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Act 2"Anything?" After several long minutes of waiting and no longer able to bear the tension, Sheppard turned to watch as Chuck started to shake his head. The Gate Technician stopped himself, and Sheppard saw his eyes widen in disbelief. "Chuck?" Sheppard asked, leaning over the desk as though he could somehow see past the man. "It's…" Chuck said slowly, "Teyla's IDC." "Lower the shield," Sheppard said, and without waiting for Chuck's answer, turned and started hurrying away toward the steps down to the Gate Room. "But—" Chuck started, but Sheppard called over his objections. "Just lower the shield!" He reached the Gate Room floor as the shield disengaged. His heart was pounding. Now, after so long; after Ronon said she was missing, she was coming back to them – coming home. Teyla stumbled through the event horizon, hands filthy with dirt and even before he'd had time to take in the rest of her appearance, Sheppard noticed the blood stain on the front of her torn shirt, congealing at her shoulder, and he reached for her, meaning to catch her; steady her. "Teyla—" he started. Her body collided with his with a force beyond that of one stumbling. In the split second before she wrapped her foot around the back of his ankle Sheppard saw the first of the energy pulses sail across the Gate Room to explode against the steps. The next instant she unbalanced him, both of them falling to the floor as a volley of several shots tore through the space he had previously occupied. In spite of being slightly winded from the fall which had been awkward due to his efforts to keep Teyla from hitting the hard tiles, Sheppard immediately switched their positions, and gallantly attempted to cover her with his own body – to keep her safe. "Raise the shield! Shut it down!" he called up to Chuck, and then breathing out in partial relief as the Gate disengaged, he looked up at the nearest SO and ordered, "Get a medic." Teyla pushed at him, starting to get to her feet as soon as he rolled to the side to catch the rest of his breath. "I do not need a medic," she said urgently, a brittle crack in the tone of her voice. "We must assemble a team – return to the planet." "Whoa, whoa, whoa," he said, coming quickly to his feet and taking the smaller woman by the arms, careful of her injured shoulder, leaned down to talk to her earnestly. "Unless I miss my guess, those were Wraith shooting at you." "Yes," she told him, drawing a sharp breath, "and we must return. They have landed their Hive, and aboard is a prisoner that must be rescued. Please, John, I need your help." ** Her frantic heartbeat began to slow, and with its slowing the pain began to register. She tried to ignore it, push it away, focus on John's voice. "Prisoner?" he asked her, "Teyla what are you talking about? What prisoner?" "Teyla!" Ronon's voice came from behind her. News had travelled quickly through the city of her arrival. She turned around quickly as his steps echoed over the Gate Room. "Ronon," she said softly, but though she came to a stop, the Gate Room did not. It continued to turn before her eyes. Ronon and John blurred, and in blurring danced in and out of each other's space, before the darkness, hovering on the edges of her vision swept in, and the biting weakness that had begun subsumed her, and she knew no more. ** "Whoa, Teyla," Ronon reached her side, and faster than Sheppard caught the small Athosian woman as she fainted. "What the hell happened to her?" His voice was sharp, accusatory as he looked at Sheppard. He felt the other man should have been looking out for her needs, not standing in the Gate Room when she was so obviously hurt. Sheppard didn't get the chance to answer the charges Ronon's glare laid before him, as Carson hurried in, his orderlies bringing the gurney behind him. "I came as quickly as I could," he said as they came to a halt. "Set her down, Son." "I didn't know any of us had sent for you," Sheppard said, hovering beside Ronon as he gently laid Teyla onto the gurney and then stepped back, biting his nail in worry as Carson began to check her over. "Chuck radioed," Carson said. He didn't say much more, and Ronon watched as he made a brief examination of Teyla's injured shoulder, carefully easing the fabric of the shirt aside so that he could see the extent of her injury. Finally he announced, "It's not as bad as it looks." "Then why did she pass out," Ronon demanded, even as he saw Sheppard open his mouth to speak. "I've seen Teyla take worse injuries than this and just keep on fighting." "I won't know until I get her to the infirmary, Ronon," Carson said, standing and nodding to his orderlies. "Excuse me." As Carson left, Ronon rounded on Sheppard, but the smaller man held up his hand before he could speak. "She said she didn't want medics, big guy, she said—" "Since when have you ever listened to her," Ronon spat, his worry getting the better of him. He wasn't really angry with Sheppard, but with whoever did this to Teyla, and since they were not there, his friend was his only outlet. "Normally I'd agree with you," Sheppard said, "but she kept going on about some Wraith Hive and its priso—" "John?" Ronon frowned as a look of understanding dawned quite suddenly on Sheppard's face. Understanding that was quickly followed by what Ronon interpreted as fascinated horror. "Oh… crap! She's talking about Michael," Sheppard said breathlessly. "Michael?" Ronon's frown deepened. "What are you talking about, Michael? She—" "Come on." Sheppard's slap in the middle of his chest cut off the tirade building inside of him, and realising that the other man had already turned and was heading in the direction of the infirmary, he hurried to catch up. It didn't take him long. "She's seen Michael?" he asked. Sheppard shook his head and said, "She came in hot; saved my ass from a volley of fire from Wraith blasters before we could get the Gate shut down. She was… insistent that we turn around and get back out there; said something about the Hive being landed and that there was a prisoner on board that had to be rescued. I think she was talking about Michael." "Well if Michael is in Wraith hands he's probably dead by now, and if he's not, shouldn't we leave him to them? It's one less problem our way." Even as he said the words, Ronon realised how cruel they sounded, and heedless of the fact that Michael still had Teyla's son, and that that was why she was trying to get to him…
Ronon growled as the memory of what he had read in Teyla's journal came to him, unbidden – unwelcome – and when Sheppard looked his way he shook his head. "I'd agree with you, Ronon," Sheppard said, "If it weren't for the baby. What chance does she have of finding the kid if—?" "Michael's people are still out there," Ronon argued. "One of them has to know where he is." "That's not how he operates and you know it," Sheppard said. "Maybe one, a lieutenant or something, but… Mikey plays his cards real close to his chest. He doesn't want anyone to know where the kid is, then no one but him will be able to tell us." "Us?" Ronon questioned, "So you're thinking of going; finding this Hive. I'm telling you, he's gone. Dead. There ain't no love lost between Michael and the Wraith and they won't keep him alive a moment longer than they have to." ** It didn't occur to Halling to step away from the Ring of the Ancestors; that it may have been any other than a friend, come to trade or exchange news. Even after the recent experiences; the troubles the remaining Athosians had endured since they were taken from New Athos by Michael's mercenaries, the gentle Athosian preferred to see the good, the hope in what might occur. The shimmering puddle of light came into being and a lone figure stepped from it, looking first one way and then, spotting Halling, turned his way and came toward him. "Raefan," Halling stepped forward to greet the man, reaching for