NINE THOUGHTS // NINE DAYS BY cedargrove [LFWS #4 WARM UP ROUND]

[x_erikah_x]

Title: Nine Thoughts
Author: cedargrove
Rating: PG-13
Spoilers: Allies; No Man's Land
Genre(s): Character introspective/Vignette, Canon
Character(s): Michael
Disclaimer: Stargate belongs to Metro-Goldwyn-Mayer Studios Inc., no infringements of any rights is intended.
Prompt for the Round: Example: A man is known by the company he keeps.



NINE THOUGHTS by cedargrove

There is no point in hiding, Doctor Weir. We know you are there - we mean you no harm. Please respond.

They do not trust us. It is hardly a surprise, after all, we are Wraith and our Hive waits above their planet. They cannot know why we are here. It is not hard to imagine the fear that no doubt fills them. It would be a sweet bouquet to lay before my Queen.

My Queen… counting the moments while awaiting their response I feel that self-same serpent twist inside my belly. If they do not answer; if their mistrust keeps them silent; if their curiosity does not lead them along pathways I have predicted, where then will this Wraith be?

Those Wraith would become humans.

On the surface perhaps…

I have learned… the essential nature of a being cannot be rewritten simply by reconfiguring the proteins and amino acids that inhabit the water of which they are composed. Watching the expressions manifesting onto the face of the human woman as I speak of feeding on my fellow Wraith; the horrified fascination that I am certain she would name disgust, I realise that the humans of Atlantis do not understand.

During my transformation, on the surface I became as prey, shared their feelings, became subject to their hopes; fears, but, in the depths of my psyche, remained Wraith; would always return to my inherent nature, and yet…

I'm Doctor Elizabeth Weir. Welcome to Atlantis.

I follow my Queen, and the halls we Wraith once hallowed as an object to be coveted and, if not possessed, then taken from our ancient foe by means of its destruction, close around me as I walk.

Memories come unbidden at each step and I feel… uncomfortable in this skin. A part of me considers Atlantis home and though I know it is a lie, a bitter illusion left behind by that imperfect transfiguration of a soul that I do not possess, I cannot shake its hold over me.

It seemed right to come back here… and to see you. You didn't have to bring him

She is afraid. I feel her fear and the uncertainty she carries within her like a poison.

When last we were alone, I sensed in her the same reticence, the same doubts as to the rightness of the course in which she put her trust. It was as strong a doubt as was my anger of their treatment of me. Perhaps that is what allowed me to reach her as easily as I had.

I will not harm her, so it hurts that she has brought the runner with her. Does she feel she needs his protection from me?

The last time I saw you, I really was going to feed on you, but it was not a matter of choice, it was… instinct

Instinct fights within me now, and there is conflict. It is not a comfortable feeling for the psyche of Wraith, where shared and collective thought brings certainty. Where is my certainty now?

It stands before me - she stand before me, and it is a blasphemy even to think it but… as strong a bond as with any Queen, I can feel… stirring within, winding its insidious tendrils tight, to become a part of me.

Would I truly have fed on her? Could I now? Doubt makes me speak of more than I should; reveal myself - if only she were to understand.

Few of us have ever come to know those we're going to feed on as anything other than a means to survive.

I name it as a unique perspective, and it is. I have a clear memory of the terror I had felt when the dreams began; that I had in some way been damaged by the Wraith, whom I hated and feared. I remember the many complexities of emotion and thought, intelligent notions of what drives Wraith, and analyses to explain that which is considered cruelty to those who are prey. To understand that those who are, to us, little more than cattle, should have such thoughts and feelings calls to question many things that should never be in doubt.

If we are to make this alliance work, we must both… overcome the instincts that define us. We will not meet again.

Why did I say that? Do I seek to reassure her, with those words? I cannot predict what will occur in the future and it may be that our paths will cross again… or is it my intention to avoid her, lest these… confused, part-human emotions should once again manifest and turn me from my rightful Queen?

And yet…

There is some part of me that… delights in the possibility that there was, perhaps still is, some part of this… young human that was prepared to meet a Wraith in the belief that justice was not served in what was done to me.

What is her difference?

I've seen enough!

Is this where it begins?

I have never before questioned my Queen, would never dream of it, but as I stand here, my body, if not my mind, wracked with the physical memory of the pain of that transformation, watching as she feeds and is exalting in it, I feel disgust.

