith then?

"Expedition teams, this is Atlantis, come in please."

"Damn it," she hissed. "Atlantis, this is Carter. This is not a good time…" She tried to speak quietly, but it was already too late. The retreating Wraith had heard the radio engage, and turned back toward her position. Abandoning stealth, with Ronon already moving at her side, she called to the rest of the marines to provide supporting fire, to at least give her and Ronon a chance to withdraw to safety.

Only Ronon was evidently not in the mood for retreat and was already scrambling over the lip of the gully toward the Wraith.

"Ronon!" she called to him, but he ignored her and taking out his gun began firing at the Wraith as he went.

Sam swore again and called out quickly into her radio, "All teams - move on the Gate - go, go, go!"

Suddenly the area around the Gate was a rattling cacophony of P90 fire, percussive explosions from the blasters, and the high pitched whistle of Ronon's weapon as the marines pushed forward in an all out effort to take back the Gate from their Wraith enemies.

Sam dropped to one knee, tiling her head and her weapon to take a better aim at a group of three Wraith heading toward where Ronon was already embroiled in a fierce hand to hand battle with two of the biggest warriors she thought she had ever seen.

Catching the incoming raking claw of one of the warriors he faced, Ronon kicked out at the other as he pulled the first toward his waiting fist, to shatter the bone covering from his face and send him staggering backwards. In the meantime he turned almost full circle, letting the momentum add power to the attack against the second who, recovering from the kick to his chest, came back at Ronon growling and hissing like an angry alley-cat.

"Colonel Carter, we have security teams standing by, do you need back up?"

Sam couldn't help looking around at the pockets of fighting scattered around the Gate, at the numbers of marines over-run by the number of Wraith. Certainly they were making some headway, but it would undeniably even the odds of success if she could boost their numbers. In spite of that she answered, "Negative, Atlantis. What was it you wanted?"

"We dialled in to let you know that Daedalus in en route. We would have informed you when she left, but…we were unable to dial in at the time."

Sam nodded to herself. If Atlantis had been unable to dial in when Daedalus set out, that would mean it was around the time that the Wraith first showed up and could well mean the ship would reach them at any time. "Understood, Atlantis," she said, raising her voice over the chatter of her weapon's fire as she turned her aim against a second group of Wraith heading her way. "Have the infirmary standing by. As soon as we can secure the Gate we'll begin sending back the wounded. Contact Colonel Caldwell and inform him of two Wraith Hive ships - I repeat, two Wraith Hives, in planetary orbit. One of them took some of our people. He might want to come out of hyperspace a little early and come in cloaked."

"Understood, Colonel." Atlantis confirmed.

Somewhere in the back of her mind she began to register an overloud mosquito-whine coming from somewhere up above. The next moment she was hit by the flying brick wall that was Ronon, and thrown aside. The ground beside the two of them exploded in clumps of earth and rock and scorching fire.

She didn't have time even to nod her thanks at Ronon before he was pushing at her, encouraging her to move again with a shout of, "Darts!"

Scrambling to her feet, she turned her P90 skyward to try and pepper the incoming darts while Ronon provided her cover from the Wraith ground forces. Once again, just when she felt the slightest glimmer of hope stirring within her, matters had taken another downturn.

"Atlantis – about that help," she said, "Any chance of sending through just a couple of personnel with ground to air missiles?"

"We'll see what we can do, Colonel. It may take a few minutes."

She bit her lip, seriously wondering if they could actually hold out that long. Perhaps if they could engage the Darts with one or two of the Jumpers they might stand a better chance. "Sheppard, this is Carter."

"I hear you," he answered, and she thought she detected a somewhat hard edge to the lazy tone he used. She frowned.

"Anything wrong?" she asked in spite of the pressing need.

"Just peachy," he said sarcastically, but he didn't elaborate, and she didn't have the time to spend teasing it out of him. "What do you need?"

"We're at the Gate," she paused to fire a stream of bullets into the Dart that was beginning a second strafing run. "We need air support to get these Darts out of our hair."