his shoulders and lowering his head as the other man did likewise. "Halling, it is good to see you again after so long," Raefan said. "I received your message and came as soon as I could." "The one that delivered it?" Halling asked, frowning slightly as he straightened up. "Have no fear, my friend. Jinto is with my wife, and there he can remain if you wish it," Raefan said with a smile, but Halling shook his head. "I do not wish to get your family involved in this, Raefan," Halling said, "should there be reprisals, I would never forgive myself if—" "Halling, you worry too much," Raefan said. "Even if the one you seek could find us—" "Do not make the mistake of complacency. Others have, and received nothing but trouble from it," Halling interrupted. "All I seek is the information that will give me the means to help a dear friend." "And right now, all I seek is a hot meal, and a comfortable place to lay my head," Raefan answered, and clapped the Athosian on the shoulder as Halling gestured in the direction that led back to the village. As they walked, he said, "So, tell me everything…" ** The orderlies stopped the gurney near one of the beds in the infirmary itself, but Carson shook his head. "No," he said softly, "take her straight into isolation." "Doctor Beckett?" One of the orderlies looked at him as though the man thought he was out of his mind. "For her own protection," Carson said, giving the gurney a push himself to start the movement of it, and added under his breath, "mostly from John and Ronon." As Teyla began to let out a soft moan he added, "Quick as you can." Dismissing the orderlies as soon as they had helped him to lift Teyla onto the isolation wing's bed, Carson turned his attention to the awakening Athosian, murmuring softly as he prepared to clean up the wound on her shoulder. "Easy, Teyla, it's Carson. You're all right. You're safe." "Carson?" she murmured, and sounded confused and vague. "That's right," he said, keeping his pitch low and his voice soft. "You're in the infirmary on Atlantis. You were hurt, but you'll be fine. I'm just going to take a look at this shoulder of yours, all right. Then we'll see if we can figure out if it was anything more that caused the fainting." "Carson, I am… I am all right," Teyla said, swallowing and trying to sit up. He restrained her gently. "No, lie back now," he told her, and nodded to Marie as she joined him with the equipment tray. "I have to get back there," she argued. "Teyla, listen to me," Carson turned her face so that her eyes met his. "Nothing is so important that you can't allow yourself a moment to catch your breath. I'll get you patched up and back out there as soon as I can, but right now, you're staying put." Teyla sighed heavily, tears welling in her eyes as she finally gave up fighting him. "He was there, Carson. I know it was him. It had to have been." She squeezed her eyes shut as Marie began to cut the shirt away. "Whatever it is, Love, pay it no mind," Carson said gently. "Just take a deep breath and—" "Doctor Beckett," Marie's soft voice interrupted, but even though he knew she'd tried, the nurse had failed to completely mask the alarm in her tone. He glanced over, frowning, not sure what to expect, and felt as though someone had slammed him across the middle with a steel bar when he saw the horrifyingly familiar, raw feeding mark on Teyla's chest. "Dear God, Teyla!" He failed to catch the exclamation before it flew from his mouth and seeing Sheppard and Ronon enter the infirmary from the corner of his eye, Carson turned, meaning to go and secure the door to the isolation wing. Before he could move, Teyla's hand wrapped tightly around his wrist. "No," she told him. "Why didn't you tell someone," he hissed. "They do not need to know," Teyla said fiercely. "No one does." "Marie, could you give us a minute?" Carson said to his assistant. She left without question, giving Teyla a sympathetic smile as she went, and managing, he noticed, to sidestep Sheppard and Ronon. He turned back to Teyla. "You can't keep something like this from John; you know that," he said, "and Ronon? He can practically sniff out Wraith involvement in a heartbeat. They're your friends. They care and sooner or later they're gonnae find out anyway." "It was nothing," she said. "Teyla, you were fed on." "A moment only," she said, her voice shaking. "Who did this to you?" he asked, as he began to reach for swabs and antiseptic with which to clean the wounds. "It was the commander of the Hive that holds Michael as their prisoner," she said. "Michael?" Carson's heart constricted and his head snapped up, bringing his eyes to meet with hers. "The Wraith have Michael?" Teyla reached out to lay a trembling, dirt caked hand against his cheek. "They have him," she whispered, "and he has my son." **
Michael moaned as he came to consciousness once more, burning with the almost physical memory of Teyla's presence, of those moments shared, pivotal moments in which the truth between them was laid bare as each made admissions before the other. Perhaps not explicit, remaining unspoken, but admissions none the less, and between the two of them there had so often been little need to speak. "Who was she?" The woman – Isla's gentle voice and her touch grounded him, and brought him closer to the pain of loss. He curled toward the touch, unable to stop the all-too-human tears. His hands fisted beside his face, heedless of the sharp sting of his own claws against his palms. "She… was…" he started, but the pain gathered again in his heart, constricting his chest around a sob that felt suddenly like a boulder lodged inside of him. Instead he demanded, "Help me." He looked up into Isla's confused frown. "What would you do?" she asked him. "Sit," he gasped. "But your wound—" she started, stopping only when he weakly grasped the neckline of her dress. "Help… me to sit," he rasped again. More aware than when last she had touched him, as her arms closed around him, he felt his uncontrolled mind's blistering awareness of her recombinant DNA. He growled. His breathing quickened as his head began to spin. "Let go," he barely managed to form the words. "You will fall," she warned. "No," he growled, trying to push away from her. It was too close, too alike, and he was drowning in it. She let go of him, and he barely managed to brace himself on the most uninjured of his arms, stifling the cry that rose inside of him. "Please," she reached for him again, "Let me help you." "Do not… do not touch me," he told her, gasping. "My word against it," she told him, and approaching carefully wrapped the blanket that had been covering him around his shoulders before moving to better support him. He leaned against her, unable to do otherwise, and even with the barrier between them he fought to regain control. "What are you trying to do?" she asked. "It…is better," he answered breathlessly, "that you… do not know." "Yet you ask for my help," she said, "and I am bound by my word to my Commander that I will." Michael sighed, finally settled enough to be able to breathe. "I must… end this," he said. He saw and felt her panic at his words, and shook his head, setting the room to dancing around him. "I must… summon my Hive… my… people. I—" "How?" she asked, and the barely concealed horror at the thought was mitigated by her curiosity. "It does not matter," he told her, "I have… what I came here to… achieve." As he spoke, he reached behind the back of his neck; feeling for a pressure point he knew existed, wherein he had implanted the device he now sought to activate. Enough was enough. He did not need to suffer any more; could not stand to, and when he was himself once again… nothing would prevent his retribution upon all those that had wronged him. ** The not-so-distant thunder rattled the windows of the cafeteria, and stirring his tea, Carson stared into the blue-black night, silvered as it was by lightning rimmed clouds.