It is an effort to keep my steps even, to keep from speeding myself away from what I had proposed. In seeking to free myself from what these inhabitants of Atlantis had done to me; to find some good in it, have I then damned myself to an eternal torment of… conscience?

You should have told me… that we were going to betray the Atlanteans

Are you feeling sympathy for them

No, but I don't understand why I wasn't told. I told you of their plan because I believed it was a viable way-

You're only alive because you still may prove to be useful, but I fear… Michael… that the lingering stench of what they transformed you into will never fade

My hiss is a poor expression of the emotion that surrounds me, crippling in intensity even as I try to reject it, as she has rejected me.

They have blocked access to my work; to any point in the Hive beyond my quarters.

I did not ask for any of this. I was taken by the humans, tortured, experimented on and now that I have escaped and returned to my Wraith brothers, instead of being welcomed back, I am met with scorn.

It is a bitter resentment that is left in me now. What else do they expect?

NINE DAYS BY TO BE REVEALED [LFWS #4 WARM UP ROUND]

Title: Nine Days
Author: To be revealed
Rating: R (Themes)
Spoilers: None
Genre(s): Angst/romance, AU within SGA universe.
Character(s): OC/Michael (Weir, Teyla, Beckett, Ronon).
Disclaimer: Stargate belongs to Metro-Goldwyn-Mayer Studios Inc., no infringements of any rights is intended.
Prompt for the Round: Example: A man is known by the company he keeps.



NINE DAYS by TO BE REVEALED
Day 1

It had been barely minutes since the alarms and the urgent call that had come over the city's radio…

"Unscheduled offworld activation!"

"Atlantis, this is Kenmore - we're coming in hot. We need an emergency medical team standing by in the Gateroom…"

Beckett looked up at the sound of the citywide radio call, his heart sinking.

Ayesha.

The mission had been a rescue, from a tip off picked up by AR-2, that Todd's Hive had set down for emergency repairs on M4G-003. They all knew it was the only chance to rescue Ayesha and her daughter before the Wraith disappeared again, and even though Weir doubted even the pair of their lives were worth the risks, both Carson and Sheppard had been insistent. The mission had a go.

Evidently it hadn't gone according to plan, and Beckett couldn't help but feel both sorry, and afraid, for Michael.

"…Colonel Sheppard is hurt… Ronon is down…"

The words, near panicked from Michael's voice had both added to that terrible feeling, and spurred the doctor into action.

"Go!" he ordered the medical team, "Get him back here as soon as you can. I'll prep for surgery."

It was a well practised routine, and one that would have helped to calm him but for the tone he'd heard in Michael's voice it would have calmed him; prepared him for what was to come. As it was, with the medical team that hurried the injured man into the infirmary brought with them a greater shock still.

A figure, unfamiliar, strangely dressed was all but kneeling on the gurney that was being wheeled quickly toward the door to the Atlantis Operating Room… rapid chest compressions between bagged breaths… Ronon…

The gurney was suddenly pulled to a halt, the unfamiliar figure murmuring imperative, but too quiet instructions for the orderlies and technicians, before her urgent CPR recommenced.

"Crash call all medical personnel. I don't care how recently they were on duty. We need them here. Marie, triage on Sheppard until Doctor Gutierrez gets here. Helen, triage for Lorne and Kenmo-"

"-Carson I'm fine," Michael argued. "Please, let her look after-"

"The hell you are," Carson snapped, he hadn't missed the deep gashes, and blaster burn marks over his body and a part of him marvelled that he was still standing. "And until I say otherwise, you're a patient here. Bed, now! Helen… when Doctor Gutierrez arrives have her treat them both, and…" Carson took a deep breath then finished, "…and then get her to see to our guest."

As if suddenly defeated, Michael leaned heavily against the bed he'd been instructed to occupy, but Beckett had no time to offer comfort. The gurney was moving again toward the double doors into the OR. As it reached the door, a technician and a nurse all but lifted the stranger down, one taking her place. The nurse gently wrapped an arm around the figure's shoulder.

The woman, for so she appeared, dressed in a long, flowing, soft silk and leather dress shrugged off the contact as though it disgusted her; as though she were angry and hurt. Her long braided hair swung about her shoulders as she freed herself, and in the second before she turned, Beckett realised the truth.

"Ayesha," he gasped in shock.

Her flesh was pale, almost greyish white… and though her features remained, for the most part, Human, her once rich, brown eyes - that locked in sorrow with Beckett's - bore the pale amber, golden hue of the Wraith.

