Author's disclaimer: I do not own Stargate Atlantis and its associated characters. MGM does, for which, for the most part, they have my utmost respect. No copyright infringement is intended in writing these stories.

My deepest respect also goes to the talented actors that brought to life the characters we see in Stargate Atlantis. My portrayal of the characters here is based on my perception of the work of Joe Flanigan, Jason Momoa, Rachel Luttrell, Paul McGillion, David Hewlett, Amanda Tapping, Robert Picardo and Connor Trinneer. Without these people and those that came before them, there would have been no Atlantis as we know it today.

Other assorted original characters (i.e. those that don't really appear in the show) are my own creation, and they, along with the original material presented here are © Eirian Phillips 2008.

Story is rated for mature readers, according to whatever rating system is adopted these days for Fan Fiction. It changes on a site by site basis… It was so much easier way back when…

There may be other virtual seasons of SGA out there in cyberspace. Some may even be unofficially official. However, as a writer, I don't believe that this should discourage others from having their own ideas about things. Mine are presented here.

I can be reached at Feedback is always welcome and emails are usually answered.

Characters and events are purely fictitious, and any similarity to anyone living, transformed, dead, cloned or in any alternate universe or timeline is entirely coincidental.

Stargate Atlantis

Enmity

A matter of trust.

"…knowing the address where we eventually found Teyla, you will be able to get there much quicker. You'll save Teyla, save the baby, change the fate of the galaxy."

Hologram of Rodney McKay – The Last Man

Previously on Stargate Atlantis:

Teyla forced herself to look away from the monitor where Michael was showing her the image of her child. Swallowing down the mixed emotions she felt she asked urgently, "Why are you doing this?"

Michael turned off the scanning device and moved to another terminal, only just in sight, no matter how much she tried to keep him within her line of vision.

"On the ship, Kanaan said our son would serve the cause." She listened for a moment to the sounds of Michael working at the console. "What did he mean by that…?"

"…He is genetically unique…" he said softly as he returned to her side, "and, while I've made a lot of progress with my hybrids, there are still some details that need to be worked out."

Looking into his eyes, and he into hers, she tilted her head, the deepest frown on her brow, but was conflicted by the genuine lack of menace toward her son she clearly felt from him. Forcing herself to grasp the fading edge of suspicion she narrowed her eyes.

"This child," he nodded toward her pregnant belly before concluding, "will help me do that."

**

"You think I will not do everything in my power to ensure I get away and keep my child safe from your cause!" she said harshly, emotional pain finding its way to her face; to narrow her eyes and curl her lip like some cornered animal. "My friends will be here soon, and they will rescue me… rescue us."

Michael took in a deep breath, regarding her as a veil of sadness began to descend over his eyes. He closed them in a long, slow blink, and then swallowed before looking at her again and telling her softly, "They aren't coming, Teyla."

**

With a sound like the popping of an old valve television set, the monitor snapped back into blackness, all save for a single Wraith character in the lower right corner that changed with each passing second.

"No, no, no…" he questioned the screen. "No, no, no, no, no. What happened?"

"What's that?" Lorne stepped up behind him and pointed to the changing character, the concern in his voice making it more than clear that the marine already suspected what it was.

"Oh no!" Rodney straightened up and slowly began to turn.

"Doc?" Lorne asked urgently, pressing for confirmation.

"It's a countdown," McKay answered breathlessly, as from around the compound the sounds of small explosions began, first one, and then another… and another after that.

"Colonel, it's a booby trap," Lorne called out, as a deep rumbling began, and the walls of the compound began to tremble. "We gotta get outa here, now!"

McKay followed him quickly toward the door, but neither man made it before the supportive steel girders came crashing down across the doorway, cutting off their escape. The two of them kept their heads low, trying to avoid the falling debris, trying to see through the rising dust; to find a path through the partially blocked doorway, but both were forced to take shelter when the fall of masonry from the ceiling increased until, with a sound as though they were in the centre of the biggest thunder cloud and the percussive press of what must have been a dozen separate explosions, likely more, the world McKay knew dissolved into the comfortless black of oblivion.

**

After a moment she turned again to face Michael, and then glanced beyond him to the immobile figure on the other bed. He was shrouded in a kind of cloth-like film, and around his 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."

**

"I had to pull the file to be sure," Keller said, "but I found a high concentration of a drug which bore a frighteningly uncanny similarity to Doctor Beckett's retrovirus in the Major's blood."

"What do you mean, similarity?" Ronon asked, frowning.

"I mean it's a drug that could have been based off the same research, though it's entirely more stable. It's Wraith in origin. So I looked deeper." She looked around at the Major and said softly, "Major Lorne has been exposed to Michael's retrovirus. His cells are mutating and have already been subsumed by a high concentration of Wraith DNA. For the last two hours I've been administering the strongest NRTI drugs we possess, but it's hardly slowing it. Without help…" she swallowed hard, watching the realisation dawn on them all, before she finished, "Lorne is going to become one of his hybrids."

**

Vega was already on her feet and sprinting toward McKay. She launched herself at him through the air as the whine of the Dart's engine became unbearable, but the Dart did not open fire. Its culling beam swept beneath its path right into the exposed heart of the building. It was barely a second before the beam disengaged and the Dart powered away from the space they had fought so hard to reach, where McKay and the others were no longer.

**

Slowly Michael unwound his fingers from Vega's 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.

**

Todd moved to the last of the prisoners the Queen had brought him and wound his hand almost angrily into the long dark hair, to pull back the head and study the hybrid subject as he had the others, but instead he frowned in confusion.

Hissing, alerted by his surprise, the Queen swung around to face him and stalked back to his side. She leaned down to grasp the prisoner's chin and tip her head still further back. She, as he had, peered at the face, turning it first one way, and then the other. She searched for any trace of the characteristic features of the hybrids and, finding none, let out a long, slow breath that came out as a dangerous hiss, before she ran her fingertips over the unblemished face of the young human woman.

**

Under his breath, Sheppard muttered, "Come on, Michael, don't just sit there," hardly believing those words would be coming out of his mouth.

He closed his eyes as the beam reached Michael's ship and the shield around the cruiser flared brightly. His heart sank; shrivelled. He'd gambled and he'd lost. So many lost to save so few, but on his team, so long as he was the military commander, no one was left behind. No one.

"—it's holding!"

"What!" his eyes snapped open and he peered at the heads up, but even as he looked, it fizzled into darkness, no longer receiving data from the sensors.

Sheppard abandoned the technology in favour of good, old-fashioned eyesight and watched in fascination as the beam, somehow reflected from Michael's shields, undulated wavelike, toward the Wraith cruiser.

**

Todd could almost taste the anticipation as the Cascade Beam raced across the distance between his cruiser and that of the Abomination. He mentally counted the seconds until, with an almost snarling hiss, he watched the shields of the other cruiser flare brightly. Any moment they would collapse inward. The energy of the beam would feed back through the nodes that generated the shields and would disable them and the comm. array and would send a cascading overload throughout all the systems of the ship, destroying it from the inside out and there would be nothing to be done to prevent it.

Seconds passed and a frown, born of confusion, found its way to his face as his sensors failed, the chatter of Dart telemetry falling silent on the bridge. He grasped the controls, letting his mind fall into oneness with the cruiser's interface and ran a diagnostic program to try and find the cause of the failure. As the answer came to him the blood in his veins chilled and slowed.

"That's not possible," he said aloud, and abandoned his position to race to the forward viewing port. Even before he saw the leading edge of the approaching wave, he felt the cold touch of a thought inside his head that did not come from any one of his brothers.

-Did you think I would forget?-

**

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. 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."

**

"What has changed, Michael?" And there had been a change, inside of her as well as from him. Her anger remained, as did the fear she felt for the people of the Pegasus galaxy, her people… her son… She dropped a hand to rest on the upper side of her curving belly and felt his eyes shift to take in her movement. The expression in his eyes, for a split second only, showed a depth of concern that surprised her, unsettled the belief in his only motive being one of using her child to further his cause. She felt his concern and for a moment felt protected, almost… safe.

"I realised that if you are to trust me, as will become necessary," he looked up from her belly to find her eyes again, "then I must demonstrate that trust in you also."

**

"Teyla…" A soft voice to the side of the open space made her turn her head. Kanaan stood looking at her, hands by his side, and in one of them he held a weapon. "…please, there's much you don't understand… you must listen to him—"

"Kanaan—?" she started, but her voice cracked and stopped the rest of the sentence before it began.

"—You must go with him," Kanaan continued.

"No, I can't, I—"

"You must," Kanaan said darkly and took a step further into the area. She watched him, tears gathering in her eyes. The conflict inside of her stirred still more deeply as she looked on the man who had once been her closest childhood friend. Never would she have imagined she could have gone so far as to cross such a line as they had.

She sensed the change in the feeling coming from Michael in the same moment that the background hum of the ship changed the way it vibrated through her contact with the bulkhead. A smouldering anger, mixed with resigned longing, washed over her. Michael took another step toward her, and with nowhere to go, she started to raise her hands, meaning to fend him off.

"We don't have time for this," he told her, suddenly reaching forward, "It's not safe here. We must go."

"No!" She lashed out as he reached for her and on pure reflex he blocked the blow, and took another step toward her as she growled, "I will not—"

The pain was only fleeting - a burning heat that began somewhere in her chest as the rhythm of her heart faltered. It spread outwards through all of her limbs, draining her strength. She managed to turn her head toward a sound she had barely registered – high pitched and harsh. Kanaan still stood with his weapon raised, and pointed in her direction.