He closed his eyes and let out a long, slow breath as the voice of his creator echoed in his head… ironic since the memory was from before his time… was the real Carson's memory, taken from his mind as all the others were taken, even as he had fought to keep control. "But then," he said to himself, barely above a whisper. "I… he… I created him in the first place and now…"
Lightning flashed, striking the water nearby and Carson jumped, blinking as hot tea splashed against his hand… the heat of it becoming something other entirely…
Carson sighed. The child… always the child, never my child… though to all intent and purpose the boy may as well have been Michael's. He couldn't help but wonder if Teyla knew… if he should tell her what he knew; if he could trust himself to do what was ethically right, what was humanely just. With another sigh he picked up a napkin to clear up the mess he'd made, wiping up the back of his hand and the spilled tea from the top of the table. "If only everything were so easy," he said softly. "Carson?" He looked up at the sound of McKay's voice, tried to smile but couldn't muster the energy or even the where-with-all to do so. "It's late, Rodney. Shouldn't you be in bed?" he said by way of greeting. "Couldn't sleep," McKay answered, and then gesturing to the seat opposite, asked, "May I?" "Aye," Carson answered, "Go ahead." "You know," McKay said as he sat down, "I could say the same thing of you." "Hmm?" "That you should be sleeping too," McKay said. "Oh, aye," Carson nodded and picked up the tea cup to take a sip. "Just taking some tea before heading off to bed." "You've been with Teyla?" Rodney said. "She'll be fine," Carson said tiredly. "You'll see her in the morning. I'll likely be discharging her then." "Really?" McKay sounded surprised as he tucked into his midnight snack, and Carson shook his head, keeping the comments about the state of his friend's arteries to himself. McKay went on heedless of his concerns. "That surprises me, because… didn't Sheppard say something about Wraith?" "You're fishing, Rodney," Carson said with a sigh, "and you know me better than that." "Right, yeah. Sorry, just… She's been through a lot, you know? What with Michael and the baby and all," McKay said. "She left you know?" "I know," he answered softly. "She told me. I think there's a lot that people don't understand." "Oh?" McKay asked, but Carson shook his head again, refusing to be drawn further. "What about you?" he asked instead. "From what I hear, you've been quite busy yourself." "I'm fine, Carson," McKay answered, "You know me…" He trailed off then, and Carson knew there were things that he wasn't saying. Whatever else Rodney was to him, he was a friend, so Carson couldn't help but prompt him, "But?" McKay sighed, and put down his fork as he stopped eating, and Carson knew then that it was serious. "I'm worried. About Jen," McKay said after a minute. "Rodney, you know I can't—" McKay cut him off, holding up a hand as he took a sip of the coffee from his tray. When he had swallowed, he said, "I'm not asking you to tell me anything, Carson, I just want you to listen. If I'm being stupid then fine, frankly, I'll be glad, but I'm going crazy right now because I can't stop worrying about it and just… I've gotta tell someone. I can't tell Sheppard because whether or not I'm right or wrong won't matter, he'll just go… tearing off after Todd and likely end up getting himself killed. Ronon too, but—" "All right," Carson said and picked up his tea cup. "Go on." "I told you before that I thought that Todd might have either fed on Jennifer or forced himself on her, but… I think it's more complicated than that," he said. "How so?" Carson asked around a sip of cooling tea. "Well, you know?" McKay shifted in his seat and Carson thought he looked slightly constipated as he said, "that thing the Wraith can do, the way they can… mess with your mind…?" He nodded, as noncommittally as he could, trying hard not to remember the touch of Michael's mind inside his own, and hoping his expression would encourage McKay to keep talking. "I worry that's what he did to Jen, that he somehow… manipulated her, I mean… she was so… goddamn… defensive whenever I mentioned anything to do with Todd. It's like… like she was…" "Trying to keep her private life private?" "Carson!" McKay's raised voice brought more than a few stares their way. He looked around before leaning over the table to hiss at Carson, "You can't possibly condone that, you—" "What I'm saying is that it doesn't matter what you or I think," Carson said firmly. "What matters is what Jennifer thinks, how she perceives it. The only time it becomes my business to make a judgement is when it starts to involve medical issues." "But that's just it," McKay said, his face creasing from indignation to worry. "Look at what's just happened. What if it does, Carson?" **
She moaned as the rumble of thunder roused her enough to be lucid, but not enough to break the dream. Her body burned with the memory of his voice – a low murmur that rumbled through her and settled low in her belly, sending a swirling rush of aftershocks along her limbs. …He is breathless – his entire body fire. Around him the movement of the windblown leave, their whispering voice, is maddening. He turns first one way then another; sniffs the air and drops into a crouch that is painful. A sound catches his attention and he sniffs again, before he pushes off from an aching hand to run amid the blurring green of trees that pass his vision so fast he can make out nothing save the prey on which he closes; reaches for and bears to the ground… roaring…
Jennifer cried out, swept into wakefulness by the sudden, almost painful climax that left her sweating… weak and trembling on the edge of delirium - wooded visions that had no place in the dream confusing and terrifying her. The cry became a sob, and that became a torrent until she had no choice but to throw herself from her sweat soaked bed, and stumble drunkenly to the bathroom, barely making it in time to void what was left in her stomach. She didn't have the strength to stand, nor was her stomach settled enough that she thought it wise. Instead she rested her head on her arms across the top of the toilet basin, and finally gave voice to the emotional agony the dream had kindled in her, weeping hard until the muscles in her belly ached from it. ** The Hive Second walked the line of worshippers slowly, taking in the sight of each one, keeping his breathing slow and controlled to try and stave off his anger, but it wasn't working. "One of you will tell me," he said, his voice deep and just on the edge of a growl. "You will tell me or I will be forced to exact reprisal." Many long moments passed and still not one of them spoke. At the end of the line he turned suddenly and reached for the nearest of the worshippers. It was a young woman, and under normal circumstances he would not have dreamed of making such a move against one such, but their collective obstinacy pushed him beyond the limits of his patience, which in the present climate of the Hive was already stretched beyond belief. Easily turning her in his arms, he held her struggling against his chest, his hand clamped around her throat, his feeding hand hovering just inches from her sternum. "Speak!" {speak} {speak} {speak} He pushed against every mind present – relentless – holding back neither fear nor pain. Showing each and every one of them exactly what would happen to the one in his arms if the truth was not given to him at once. "Please, Lord, no!" one of the other worshippers, a man stepped toward him, reaching for the woman. The Hive Second lashed out at the man for his audacity, barely making contact, but sending the man sailing across the space to land heavily at the base of the nearby bulkhead. The Second's sensitive ears did not miss the sharp crack that split the air as the man landed. "Kaidon!" the woman in his arms screamed and began to struggle against his hold. In vain, but still she fought. "Tell me!" the Hive Second roared at them. "It was me." The coldly calculating voice came from behind him, and rather than release the struggling woman at the sound of it, he tightened his grip, as he turned to face the speaker. The Queen's handmaiden – concubine to the Hive Commander – stood in the doorway, staring up at him in open challenge. Not the least bit demure or respectful, her manner rankled like a bad smell among bright orchards. So the Hive Commander realised the threat and sought to use the girl against him, to lessen his standing, and the opinion of the others. What a fool he was. {your master has sorely mistaken me if he thinks to use this against me, girl} "Bring her!" he said to the drones, aloud, for the benefit of the others. "Wait!" the handmaiden said, taking a step back as the drones advanced on her. "You can't— I didn't— you—" She broke off as the Wraith drones' hands closed on her arms, and into the silence she left, the Hive Second said, "As well as providing support for the Commander of a Hive, the Second's duties include the overseeing, and discipline of all worshippers. If you think your temporary position as the Queen's handmaiden, or the fleeting relief you provide in servicing the Commander provides you with immunity then you also are sorely mistaken." He nodded to the drones, ordering them to take her to the Preservation Chamber. Not until they had left, and her frightened chattering had faded to nothing along the corridors did he release the woman from his grasp. She flew at once to the one he surmised was her mate. "A word of advice," he told the remaining worshippers. "That one may think she possesses power, but consider – those that climb the highest have the furthest to fall, and more often than not, take others with them as they descend." He stood and watched as one of the other men crossed to where the woman lay weeping with her head on her mate's chest. The man still had not moved since being thrown, and the Hive Second worried that perhaps the crack had been the snapping of his all too fragile Human neck. "He lives?" he asked after a moment. "Yes, my Lord," the answer came at once, as the second man took the weeping woman by the shoulders and brought her to her feet. "I believe there are bones broken in his shoulder, but nothing that will not mend." The Hive Second walked closer to the woman, and obediently the man supporting her backed away, inclining his body in a slight bow. The