Day 2

There was a certain hushed air about the infirmary, punctuated only by the steady, sorrowful bleep of the monitor at the bedside where Elizabeth Weir now stood, looking down on the stricken Satedan. Still he hadn't woken. Carson had warned he might not…

Carson walked out of the O.R. looking solemn indeed as he pulled off the surgical cap that had been covering his hair. Elizabeth saw him looking around and came over to the unhappy doctor.

"Carson…?" she asked, afraid to hear the answer.

"We were able to stabilise him enough to complete the necessary surgery," Carson told her gently, "but that doesn't necessarily mean he's out of the woods yet, I'm afraid."

"But you stabilised him, you just said," Weir said, trying to grasp the enormity of what Carson was saying, "that's good right?"

"It's promising," the doctor answered cautiously, "but, Elizabeth, he lost a lot of blood before we got him here, and the surgery necessary to repair the damage to his body was extensive and complicated."

"But he'll be all right, Carson," She glanced around the infirmary, to take in the rest of the infirmary. "He's got to be all right. This is my fault and-"

"I know, Elizabeth." Carson laid his hand on her arm gently, "and we'll do everything we can for him. It's not much consolation I'm sure, but at least, thanks to Michael getting him back to us as quickly as he did, he stands a fighting chance."

She turned away from Ronon's bed, and gently, carefully pulled up the blanket covering him, before her eyes turned, as if of their own accord, to find Michael. He, too, lay immobile - sedated, she knew - in the bed next to the injured Sheppard's, and beyond the two men, in the glass fronted isolation room was the object of the ill fated mission.

Feeling both a terrible mix of curiosity, gratitude and sympathy for the woman inside, Weir approached the door to the isolation room.

The two S.O.s, standing one either side of the door, tensed as she approached, their fingers tightening around the stunners they held. Elizabeth shook her head and came to a halt, watching as Ayesha paced like a caged animal inside the glass room. Each turn brought the sweep of her long skirts like a wave around her ankles. She took a deep breath and, waving the S.O.s away, ignoring their protests, Elizabeth opened the door and stepped inside the isolation room.

Ayesha froze as the door clicked quietly closed behind Weir, and all Weir could see was her back, and the long rope of hair that swung to a halt in the middle of her back.

"Doctor Haddad-" she started.

"Get out."

Elizabeth shivered, alarmed at the sound of Ayesha accented voice that was both shrouded and augmented by the antiphonal layers of a Wraith's voice, but refusing to show fear, and putting as much conviction in her voice as she could, she said, "You won't hurt me, Ayesha. I know you won't hurt anyone here."

The other woman turned then, tilting her head as she looked at Elizabeth with bloodshot, golden eyes. Ayesha pressed an arm across her belly, folded slightly on herself as though in pain. For all that Elizabeth knew this was her friend, the woman looked more like a Wraith Queen than she did the little Egyptian doctor she had once been.

"God, Ayesha!" Elizabeth couldn't stop the exclamation. "What the hell did he do to you?"

"After he took me again," Ayesha explained softly, and again Elizabeth shivered at the sound of her friend's voice, "late in the pregnancy I grew very sick. He tried to have the Hive support me but…it was no good. This…" She gestured to her body and as she moved, Elizabeth could not help but spot the seeping blush of a feeding slit on her right hand. "…was the only way he could save both of us."

In spite of what she'd just learned, and realising that Ayesha's pain was due to the burning hunger she must be feeling, Elizabeth came toward her.

"Ayesha, I'm so sorry," she whispered. "What about your daughter."

Ayesha let of a soft, growling sigh. "Amarita is lost… to me now," she said.

"Surely not, no, I- You can't give up you-" Elizabeth froze as Ayesha took a step toward her, reached out with her hand slightly clawed.

"You do not… believe that, I can… feel it," she said, her hand hovering barely a breath away from Elizabeth.

"'Esha, no!" Michael's voice was like a gunshot across the tense silence. "Fight! Come back to me."

He staggered; all but fell to his knees, but Ayesha moved to catch him before he could hit the floor. She snatched her hand away from the near contact with Elizabeth and all but flew across the space between where she stood, and Michael was falling. She lowered him the rest of the way to the ground, and turning her head, hissed at Elizabeth.

"Get out!" she snarled, "I'm not safe for you… I feel. Hunger!"

"Doctor Weir, please," Michael gasped softly, "Go. You don't need to see this."