"No… Kanaan," she whispered, and as the blue lights of the cruiser began to darken around her, she reached for the one person who had only ever been true to his words to her.

Michael caught her flailing hand and guided it to his shoulder as his arm came around her, supportive and strong. He gently lowered her to the deck and did not let go of her.

**

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 hall 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. She knew that so great a chance to understand a part of Michael she had never seen could not be allowed to pass her by.

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 within 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…

He was there, behind her… His arm came around her, beneath her own outstretched arm and wrapped around her body, pressed against her shoulder to hold her to him as he stepped closer still to balance her weight. She could feel his breath against the side of her head; his heat against her spine…

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

-Teyla don't! No!- -Teyla don't!- Teyla-

A presence… anger… cold fury.

…Michael……Michael…

=I will find you=

"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.

**

The pressure that was Michael increased as some flash of instinct took over from her rational mind. A need for control, for trust, enveloped her and in giving up that one small moment of herself, slowly the painful darkness pushing at her began to fade, and the ship… and everything around her began to come once more into her awareness.

"What was that?"

"I told you," he said with just a hint of anger in his voice, "The Queen was actively searching for me."

**

She was beautiful, exquisite to behold. Tall and lithe with unblemished, pale green skin, enhanced by wondrously complex Wraith characters that formed an almost delicate string from her collar bone, over her chest and disappeared beneath the tight bodice of her otherwise flowing, blood red gown. Her fingers were each tipped with sparkling but deadly blades and her long white hair hung in hundreds of tight, slim braids, weighted by the jewelled knuckle bones of the human females' fingers that had soothed and served her over the many millennia of her life… for she was ancient… perhaps the oldest of all of the Wraith Queens.

As Todd looked on, he could not help but adore her…

"What of the other?" she hissed slowly, her eyes again narrowing in barely contained fury.

**

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

**

Pain, sudden, deep and penetrating, tightened the ache from her back like a vice around her middle. It was brief, fleeting, but unmistakable.

Michael's head snapped up and back to capture her with his eyes, burning now in deep concern that was coloured with his anger toward the Lanteans.

"Teyla, look at me."

"Michael," she sobbed his name, but shook her head in refusal to follow his command. "My child… my baby is coming."

**

The heavy metal door stood open. The oxidised walls of the room dripping in the reds and greens of rust, and forgotten equipment, remnants of a desperate time, lay strewn across a floor that was dusty with neglect.

A heavy metal bench graced the centre of the room. Bloodied swabs and callous looking instruments, abandoned in a hurry, burdened its surface, and in the corner, broken medical machinery still sparked out its last, dying breath.

She lay pillowed in the dust; watched over by the solitude; mourned only by the rust that ran, as tears, down the filthy wall… her pallid flesh picked out by fading light and her last breath heard by none save the lone whine of one retreating craft.

**

"You know, the irony is... I never asked for any of this. I was taken prisoner by the humans, tortured, experimented on, and when I finally escaped and returned to my wraith brothers, instead of being welcomed back, I was met with scorn."

Michael – The Last Man

Act 1

She had no sense of what it was that woke her, but suddenly she became aware of a slow, but steady beep – high pitched and regular. It was only then she realised that her lungs burned with the need for air. Gasping, she opened her eyes. For many long moments she remained confused, looking around at the darkened room.

There were monitors all around, their screens turned away from her, and it was from one of these that the sound emanated. She glanced at herself long enough to see that she was covered in an infirmary blanket and wearing one of the shapeless white gowns. Around her left arm was wound a dark cuff – she knew, but could not recall, its purpose – and on her index finger a clip pinched her flesh tightly.

She turned her head the other way to see the clear plastic tube from a drip running to her right forearm, and still further to see the colourless fluid that half filled the bag to which the tube was attached. Beyond were more monitors, and a window with blinds that were closed.

Teyla knew this place.

She tried to sit up, pushing a little with her elbows on the cushioned bed. Pain blossomed low in her belly as she moved, a deep, dull pain. She bit her lip and, reminded, looked down at herself again. A single glance took in all that she needed to know. Her heart constricted, and gasping again to push aside the pain she levered herself up until she could see even the furthest corner of the room. Her eyes quickly searched for the little plastic container that Doctor Keller had once shown her – a bed, she had promised her, though not the most comfortable of places for her baby to sleep. She saw nothing, and her constricted heart began pounding relentlessly in her chest until it echoed in her ears – a deep knell of loss and counterpoint to the high pitched bleep that had become more insistent.

Perhaps in another room…

She tried to free herself from the equipment, shaking off the clip from her finger, and pulling off the cuff from her arm. She tried to sit up still further and found her movement halted by the tugging of still more wires that disappeared beneath her gown. She let out another gasp that was almost a sob, her hands unable to reach the pads that held the wires secure.

Frustration finally drew the sob from her empty, aching breast and, without thinking, she grasped the plastic tube of the IV line and ripped it away from her arm, crying out with the sudden added pain, and then, with more freedom to move, pulled on the wires, until they, if not the pads to which they were anchored, came away from her chest and she was able to swing her feet around and push herself from the bed.

As her bare feet touched the cold of the floor, her legs, somehow weakened, almost buckled, and she had to catch herself on the side of the bed. The deep ache in her belly sharpened and she moaned, pressing a hand to herself. Empty.

Ignoring the growing sound of running feet she turned full circle, searching again for that precious container, for a way to find it – find him. The memory hit her like a sudden summer storm.

His hands were gentle as they moved over her, tending to her needs, making her more comfortable before almost tenderly covering her with a blanket, the softness of which surprised her.

"Rest," he told her quietly, "The birth has been hard on you."

He started to move away, but she reached out and weakly caught him by the wrist, "Please… my son…?"

"Healthy," he smiled faintly and glanced from her to the opposite side of the room, "and resting as you should be."

"Let me see him," she pleaded.

"I do not think that is wise," he told her, almost with a note of regret in his voice for just a moment, before he continued more firmly, "It is better that you do not."

He stood then and turned from her to cross the room and, from a small chamber there, picked up the wrapped and swaddled baby, before heading for the door.

"Michael," she tried to rise, but was flooded by a wave of tiredness… weakness. "Michael, please…!"

Broken, she gave voice to the sob, born of all the loss and emptiness. The sob became a cry, and as the cry faded it resolved into a desperate plea.

"Michael!"

"Easy, Teyla…" the voice behind her had her spinning, unsteadily, to face the medical orderly that approached her with arms outstretched to either side of him. "You're safe."

Her breathing came in snatches now, between the ragged sobs she fought to keep inside. Trembling, she started to back away from the man, shaking her head. The room began a dizzying dance around her and once more she reached out to steady herself against the side of the bed as she moved away.

"It's all right, Teyla," another voice, another orderly behind her. She spun again to face the second man. His arms, too, were outstretched, palms open. "You're home…"

She froze, cornered, tense and shaking, as they came closer… one small step at a time. Her eyes darted first one way, and then the other as she inched one foot behind her, keeping on her toes as she moved, no matter the added ache from her belly as she did. Closer and closer they came, arms still outstretched, reaching for her.

Fingers connected with her arm, and a hand closed around it. She pulled against the contact. The very feel of being touched an assault to every atom of her being, burning against her flesh as the fear was given form in the panic that flooded from that touch. Desperately she reached out. Her hand connected with the smooth cool of metal. She snatched at it, and heaved with all her strength. The IV stand came willingly at such a strong grasp, into her hand, into the air until she could swing it, staff-like, at the man that touched her. He fell away, staggering against one of the monitors. Frantically she heaved the stand around to the other side to throw it in the direction of the other orderly. He backed away.

"All right… easy," he said softly.

More running feet… she tilted her head, a little to the side, and back, her breathing coming in tiny little gasps of panic as she identified the sound – boots. She took another step away as the soldiers came running into the room. The orderly tried to stop them, but they ignored him and kept coming.

Reflex guided her actions. She made a grab for the trolley beside her and all but threw it in the direction of the black shapes moving toward her. They tried to move aside, but the first was too close, and the spinning trolley caught him full on and sent him tumbling to the floor. The others slid to a halt to avoid their falling companion.

She backed away still further, pulling everything she could into the path between herself and the others in the room. Still she searched, becoming more and more frantic. Pain on hurt assaulted her heart.

The cry did not find its way from her body until the solid wall crushed the air from her lungs as she reached the extent of her desperate flight. It started as a simple sob, but quickly built until everything she was, all the pain and sorrow and loss from all her days, came streaming from her and she began to keen. Softly at first, a deep and melancholy note of grief. She curled her fingers into claws against the tile of each of the walls that met behind her. The tone that came from her became harsh, brittle, as she took a breath, and throwing her head back, let out an agonised howl, like that of a wounded animal.

"What the hell were you thinking?" Doctor Keller's voice, somehow she knew the sound, and from the tone, Jennifer was angry. "Get out of here! Back away!"

Teyla opened her eyes again, to fix the doctor with a silent plea for help. Keller held a syringe in her hand. She felt betrayed by that and she could not even breathe… the room spun faster, and the strength in her legs failed. Her back still against the corner of the room, she slipped gracelessly to the floor. The last thing she saw was that the doctor raised her hand to her radio headset.

**

His head ached. Woolsey hit the page up button on his laptop and began again to try and read McKay's interim report on the technology discovered so far on M3X-667 in the wake of the Wraith's departure. He could not help but wonder why all of McKay's reports had to read like the text of a senior PhD thesis. The momentary crackle of static that resolved into a voice on his headset radio disturbed this, his fourth attempt.