woman swayed slightly, and he caught her arm, supporting her easily with his greater strength, and forgiving that, unthinkingly she braced herself against his chest. He breathed in deeply, leaning down to her, and cupped her chin in his hand to bring her eyes to his. As his mind met hers, he sensed the life, barely begun inside her. "Bring him to me when he wakes," he hissed against her cheek, and then growling, released her and spun away, leaving to deal with the errant handmaiden. ** More convinced now than ever that someone had been at the files on the infirmary computer, Carson set about laboriously going through the directory, one file and file fragment at a time. It was something he'd learned during his time with Michael – not that he was particularly good at it, but calling in Rodney or Zelenka would cause more alarm than he was prepared to deal with, so he did it himself. He had most of the directory reconstructed when the light touch fell on his shoulder, making him jump. "Carson," her voice was soft, and sounded just a little lost. He turned to her, smiling. "Teyla," he took her hand and patted it softly, "What's the matter, Love? Can't sleep?" "No, I," she tilted her head as she always did when something was on her mind, "find myself unable to become still enough to allow sleep to find me." "I know the feeling," he told her, and reached for another stool so that she could at least sit. In truth he was glad of the company. She thanked him softly. "It is broken?" she asked, gesturing to the computer. "It's been giving me some trouble, aye," he said. "It is one of the things that I never came to understand about Atlantis," Teyla told him, and as he raised his eyebrow in query, she explained, "The reliance of everyone here on technology that is… less than reliable." Carson chuckled. "It makes us feel powerful," he teased, "being able to swear about a computer – makes a man feel… manly." Teyla chuckled softly, but it did not last long and ended with a sigh. He gave her an inviting smile, and after a moment she began to speak. "I can only assume that someone has told you why I left Atlantis," she said softly. "The gist of it, lass, aye," Carson said. "No one gave me the full details though. As I understand it, they brought you back from where Michael left you and started treating you like some kind of…" He struggled to find the right word, but stopped when Teyla shook her head. "It was greater than that. When Michael returned me to Atlantis, believing I would be safer here than at his side because of the ferocity of the Wraith aggression against him, people here whom I thought my friends failed to believe that what I was telling them was true. Their mistrust became untenable. Their treatment was… uncalled for at best and an insult to my right to privacy at its worse level. During that time, Carson, I truly came to understand his plight." "Michael's?" he queried softly, knowing somehow that between the two of them there would be no deception, no hiding sophistry, just the naked, honest truth. "Yes," she said, and he sighed, looking down. "We treated him abominably, Teyla," he said and heard in his own voice the sorrow that gripped him, the sorrow and the shame. "Then, Carson, why?" she said, her voice a fervent hissed question and she reached out to grasp him by the wrist. "I have always known you to be a good and honourable man; your grasp on the justice of a situation strong. What… possessed you—?" "If I had a penny for every time I've asked myself that question, I'd be a rich man by now," he said. "And, Teyla, I know you objected at the time, and that you pretty much got… cornered into being a part of it, but—" "But still I participated, yes," she said, not loosening her grasp on his wrist, "and every moment that has passed, every meeting between us—" "You know," Carson started, his soft voice cutting her off. He sighed then, not sure how to go on. "Your understanding, your empathy, your… compassion… it means a lot to him." Teyla shook her head. "Not enough," she said and there was no mistaking the hurt and anger in her voice, but he knew her well enough to hear that there was more beneath it, and looked at her softly, but challenging none-the-less, until she said, her voice full of anxiousness and emotion, "He has my child, Carson, my son. He took my people, made them into… into things to do his bidding; he— Hundreds of thousands of people are sick and dying because of what he has done." Her voice became more shrill, more desolate until tears fell from her eyes, to match each word. Carson got up from his stool and walked to stand behind her, wrapping his arms gently around her shoulders and rested his chin against the top of her head, to say softly, "And you're sitting here thinking: how could I love such a monster?" He didn't try to stop her when she pulled away from him, got to her feet and spun around to face him, all but snarling in his face, "No!" as she backed away, staring at him, and breathing hard. "You and I both know there's more to it than that," he said, and poured a glass of water, holding it out to her. She slapped it away, the water spilling over the two of them like some stain of complicity and the glass, hitting the floor of the lab hard, shattered. "We did this," she cried. "We drove him to this." "And there it is," Carson said, tears coming to his own eyes, "The truth that only you and I will ever dare to voice; to accept and understand. The Athosians… and all those hundreds of thousands of people infected with the Hoffan protein… the millions that will die in the war to come… their blood is on our hands. Mine as the geneticist that perfected the Hoffan drug and the architect of the retrovirus that created Michael, and on yours for bringing me the Wraith he used to be." ** Lightning split the sky, and he answered the atmospheric cry of pain with a startled whimper of his own that blossomed like the roll of thunder that assaulted the City of the Ancients. Sleep was no shield against the terror of his knowing that now she was back, now Teyla had returned, the choice was upon him. Should he say nothing, and trust in the military and the might of Atlantis with her cloak and her shields to keep the one that haunted his dreams; that possessed that one, hidden corner of his mind from taking her price from him for his betrayal… or should he surrender to the betrayal her geas demanded of him? Lightning flashed again and even as he gasped, and woke sweating into the lingering silver in his room, he still saw her face looming over him. Her narrow braids were like the strands of a web around him and as he fought to catch his breath, the weight in his chest became the press of her hand as she fed. ** She paced across the Control Room, looking at each of them in turn, trying to gauge their faces; judge their reactions. She could see lingering sympathy in Sheppard's eyes, as in McKay's. Ronon troubled her. There was something new, even more guarded in his expression, almost hostile. She knew that Ronon had always openly displayed his dislike of Michael, as much as any Wraith, but felt, somehow, that part of his current feeling was aimed at her. As if he sensed her examination of him Ronon crossed his arms and leaned back against the desk asking "What do you want me to say, Teyla? You want me to lie to you? Tell you, 'sure, I think it's a great idea,' when I don't? You want me to be honest? If the Wraith have him, he's already dead." "I know that he is not," Teyla said, her voice low, fighting hard to banish the pain that flared in her at Ronon's words. "Oh, what, because of that… that connection the two of you share?" Ronon snapped, tapping his head and standing up to his full height. Teyla, too, drew herself up, stinging with added hurt at Ronon's antagonistic attitude, ready to retort and demand an explanation for his manner when Sheppard stepped between them. "Hey," he looked up at Ronon with a frown, and sounding as puzzled as Teyla felt beneath the hurt, said, "Take it easy, big guy." He turned to her then, and said quietly, "Look, Teyla—" "No, John, you look," she tilted her head, and looked again at each of them. "I returned to Atlantis because I believed that I could ask my friends for help; that regardless of anything else they would realise—" "Teyla," she looked over at McKay as he laid a hand against her arm. "I don't think there's even one of us who doesn't appreciate the need to get to Michael so that you can find out where he's holding your son—" Sheppard nodded then, and finished McKay's sentence. "—but the truth is, the minute you set foot in Atlantis, it was already too late. They will have gone, Teyla, and one Hive among the number flying around out there right now?" "We have no way of finding them," McKay explained, "of isolating that Hive over the others. You see, in the last few months the Wraith have found a way to shield their bio-signature, which was how we were tracking them before – almost like… somehow they knew that was what we were doing and took counter measures to—" "McKay," Sheppard interrupted. "Yeah, right, sorry. The point is, we'd never find them," he said. "Yes," Teyla argued. "You would find them by looking for me. Some time ago I removed the subspace tracking device you had implanted in me after Michael returned me to Atlantis. Before I escaped from the Wraith commander, I planted it on that Hive." She looked expectantly at Rodney, who, at Sheppard's nod, moved to the computer at the side of the Control Room. Teyla bit her lip, uncertain, suddenly afraid that the device would fail and that her only hope of finding Michael would be lost through her own weakness. When Sheppard's hand hooked her elbow and he started to draw her aside, she jumped. "Teyla, listen," he said, leaning close to her to speak confidentially. "It's not as though we don't want to help. I know how important this is to you, and why, but you have to understand, it's a pretty big ask." "I understand that, John. I do," she answered and reached out to squeeze his hand as she continued, "and I would not have come to ask for help if there were any other way, but after months of searching and following countless trails, I have tried alone and it did not go well." "But you gotta face the very real possibility that Ronon's right, Teyla," Sheppard said. "With what Michael's done to the Wraith…"
"…any one of them wouldn't hesitate…"
"…to kill him as soon as look at him…"
"…They've got no reason to want him alive."