Suddenly afraid, Elizabeth turned and fled from the isolation room, leaning against the glass door as it closed behind her, but… she couldn't shut out the sound… Ayesha's anguished growl… and Michael's short, stifled cry.
Day 3

"I'll tell you now, Carson, I'm not happy about the idea."

Doctor Beckett and Doctor Weir emerged from behind the drawn curtains around the bed to which they'd carried Michael earlier that morning.

"Well it doesn't exactly fill me with joy either, Elizabeth," Carson hissed, "but I don't see what choice we have."

"What do you mean?" Weir asked softly.

Carson sighed, and said, "While so far she's not taken more than she needs to keep the madness of her hunger at bay, this subsistence feed it taking its toll on both of them. Elizabeth, you just saw the state he's in. His immune system is severely compromised; he's barely healing, and if she takes much more from him, even without wanting to, she'd gonnae kill him."

"But… allowing Michael to revert…" Weir's voice shook slightly as she voiced the thing to which she vehemently objected, but Carson shook his head.

"Partial reversion," he corrected her, "I'm talking about a controlled procedure to allow him to revert just enough that he can regenerate, and he has the ability to feed."

"I don't see how that's going to help Ayesha," Weir said, raising her voice slightly in frustration.

"If he has the ability to feed, he can also share with her, pull her back from the brink of starvation; give me more time to find the key to developing the retrovirus so that it will work for Ayesha," he explained overly patient. "What you're forgetting, Elizabeth, is that I can already pull Michael back tae us whenever we need. Ayesha's a different story."

"And one you faced before - trying to develop a way to turn her baby," Weir hissed. "Carson, we may just have to face the very real possibility that there's nothing we can do-"

"We're not there yet," he interjected, even though Elizabeth kept on talking right over him.

"-and for the sake of her continued survival, send Ayesha back to Todd."

"No!"

Michael's voice rose and fell in anguish at the suggestion, as he stumbled from behind the curtain, barely able to keep to his feet. His skin was pale, almost grey, and he had dark circles beneath his eyes. The wounds he'd taken during the rescue were still bleeding, the dressings stained with the blush of his blood.

Carson moved to catch him as he stumbled; slipped an arm around his waist in support. Sighing in gratitude Michael leaned on him. He was trembling.

"Michael's right," Carson said firmly, looking Weir in the face and in that moment not liking her very much for even voicing the suggestion. "Ayesha's done more for us than almost anyone here, and you want to go… throwing her back to the wolves!"

"Carson," Elizabeth said softly, "I just meant-"

"I know what you meant," he snapped, "You're more worried about eliminating a perceived threat to the safety of this base, than you are to sticking by a member of the expedition when she needs us most."

"That's not true," Elizabeth said defensively.

"No?" Carson snapped.

"Carson, please," Michael said softly, barely above a whisper, "It's all right."

"No it isn't," the doctor's anger got the better of him for a moment, a bitterness spilling over, when he turned to face Weir again and demanded, "Where were you when we were trying to find the serum to make her baby and the pregnancy safe? What were you doing? Ayesha saved Ronon's life - that's why she's in this mess - and we're going to repay her by sending her back to the monster that started all of this in the first place; that raped her, left her pregnant and sick, and now has done this!?"

"Please stop," Michael all but whined, emotional pain raw in his voice.

"What are you talking about - saved Ronon?" Weir asked into the quiet left by Michael's anguish.

When next he spoke, Michael sounded so defeated that Carson felt tears coming to his eyes. "When we were aboard the hive…"

The fight was desperate. Sheppard was already down, and both Ronon and Michael were doing their best to keep him safe from further harm while Lorne bound his wounds enough to allow them a chance.

Michael looked up in time to see another group of Wraith approaching their position just as he believed they might have caught a break. Lorne saw it too.

"Ah, crap!" Lorne spat, finally tying off the bandage, "more of them!"

"I'm all right," Sheppard gasped. "Give me my weapon."

Lorne thrust the colonel's P90 into his hand and left him propped against the wall as he got up to join the fight, made more desperate by the new arrivals. Michael grasped Ayesha's arm and pulled her behind him… still fighting to swallow down his own anger and pain at what Todd had done to her. He sighed as he felt her trembling at his back, holding fast to his tac vest - he felt her fear, mingled with her self loathing, and it only added to his agony.

There was no more time for thought. The faced Wraith came in hard and fast, bearing razor sharp knives which held wicked barbs on either side of their blades and behind them the drones provided support with energy weapons the blasts of which were not at all designed to stun. Coupled with the rattle of the Atlantis percussion weaponry, the noise was deafening, maddening, and only added to the dangerous confusion.