"Mister Woolsey…"

He tapped the button on his earpiece. "Doctor Keller, what can I do for you?"

"I thought you should know… She's awake."

**

Sheppard had never felt more relieved, but at the same time worried to death. He hovered behind Doctor Keller as she consulted the equipment at Teyla's bedside. He tried very hard not to start pacing, and glanced at Woolsey who stood at her side, arms folded, a most serious expression on his face.

Around them the evidence of Teyla's awakening still lay scattered over the floor. The remains of the broken equipment had yet to be collected for disposal or repair. Teyla, herself, had been returned to her bed, and for the moment – and Keller had assured him it was only a temporary measure – was restrained there by cushioned bands around her wrists. She was awake, but her eyes, glazed and unfocussed, stared into the middle distance. They were red and still overly moist, as though she was still crying, and yet had run out of tears. Finally Jennifer stepped back a little from the monitor, and gave Teyla the smallest of smiles.

"That's much better," Keller said softly, "Your blood pressure has stabilised and your pulse is near to normal again. I think you're…" She hesitated for a moment as Teyla closed her eyes and let all of the breath sigh out of her body. "…just about back in the land of the living."

Just when Sheppard was certain that Teyla hadn't heard, or would not respond to Jennifer's soft words, she took another breath, tilted her head a little and then turned it so that when she opened her eyes, she was looking at the doctor. Sheppard shivered. Behind the terrible blankness he saw in Teyla's eyes, there was a spark of something cold and hard.

"…living nightmares?" Teyla croaked, her voice raw. The words were not quite a question.

Before Jennifer could answer, Woolsey stepped forward, fixing an almost softly cheerful expression on his face.

"Hello, Teyla," he said, his smile growing just a little, "Remember me?"

The angle of Teyla's head shifted slightly until she looked at Woolsey with the same, almost uncomprehending, frigid blankness. Undeterred by the expression, Woolsey reached out a hand toward Teyla. Instantly she recoiled, shrinking as far away from his outstretched hand as the restraints would allow.

"Don't touch me!" she barely whimpered, and her nostrils flared with her suddenly ragged breathing. Her whole body shook beneath the blanket. Keller pursed her lips and shook her head just a little at Woolsey. He blinked, and glanced at Sheppard.

He said, "Colonel Sheppard is here."

Sheppard cleared his throat and stepped forward. "Hey Teyla…"

As she looked at him, the blankness faded from her eyes, the teardrops gathering there as the hurt flooded in on her expression. Her lips trembled with the effort of holding in the sound that was just starting in the back of her throat.

"Teyla… can you tell us where you are?" Doctor Keller asked softly, trying to reach the rational part of Teyla's mind.

She didn't answer… not at once. It took everything in him for Sheppard not to reach out and lift away the single teardrop that escaped as Teyla began to turn her head first one way, and then another as if searching for something.

"…Nethaiye…" her voice trembled when she spoke.

Keller frowned in apparent confusion and told her, "We have you in a private room off the infirmary in Atlantis."

Teyla fixed her eyes on Keller again. She took another shuddering breath and her expression hardened a little. He'd seen this kind of thing before, and knew that Keller should have too. As subtly as he could, he reached a hand to guide the doctor away a little, and moved to take her place close by Teyla's head.

He leaned down a little, and said confidentially to the Athosian woman, "I know you know that. Can you tell us what happened to you?"

Teyla struggled. She pulled against the restraints to move her hand. She managed enough to bring her straining fingers to rest against the side of her belly.

"…My son…"

Woolsey stepped forward again as her voice, such as it was, trailed away. "You went off world with Major Lorne to find Kanaan, your child's father. You were captured by Michael."

Sheppard cringed, expecting some kind of outburst at the mention of the Wraith-Human hybrid's name. Teyla simply closed her eyes and turned her face away.

"…Michael…" she whispered.

"I can see that you obviously remember him." Woolsey said, not without a little harshness in his tone.

Teyla opened her eyes again. The blank, haunted expression faded a little, as though she was slowly waking, becoming more aware of her surroundings. She raised her eyes to look at the doctor as she asked, "What… did he… do to me…?"

Keller sighed. "We were hoping you could tell us."

Teyla shook her head, and closed her eyes in a long, slow blink that dislodged another tear. When she opened them again, this time, she looked to Sheppard, almost begging him for an explanation.

"We sent out several rescue missions," he began apologetically, "but… Michael always managed to stay one step ahead… until we got an unexpected break after we found a community of Wraith worshippers, and this huge hive ship… and then we found you, but—"

"Teyla, you've been unconscious since we found you. You had us all very worried." Keller interrupted.

"Why can I not… remember any of this…?" Teyla asked, her voice trembling on the edge of tears.

"Colonel, Doctor, I don't think we need to confuse her with the details." Woolsey glanced between Sheppard and Keller, but Teyla reached out toward him, her movement rattling the restraints.

"Please… no," she corrected him, "I want to know."

**

"We hadn't long been back from the planet where we found the Wraith Worshippers that had been battling against the other indigenous people that had contacted us for help. We were gathered in Woolsey's office and…"

"Sorry to interrupt, Mister Woolsey, but…" The technician hovered in the doorway as though he was the one that had drawn the short straw. Sheppard tried to look sympathetic, but the frustration he was feeling at Woolsey and his constant arguments must have been more than clear on his face, "… a few minutes ago we started picking up a signal on our long range sensors…" the technician glanced over at Sheppard before he continued, "I think you're going to want to see."

"We're in a meeting," Woolsey snapped.

"Yes, sir, I know," the technician turned his gaze more fully in Sheppard's direction before he added, "But it's Teyla's locator beacon and—"

"What!" Sheppard was on his feet so quickly that the chair toppled backwards. He was only just ahead of Ronon as they made their way out to the control room.

"You realise of course that this is a trap," Woolsey said as he arrived.

Sheppard, peering intently at the screen on which the signal was flashing, waved his hand dismissively. "And knowing that, we can work around it," he said. "This is not something we can ignore, Woolsey. First Michael leads us to the Wraith outpost, and now this?"

"Which is precisely my problem with it," Woolsey said, making a grab for Sheppard's arm to turn him around. "He's using you. He wants you there for some purpose, and what better way to manipulate you than to make you think that Teyla's there. How long has it been now, since that beacon was disabled?"

"No, that's beside the point," Sheppard shook off the contact. "If she is there, and we don't go… we let her down… again."

"Colonel Sheppard—" Woolsey started, but was cut off by Ronon who stepped up, putting himself between the two men, and staring down at the base commander with an angry snarl fixed on his face, spoke in a low and dangerous voice.

"The next words out of your mouth better be 'you have a go' or I swear—"

"I was merely trying to point out the dangers," Woolsey said, unconvincingly, but clearly intimidated by the threat Ronon was making.

"Your caution is noted," Sheppard said, "Ronon… down boy."

Ronon growled and turned away from Woolsey. "Where is that?" he asked the technician.

"M7S-445 Alpha," the technician answered, bringing up the star map onto the screen with the locator still flashing clearly.

"Alpha?" Sheppard queried.

"That location has two gates. One on the planet, and a space gate in orbit…"

"Well then, there's our way in," Sheppard grinned. "We take a cloaked jumper in through the Orbital Gate, drop down and—"

"You should be aware, sir, that there's a lot of Wraith activity in orbit," another of the technicians said quietly, trying not to glance Woolsey's way as she spoke. "Probably on the ground too."

"—or… we… could… head over there in the Daedalus," Sheppard amended his plan. "With the Wraith about, there's even more reason to investigate."

**

"So that's what we did… Daedalus had just gotten back to Atlantis after a supply run, bringing in new personnel. Caldwell was more than happy to take us, and what little time longer it took us to get there in hyperspace, well… we all of us needed to catch our breath…"

"Looks like we got a lucky break," Caldwell turned in his seat to address Sheppard and the others as they made their way onto the bridge of the Daedalus. She broke from hyperspace just outside the system.

"That'd be a first," McKay said moodily.

"What do you mean?" Sheppard threw McKay a sour look as he came to a standstill beside the command seat.

"According to our long range sensors, Wraith activity is on the other side of the planet from the location of the beacon. They seem to be following some kind of search grid, both in the air and on the ground," Caldwell answered, pulling up the HUD. "If we take and obtuse approach vector that keeps the planet between us and the Wraith as an extra precaution, you should be able to take the Jumper down to the beacon's location completely undetected."

"This is all too easy," Ronon grumbled, walking through the HUD projection to stare out of the forward viewing port. "There's something else going on here…"

**

"We took the Jumper right down into the compound… there was space enough to land and we could come in under cloak. We figured that if there was anyone there… if it was a trap, it would give us a better chance of spotting it before it was too late, and give us a way to get the hell out. But nothing happened… the place was deserted…"

"Whoa! Talk about Déjà vu." McKay breathed as they stepped out of the rear of the Puddle Jumper into the courtyard of what looked like some kind of factory facility. The buildings were dwarfed by the cooling tower that rose into the sky close by where they'd landed the Jumper. Around the building, storage silos stood easily as tall – menacing reminders of the recent past.

"Just… don't touch anything this time," Sheppard advised, readying his P90, and carefully darting across the open ground. He flattened himself against the wall and, after checking around the corner, called across to the others, "Clear!"

"I don't like the way this feels," Ronon said as he joined him, back flat against the wall of the building.

"I don't much like it either," Sheppard said, and frowned, "but—"

"Great," McKay interrupted breathlessly as he reached the two of them. "When you two are done re-enacting Star Wars, maybe we could get on with finding this beacon so that we can get the hell out of here."