"Teyla?" She blinked and shook her head. "You must believe me, John, when I tell you that I understand what you are saying, but you must also accept that everything that I know leads me to believe otherwise. None of us can understand the fickle nature of the Wraith, particularly not their queens, and all the information I have received points to this Hive, whose prisoner further upsets the balance of their queen. Does that not sound like Michael to you? When I was with Michael and his ship was attacked, there was a queen that—" "All right," Sheppard interrupted. "Supposing you're right – supposing it is him. What then? Assuming we could actually get him off a fully armed and occupied Wraith Hive ship, and one of those remaining with a Queen, and bring him back to Atlantis. What are you. Going. To do?" Teyla shifted uncomfortably, her conversation with Carson still so fresh in her mind that she ached from it. "There is only one thing that I can, in all conscience, do, John," she said softly. "And what's that?" he asked, folding his arms and stepping away. Love him. She closed her eyes, and sighed, pushing the words away with the flickering coal of her anger. Opening her eyes again, she fixed Sheppard with as steady a gaze as she could muster. "If Michael is returned safely to Atlantis," she said, "as a leader of a people of the Pegasus galaxy, I must demand that he be granted a fair trial according to your articles of war—" "Teyla—" Sheppard started, and she could hear the warning tone in his voice, but still she continued. "—No, John," she said and laid her hand on his chest, above the cross of his arms, "It is the only course of action that does not prove our behaviour worse than that which we condemn." ** The rattle of the bones weighting the braids in her hair announced the Queen even before she set foot on the bridge, and as such every commander and sub-commander present turned in unison and made obeisance before her. Imperiously she waved her hand, and flicked at them all with the touch of acknowledgement along their mental pathways. As one they returned to their duties. The Hive Second did not miss that the three women that attended, nervously at her back, did not include the Hive Commander's concubine, and could not help but feel relief at that fact. He guarded his emotions carefully. =attend me in my chambers= {my Queen} The Hive Second mentally summoned a sub-commander to take his place at the console, and with another briefly inclination of his upper torso; an indication of his respect mixed with a demonstration of his strength, turned and left the bridge. He could feel the Hive Commander's eyes burning into the back of his head as his swift steps carried him away. Sooner or later their subtle antagonism was going to progress to a more overt display, and while that prospect did not exactly trouble the Hive Second his purpose was, as yet, better served without the greater burden of command of the Hive. If it came to blows between them, however, then he would, as was demanded of him, show little mercy for the Hive Commander's weakness; his incompetence. He turned his mind then to the Queen's summons, trying to work out what it was she could want with him. He growled softly. Sooner or later, too, someone would have to take the decisive action to curb her Zenith before the Hive tore itself apart. It was another signal of the Hive Commander's incompetence as both commander and Queen's Consort that he had not already done so. Only one concern remained within him, that perhaps, in spite of the measures he had taken to ensure that his involvement remained unknown, the Queen had discovered the efforts he made to ensure the survival of her former scientist. He paused in his progress toward the Queen's Chamber as he contemplated the possibility. If such were the case, he would have no choice but to take a much more drastic course of action to ensure adherence to his Matron's orders.
** Knowing that Teyla was in the city, it felt wrong to Sheppard that they should be sitting around the conference table without her. He understood her request, and a part of him agreed that it was the right thing to do; the only way she'd ever see her son again, but the prospect of going against a Wraith Hive to get to him did little to bolster his confidence. That they had made assaults against Wraith Hives before didn't enter into the consideration, what twisted in his gut – what really unnerved him – was the sure and certain knowledge that, if Teyla's Intel bore fruit then this was the Hive that had caught and still held Michael – perhaps the most dangerous individual in the history of the Pegasus galaxy, and that was a feat that was in no way to be overlooked. And if her Intel was wrong… well that didn't bear thinking of either. "Colonel Sheppard?" Woolsey's voice broke in on his private thoughts and he realised that he had entirely missed the specifics of the discussion. "Crap," he said under his breath, and then, giving an apologetic look, said, "Sorry, I just… I worry." "What about specifically?" Woolsey asked. "I was asking for your first impressions after all." "Right," Sheppard said, drawing out the word. "And presumably, since you worry, you disagree with Ronon's assessment of the situation – that the Wraith would already have executed Michael?" Sheppard sighed. "Not necessarily, though I admit it's a distinct possibility," he said. "Possibility?" Ronon growled, "He said to Teyla that he barely escaped from the last Hive he was on among the Wraith with his life, and that was even before he'd poisoned half of their food supply with the Hoffan drug." "I hear you, Ronon," Sheppard said, "but they've got reasons to keep him alive too. Who better to give them a cure?" Ronon shook his head but said nothing. Sheppard fell silent too. He wondered, and not for the first time, what was bothering the big Satedan. He had been in this mood ever since Teyla had returned; before then even, and Sheppard wanted to know why. "But you worry," Varnerin prompted. "Even with our best resources, if we try to take on this Hive – and if they are responsible for Michael's capture – we might be… biting off a little more than we can chew." "But you just said," Woolsey sat back in his chair, spreading his hands wide as his wrists rested on the tabletop, "that one good reason for the Wraith to keep Michael alive is so that he can provide them with a cure that would allow them to feed again. Surely that makes this proposition one that we can't ignore. Right now, our single greatest weapon against the Wraith is the fact that their feeding grounds are tainted and a great number of them are dying from it." "Now just a minute," Carson frowned deeply as he spoke, "Either way you look at it, this is people's lives we're talking about." "And either way you look at it, Doctor Beckett," Woolsey answered, "That isn't going to change." "So what you're saying," McKay said, distaste clear in his voice, "is that we should go get Michael off that Hive to stop him from giving them a cure?" "What I'm saying is," Woolsey corrected, "that there are far greater considerations here than just Teyla and her child, and that if she has given us the means to finding and eliminating a potential setback—" "Which we can do with a few well aimed drones," Ronon interrupted. "We don't have to risk boarding the Hive and—" "No, we can't," Carson cut in, and Sheppard could tell that the doctor's mind had just arrived at the same conclusion as his own. He let the doctor continue, frowning at Woolsey as Carson said, "because Michael can also provide us with a cure to help those of our allies stricken with the symptoms of exposure to the Hoffan drug. Isn't that right, Mister Woolsey? You plan to use Michael to further Earth's agenda in the Pegasus galaxy." "Haven't we tried that once?" Sheppard asked lazily. "As I recall, didn't work out too well for the Taranans." "Didn't work out too well for anybody," Carson said, "besides which, it's entirely redundant." "What do you mean, Doctor?" Woolsey asked. "From what I've seen of the research data that Doctor Keller and Todd were working with, sooner or later the Wraith are going to develop a solution with or without Michael's