There was a long pause, before Sheppard came back. "Stand by, Colonel. I think I have a better idea."

**

The last time Rodney could remember feeling this way, he had been lying in the infirmary on Atlantis and though he'd felt just as sick, and light headed – there had been none of the associated pain. Dizzy too, he'd been just as dizzy. No matter how hard he tried, either with his eyes closed or open as they were, everything still spun around, and right at the middle of it all was Michael.

"I can't tell you what I don't know," he moaned as Michael swam into focus again.

"I understand that, Doctor," Michael answered, this time, mercifully unaccompanied by the mental intrusion that had become more painful than the worst migraine he had ever suffered. "But I know that you were able to identify Gate addresses—"

"—I don't remember any of them—"

"—my communication codes—" Michael harried him.

"—Do you know how many elements even one of the most simple ciphers—" he moaned as he saw and felt Michael move even closer still. "Of course you do."

"I can't tell you what I don't remember," he all but screamed as Michael's tone bore a great deal of menace once more.

"Then tell me what you do," he growled. "What do you remember?"

-remember- -remember- -remember-

A pain that was at once crushing and like a stabbing heat exploded around and through his mind. His stomach lurched and nausea gripped him. The room began to spin more quickly and he closed his eyes, only to see before him the spinning image of the screen, covered with Michael's data. The pain only increased, forcing him backward through the memory of it, making his burning blood run suddenly cold with the effort of blocking the intrusion and—

"Michael…"

An almost gentle voice loosened the vice the half-Wraith was inside his head and McKay opened his eyes again.

"Teyla," Rodney gasped as he identified the blurry figure that stood just behind Michael. "You're alive!"

**

She knew Michael was aware of her arrival. She could feel the answering touch of his mind, and the flutter of movement within her as the child too sensed their connection. Michael's anger and frustration were as clear to her as well, but even so, she was surprised when he did not break from the interrogation until, standing behind him, she softly called his name.

"Teyla…" She focussed her attention on Michael even though Rodney gasped her name and continued in a surprised whisper, "You're alive!"

The vehemence with which Michael reacted to the simple statement almost made her take a backwards step, as he all but growled at Rodney. The rumbling hiss in the back of his throat was both a reminder of his heritage and of that which he had become at the hands of the Atlantis expedition. In the same moment that she heard McKay's resulting cry of pain, she felt Michael's crushing grip on the scientist's mind increasing, the echo of Michael's fury at the insinuations in McKay's statement rolling, wavelike, over his synapses.

Teyla's stomach turned full circle inside her. Her breath became shallow and moisture gathered behind her eyes in recognition, not for the first time, of Michael's emotional investment in all that he did.

"Michael," she called to him again, this time reaching for him with a hand that held a slight tremor, "…please…"

He turned quickly, releasing McKay who, with hardly a whimper, fell back against the bed, barely conscious. As Michael turned he caught the wrist of her still outstretched hand, his fingers closing over the fabric of her sleeve.

"What's this?" he asked almost softly.

"What is what?" She pulled just slightly against his gently restraining grasp. He did not let go. Instead he ran the back of his free hand slowly along the side of her own, beside her little finger where it trembled still.

The touch was almost imperceptible, but for the whisper of heat that blossomed outward from it. The air caught against her frozen diaphragm and she found herself looking up into the darkness of the concern in his eyes. She dare not breathe, or could not and was uncertain which as his mind touched hers more strongly…

A promise of strength and health – concern and a lingering anger at the thought of harm to her – with an intensity that was almost sensual.

…she felt her heart beating low in her body, everywhere sensitive to each atom of her being.

"I… was concerned for what your continued interrogation might do to Doctor McKay," she stammered, even knowing that through their connection, the partial lie was pointless. She could not understand the sudden strength of her emotion and it was unsettling, frightening.