"Will you keep your voice down," Sheppard ordered, and had to bite his lip to hide the smirk as McKay gave him a sarcastic smile at the deliberate quotation. Quickly he took another look around the corner of the building, this time to locate a door through which they could enter. "Okay… it's about ten yards along the side of the building…" he braced himself ready to make the run, and then caught himself, turning round to McKay again. "And remember… don't. Touch. Anything."

"I wouldn't, I…"

Whatever else McKay might have said was lost as Sheppard launched himself around the corner, weapon trained away from the building, running slightly sideways to keep himself protected from behind until he reached the door. By that time he could hear that Ronon had followed him, with McKay bringing up the rear. Abandoning caution, he threw himself at the door, breaking the rusting hinges to send the door tumbling inward.

Clouds of dust greeted them, catching the fading light of the evening sky, and as the clatter of the door's demise faded into an eerie echoing hush, the steady sound of McKay's tracking device and it's steady 'heartbeat' punctuated the tension of their waiting.

Ronon took the lead in the face of Sheppard's suddenly churning stomach. It was all too similar to the picture he had built in his mind as the older McKay had spoken to him of Michael's treatment of Teyla. Swallowing hard, he forced himself to follow the Satedan.

The heavy metal door stood open as they reached it. The walls of the room were stained with the red and green of rust coating their metallic surfaces. Forgotten equipment, perhaps the remnants of a desperate time, lay strewn across a floor that was dusty with neglect.

As they approached they could see the heavy metal bench that graced the centre of the room. Bloodied swabs, tossed aside with apparent carelessness, and callous looking instruments lay on the tabletop, and in the corner, broken medical machinery still sparked out its last, dying breath.

She lay pillowed in the dust, still dressed as she was when last he had seen her, though the clothes hung about her now, too big against her no longer burdened belly.

"Oh no!" Rodney broke the terrible silence that had fallen as all three of them had skidded to a halt in the doorway. "Teyla…"

As though Rodney's voice broke the inertia that held them in place, Ronon dashed across the distance to where Teyla lay, immobile. He dropped to one knee beside her and reached for the side of her neck.

A hollow emptiness assaulted Sheppard when he saw Ronon bow his head and breathe out a deep and heavy sigh. No more would she speak words of comfort or advice to him after a hard and heavy day. No more would her tender smile break the tension of a moment, or her light laughter show the ridiculousness of a situation. No more would—

"She's alive," Ronon said breathlessly.

"He carried you back to the Jumper… wouldn't let go of you actually, not even when the Medics aboard the Daedalus came to assess you; treat you…"

**

Teyla's body shook, and her face was wet with tears when he had finished his retelling, "I cannot remember anything… of any of it… The last thing I remember is… the Dart overhead… Lorne called a warning, and then I was… nothing."

"You're not nothing, Teyla!" Sheppard said firmly, his teeth clenched.

Keller reached out again, to lay a comforting hand on Teyla's arm, but froze as Teyla once again shrank from the touch. She said, "I promise you, Teyla, I'm going to do everything I can to help you through this. We all are, but right now I want you to try and get some rest, okay?"

Teyla nodded, closing her eyes as Keller shooed them out of the isolation room and followed them close behind. As she came, she fell into step beside Sheppard.

"You didn't tell her about him," she said.

"Are you surprised?" he countered, looking at her in something approaching horrified shock.

"She needs to know, John," Keller said gently. "If we start keeping things from her it's just going to add to the trauma she's feeling."

"I'll tell her," he said, then at her expression of doubt he added, "I will, just… not now – not yet."

Relief flooded through him at those two simple words. Sheppard took in a huge breath and swallowed back the rising emotion as he watched Ronon picking Teyla up as though she was the most precious thing in the world.

"Sheppard!" The tone in McKay's voice made his heart lurch again and he turned quickly, raising his weapon as if to fend off an attacker. McKay was crouching beside another immobile figure. This one lay face down on the other side of the room, near the windows. He noticed that one of them was broken… shattered in a strangely explosive pattern. The figure was dressed in the simple, home spun clothing, covered with a leather and padded armour-like vest he'd come to associate with Michael's army.

"One of Michael's hybrids?" he asked.

"You could say that, but…" McKay reached out and carefully turned over the body. "…I don't think that's quite the point."

Sheppard sighed as he looked down on the man, and then glanced back toward Teyla, cradled in Ronon's arms.

**

With a serious frown creasing his face, Woolsey walked into the observation lounge that overlooked Teyla's hospital bed. The room was darkened more than usual, and Major Hollick stood behind a small group of marines who sat watching the room below on screens fed by the video cameras trained on the bed from many angles. One of the marines had tape stitches holding closed a recent gash on the side of his cheek.

"Major Hollick," Woolsey said as he walked in.

"Mister Woolsey," the major nodded respectfully to him.

"You were watching?"

"Every word, sir." Hollick confirmed.

"And?"

"I wouldn't like to say at this point, sir," the major said, and then added, "but she did a pretty good job on my men… completely lost it, you might say."

Woolsey nodded, "I want you to keep a close watch on her, Major Hollick."

"Sir?"

"Until we know more… until the truth finally unfolds itself, we must proceed with extreme caution." He turned away from the Major, to look through the window and look down on Teyla as she lay, unresponsive once more, staring into the middle distance of nothing ahead of her.

"You don't trust her," Hollick observed. "You think this might all be some kind of act?"

"Perhaps not an act," Woolsey said, "But I'm not ready to believe everything she's said either. Whatever is going on down there may just be the start of a whole new set of problems for us."

**

Their heavy booted feet crunched on broken glass and splintered wood alike. The once orderly buildings lay in broken heaps, hardly recognisable. The bombardment of the Wraith and the fighting on the ground had virtually laid waste to the entire settlement. What was left smouldered and tumbled on crumbling foundations; the very image of abandonment.

Ronon glanced behind him to take in the sight of the jagged, gaping wound that had once been the mountain. Carrion birds circled in the sky overhead. Many of the Haradian soldiers had fled into what remained of the caverns once the fighting had begun in earnest; when Ynek had led his people in rebellion against their former masters, but it was a dangerous place, and random rock falls, not blade or gun, had ended their lives. The carrion eaters fed well.

So, too, had the retreating Wraith. As the Darts had pulled away to join the departing Hive ship, their culling beams had swept across the landscape, taking Ynek's people and their former servants alike. Those of the once powerful Haradians that remained were scattered and divided; a leaderless rabble, fighting like cornered rats for survival.

Ronon and the members of Bravo team spread out, fanlike, aware of the danger from those that remained. They were alive to the sounds of shifting rubble that could have been the careless foot falls of would be attackers. Captain Warsh signalled to the marines of the team – Secure the perimeter – then moved to take his own vantage point.

Ronon waited until he was satisfied that the marines were secure enough in their places before he lightly tapped McKay's arm and then jerked his head toward what remained of the Haradian council hall.

"Ow!" the scientist complained.

"Sshh!" Ronon hushed him.

"Well," McKay hissed, "do you always have to hit me so hard?"

"When I hit you," Ronon grumbled quietly, "You'll know it." He grabbed McKay by the arm and began to drag him toward the ruin. "Come on."

**

Night would soon be falling and they were first to reach the designated rendezvous point. Ordinarily Halling would not have worried over this, but he knew how unpredictable the environment was now that the Wraith had left the Haradians – both Ynek's people and the former worshippers – to their own battle for survival and he knew that his friends were in the thick of the worst area of all.

"Perhaps we should turn back," one of his fellow Athosians said as if he had been reading his troubled thoughts, "try and find them."

Halling sighed. "No. For if we miss them, then we could both walk in circles the whole night and never meet each other, and there are still those here that believe the Wraith will return, and restore them to their former mastery of this world." He shook his head and concluded, "They will come."

**

McKay ran a hand across his tired brow. He'd been working for hours without as much as a cheese sandwich to keep his strength up. What was left of the Wraith console had been difficult to access, and after his last experience with Wraith-tech, he'd chosen a very cautious approach. Not that there was much of a building to come down around his ears this time, he thought sourly. At first he'd opted for trying to download the remaining data onto his tablet, but when that proved just how fragmented it was, he decided that the comfort of his own laboratory back on Atlantis would be a much better environment for his work.

Since then he had been working to extract the computer core and memory storage units. It was taking time… too much time.

"How much longer, McKay?" Ronon asked him for the seventh time.

"As long as it takes," he snapped, and then his hand slipped and he caught it painfully on the side of the console's casing, "Look, I'm working as fast as I can, but parts of the mountings have melted and fused the fastenings into place. It's taking me time to cut through them so that I don't damage what's left of the data in retrieving the core."

"Let me see," Ronon demanded.

"Ronon, you can't just—" he started, then stopped as Ronon grabbed a hold of the damaged side of the casing and, groaning with the effort, ripped it away from the outside of the device.

"How's that?" the Satedan asked.

"That's… yeah, thanks," Rodney answered in surprise. "That should make things… easier to reach."

"Hurry," Ronon told him. "It isn't safe here after nightfall."

McKay nodded and picked up his cutters, trying to ignore the ever more insistent rumbling of hunger as he began to cut away at the moorings that were fused into place. Ronon moved away to give him space to work. One fastening after another fell to his precision cutting and he was soon able to begin wrapping the memory modules for transportation, slipping them into the case that lay beside him.

"Look, I'm almost done," he said irritably as he heard a heavy foot fall behind him. "It would go a lot quicker if you stopped checking up on me every five minutes."

Ronon gave no answer and the hairs on the back of McKay's head started to prickle with a sense of danger.