help," Carson said. "You… managed to restore the missing files then? Sheppard frowned as McKay threw the irrelevant question into the cauldron of tension around which they were all sitting. "But surely sooner is for the better, Doctor Beckett, and with Michael in our hands rather than those of the Wraith—" "What the hell makes you think he'll cooperate anyways?" Ronon spat, full of bitterness and vitriol. "And aren't we forgetting something here?" Sheppard's head was spinning in the sudden quasi-politico-military tactics. "What?" Ronon growled, his gruff tone silencing the room. "Teyla needs Michael so that she can find her son," he said. "Again with the, what makes you think he'll cooperate?" Ronon said. "Look," Woolsey interrupted before Sheppard could turn the suddenly sour taste at his friend's attitude into a blistering tirade. "We can talk ourselves blue in the face about this, but the fact is, all things considered, in my opinion, having Michael in our hands and not either in the hands of the Wraith, or roaming free to wreak havoc is more favourable for the Pegasus galaxy and I'm sure the IOA will feel that way as well." "So, what: you're saying we have a go?" Sheppard asked, and sitting straighter in his seat did little to banish the uneasy feeling that settled in his belly at the thought. "I'm saying I believe there are more advantages than disadvantages," Woolsey said, "that we need to examine Teyla's information, assemble the relevant equipment and personnel, and evaluate whether a tactical assault on this particular Hive in order to extract the individual in question is worth the risks involved." "Assuming you can find the Hive, and the individual aboard it," Ronon said. "Which is where Doctor McKay comes in," Woolsey said and Sheppard allowed his gaze to be guided to find the scientist's as Woolsey asked, "Did you manage to locate the Hive?" "I did, as a matter of fact," McKay said, sitting up and brightening considerably. Sheppard frowned as McKay rambled on. "It's in orbit around M8F-392. I'm guessing it's culling. There are a number of cruisers and several smaller craft in support but they keep jum—" "A number of cruisers?" Sheppard interrupted. "This just keeps on getting better and better." "If you'd let me finish—" "Be my guest," Sheppard said. "—I was about to say that's the bad news. The good news is that the cruisers seem to be jumping away, presumably to… scurry to go and do their queen's bidding and—" "Scurrying?" Ronon gave McKay the sour look that was poised in Sheppard's brain. "Professor," Woolsey raised his voice slightly, and Sheppard turned his way, beginning to believe that the frown that was beginning to make his head ache was going to become a perpetual feature of the next few days. When those around the table had fallen silent from the muttering edges of argument that had begun, Woolsey said, "Have you had the chance to speak with Teyla at all?" "Barely a word, Richard," Varnerin said and with his voice pitched low, he sounded almost reasonable. "Mind you that's understandable, given our last encounter, I would say. However, I have Doctor Beckett's report, and have viewed the Gate Room security footage, and if you're asking whether or not I believe her word can be trusted, then… yes." "Well then, gentlemen," Woolsey said, beginning to straighten up his papers. "I think you've all made your respective positions clear and until I have spoken with the IOA, all we can do is continue to monitor the Hive and start to formulate a plan of attack. Colonel Sheppard, perhaps you could consult with Colonel Caldwell…" Sheppard tuned him out. He had already decided exactly who he was going to talk to… and it wasn't Steven. ** Halling looked up from his hoeing as the shadow fell over him. "Colonel Sheppard," Halling straightened up and setting his hoe aside, moved to greet the man properly. "They told me I'd find you here," the colonel said. "Even though we continue to strengthen our community, Colonel, my people must eat, and that means that even I must participate in the growing – Teyla too, were she here." Halling smiled, and gesturing toward the pathway he invited Sheppard to precede him. "But you did not come to hear of our Athosian farming techniques." "Actually," Sheppard said, "It's Teyla I'm here about." The smile faded from Halling's face and he reached out to catch Sheppard's arm. "You know, do you not, that Ronon came here not many weeks ago, looking for Teyla. I told him, as I tell you now, she left us because she feared her presence brought the Wraith and there has been no word of her since," Halling said. "Yeah, he told me." Sheppard said and started walking again. Halling studied the other man's profile, trying to work out what had brought the colonel to him, wondering what news of his friend the man brought to him, and if it would be good or bad. He was already eternally parted from so many of his friends. He could not bear to have lost another. "Halling," Sheppard said at last. "I need your help." "Oh?" "Teyla's in Atlantis. She had a run-in with some Wraith she says are holding Michael." Sheppard stopped walking and turned to face him. "You know her, Halling, better than any of us. You know how to talk to her." "What is it that you ask of me, John?" Halling asked quietly. ** Carson leaned closer to the screen and ran his expert eyes over the analysis of the blood panel. It wasn't right. It really wasn't right and the possibilities that were passing one by one, as a catalogue of possible causes were getting more and more worrying by the moment. He checked the header again, just to assure himself that he hadn't missed the name of the patient to whom the test results belonged, but whoever it was that had purged the file in the first place – and he wasn't stupid enough that he didn't have a pretty good idea of who that was – had never bothered to properly complete all the fields on the form. It didn't take a master detective to put together all the pieces of the puzzle. However, the picture that puzzle made wasn't one he even wanted to contemplate. Abandoning the old data, he got up from his stool and went to retrieve the last blood sample he had taken from Keller just after she'd fainted. Even with the slight degradation that would have occurred while the sample was in stasis, he should be able to perform a detailed enough analysis to confirm or allay his suspicions. While the computer whirred through its analysis of the blood sample he'd given it, quiet footfalls behind him drew his attention away from the other files displayed on his screen. He gave a slight smile to the junior doctor that approached. "Did you need me for something?" he asked. "I need your signature, Doctor Beckett, on some outstanding paperwork." Doctor Meronine told him. "Strictly speaking it should be Doctor Keller that signs off on the procedure, since she ordered it, but she hasn't and the paperwork is overdue." "Procedure?" Carson frowned, and held out his hand for the file that the other Doctor was cradling against her chest. She handed it to him, frowning slightly. "She didn't mention it to you when she handed over?" "I'm sure it just slipped her mind," Carson said, flipping open the file. "You know she had that wee turn…" His voice trailed off as all the moisture was suddenly leached from his mouth by the terrible realisation of the final piece of his puzzle falling into place, just as the computer bleeped softly to announce the end of its analysis. ** The door behind her, which led back into the city, opened and closed. She didn't turn, simply kept looking out over the water. "May I join you, Teyla?" To hear Halling's voice after so long away from her people brought fresh tears to her eyes to spill over onto her cheeks, drawing new tracks to meet with the ones she had already made. She reached up quickly, taking her hand from the rail to brush away the tears, but stopped as she felt Halling's warmth at her back, and the softness of his voice washed over her as he said, "You do not need to hide your tears from me." "I hide them from everyone, Halling," she answered, "but most of all from myself." "You never used to," he told her. "It has always been part of what I admire about