No one knew what happened, or how it happened, but even as they finally gained the upper hand, taking down the drones, and bringing the faced commanders to their knees; even as Ronon pulled his sword free of his opponent's body, he staggered and fell back, a rich, dark stain spreading over his abdomen - spreading fast.

"Ronon!" Lorne called out, and started toward him, but Michael was faster, at the fallen man's side in a moment, and calling for a medical pack. Lorne dropped to his knees with the equipment, passing Michael what he thought the med-tech would need.

Michael fought, for almost longer than he had to try and stem the flow of blood from the terrible, deep gash in Ronon's belly. It was testament to how badly the Satedan was hurt, Michael later realised, that the big man did not try to fight against allowing Michael to be the one to treat him.

"I can't-" Michael gasped, afraid, "He's bleeding out too fast. I can't-"

"Get out of my way," Ayesha's soft, triple-toned voice cut him off, and she tugged at Lorne's shoulder to move him aside, taking his place on her knees beside Ronon. Michael took one look at her face and, combined with the resignation she was suffocating him with, knew exactly what she intended.

"Ayesha, no, you can't-"

"He'll die if I don't," she argued. "He may still, but I have to try. There must be some good in this."

Michael closed his eyes, and reached with a hand red with Ronon's blood to grasp her left hand tightly in his own.

"I'm here," he whispered fiercely. "And I love you."

"I know…" Ayesha's words were full of hurt at what she had become.

Ronon's hand weakly covered their joined hands. His breathing was laboured and blood flecked his lips as he tried to speak.

"Tell… tell… McKa-"

"He didn't get any further," Michael said softly, sadly, "That was when Ayesha, barely knowing what she was doing, or how, gave him the Gift. She managed enough to stop the bleeding, allow us to move him back to Jumper, and even as exhausted as she was, kept up CPR until we could get him into the infirmary here on Atlantis."

"Is this true?" Weir turned her astonished, horrified question Carson's way.

"Aye, Elizabeth, why would Michael lie t'you?" he asked in return. "If it hadn't been for Michael getting him back here quickly, and for Ayesha's Gift, Ronon wouldn't be alive now… and now, Ayesha is starving because she had no way to replenish her own energy."

"I can… I can do this, Doctor Weir," Michael said quietly, though from the amount he was trembling, Carson couldn't help but doubt his words.
Day 4

It was quiet in the infirmary, that kind of quiet that was a hushed tension rather than a peaceful, restful atmosphere; the kind of quiet where, not only were there marines stationed outside of the isolation room door, but in the infirmary itself, summoned to stand watchfully by Michael's bed, while Carson, almost apologetically slipped the restraints around Michael's wrists and ankles.

"It isn't necessary, Carson," Michael said, but his voice already showed the extent of his pain.

"Aye, Son. You know it is," Carson answered softly, "You know that now it's started it's gonnae get worse before it gets better."

"I can…" Michael grimaced and let out a voiced gasp, before finishing, "…take it."

"The restraints stay, Michael. I'm sorry," Carson said and defeated, Michael lay back against the bed, closing his eyes, and breathing out slowly.

Carson's words proved to be true and it wasn't long before Michael's involuntary cry disturbed the tense hush in the infirmary. His body writhed and arched with the pain of his reversion and Carson stood beside him, equally as pained, and upset - like a parent that must watch his child hurting and be unable to give relief. Relief, perhaps not, but he could give human comfort… and Michael deserved it… He gently took Michael's left hand between his own.

"It's all right, Michael," he murmured softly, "your friends are here with you."

As he spoke, Carson looked over into the isolation room, where Ayesha paced more frantically than before, occasionally stopping to wrap her arms around her belly as Michael gave each cry that he could no longer hold inside.

Michael gripped his hand tightly, and gave a little sob of recognition as he followed Carson's gaze, fixing her with his eyes, once blue, retreating into the catlike gold of the Wraith.

-Thank you, Carson-

"Stop this madness! Stop it right now!" Teyla's voice sounded urgent and angry from the doorway. "I will not let you do this to him."

"If I stop the process now-" Carson started, but Teyla would hear none of it.

"He fought so hard to find comfort in his humanity, and now you do this!" Teyla spat the question, her tone disbelieving. "No! Give him the retrovirus, and bring him back to who he has become."

"Teyla, it's what he wanted," Carson put in softly. "He wants to help Ayesha."