"Ronon?" He turned and saw, not his Satedan friend, but the biggest, most fearsome Haradian soldier he had ever seen. Granted he hadn't seen many, but this one was easily twice the size of any of the ones that had been a part of their capture, and imprisonment. He yelled, "Ronon!" and rolled aside as the soldier swung a club for his head.

Prone, he struggled to pull his sidearm from its holster, and then rolled over to try and take aim. The Haradian was right above him, club raised. He closed his eyes and tried to squeeze the trigger of his weapon.

"Really…" he said in panic when the metal resisted the pull of his index finger, "…we can talk about this…" in panic, he fumbled with his thumb for the safety catch. "It wasn't my fault. I wasn't the man who—!"

He let out an almost feminine scream as the Haradian fell, suddenly, on top of him to the sound of Ronon's blaster. The club bounced, not quite harmlessly, off his shoulder.

"If you're done playing around," Ronon grumbled as he lifted the dead weight from on top of him, and then grabbed him by the front of the jacket to haul him to his feet, "we need to get out of here."

"Right, yeah, I…" McKay straightened his jacket and cleared his still squeaking throat, "I'm ready, I'll just…" he pointed behind him at his tools and equipment, to indicate that he would need to pack them away. Ronon just nodded, and turned to keep watch as he did."

**

Halling looked up at the sound of a night bird's call, then came to his feet from where he sat beside the small fire, as the sound of footsteps came through the darkened countryside. He smiled in relief when he saw Ronon and McKay coming at the head of the team of the soldiers from Atlantis.

"Ronon Dex," he said softly, and came to greet the man, placing both hands onto the former runner's shoulders, and bowing his head.

Ronon bowed his head until it touched to Halling's, before he straightened, and gave the smallest of smiles, "It's good to see you, Halling. When Ynek said you were here…"

"I know," Halling said, "It must have worried you greatly. I apologise, but we could not remain in our new home, knowing that Teyla still suffered at the hand of—"

"No," McKay broke in. "That's one of the reasons we asked Ynek to arrange this meeting."

Halling frowned. "There have been developments?"

"I'll say," McKay began, but was cut off by Ronon.

"We found her. She's back on Atlantis," he said.

Halling staggered, the relief was so great. "She is well?"

"She's… when we left she was still unconscious, the way we found her." Halling paled, but Ronon held up his hand. "Don't worry, Jennifer's giving her the best care, I promise."

Halling nodded, and then said, "It is good news. We should return to our new home. There is still much to do there."

"Listen, if I can help…" Ronon began, but Halling shook his head.

"You have your arms full with all that you must do with the people of Atlantis," he said, adding with a smile, "But know that you are always welcome to visit… and when she is well again, perhaps you will accompany Teyla to see her people."

"Count on it," Ronon answered.

**

Doctor Jennifer Keller had finally managed to get the observation room to herself, and stood looking down on the resting, but too wakeful figure of her patient.

Teyla's sats were normal, her electrolytes a little out of balance, but that could be put down to the traumas she'd suffered, and aside from that, physically she was in a surprisingly good condition. Only the mental trauma bothered her. Speaking with Teyla, it had become obvious that she could remember nothing of the time from when she was taken by Michael, until her awaking on Atlantis… and became quite agitated – almost clinically so – when anyone suggested otherwise. And that was the problem… she couldn't help but glance at the monitors behind her.

She turned full circle when Ronon came in, almost at a run and said, "They told me she's awake."

"Yes, she is," Keller nodded, and then as Ronon turned to head down to the isolation room she softly called his name. "Ronon, she's a little delicate… can't remember anything of her time with Michael."

"Can I see her?" he asked, frowning at the news.

"Of course you can," she told him, "I didn't tell you that to put you off, I just… didn't want you saying anything that might… bother her."

"Something's bothering you though, isn't it?" he asked, and when she didn't answer, he brushed a hand against her shoulder, "Jennifer?"

She looked up and gave him a tight smile. "It's Woolsey," she finally admitted.

"What about him?" he asked with a frown.

"I think he's… I mean… it's the way he's been with Teyla," she sighed, "It's not very… supportive."

"He's always been like that," Ronon started to tell her, "He's not very supportive to any of us, you know that."

"No… I mean," she sighed again, "It's like he doesn't believe her or something… I… I just…"

"Jennifer," Ronon gripped her shoulder gently and leaned down to look her squarely in the face, "we've got her back, okay? I know you care about her. I do too. If Woolsey tries anything… he'll have me to deal with."

Keller pressed her hand against his chest lightly. "Thanks, Ronon."

**

"Hey, Teyla," Ronon tried to sound cheerful as he put his head around what passed for a door in the isolation unit. "Can I come in?"

The blankness faded from Teyla's eyes, and as she looked up at him she actually almost smiled. "Ronon, thank you," she said as she nodded her assent.

"Hmm?" he asked, coming into the room.

"You are the first person that has bothered to ask," she told him. "Everyone else sees my presence in this bed as reason enough to be able to walk in and speak with me as they would, regardless of how I might feel."

Ronon pursed his lips. "They mean well, Teyla – leastways, Sheppard and the others."

"I understand that," she said, and turned her head against the pillow to try and move a strand of hair that had fallen across her face. "It is just nice to be asked."

He stepped closer, and rather than watch her struggle, gestured a little toward her face, "You want…?"

"Oh, Ronon, I…" she closed her eyes for a moment, a look of emotional pain crossing her face. He understood, somehow, from her reaction that she both wanted him to, and at the same time did not.

"Well then, at least let me," he gestured toward the restraints still fastening her arms to the bed.

She nodded slowly, "Thank you."

"I thought you'd maybe want to know," he said, trying to sound casual as he began to pull the Velcro fastening open, being careful not to actually touch her, "I spoke with Halling earlier."

"He is well?" Her tone was one of simple happiness at the news, and when he looked up at her, there was a genuine smile on her face. She pushed the hair away from her eyes.

"Worrying about you," he told her with a nod and a smile, "We all are."

He moved around to the other side of the bed to unfasten the second restraint, and then stood beside her with his arms folded, looking on her and waiting for her to speak.

"I feel… I feel so lost, Ronon," she said softly after a moment or two and she turned her head to look up at him. "Everything I had; everything I knew… he has taken it from me. I can remember nothing of what happened. I know nothing of what he might have done to me… the only thing of which I am certain is that he has my son."

With each word she spoke, more tears gathered until her eyes were awash with them, but still she would not let them fall. It was as if by some power of will she held them back. In some strange way he understood completely. Something deep inside of him answered, in empathy, her need to keep a hold of the emotion she felt – and he did not doubt that she felt it, for all that everyone around him had warned him of her detachment. One day soon, he knew from experience, the dam would break.

Melena

"Ronon…" her voice was barely a whisper, but the hand she laid on his arm was the loudest cry for help. Gently he covered her hand with one of his own, and she turned her hand beneath his to hold it tightly. "…I feel so empty… he has my son…"

"We'll get him back, I promise," he told her, tightening his own grip around her hand. He did not worry for crushing her fingers; for hurting her with the strength of his grasp, he only knew that she needed him to be the solid ground on which she could, even for just a moment, make her stand. As he continued to speak his voice became harder, more dangerous, "We'll find Michael, and when we do we'll avenge it all. Everything he's done… everyone that has fallen because of him…"

"Kanaan," she whispered, "he…"

His heart sank, and he sighed. "Teyla—" he began softly, but she cut him off with a surprisingly vehement tone in her voice.

"Kanaan is dead," she said.

"You—" he started, surprise barely masked in his voice. "How do you know that?"

She shook her head, her breath shuddering in her chest, as though she was weeping. She opened her mouth as if she would answer, her eyes closing, shutting in the weight of the unshed tears still gathered there. For many long moments she remained that way, on the cusp of answering. Eventually, with a sobbing breath, she said, "I feel it."

"I'm sorry, Teyla," Ronon told her softly, "We found him when we came for you. We couldn't bring him with us. We didn't have time. You were barely breathing. There were Wraith in the area we—"

"I understand," she said, quietly cutting him off. "It is enough to know. Thank you."

"We'll avenge him, Teyla," he told her, his jaw tightening, "All of your people that Michael took. Every last—"

"I only want my son," she whimpered then, as if the strain of holding everything inside was breaking in on her. "Find him, Ronon. Please… for Nethaiye…"

Before he could answer, and surprising him, against her former reticence to touch, she sat up and reached for him. Without the slightest hesitation, he wrapped her in the security of his arms to hold her as tightly as she suddenly held him… and yet still, he noted… her tears refused to fall.

Movement in the corner of his eye made him look toward the doorway. Jennifer stood there, a soft and sympathetic smile on her face. She nodded to him approvingly, before she quietly moved away.

**

Her shivering was not only due to how cold she was, though that was a factor in it. Why did they need to keep the temperature of their ships so frigid?

"You know," she snapped irritably when the Wraith scientist moved back into her line of vision, "even lab rats are afforded a certain degree of comfort."

He looked around at her then, and tilted his head to watch her. Something about him, something that she couldn't quite place, made him somehow familiar to her. Not that there was much difference among the Wraith in her eyes. They were all of them pale and ghoulish… and for all that they each seemed to bear some kind of tattooed markings about their person, on their face or head or necks – from what she'd seen, there appeared to be little individuality otherwise.

After only a moment longer he spoke, turning back to his work as he did so. His voice was surprisingly soft and did not carry the same harsh quality of many of his fellow Wraith. "I'll see what I can do… about finding you something to wrap yourself in."