you, Teyla. When we lost… Jinto's mother—" "You still cannot bring yourself to speak her name," Teyla said softly. "There is not a day that passes where it does not echo in my heart," he answered. She sighed then, gazing outward across the water that rippled atop the deeps, remembering Halling's wife; remembering what she had done to try and save her people; her family, and the painful price that had been exacted in Halling as social customs had demanded his public renunciation of all but their son, even as he was torn apart by his own emotion. Teyla had shared with him – shared and understood. She had wept with him then. He moved to stand beside her at the rail, leaning his elbows on it as he too looked out over the ocean. "Colonel Sheppard asked me to speak with you," Halling said after a while. Teyla nodded and said, "To change my mind." "He believes that you are too bound by everything that has happened to be able to make a rational decision – to be able to distance yourself and see that truth of the situation," Halling said. "He fears that considerations other than the rescue of your son from Michael's hands drive your actions, your needs." "And you, Halling – what do you believe?" she asked. She glanced at him for a moment before looking away again to ask, "What would you do if it were Jinto?" He stood up then, moving to take her by the shoulder and turn her to face him, and speaking with the earnest honesty she so cherished in him, said, "You have asked me that once before, Teyla, and my answer to you now is as then. You must follow your heart in this; none can decide your path for you." "But what if—" she began, but he interrupted quickly. "No. There is no what if. That is what has brought us to this, and from here we must all soon face a time when each of us must decide upon which side we stand; upon which ground we will build our home and our hopes for the future." She looked up at him, into the deep blue of his troubled eyes and he drew her closer, until she could rest her head against his chest and find a balance in the steady rhythm of his heart. "It begins now," he continued, his voice a deep rumble, like thunder, bearing portents. "My only fear is that this path, upon which the Ancestors have placed us, will be hardest of all for you." "Halling," she whispered, admitting, "I am afraid." "I know," he said, and she looked up again as he drew her away from him, seeking her eyes with his own. "But you are not alone, and if it is decided; if it is your wish to take on this fight for Michael's salvation, then I will go with you… into the very heart of darkness if that is where your path leads." She reached up then to cup the side of his face in her hand as he bowed his head in farewell to meet with her own, accepting his support – needing it, until straightening, he stepped away. "I will inform Colonel Sheppard of your decision," he told her, and then turned to walk inside. Watching him go, in the light of the sun setting behind the towers of the city, she couldn't suppress the shiver that ran along her spine as she recalled the other question she had laid between them…
** "Give us the lab, please," Carson said as he walked in, his steps purposeful, worry for Jennifer driving his agitation. The technicians all but scurried to leave the room. "Carson?" Jennifer turned to face him. For a moment he said nothing, just took in her sickly appearance, the slight tremor in her hands, which she tucked beneath her arms and the slightly dishevelled manner of her dress. "Just when where you going to tell me what's going on?" he said, and tossed the file, open to Meronine's report, onto the bench beside her. "Were you that afraid that you completely forgot protocol?" He watched as what little colour was still in her cheeks drained, though the spark of anger flared in her eyes. "You didn't need to know," she snapped. "Didn't need—" he blinked, "Don't be ridiculous, of course I needed to know. You put yourself through an invasive procedure without counselling, without the proper safeguards, your system full of Wraith enzyme—" "And what?" she snapped. "What difference would any of that have made if you knew? You took your own blood panel. You could see the state of my system! I got back to Atlantis, I realised a possibility and it was one I couldn't bear – so I did something about it!" "Which is perfectly reasonable," Carson raised his voice to make himself heard over her. "But why, Jennifer, why try to hide it – and from me? Dear God, am I that much of a monster?" "I didn't want to know," she practically yelled in his face. "I didn't want to remember. Bad enough that I did this, but—" "Jennifer, stop!" he stepped forward and took her by the arms, gently but firmly. "Let go of me, Carson," she said, and struggled against his restraining grasp. "Just… listen, all right," he said, but she shook her head, and something in her manner made him realise the reason for her struggles. Far from letting go he quickly brought her to the sink at the side of the lab, and then held back her hair as she vomited weakly. "Sorry," she whispered, taking the tissue he offered and mopping up her mouth. "No need," he said quietly, drawing up a stool for her to sit. "It's probably a combination of the stress, and your body's reaction to the decay of the Wraith enzyme, but please, for God's sake, Jennifer, talk to me." "What do you want me to say, Carson?" she asked, trembling as she looked up at him. "That I'm not sleeping? That I can barely keep anything down? You know about the anaemia, you diagnosed it. I've tried looking for reasons, for pathogens I might have been exposed to while on Todd's Hive or in Michael's lab, but I can't find anything, and I wouldn't know what to look for anyway." "You let me worry about that," he said. "No… just… treat the anaemia, I'm sure the rest of it will pass." She leaned her head against her trembling hand and sighed. "It's probably just psychological in any case." "No, Jennifer, you know it doesn't work like that," he said, giving her a stern look. "Strictly speaking, if I follow protocol, I should have you in isolation right now until we find out exactly what's causing all of your symptoms." He held up his hand to stop her from interrupting, shaking his head as he did. "I'm not going to, but I am going to insist on performing as many tests as it takes to find out what's going on." "I just want to be left alone," she told him. "Get on with my life. Haven't I let Todd take enough?" "Let him?" Carson echoed softly, a frown finding its way to his face. "It wasn't just once," she whispered. "And Carson, I— I didn't stop him, I—" "Need I remind you, he's a Wraith?" he said, taking her hand to cut her off. "Now… enough of this – let's see about getting you better, and Jennifer… no more secrets." "I don't deserve this," she whispered, and surprising him, she got up from the stool, and pushed past him as she pulled her hand from his grasp. "Just leave me alone." ** It had become a personal habit to look first out among the trees and then up to the sky each time she came out of the roundhouse that was her home. Most of the time, her churning stomach, and the frantic beating of her heart, were calmed by the absence of anything but the wind and clouds, but with Halling's absence, and with none to confirm that the empty sky would remain that way, Kara's nervousness would not abate. "Take the children inside," she ordered a nearby mother, who with her daughters knelt by the small patch of dirt that served as their garden, separating seedlings to give them more room to grow. "Kara?" Sovis, one of the men nearby, came to her side, and she noticed that he too cast a quick glance at the sky. "Do you see something?" "No, but I hear it… feel it," she told him. "It is too quiet." He nodded his understanding, and crossing the space between the houses began to help the mother and her daughters to pack away their things. Kara wrapped her arms around herself as she watched; unable to understand how or why she felt the way she did – as though a chill was running through her blood. "Get yourself inside too, Kara," Sovis said. "I will see to alerting the oth—" "Too late," Kara breathed, as he turned in the