"And you think he can help her by compounding what was done to her, bringing her closer to the Wraith that she has been forced to be?" Teyla spat, her hatred of Wraith never more clear in her voice. "You cannot gi-"

A loud cracking noise came from the side of the infirmary where the isolation room was, cutting Teyla's protest short. Ayesha had thrown herself against the glass as Michael cried out again, mixed pain and anguish, and even deadened by the thick glass, Haley could hear her snarling. She stepped back and threw herself at the door again. The marines guarding her both turned and raised their stunners, their faces whitening with fear.

"Car-son," Michael forced the word past lips still twisted in pain to cut her off, taking a huge gasp before gasping, "Go to her… please!"

He let go his death-grip on Carson's hand and turned his face Ayesha's way again. Ayesha paused, pressed against the glass from the last time she had battered herself against it. Carson hurried over, stood in front of Ayesha, and, as if the woman would feel the contact through the door, pressed his hand against the glass where Ayesha's lay against it on the other side.

"It's all right," he whispered, "He's going to be all right."

Standing with Ayesha, Carson half watched the Wraith she had become, and half the reflection of the infirmary. His eyes fell on the still unhappy Athosian.

"Carson-" Teyla started.

"No. Either you stand quiet, or you leave the infirmary Teyla," he answered firmly. "This is what Michael agreed to; what he wanted."

"Michael?" Teyla asked softly, moving hesitantly forward, to stand at his side.

"For… 'Esha." He snatched breaths between the words, and when she hesitated, he took her hand, squeezed hard through the next spasm of pain.

"He'll be all right," Carson repeated to Ayesha as she snarled again and seemed to be preparing to throw herself at the glass once more. "I promise. I wouldn't lie to you, Ayesha, I-"

Michael cried out again, cutting him of and Carson looked his way, bit his lip at his appearance - more Wraith now than human, his face a pale grey-green and marred by sensory pits each side of his nose. He looked around at Teyla and saw the Athosian glance worriedly between Michael and the isolation room.

Carson couldn't help but look Ayesha's way again, to find the young woman - young Wraith queen - curled up beside the isolation room door, folded against herself as though she felt everyone's pain.

His heart broke for the two of them - Ayesha and Michael.
Day 5

Ronon drifted in and out of consciousness, exhausted from his body's efforts to heal, and in spite of Carson's insistence that she needed to rest, Teyla had maintained her constant vigil, dividing her time between checking on Michael, and comforting Ronon

"What… happened?"

Ronon's hoarse whisper made her lift her head from where she'd rested it beside his arm.

"I did not know you were awake again."

"Teyla," he sighed out the breath, clearly still exhausted, "please… what…?"

"Everyone is fine," she told him, cupping his cheek in her hand to make him look at her. "Please, Ronon, I do not want you to worry. Just focus on getting well. Rest."

"No," he said and his voice cracked mid word. He cleared his throat and continued, "Slept long enough."

"Sleep is nature's healer," she told him. "You know that."

"But they need me," he said.

"Yes, we need you," she said, "but we need you well, strong. So rest now."

Stubbornly he shook his head. "The others?" he asked.

"They are all… just fine." She tried to keep the hesitation from her voice. "Doctor McKay is back in his lab. Sheppard was discharged to light duty two days ago. Evan has returned to duty also."

"Michael… Ayesha?" he asked.

Teyla fell silent. What could she tell him? Part of her was touched that he would ask, knowing the uneasy relationship he had with Michael, and the uncertain one that had existed between him and Ayesha simply because Ayesha and Michael were together.

Ronon sighed, and all but fell back against the pillow, his face creasing in emotional pain.

"No, no, no," Teyla said quickly, "They are here… they are alive."

"Then…?"

"It is nice you would ask about them," she told him quietly. "Knowing how you feel about Michael."

"Not stupid," he told her, his voice barely above a whisper. "Saved me."

He moved his hand weakly to pull at the scrubs covering his chest. There was no doubt he knew what had happened, and Teyla knew then that he was not going to be placated simply by being told that they were still alive. She sighed and he opened his eyes to look at her.

"Ayesha is starving, Ronon," she said softly. "She has been… feeding just enough on Michael to keep her… alive," she preferred that thought to the one that Ayesha might become an insane Wraith Queen, "but Carson had to put a stop to it. It was killing him, and she… was not getting any relief from it."

Ronon swallowed hard. "Michael?" he asked.