Michael tilted his head to one side and regarded her. Curiosity, and something else she could not quite place, softened the frown that had been etched on his face. She tugged again on his grasp as he continued to hold her wrist, but was unable to free herself even from his light restraint. She was unable to dismiss the feeling that he was playing with her and yet knew, from somewhere deep and hidden inside of herself, that he was not. Was it this she fought, as she tried to free herself?

"I think you understand far better than you allow yourself to believe, Teyla." His soft but serious words, and his use of her name, sent a shiver through her. She drew in a deep and shuddering breath at the thought and forced herself to stillness. He tilted his head from one side to the other. "From the first time we met, even before we came to blows—"

"You remember that?" she could not help the surprise from showing in her voice… in the way she looked at him… for just a moment seeing not the hybrid he had become, but the Wraith he had once been.

He let out a long, slow breath, his eyes burning into hers and she was unable to look away. She felt her colour rise, and swallowed.

"Over time," he confirmed, "I have come to remember."

"I… it… It changes nothing, Michael," she told him, and even to her own ears the conviction of her words was lacking.

"No?" he answered with an amused questioning tone. His eyes flicked down for a moment before returning to rest in hers. Slowly, almost not daring to see, she looked down, to find that he no longer held her wrist and yet, the fingers of her own hand rested almost quiescent along his arm.

Trying to appear casual she began to slide her hand away, willing away the trembling she felt beginning again. Michael quickly closed his fingers before hers could graze the palm of his hand.

She blinked at him, feeling the echo of his reticence to touch, to save her from himself, burn along the connection they shared perhaps more deeply in that moment than at any time that they had shared together. Again her stomach and her rapidly beating heart exchanged their places in her small frame. She took in a hurried breath.

"Michael, you cannot—" she began, though the words were unnecessary. She knew; felt that he anticipated her words.

"That is not the only reason, Teyla." he told her almost hesitantly, almost more softly than he had ever spoken to her. "I can still be dangerous to you."

She felt his concern strengthen, a hint of the same pressing fear that she had felt surrounded some part of him, in the deep places of his mind, where he would not normally allow her ingress. Curious, she pushed, expecting in that moment he would shut her out and push her away as he had always done before.

Memory… a long and darkened hallway and a doorway ahead. Guards with covered faces… and a chamber… an important place

She looked up at him, her gaze lost in the golden stare he fixed on her. He took a step closer, and slowly began to move around behind her, to move from between where she stood and the bed that held McKay. A part of her knew she should help the doctor, tend to him, but so great a chance to understand a part of Michael she had never seen could not be allowed to pass her by, not when she knew from Michael's own understanding that Rodney was not in any immediate danger.

A darkened chamber…the only light a swirling mass of colour from above… pulsing to a heartbeat… a burning… a hunger

She turned her head to follow his movement, to keep him with her view. She should have turned when he came around her shoulder and she could no longer see him, but could almost still feel him there behind her… close. In spite of every sense of danger within her, and the painful echo of the same from Michael she pushed still further, pushing against him now that he was aware of just what she was doing.

Weakness within strength… a dizzying need… overwhelming

Her breathing became shallower and she began to feel light headed. She closed her eyes against the fluid spin of the room before her. The blue light of the walls pressed inwards. She reached out toward the bed to steady herself, but it was too far away. Her head fell back…

Denial… pain…

And a mental barrier… strong… but he was tiring… weakening…

"Michael!" she called out to him in panic at the malevolence which flooded into her. It was raw and angry… violence incarnate. It gripped every part of her, threatening to crush her and at the same time tear her into atoms. She felt the movement of her child become as frantic as her breath, and unaware entirely of what she was doing she clutched at his supporting arm, at the same time fighting to be free of him, fighting his grasp. "Why!"

"Don't," he told her and moved to cup her face in his other hand, keep her head against his shoulder. "Teyla, stop. Let go."

She felt him take in the deepest of breaths, felt the heat of it as he exhaled, long and slow. The pain she felt began to soften, to recede… the trashing of the child within her slowed, and the vice around her lungs, stopping her own breath loosened. She took in a deep breath… and as the panic lessened she stopped struggling.

