A Strange Predicament

Disclaimer: I don't own Stargate Atlantis or any of its characters, this is just for fun and I don't make any money from it. I do, however, own Devereux and Jameson. I'd love to hear what you think, so please review!:)

Lt Colonel Sheppard heaved a sigh as he entered his room on Atlantis, tearing off his boots and throwing them into a corner. He always got sore feet when he got a pair of new shoes, and this was not an exception. It had been a long, hard day, scampering about on a silly planet that could not offer them much except for rocks. All he wanted now was a nice, hot shower and then his bed. Damn, it was good to be back! He had grown pretty fond of his quarters, now that he had made them his own. His eyes travelled through the semi darkness, passed the shelf with his old copy of War and Peace, focused for a moment onto the window looking out on the city of Atlantis, then travelled to the wraith sitting on his bed, to his painting of a growly meerkat, standing on its hind legs (a gift from Rodney)... hey, wait a minute! A wraith...? On his bed...?!! Sheppard's eyes quickly darted back to what he thought he had seen, half expecting the bed to be empty. It wasn't. His gun drawn, John Sheppard quickly turned on the lights.

The wraith had long, silvery hair and a beard that seemed to be parted in two. He wore the typical long, black leather coat of a Wraith commander and heavy, black boots. He also wore a very unpleasant facial expression, one that John remembered only too well.

"Steve?" He stared at the wraith, unable to believe what he actually saw. His guest glared back at him and showed his teeth in a predatory grin.

"Sheppard," he hissed. John got a distinct feeling that the Wraith wasn't too keen on him. Not that he could blame him. Last time they saw each other this pale skinned guy had been dying from a rather cruel experiment the Lanteans had exposed him to. He had been poisoned, his whole body shutting down and leaving him gasping with pain and shock. That was enough to make anyone a little grumpy, the Lt Colonel thought. He didn't really regret what had happened; it had seemed the best course of action at the time to allow the experiment to take place. But he hadn't exactly felt like singing with joy as he watched the alien die. No one deserved that kind of suffering. Not even an evil, life-sucking, over sized bug.

"So...," Sheppard said, still aiming his gun at the Wraith's head, "...this is something of a surprise. I mean, no offence, but... you're kind of dead."

The silver haired alien didn't reply. He just watched his host, hatred radiating from every cell of him. It seemed to be beaming out from his body, focusing through his eyes... John had seen his share of hate and anger, but this seemed to go beyond everything he'd experienced before. He could actually feel the area around him turning cold. Hell, this thing shouldn't even be alive! And yet, here it was. In his bedroom. Sheppard had the unsettling feeling of his intestines changing places, leaving his heart somewhere around his Adam's apple and his gut... heck, he wasn't sure where it was right now! Somewhere down his pants, probably. Trying to keep his face expressionless, he tapped the microphone fastened over his cheek and spoke out into the silence: "Security, we have an intruder. My quarters. Get your arses here!"

"Yes, Sir," a voice replied, sounding somewhat surprised. Sheppard kept his gun pointed at his guest, but the latter didn't seem to care. He laughed - a raspy, mirthless chuckle - and looked back at him, his yellow reptile eyes cold. Despite the fact that he was sitting down and Sheppard was standing, the Wraith managed to look down at him through lowered eyelids, clearly showing his contempt for the man in front of him. John just stared right back at him, hiding his fear while asking:

"So... you eat anyone tasty lately?"

Sergeant Jameson was confused. He had known Lt Colonel Sheppard for quite some time and never mistrusted him. If the Lt Colonel said something, then it was true. If he had said that they had been invaded by giant, living carrots Jameson would seriously have considered the possibility of such an event. Honestly. But this was getting embarrassing.

"Lt Colonel, where is the intruder, Sir?" The Sergeant and his colleague Devereux were ready with their rifles, eager to jump any enemy that presented itself. Sheppard stared at them.

"What the hell do you mean? It's right there! On my bed!"

The Marines turned their eyes to where the Lt Colonel pointed.

"Where, Sir?"

"Right there! Are you friggin' blind?! There's a bloody Wraith in front of you!" John shouted, waving his arms viciously. His subordinates exchanged a quick glance. This day had been tiring for them all. The Lt Colonel had always seemed mentally stable, but they all knew the constant pressure he was under. There was only so much you could demand from another human being. Right now – bare foot, dirty, with a gun in his hand and his dark hair sticking out in all directions –Sheppard did not quite seem himself. His waving and frantical gibbering about an invisible wraith didn't make him seem less strange.

"Erm... Sir? Perhaps you should get some rest, Sir..." Devereux suggested in a very mild voice. His superior gave him a dirty look.

"I know what's real and what's not!" he snapped, "And there's a wraith on my bed! Look! He's wrinkling up my goddamn sheets with his big, fat wraith arse!"

There was an awkward silence. The Marines didn't seem to know what to do, so they looked at the floor, the ceiling, the big windows, Sheppard's Meerkat painting... anything but him. And it suddenly dawned on John that this time he was alone. Completely, utterly alone.

"Er... Sir, shall we search your quarters just in case...?" Jameson suggested, rather uneasily. He didn't get an answer at first. The Lt Colonel was just standing there, gazing at his bed with an odd expression on his face. "No," he finally answered, his voice calm and steady. "No, I'll take care of that myself. Thank you. Dismissed."

His men quickly ran off, almost as though they were frightened of him.

"Move it, Wraith! I'm tired," John snapped, grabbing the covers from his bed and glaring at the intruder. The latter shot him a look of pure loathing and didn't move one inch.

"Hey! If you're gonna be all ghosty here, you'll have to follow my rules. This is MY bed. You sleep where the hell you want, but not here. Get it, Steve?"

A growl escaped the alien's throat and he lashed out with his hand as if to feed on his enemy. It didn't quite work the way he meant it to. First his hand went straight through the chest of his reluctant host, who didn't flinch. Snarling, the Wraith male attempted to draw back his arm – and was stuck. Shocked and frustrated, he tried to pull free from his enemy, seeing his own hand sticking out of Sheppard's back. The latter gasped and drew back, involuntarily dragging the now panicking wraith with him.

The struggle went on for several minutes, and neither of them ever forgot it. They kept dragging each other all over the room, fighting furiously, Sheppard using every curse he could remember and a few he made up - but that didn't help one bit. They were both, irrevocably, stuck. Big time. Finally, they stopped, the human panting heavily and the wraith growling with frustration. For a brief moment he had hoped that he could actually inflict harm on this puny human, but that had turned out to be wrong. He was never going to get his revenge if this continued, and now he was stuck to this... this... lowly creature! The indignity of it all!

Sheppard wasn't exactly enjoying himself either. The arm through his chest didn't exactly hurt, but it felt... wrong. Each time the creature moved, he could feel it. Glaring into the eyes of his reluctant companion, he finally opened his mouth to say something besides curses.

"So... what the hell do we do now?" the Lt Colonel asked.