Teyla's eyes drifted past Ronon to the other side of the infirmary, where a single bed had been surrounded by screens, the lighting there kept low. Ronon turned his head to follow the direction of her gaze and she watched the frown crease his face as he saw the marines standing guard outside the curtained screens.

"What?" he asked, confused.

"Carson… allowed him to revert - part way," she added quickly, "enough that when he is… stronger, he can go to Ayesha, share his energy with her. Give Carson enough time to find a way to change her back."

"So he's a Wraith again?" Ronon asked, with distaste.

"No," Teyla said firmly. "He is neither fully Wraith, nor fully Human, but somewhere in between, so that he can save the woman he loves. Would you not do the same?"

Ronon closed his eyes and fell silent. Teyla could tell by the way his hand tightened around hers that he was thinking about what she'd said. By and by, his grasp loosened as his exhausted body simply gave up the fight against sleep, and he drifted off again; deeply asleep in a very short space of time.

Teyla grew restless - worried for her friends - and slowly, carefully, so as not to wake Ronon again, she got up and moved away from his bedside to check on the others.

Ayesha still sat against the glass of the isolation room door, her back to the door, her head resting against her knees. Every now and then a tremor would run through her body, and she would tense to stop the shaking.

Teyla pushed the button to activate the comm. and then crouched down to be level with the other woman.

"Ayesha?" she said softly. "Is there anything you need? Are you in pain?"

Ayesha lifted her head, turned to lean both hands against the glass as she looked at Teyla, her face creased in exhausted anguish. To Teyla, she looked for all the world like an image she had seen in a movie she had watched with John…of a little kitten in a pet store trying to escape its cage.

"Let me see him, please," Ayesha begged. And the pleading emotion sounded so foreign in the voice of a Wraith that, even knowing this was Ayesha, and that her emotions at least were fully Human, Teyla couldn't help but feel the shiver run down her spine.

"Ayesha," she said, "I am sorry. You know I can do that."

Ayesha let out a single sob, and curled up on herself, on the floor, still facing the door.

"Then please," she said, "check on him. Tell me he's all right."

"All right," Teyla whispered. "Rest, Ayesha, please. I will check and come right back."

She didn't wait for the woman's answer, but climbed to her feet and deactivated the comm. Then almost afraid for what she might see, she crossed the rest of the way to Michael's bedside, slipping between the curtains to get to where he lay, screened off from the rest of the infirmary.

As she came closer, he slowly turned his head her way and opened his eyes, fixing her with their golden glow, examining her, pinning her in place with his gaze. She forced away the sudden fear she felt, and made herself examine him in turn. Already, after so short a time, the burns and scratches that had marred his arms had almost fully healed, leaving barely a scar against his grey-green skin. The bruises were already gone from his face, and she suspected that the deep gashes that had kept him in the infirmary would be well on the road to healing as well. In that, Carson's plan at least had been a success, but he looked so alien. Neither Human nor Wraith, but some amalgam of the two, he lay perfectly still, just watching her.

"This," he said at last, his voice, if nothing else, fully Wraith. "is what I was afraid of."

"Michael?" she asked, unable to suppress the shiver at the cold anger she saw burning in his eyes.

"I am not trusted," he tugged on the restraints, still fastened around his wrists and ankles. "You all believe that simply because I have been allowed to return, at least in part, to my natural state, that I will turn on you all; that I am a threat to Atlantis."

Teyla refused to be drawn into the argument. Instead she said, "Ayesha sent me."

Michael sighed at that, the tense anger running out of him like water and he relaxed against the pillows, as if some demon inside of him had been exorcised by the mention of her name.

"Forgive me," he said softly. "How is she?"

"Worried to death about you," Teyla told him, taking hold of her courage and stepping forward to take hold of his hand.

Michael squeezed her fingers, and a look of gratitude crossed his face. "I will be fine, Teyla. Please let her know that."

"Of course I will," she told him, and reached out with her free hand to brush back his almost white hair.

"And what about you?" Michael asked. Ronon?"

"We are fine," she said with a smile. "Ronon has awoken."

"Good," Michael said, and closed his eyes, sighing as though he were fighting some kind of battle inside. Finally he said. "Do something for me, Teyla?"

"If I can," she told him softly.

"There's a sidearm… in the top drawer of Carson's desk… on the left," he opened his eyes then, fixing hers with a terrible stare as he finished, "If ever I do turn on anyone here, anyone at all, don't let them stun me and make me Human again. I could never live with myself. If ever I hurt anyone here… please… kill me."