direction of her frightened gaze. She hadn't seen them, or yet heard them, but knew they were coming. From behind the distant trees a formation of needle noses resolved to split the night, their whining banshee scream coming ahead of them. The lead Dart opened fire, making a strafing run through the centre of the village, the explosions rocking the ground and bringing more Athosians hurrying, in fear, from inside the roundhouses. "No!" Sovis called at them all, "Stay inside. They are trying to draw you out." It was the typical tactic of Wraith involved in a cull, evoke fear, scatted their prey like rats. The Athosian's knew this, perhaps better than anyone, Kara thought, but still they ran. "Stay inside!" she too called, as the strafing Dart turned in midair, rolling over as it came to let fly a second salvo, while its supporting craft began to activate the shimmering cascades that would steal what was left of her people. "No! Sovis!" She cried out in a mix of anger and horror as a frightened toddler, separated from his parents, crying for his mother wandered straight into the path of the culling beam, too far for her to reach him in time, but perhaps, just maybe close enough to Sovis for him to save the child. Sovis turned and sprinted, launching himself at the boy and rolled as the two of them impacted the dirt, out of the beam's path. The boy cried anew in shock and pain, but Kara sighed in relief, hurrying across the space between them, meaning to help with the distraught child. The expression on Sovis' face stopped her mid stride. "No, Kara, there are more of them – too many!" she turned her gaze southward, tangential to the path already flown by the Darts overhead, watching as several more Darts came screaming towards the village. "Take everyone into the trees!" She didn't move… couldn't; watched with horrified fascination as they came closer and closer still, and then she jumped, and let out a gasping scream as each of the Darts in the incoming formation began banking toward the others, opening fire with high energy weapons. More screams split the air as the first of the Darts exploded overhead, reigning down burning pieces of organic hull to catch the thatched roofs of the roundhouses, and send them flaming into the night sky. Kara's heart pounded as Sovis got to her side and thrust the squirming toddler into her arms. "The trees!" he repeated, giving her a push that way, and then calling out more loudly to the milling, frightened Athosians he cried, "Everybody! Make for the trees!" She began to run, cradling the boy's head against her shoulder, her belly aching with the thought that two separate Wraith factions were fighting over the remnants of their one tiny people. She could not stop the sob that burst from her as she reached the trees, and turned to watch her people as they, too, ran toward shelter, but another thought struck her then… and it was strangely more chilling than the last. So much so that it drove her to her knees, clutching the tree beside her for support. Though her people ran beneath the shadow of the remaining, low flying Darts, not a single one of those Wraith ships had activated its culling beam. ** Sheppard frowned, feeling as though he was the last to the party as he arrived in the conference room to find everyone already assembled around the mahogany table, Ronon, McKay, Beckett, Caldwell – they were all there. "Colonel Sheppard," Woolsey looked up as he took his place. "I apologise for the late call. It took a while to get everything organised – coordinated." "What's going on?" Sheppard asked, looking again around the table. He had a pretty good idea what this was all about. A fact only confirmed when his eyes passed Teyla's chair that was once again occupied. A pang of nostalgia welled up inside him and he had to clear his throat to settle it; push it aside. "I've spoken with a representative of the IOA, at some length I might add," Woolsey told them, "and it has been decided that the benefits of having Michael in our custody rather than that of the Wraith far outweigh the risks involved in his recapture. I've been authorised to tell you that you have a go." "We have a go?" Sheppard repeated. Incredulity wrapped around him, seeping into each word and catalysing his sarcasm. "Just like that?" "You're out of your minds," Ronon rumbled and started to get up; to head for the door. "Ronon, sit down," Woolsey's voice cracked out like a whip across the room, and Sheppard couldn't help but frown. "Ronon," he echoed, "If we're gonna do this, we need you, buddy." Ronon growled as he came to a halt and turning round to address them all, and speaking as if to children, said, "Haven't you people learned anything? They're Wraith. They kill people, it's what they do—!" "Ronon," Sheppard said warningly. He didn't think that Ronon's tantrum was going to get them anywhere toward changing anyone's mind. "—and sooner or later someone's going to get hurt, or worse, and for what—?" Ronon went on bitterly. "Ronon, sit down!" Sheppard said again, but the big Satedan wouldn't be moved. "—how many people are going to—?" Teyla came to her feet then, still leaning on the table and raising her voice to be heard over Ronon's angry rumble. "Ronon, I understand your objections, I do," she said urgently, "and I share your hatred of the Wraith, but this is my—" As she spoke, Sheppard watched Ronon reach behind him, and pulled something from a pocket in the lining of his vest and tossed it onto the table in front of Teyla. It fell against the wood with a resounding bang, and Teyla jumped, cut off mid sentence by the sound and, Sheppard realised, by the recognition of the object – a large, fabric bound book. The following silence was suffocating. Sheppard watched as the others at the table exchanged confused glances with one another, until Teyla said with almost whispered fury, "How dare you?" The anger crept upwards over her chest and neck to colour her face and narrow her eyes, bringing her pupils to sharp points within her eyes. "Just tell me the reason we're going to get this bastard has nothing to do with what's in there," Ronon said. His voice was now as soft as hers had been. He raised his hand and pointed to the book that Sheppard realised must be Teyla's journal. Teyla, trembling in anger, picked up the book and said, "I need. To find. My son." She held Ronon's gaze as she continued, "What was written here, months ago when I was first returned to Atlantis, has nothing to do with this mission, and it has nothing to do with any of you." Sheppard sighed, and McKay shifted, obviously uncomfortably, in his seat as Ronon took a step toward Teyla. She drew herself up to her full height, not much against the massive bulk of the Satedan, but from the shadowed corner of the room a figure detached itself, and Sheppard realised he had not noticed Halling's presence in the room. He put himself almost in Ronon's path, stopping the other man cold. "She has given you her answer," the Athosian said. "Ronon," Beckett said softly, "Sit down, Son." Ignoring them both, Ronon's eyes locked with Teyla's and Sheppard was worried that it wasn't over. Then Ronon growled quietly, "Good enough," and all but threw himself into his seat. Woolsey cleared his throat and finally began the mission briefing. ** Rissek looked up as the hybrid stationed at the communications console left his place and approached him with a tablet in hand. Frowning he took the tablet and looked over it. His frown only deepened as he did. When did we receive this?" he demanded. "Moments ago," the other hybrid answered. "Received on the subspace channel our communications array has been monitoring." Rissek handed back the tablet, his heart raced in his chest as he slipped his hands into the grip of the navigation interface and entered into communion with the Hive. The forward screen came to life at his behest, showing first a star map with the desired coordinates marked with a shining spot of light, and then to show the way ahead, and the forming lightning portal of the hyperspace window. "Now," he said aloud as the thrum of the ship's engines intensified beneath his feet. "It begins." 
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