She could not help but blink in surprise. She had expected scorn and had received consideration. In rising hope she tried, "And maybe get me out of these restraints?"

He chuckled, a strangely warm sound. "A nice try, woman." he said, "but if the Queen were to pay yet another surprise visit…" he turned his head to regard her again. "…she would as likely feed on both of us, as payment for my… carelessness."

"Couldn't you just tell her I was helping you or something?"

For a long moment he looked at her, his yellow, cat's-eyes regarding her deeply, and then, as if he realised she was serious in the suggestion, he put back his head and laughed.

"You'll pardon me, but I don't quite get the joke," she snapped, angry at being laughed at.

"You have much to learn about that one," he told her, "if you are to survive."

"That one?"

"The Queen."

Vega harrumphed at him. "Like that's going to happen, with no one around here telling me anything."

"What's to tell?" he asked her, turning from his work to approach her, and she could not help but step back into the alcove in which she, as the other test subjects, each had been placed. "You should be thankful that she has been as merciful as she has, so far."

"That doesn't exactly tell me anything."

"What do you want to know?" he spread his arms to either side, inviting her questions.

"Well, to start with, where the hell am I?"

"You are in a research laboratory aboard my Hive ship."

"Your ship?" she raised an eyebrow at him. "I thought these things belonged to the Queens."

"Indeed," he said, his voice becoming a little testy, "but this is my ship and I have allied with the Elder Queen. We have a common cause."

"Like what?"

"Ah," he rumbled, "if the Queen wishes you to know that… she will tell you."

"All right then, why am I here?" she tried a different question.

"You know that," he told her, returning to his former soft tone, "you are a research subject for my work… at least for the time being."

"The time being?"

"The Queen has an interest in you," he told her. "She has a tendency to… enjoy being served by human females."

"You've got to be kidding!" Vega gave a short laugh, until she realised that he was serious, "Hell will freeze over before I lift a finger to serve her."

"Hmm," he rumbled again, "then in all likelihood she will feed on you… and that would be a shame at this point."

"What do you mean?" She frowned.

He shrugged, dismissively, and she was certain there was something he was not saying. "The human females in her service are well treated… perhaps even given some small measure of respect."

"What, I get to wipe her ass, and your fellow creepies out there leave me the hell alone?"

He chuckled again, "Something like that," he said.

"What are you researching anyway?" she asked, and watched him, wracking her brain to try and figure out why it was he was so familiar to her.

"I am trying to find a cure for the effects of the Hoffan drug, and a way for the Wraith to guard against it," he told her openly, "among other things."

"Other things?" she queried, picking up on his manner of giving her just enough information to let her understand that there were things that he couldn't tell her, for the sake of her safety. It confused her that it would concern him.

"Well, now," he said, walking a little down the line of alcoves and looking on their occupants, whom she knew to be hybrids. "Michael's hybrids are unlikely to be able to help in that respect, are they?"

"Michael's hyb—" The truth, the realisation of why she knew this Wraith, hit her as surely as if he'd taken the butt of a P90 to the side of her head. His manner, the star-like tattoo around his left eye… "Todd?"

He spun around to face her so quickly, and startled her so badly that she fell back against the bench that passed for her bed as he started back toward her.

"Do not call me by that name here," he said urgently, glancing at the door as though it would open any moment. "Colonel Sheppard sent you?"

He sat down beside her on the bench and reached out to draw her back into a more upright, more comfortable position.

"No, no, I…" she frowned and looked up at him, "I was beamed aboard one of Michael's Darts as Doctor McKay was searching the rubble for—"

"You have its research?" he cut in.

"No," she said looked away. "He took it from me."

"A pity," he said with a sigh. "But perhaps we can be of more assistance to each other than I thought."

Turning her attention back to him again, she hopefully held up her still fastened hands in his direction. "Hmm?"

"Regrettably… no," he told her softly, as he got to his feet once more, "For your own safety, you understand. However… I will bring you a blanket, and something warm to eat.

**

Sheppard couldn't help but feel angry at the thunderous expression he saw on Woolsey's face. He'd gathered them all in his office and, at least to Sheppard, it seemed like he was a boy once more, being called before the principal.

"I don't see your problem," Sheppard growled at him. "When it comes down to it, she's a member of my team – base personnel – not some kind of prisoner."

"My problem, Colonel Sheppard, is that I wasn't consulted," Woolsey snapped.

"She seemed perfectly all right to me," Ronon put in with a shrug, "Same old Teyla… underneath all the hurting, that is… but hell, you'd hurt too if you'd had your son taken by some… maniac!" he spat the last word, a verbal punch aimed at the absent object of his anger.

"What did she say to you?" Woolsey asked, turning to Ronon.

Sheppard saw a frown cross Ronon's face. It was the kind of frown that Ronon usually expressed just before he tore off some unfortunate Wraith's arm, or meant to make it clear to someone that if they hurt one of his friends the universe would suddenly become too small a place for the both of them.

"Ronon…" he warned.

"What Teyla did, or didn't say to Ronon," Keller interrupted, "whether or not you were consulted, Mister Woolsey, is not the issue here. The point is, she's my patient, and while she'll be under my care for the PTS and emotional issues, I had no medical reason to insist she stay in the infirmary. It was a medical decision. It was my call."

"But—" Woolsey started.

"And in respect of the psychological issues she faces, Teyla's next step is to be reintegrated into the community in as normal a manner as possible." Keller continued. Sheppard saw her glance at Ronon with a look that could have easily said, I told you so.

"And you think she's ready for that?" Woolsey asked, sounding more than a little doubtful.

"I do," Keller said firmly.

"Well, I don't," Woolsey argued. "You saw what she did to the infirmary, and to base personnel. She may still be unstable, volatile even… and in my mind that means, so long as we don't know what effects the post traumatic stress is going to have on her behaviour, she could well be a danger to others… or to herself."

"What's the real issue here?" Sheppard asked suspiciously, once again looking between Woolsey, Ronon and Keller.

"He doesn't trust her," Ronon growled accusingly.

"That's not true," Woolsey said with a frown. "I trust her just fine. I just don't believe she's yet ready to be released into the community."

"Doc?" Sheppard asked.

"I've already given my opinion, Colonel," Keller said in a clipped and professional manner. "I think she's more than ready to get away from a medical environment."

"Well then it's settled," Sheppard said with a tone of finality and fixing his gaze on Woolsey. "It is a medical matter, after all."

Woolsey looked away from him, cornered by his own insistence on clear jurisdiction between departments on the base, and from the expression on his face, Sheppard could tell that he clearly wasn't happy about it.

**

Teyla knelt on the cushion she had set beside the small Athosian rocking bed. It had been there since before she left Atlantis with Major Lorne, and the last memory she had of it, was the tiny, cloudlike waves she had begun to carve on the side of it.

It was traditional among her people. The family would build the rocking bed, but the mother would be the one to carve it with images that represented her wishes and desires for the child.

"Peace," she whispered, as she traced the carvings with her fingers. "Nethaiye, how can we hope for peace now, when you are used as nothing but an instrument of war?"

"There's a saying that the humans of Earth have," Sheppard said from the open doorway, and she looked up at him, beckoning him inside with the movement of her head.

He stepped through the door and closed it behind him. She winced. Since she had been released from the infirmary, she had found that closed doors bothered her. They spoke to her of captivity. He came across the room to kneel beside her, one of his hands gently resting on the top of the frame that supported the rocking section of her baby's bed.

"You and your people have many sayings, John Sheppard," she looked at him, trying to keep the haunted look from finding its way to her expression.

"This is relevant, honest," he answered with the faintest of smiles.

"Tell me." With a sigh, and needing to feel comforted, she let herself slip from her knees, until she was sitting with her legs folded beside her and could lean against Sheppard. He did not seem to mind, and brought his free hand to rest lightly across her shoulders.

"No one knows who wrote it," he started, "but it's… When the world says, "Give up," hope whispers, "Try it one more time." We'll find him, Teyla."

"I hoped you would come for me, John." she whispered. "I can remember nothing of what happened, of where I was… only feelings… and I hoped that you would come."

"I did," he said, and then more softly, "I tried. We followed every lead; investigated every sighting."

"I do not blame you for anything. That is not what I am saying," she turned her head against his shoulder and looked up at him. "I have to find him. He needs me."

"And we will. We'll find him, but you… you need to rest and get your strength back." He brushed aside a strand of hair from her cheek, and she flinched slightly at the touch. "I spoke with Halling a few moments ago. He said that if you wanted to, you'd be welcome to return to the Athosian village to recuperate."

She sat up, away from him then. "My place is here, John. I cannot stay with my people knowing that my son is out there…" she got to her feet and went towards the windows, "…enduring… goodness only knows what, at Michael's hands."

Sheppard nodded, and he too got to his feet. "All right," he challenged her, "so what are you going to do about it?"

She swung around to face him then, her voice firm and strong, "I will leave no stone unturned until I find him."

"And then what?" he snapped. "What are you going to do, Teyla? Break down and cry? Beg him to give you back your son? You know as well as I do how far that will get you. This is Michael we're talking about."

"What would you have me do?" she raised her voice. "He is my son! I am his mother – I cannot abrogate responsibility for his care, his safety, not to you, not to anybody. No matter how close they might be to me."

"And I'm not saying you have to. Not forever." He sighed and ran his fingers through his hair, "Look, all I'm saying is that you need to get back on your feet, and until that time, let us start the search for you, and then, when you're ready, you can join us and—"

"I'm ready now!" she spat.

"I dunno, Teyla," he argued.