"Why is she doing this?" the words came out as little more than a breathless whisper as the warmth of Michael's hand came away from her cheek. Seeking a moment's solace she did not lift her head from his shoulder, but turned it against his chest and found some small measure of comfort in his rapid, but slowing heartbeat.

"She is dangerous," his voice rumbled in his chest. "She will stop at nothing, Teyla. Don't try to find her and connect with her."

Taking another breath she started to turn in his supportive embrace, to look up at him.

"But Michael, why? What does she want with you?" she asked.

The edges of a wry smile twitched at his lips, and the smallest of breathy, humourless laughs escaped him. But he tilted his head to look at her, and in his eyes she thought she saw the echo of pain, regret. When he raised his hand toward her cheek she froze, uncertain, very unsettled by what had just happened. She barely felt the softest of touches as he brushed back her hair from her cheek with the back of his hand.

"What do any of them want?" he said, blinking. "She knows of the threat I pose to her, and all of the Wraith." He blinked again, and let his hand fall away, as if suddenly becoming aware. His voice became clipped once more, and his gaze dropped momentarily to take in the curve of her belly. "She seeks to undo my work."

Suddenly Teyla felt her fear replaced by rising anger. The soft expression she had fixed on him hardened and she stepped backwards, away from him until she collided with the bed on which the doctor lay, slowly becoming more conscious again.

"And so because of what you have done to me, my child and I will be hunted by the Wraith." she found herself tearful in her anger and had to try hard to block out the hurt that entered his eyes at her tone and her actions. She would have said more, but then Rodney moaned, and she went to the doctor's side. Michael did not try to stop her, but followed her, staying close as though to remain as a protection.

"You should consider perhaps that he is telling you the truth. That he knows and remembers nothing," she snapped.

"You know I have seen that he does," he countered.

She felt him turn to watch her as she crossed the room to fill a bowl with cool water, and bring it, with a cloth, back to Rodney's side. She was certain that he could tell, and felt his possessiveness rise around her again, that her hand shook dreadfully as she wet the cloth and gently mopped the doctor's brow, and cheeks. She had been shaken by so many things in the last few minutes, felt many emotions mixed up inside her, that she fought to concentrate on even so simple a task.

"Teyla," Rodney moaned.

"It is all right, Doctor McKay," she said to him softly, her voice cracked slightly as she spoke and, wetting the cloth again, she repeated the mopping of his brow, focussing on the mundane to try and steady herself, before settling the cold wet cloth against his head. "I am here."

After a moment she turned again to face Michael, and then glanced beyond him to the immobile figure on the other bed. This one was shrouded in a kind of cloth-like film, and around the bed, equipment hummed and Wraith text scrolled across a screen. She asked, "What of Major Lorne?"

"I have done everything possible," he told her. "There is nothing more I can do for him."

She drew her gaze back to Michael, who tilted his head again to regard her, to show her the truth and sincerity of what he had told her. She found that she did not at all doubt him. "And what will you do with Doctor McKay? I cannot believe that you went to the trouble of tending his injuries only to kill him."

"He will not be harmed. You have my word," he told her softly, and then a little more forcefully added, "So long as he tells me what I want to know."

**

"All right," Sheppard almost crooned, carefully manoeuvring the Jumper through the many Darts that were flying, like sentries, around the Hive ships. "Let's see what we can find."

"Colonel," Zelenka said nervously, "I really think it is not a good idea to get so close to these things. Even cloaked there is no guarantee that they will not detect our scanning them and… find us out."

"I know, I know," he said, far more light heartedly than he felt, "But the closer we get the more likely it is that we'll be able to find out which of these ships has Rodney and the Major and the success of my plan depends on knowing which of these ships to target once the Daedalus gets within range."

"So you said the last time, Colonel Sheppard," Zelenka nodded, "Just—"

"You're nervous… I get it." Sheppard glanced over at him. "Relax. I've done this a hundred times. Scanning for transceivers…" he frowned. "Oh crap!"