"Beginning the search would aid my recovery far more than an enforced period of helplessness, John. How can you not see that?"

"Because when people suffer a loss like this—" he explained, but again she cut him off, raising her voice in frustration at his apparent unwillingness to understand.

"My people are not like yours. We have suffered loss every day of our lives at the hands of the Wraith. We cannot afford the luxury of an extended time to grieve. We must get on. It is the Athosian way." She took a step towards him, "Must you take everything from me that makes me who and what I am, the way you did to—?"

She stopped herself, actually stumbling a little as she pulled herself up short. She felt the tightness of a knot forming in her belly and a dizziness biting at the base of her skull. She fought with herself to keep the bile from rising in her throat as she realised what she had been about to say.

"Who, Teyla?" Sheppard asked quietly.

She shook her head, keeping every other muscle tense and trembling under her. "I am sorry," she said. "I am only frustrated at not being allowed to act to save my own child. I did not mean it."

He sighed, and after a moment of watching her, nodded, "All right. I'll buy that you're frustrated and desperate to get out there to find your baby, but I'm not convinced that you're ready, not with an outburst like that." He held up a hand to stop her from speaking as she opened her mouth to defend herself, and continued, "And Woolsey won't be either."

"You would speak to Mister Woolsey for me?" she asked him more softly. She trembled harder, still fighting with the nausea that was swirling inside of her as she fought to reconcile her thoughts and actions.

"My team, my call," he said. "But I know what it's like – living with PTS – and it's hell. So if you think getting out there will help you to find a way past it, then you get a good night's rest and report to the gate room at oh-six-hundred. Leave Woolsey to me."

"Thank you, John," she nodded, and watched as he left the room. His footsteps were harsh against the tile, and she knew that she had hurt him with what she had said… or rather, with what she had stopped herself from saying.

The terrible trembling in her limbs began again and the nausea strengthened with the realisation that it had not simply been an accusation levelled at him – at all of them – out of the pain of her condition, but that she believed what she had been about to say and had always done so.

She barely made it to the bathroom, where she fell to her knees and vomited until she was weakened, almost helpless from it, and after cleaning herself up as best she was able, she curled up against the cold of the tiles to cool the feverish burning that suddenly assaulted her.

**

"If this is a joke, Colonel Sheppard," Woolsey said as he came down the stairs from the control room, practically two at a time, "then it's in very poor taste."

"No joke," he said, "I'm deadly serious. It's perfectly safe. It's just a routine reconnaissance mission. Rumours of a couple of hybrids spotted in a little village on M2H-423. We're just going to take a look-see, and being out there, feeling like she's doing something other than sit on her proverbial, while Michael is out there with her kid will help her recovery. Trust me."

Ronon gave him a look. It was clear that Ronon didn't believe him any more than Woolsey did. The problem was that he wasn't sure he believed it himself.

"It will be entirely on your head, Sheppard," Woolsey warned, "when this all blows up in your face."

"Isn't it always?" he sighed.

"He's got a point, Sheppard," Ronon said softly as they gathered the gear together that they would need for the mission.

"Yeah, I know," he admitted equally as softly, "but we'll be right there with her, and like I said, it's safe. It's just a routine mission, what could possibly—"

"Don't… say it," Ronon interrupted.

**

The village was typical of many in the Pegasus galaxy, and the tavern more so. The wooden walls, and splintering wood tables and chairs, spoke of the lack of sophisticated technology favoured by the indigenous peoples of many worlds, or forced upon them by the lack of opportunity for advancement. Culling by the Wrath often saw to that.

The three of them sat at the side of the tavern room, their weapons and gear stowed in their hold-alls under the table. Their own clothing was covered by rough spun shirts and pants. Sheppard glanced sideways at Ronon, who was eating from one of the bowls they had been brought by the proprietor. It never failed to amaze him that Ronon would happily do that, when even McKay would sometimes baulk at the indigenous cuisine.

"We must find a way to move closer," Teyla leaned towards him as she spoke. "I cannot hear what they are saying."

On the table behind them a group of local men were deep in conversation, leaning close to each other and talking in hushed tones.

"The one on the left just made mention of a small copse of trees about two or three miles away from the western edge of the village," Ronon said between mouthfuls of whatever meaty stew he was eating. "Doesn't that put it close to the gate?"

"I think so," Sheppard confirmed.

"What are they doing?" Teyla asked, frowning in puzzlement, "Recruiting?"

"Well," Sheppard leaned a little closer to her as he spoke, "We know he doesn't just use hybrids. They're too conspicuous for some things. So he'll need civilian agents…"

Teyla nodded, "Like Nabel."

"Exactly," Sheppard said.

"They're offering these people medicines," Ronon said, "must be the hook."

"Medicines for what?" Teyla asked.

Ronon shrugged. "I have no idea," he said.

"You're thinking it might be related to the effects of the Hoffan drug?" Sheppard asked Teyla.

"Well, you tell me that it is Michael that has been distributing the drug." she shrugged.

"So, you're thinking what?" Ronon asked, "Something for the symptoms?"

Teyla shrugged again. "I am not the one who can hear their conversation," she stressed.

"Seems like they bought it," Sheppard broke in on the tension rising between Teyla and Ronon. "They're leaving."

"Then we must follow," Teyla nodded and started to rise. Sheppard reached out quickly and grasped her wrist, halting her movement. She pulled on her arm until he let her go.

"Give them a minute," he said softly, "Wherever they're headed, Ronon can track them."

**

They sheltered in the lea of what remained of some animal shelter, watching over the copse of trees where the men waited. Sheppard glanced over toward Teyla. The tension in her body was visible, even without the slight tremor in her hand where it rested on the wooden frame of the wall against which they leaned.

"Take a breath," he said softly.

"I am fine," she said.

"All right," he nodded and was about to go on, but Ronon tapped his arm.

"Movement," the Satedan said softly.

"Just remember, we don't move until they leave… follow them back to their base of operations." He knew, as soon as the words left his mouth, that he had gone too far. Teyla's eyes tore through him. Her face set in a harsh expression.

"I understand the plan, John Sheppard," she snapped at him, "And do not need to have my hand held like a child."

"Teyla, I'm sorry," he said, "I—"

"They're here," Ronon told them from his vantage point.

Carefully he leaned up and peeped over the lip of the wall to peer over into the trees. The locals had been joined by a group of three others who, from the way they carried themselves and from their dress, could only have been Michael's hybrids. He couldn't help but wish that he could hear what was being said.

Beside him, Teyla leaned up to peek over the wall. He saw her knuckles whiten as she did; the tremor in her hand increasing. For a moment he tried to put himself in her position, to understand the conflicting pressures that must be running through her – duty… emotions… need… He began to visually measure the distance between the copse and their hiding place.

"I wish that we could hear what they were saying," she said. Her voice was tight, strained. "Perhaps if we could move closer…"

Reality asserted itself on Sheppard in that moment. He shook his head, "If we try to move now we risk being seen and blow any chance we have of following them."

Beside them, Ronon suddenly stiffened. "What was that?" he asked.

"What was wha—?" Sheppard started to ask, but as he got even part way through the question he began to hear the unmistakable sound of an incoming Dart. "Could be one of Micha—"

"There are Wraith here!" Teyla announced vehemently, just as the tone of a materialiser beam became overlaid on the whine of the Dart's propulsion. Beside him she suddenly hauled herself to her feet and took off at a low, crouching run.

"What are you doing? Teyla, no!" he called, and then swore softly to himself. "Crap!"

Ronon exchanged a glance with him, then shook his head, and pulled his blaster from the holster, and took off after Teyla. He had no choice but to follow.

They caught up to her at the edge of the clearing, surrounded as she was by a group of four Wraith. She had abandoned her P90 and was fighting the Wraith hand to hand with staves. Nearby the hybrids were also fighting, though what remained of the local men lay scattered on the ground.

Ronon led with his blaster, taking down at least three of the Wraith before he engaged another hand to hand.

Knowing his own limitations, Sheppard sheltered behind one of the larger trees, rolling around every now and then into the open to fire a quick burst of P90 fire into the path of the second wave of Wraith.

"Teyla!" he called a warning as one of the incoming Wraith slipped through his defensive fire and approached her from behind. She spun, her movements blurring in their speed to tackle the new threat, moving as she did to put herself into a more favourable position. He'd seen her fight before, had even sparred with her once or twice, but the determination and agility – particularly taking recent events into consideration – with which she fought here was breathtaking.

It was not long before her repeated strikes against both remaining Wraith had them on the defensive, turning and striking in an irregular alternating pattern with a vehemence that he was sure should have worried him. Finally she broke through the defences of one of the Wraith, and grabbed his head, twisting it so violently, that even over the sounds of Ronon's nearer battle against a single Wraith warrior, he heard the crack and pop of bone and sinew. She did not even pause for breath, simply turned against the other and began again.

This wraith was not one of the faceless masked warriors, but one of the hierarchy, who came on with a look of hatred in his expression unmatched in any Wraith he'd seen in a long time. The Wraith fought with the same strength of hate and rage he'd seen in his expression, but Teyla matched him, even though Sheppard knew she should have been tiring.

The flicker of a different kind of movement caught his eye just beyond where Teyla fought, and he glanced that way in just the moment that Teyla called his name in what sounded like extreme distress. The remaining hybrid, having freed himself from the Wraith, began to flee, heading deeper into the trees and heading for the gate. Sheppard couldn't get a clear shot.