"Oh my God, what is it!" Zelenka almost jumped out of his seat, and began looking out of every side of the forward screen.

"It's what I was afraid of," Sheppard said, and even though it was serious, he had to try to contain the chuckle at Zelenka's panic. "There's no sign of them on either of the ships. That can only mean—"

"That Michael has them," Radek finished his sentence, and added, "I'll thank you not to do that again. Do you think it's funny, to scare me like that, hmm?"

"Radek, I'm sorry," he said, and truly meant it. He slowly banked the Jumper and threaded his way out of the furthest reaches of the Darts' web around the Hives, before heading toward the rendezvous coordinates, where the Daedalus would exit hyperspace. "It does complicate matters though…"

"Why?" the scientist wanted to know, "I do not see how it is any different than before."

"Because what I have planned… Michael will already have thought of," he answered with a solemn sigh.

**

This time she was waiting for him as he entered her chamber. She was agitated – pacing.

=He is near… I can feel him=

~Neither my scans, nor those of your own Hive detect anything~

She came at him then, her blade tipped fingers raised and quivering in barely held tension before his face. He took a breath and held his ground, aware that if she had stopped on her own then still she valued the contribution he could bring to their alliance.

"Do you dare to contradict me?" she hissed, "You have too much consorted with the humans."

"I will ensure that we scan the area again," he gave her a little bow, only then did she lower her hand. She walked around him again. He felt her looking him up and down, and when she was once more standing in front of him, became almost mesmerised by the way she swayed her head from one side to the other as she regarded him.

Finally she straightened and let out a hissing breath, her mind pushing at his again… searching. He opened his mind to her, rather than endure the pressure of it, except for one small place in his memory even as he assured her that he would tell her anything. She sought to know the progress on his research.

~It would be easier, if I were to have a subject on which to experiment~

She growled long and deep in the back of her throat… pulling back her mind from his, but even so he caught a glimpse of her thoughts… and even though it took a great deal to unsettle him after all he had been through, he trembled at them.

**

Alicia Vega looked up at the sound of footsteps, expecting another of the hybrid soldiers bringing her the things she had asked for. She started to rise, and cross to the bars to receive them, but stopped when she saw that she was mistaken.

"I trust that my soldiers have treated you with courtesy," Michael said firmly in a clipped voice. The voice was deep, with but barely a hint of the two toned echo she had heard of Wraith voices. She had seen the archive tapes Atlantis kept on this particular Wraith, or Wraith-Human hybrid, she reminded herself. She was more than a little taken aback at how changed he was. How unlike the images she had seen from the security footage of his last visit to the city of the Ancients. It was a difference that disturbed her in how similar and yet utterly alien he looked to her.

When he tilted his head in query she realised he was still waiting for an answer, and stammered, "They've been most cordial, yes."

"I'm told you've asked for clothing, and for bathing facilities to be brought to you," he said. So they did report everything to him.

"I am fully aware of your Articles of War, Alicia Vega, Captain, 502011972," he said in an equally clipped voice, though she thought, somewhat with irritation. He waved his hand in front of a panel in the cell door, and the web spiralled outward to form a doorway, to allow him to stand before her with nothing between them. Instinct made her take a step back as he stepped inside. "But what makes you believe they carry any weight in the Pegasus Galaxy?"

"You provided me with food. Article Twenty si—"

"Did I?" he tilted his head again and took a step forward. She backed up another step. She was trying to be strong, but each time he spoke, he chipped away at her confidence piece by piece. She felt entirely foolish when, in the next moment, two of his soldiers entered the cell behind him.

One of them carried a large bowl, and a jug which was steaming slightly in the chill air of the ship. The other held folded linen, a blanket and a set of civilian clothing. They put them down on one of the benches at the side of the cell and left without a word.

Michael did not move. "The things that you asked for," he said.

Vega stood staring at him. She took a breath and, with as much bluster as she could, snapped, "What, you're going to stand there and watch?"

He took another step forward and ignoring her completely he said. "You have something that belongs to me."

"No, I…" she took another step back. "I don't think so."

"I will ask you one more time," his jaw tightened and he took another step toward her.

"I don't know what you're talking about?"

He moved more quickly than she expected, closing the rest of the distance between them. She backed up until she was pressed against the bulkhead wall, and still he came on.

"Don't play games with me, Captain!" he growled. She tried to dodge sideways as he reached for her, but his hand slammed against the bulkhead, cutting off her escape. "The memory storage unit from my computer, where is it?"

"Doc… Doctor McKay he—" she stuttered, turning her face away from his still outstretched arm that was braced against the wall beside her.

"I have already spoken with Doctor McKay," he leaned closer and spoke in a low and vicious tone, "and he has more than adequately convinced me that just before my Dart took you aboard; before the Wraith fired on what was left of the rubble, you were the one that grabbed him and took it from his hand."

"I—" she started, but before she could voice another work of the lie she was about to tell, she felt his hand close in her hair and a moment later he pulled her head back, painfully, until she looked up into his eyes. Terrified she started to reach for his hand with her own that was not pinned to her side by his nearness. She struggled to free herself, but he slapped her hand away, and then caught her wrist to pin her to the bulkhead.

"Wrong choice, Captain," he told her, towering over her, appearing massive, deadly. "Let's not make this any more unpleasant that it needs to be."

Her imagination began to weave images of hideous experiments, vivid and lurid impressions of pain and suffering; of what would be once he was done with her – finished with and left to live with what was, instead of made to die. Her knees weakened and she pressed backwards, ignoring the pain as the movement pulled at her roots, as far away from him as she could get.

"Shirt," she barely managed to force the words from her lips. "In my shirt."

Still holding her by the hair he released her other arm, keeping his eyes firmly fixed on her face. She had the fleeting thought, as she unfastened the buttons at the top of the garment and slipped her hand inside, that he was at least allowing her some small shred of dignity. The thought offered her little comfort.

As quickly as her near paralysed muscles would allow she reached inside her shirt and plucked the memory module from her undergarment. She held it out toward him.

Slowly he unwound his fingers from her hair as he took the component from her trembling hand. Then without another word to her, he turned and started to the door.

"Wait," she called after him, "What… what are you going to do to me?"

He paused in the doorway and looked back at her over his shoulder. The cold amusement in his eyes withered what was left of her spirit.

"It is already done," he told her.

**

"Colonel Caldwell," Sheppard sighed as he stepped onto the battle bridge of the Daedalus. He'd wanted to be involved in the execution of his plan, but while he was more than capable of flying a Puddle Jumper in his current state, flying an F302 in a combat situation was an entirely different matter. He would need both hands and a sharp mind to pull off the manoeuvres necessary, and frankly there was a full platoon of marines inside his head beating a military tattoo.

"Colonel Sheppard, you're taking one hell of a risk with our people's lives," Caldwell said.

"Yes sir, but I don't see any other way. Our people on the ground are overrun by Wraith ground troops. Darts are beaming in new forces the minute we start to clear them and we can't get to the Gate to get the wounded out." Sheppard spoke quickly as Daedalus came closer to the Hives, under cloak, and running silent.

"Even so—" Caldwell tried to interrupt.

Sheppard shook his head, "Due respect, Sir," he said, "the only way to draw those Darts away from our people is to attack the Hives and even with support from the Daedalus and all the 302s she carries, we don't have that kind of firepower."

"And you think the best way of supplementing our firepower is by setting Michael and the Wraith at each other's throats."

"Yes Sir,"

"Even knowing that's exactly what Michael will expect."

"Yes Sir"

Caldwell sighed and shook his head. "I sure as hell hope you know what you're doing."

John Sheppard turned and looked out through the main view screen at the sight of the two Wraith Hives and their supporting armada. "So do I," he said under his breath. "So do I."