Teyla called out again, a terrible note of denial and grief, and redoubled her efforts in her own battle, but she overreached herself and the Wraith caught her as she stumbled, turned her and pulled her against him, wrapping the fingers of his right hand around her throat, their barbed metal tips digging into her flesh as Sheppard came out from behind the tree, P90 at the ready.

"Drop the weapon or I will kill her," the Wraith said coldly.

Sheppard opened his mouth to make a witty, but cutting, remark about the Satedan standing behind him having other ideas, when Teyla herself answered him.

"I do not think so," she said in a quiet but deadly tone, and risking injury, or worse, she suddenly threw back her right arm and hand toward the Wraith's head. The Wraith roared in pain, and releasing her, fell away, both hands clasped to his face. She, however, did not pay him further heed. Instead she turned and began to move in the direction the fleeing hybrid had taken as the Wraith finally toppled backwards, dead, his own dagger sticking out of his eye socket.

"Teyla," Sheppard called to her, "Forget it. He's long gone!"

She stumbled to a halt, breathing hard, leaning against a nearby tree, and he guessed that the adrenaline was probably fading. He and Ronon both came to her side in the same instant.

"You all right?" Ronon asked her, and she nodded breathlessly.

"What the hell were you thinking?" Sheppard demanded of her. "You could have gotten yourself killed! Us too…"

"You did not have to follow," she told him, starting to move away from the tree.

"Not follow? Are you crazy?" he asked, following her as she moved back toward the centre of the copse of trees, studying the ground. "You're part of the team."

"Am I?" her head came up and she rounded on him. "Or is that just a convenient excuse to keep me at your side…? Perfectly happy to go along with my wishes so long as they fit in with your agenda!"

"Whoa, whoa, whoa, Teyla," he said, backpedalling a little, "I don't know what this is about but—"

"Those men could have led me to Michael," she pointed angrily behind him, in the direction of the gate, "and to my son!"

"Look, just because these guys got away, doesn't mean they all will. But right now, we have to get back."

"I am not ready to return to Atlantis," she told him. "There are clues here, and we have to follow them."

"And we will," he said firmly, "but you are going back to Atlantis."

"Why? Because you think I am not fit for duty?"

"Maybe this wasn't such a good idea," Sheppard said gently, "maybe I was right, and it's a little too soon, but… that's not the reason."

"Then what is?" she snapped.

"Teyla," Ronon answered for him, "you're bleeding."

**

"What do you mean, 'you can't get in'?" Woolsey stood with his back to the gate as Sheppard and the others came through the event horizon. He was talking to one of the marines.

"She's locked down the infirmary, sir," Major Hollick answered.

"What's going on?" Sheppard asked, frowning in consternation. It was never just one thing, with this place. Everything always happened at once.

"There's been a… development," Woolsey turned to him and answered, with a careful glance Teyla's way. A look of horror came over his face as he saw her, and Sheppard had to admit, the gashes either side of her neck did look bad. "My God, what happened?"

"We had a little bit of a run in with some Wraith," Sheppard answered. "Nothing we couldn't handle."

"You should see the other guy," Ronon joked.

"I'd tell you to take her to the infirmary, but that's where we have the problem," Woolsey said cryptically.

"Let me guess," Sheppard said, folding his arms. "Lorne's woken up and Jennifer's barricaded herself in the infirmary to stop you from going in there and hauling him off to a holding cell."

Woolsey's guilty expression was all the answer Sheppard needed.

**

"Major Lorne, Evan, calm down," Keller said softly, holding her hands out to either side of her. He let out another cry and twisted in the pain that had so obviously been assaulting him since he regained consciousness. Keller took a step forward and added, "You're safe. Let me help you… take away that pain."

As she moved, Lorne picked up the IV stand again and once more brandished it as a weapon. Keller froze.

"I only want to help you," she said.

"Doctor Keller, this is Sheppard. I'm right outside with Ronon and Teyla. Open the door and let us in, that's an order."

"I'm not going to do that, Colonel," she answered.

"Either you let us in, or I get Rodney to bypass the security lockdown. You know how much he's going to whine about that, so which is it?"

"Sorry, Colonel, the Major is my patient, and—"

"I'm not planning on taking him anywhere, Jennifer!"

There was irritation in Sheppard's voice, but sincerity too. After just a moment she keyed the code to release the lockdown, and then turned to face the doorway as Sheppard and Ronon rushed in, followed by Teyla.

"Easy, guys," she said, "He's just a little jumpy."

"Lorne," Sheppard came to her side, and reached out toward the Major, "Take it easy, no one is going to hurt you."

"C… colonel…" Lorne sounded like he was having to force the word from his lips, but at least it was progress, Keller thought.

"That's right…" Sheppard crooned softly, "Stand down, Major."

"Make… make it stop…!" Lorne begged him then, and cried out again, twisting in pain.

"That's why we're here… Doctor Keller will—"

"It's in my head!" Lorne screamed, "Make it stop!"

Keller saw Teyla take a step forward, a puzzled and worried frown on her face. She also couldn't help but notice the injuries the Athosian woman had suffered.

"Evan," Teyla said softly, "It's Teyla… I'm going to come to you."

"Teyla, no!" Jennifer said urgently, but was ignored, as Teyla stepped past her and walked calmly toward the Major.

She almost closed her eyes, not wanting to see what would happen when Lorne wielded his IV stand against her, but to her surprise, the Athosian reached the Major's side without him making even a single move. Teyla was even able to reach out and unwrap Lorne's fingers from around his makeshift weapon, and move it aside.

"There," she said softly, "Much better… now Jennifer is going to come and help you." Teyla beckoned her closer, "Come slowly."

As Keller took the first of her steps toward the Major at Teyla's behest, Lorne flailed again, as though he were in agony. Her steps faltered.

"Do not stop, Doctor." Teyla told her, "He needs your help." And then she turned her attention back to the Major and said, "Evan, look at me. Do not think about Doctor Keller."

Lorne gave another cry, but slowly lifted his head, opening his eyes again to look at Teyla. As he did, he tensed and came suddenly forward to grab Jennifer by the arm, drag her closer. From a nearby equipment trolley he snatched a scalpel, and brandished it threateningly at the Doctor.

"She is hurt," he said firmly, clearly, "See to her."

Keller spread out her arms at John and Ronon, both of whom had reached for weapons. "It's all right… no harm…"

"Put down the knife, Evan," Teyla said softly, "You do not need it. The doctor will help me willingly."

"That's right," Keller said, "See…?"

She started to reach for gauze and other equipment she might need to help Teyla. Slowly Lorne began to lower the knife away and moved a step closer to Teyla, allowing her to take the scalpel from his hand. Keller was just about to turn back to the two of them, when she felt a rush of cold pass by her shoulder, and a second in quick succession.

The sound seemed to lag behind the sensation as Ronon's blaster discharged, dropping an unconscious Lorne to the infirmary floor.

"Ronon!" both Keller and Teyla protested together.

"What?" Ronon asked, "You need to help Lorne, and you need to help Teyla. It's quicker this way."

"There was still no need to shoot him," Jennifer carefully felt for Lorne's pulse and then reached for a portable scanner. "His sats are all over the place. Help me get him back onto the bed," she said.

"Why did no one tell me what had happened to the Major?" Teyla demanded as she moved out of the way for Sheppard and Ronon to lift him back onto the bed.

"What did you want us to say, Teyla," Sheppard asked with a little sarcasm in his voice, "Hi, Teyla, glad to have you back. Sorry to hear about everything that's happened. Oh and, by the way, Michael's turning Lorne into a hybrid?"

Teyla sighed, "Perhaps you could demonstrate a little trust, John."

**

She lay partly on her side, her right hand resting on the pillow beside her head. The windows were open, making the lightweight curtains billow inward in the breeze. Teyla made the smallest of sounds, and shifted slightly against the sheets.

She walked a long and darkened hallway, there were figures ahead, but she paid them no attention. Her destination, her desiderata, was ahead and none would keep her from it.

She passed under an archway, into a chamber full of light, and heat… A consuming need flared deep in her belly. She trembled… burned with it… dizzied by the want of it… she closed her eyes.

The sound of canvass moving in the breeze made her open her eyes. It was night and the chamber was gone. She was standing in the middle of a roundhouse. Around her, little lights flickered. She tilted her head trying to understand.

Teyla moaned softly, and turned her head to the other side, her breathing quickened and a light sheen of perspiration prickled against her brow.

A touch, soft and gentle against the side of her neck, brushed aside her hair; fingers ran along the length of the healing cuts on either side of her throat. The passage of the touch soothed the burning there.

She turned her head until she could find the side of the hand that touched her with her cheek, and leant it there. "Scratches… nothing more," she whispered.

Her lips parted, as she took a breath that shivered out of her, as though she was cold.

The same gentle touch guided her to rest against down pillows covered in soft blankets that caressed her body like the hands of a lover… soothing and enflaming… both at the same time. A longing that was almost painful…

She gasped, suddenly, and sat up as her eyes flew open. She looked around, and the breath she still held came out of her in a rush. Her body was burning with the memory of the dream… the longing for that gentle touch… the depth of the need…

The breeze over her heated body chilled her, and reaching for a robe, she wrapped it around herself as she rose to go and close the window. As she reached for the handle she froze. Caught in the reflection of the darkened glass was a figure, standing behind her, close enough to reach to her, to touch her…

-Teyla-

**

She gasped, suddenly, and sat up as her eyes flew open… finally awake, breathing hard. She took a deep breath to try and steady herself, her reeling emotions and frantic heartbeat… her shuddering breath… but as she let it out, he was all she could think, all she could feel.

On her outgoing breath, she sobbed, "Michael!