-kill me- -kill me- -kill me- -kill me-
Day 6

Teyla was woken by the soft sounds of Carson's urgent and apologetic voice drifting across to where she sat with Ronon.

"Michael, wake up, son," he said and from the tone in his voice Teyla knew there was something terribly wrong. She threw back the blanket that Carson had covered her with and moved across to Michael and Carson. She got there in time to see Carson starting to unfasten the restraints around his ankles.

Teyla pushed past the marines that were standing with their weapons pointed at Michael and looked over at Carson.

"What is it, Carson?" she asked. "What is wrong?"

It was Michael that answered. "It's Ayesha."

"Aye, lad," Carson said with a sigh. "I'm sorry but it's now or never, Michael. I can't get near her to give her a sedative and she's tearing herself apart."

At Carson's words, Teyla reached for the restraint around Michael's wrist on her side of the bed, while Carson took the other, but as soon as she freed Michael's right hand, Michael reached over to grab the doctor by the front of his coat.

The Marines raised their weapons, seeing the move as an attack, where Teyla, who was closer, could see the desperate imploring expression on Michael's half-Wraith face.

"No!" she snapped and held out a hand to stop them, "Stand down!"

"Carson," Michael said, ignoring the others, "I can't stay like this."

"I know, Michael, and I'm ready with the retrovirus, I promise. As soon as this is done…" the doctor said.

"Michael, you cannot," Teyla heard the words before she could stop them coming out of her mouth. "You… you will forget-"

"In time," he said, letting go of Carson and sitting up, turning to face her, to come down on her side of the bed. "I will remember."

Watching as tears gathered in the eyes of a Wraith was a strange experience, and one that moved Teyla to tears of her own. Michael's hand closed gently over her shoulder and squeezed it gently as his cracked voice said, "You of all people know why I can't stay like this. I won't make you do as I've asked."

"But Michael… Ayesha-"

"Knows how much I… love her," he said, and let out a shuddering breath before, composing himself with a great effort said. "Please, Carson, take me to her."

"Go on up to the observation room, Teyal," Carson told her gently, "I'll join you in but a minute."

Wearily, her limbs weighed by great sadness, Teyla climbed the steps up to the glass fronted room that overlooked the isolation room. Michael was doing this… making all the sacrifices possible to save the woman he loved who, in a few short hours, he would not remember. What if his memory didn't return this time, what then? To have been through so much together only to have this happen…

Damn Todd… Teyla couldn't summon enough vehemence into the thought to banish the sorrow she felt. Instead she turned her eyes down to watch the scene unfolding below.

Carson keyed the code to open the door, letting Michael inside before closing the door behind him. The last thing they wanted was a Wraith Queen - and to all intents and purposes this was what Ayesha had become - insane with hunger free about the halls of Atlantis. Even Michael approached her cautiously.

Teyla jumped a little when Carson's arm hand slipped across her shoulders as he came to stand with her. He keyed the intercom, and the sound of Ayesha's laboured breathing, punctuated by the almost rhythmic banging, where she slapped against the wall in the corner of the isolation room to which she had retreated, filled Teyla's ears.

"What is wrong with her?" Teyla asked Carson. "All this through hunger?"

"Aye, love," Carson said sadly, "She's literally starving to death, and far more quickly than I imagined it would happen. I suspect she's actually feeding on herself, but I have no way to verify that."

Michael had reached her, was crouching near to her and she turned her head to snarl at him in madness. She lunged at him, sounding almost like a wild leopard, her hair sprayed out behind her like a fan where she had loosened it in tearing at herself. Teyla gasped, and as if she had jumped at her drew back against Carson.

"It's all right, love," he told her softly.

Michael caught Ayesha before she could reach him; caught both of her wrists in his strong hands, and spinning her round, using the momentum of her lunge toward him, pulled her back against his chest, restraining her by wrapping himself around her.

"'Esha, it's all right," he murmured. "It's me… it's Michael."

Over and over he repeated the words, rocking her gently as he held her, almost nuzzling at her as her struggles grew gradually less and less frantic, until at last she turned her head, and nuzzled in return.

"Michael…" she breathed, "Hayati…"

At her words, Michael picked her up and carried her gently to lie with him on the isolation room's bed, where they could both be comfortable.

"Hayati, what have you done!?" she wept.

"Trust me, Ayesha," he said softly, as she ran a trembling hand over his unfamiliar face. "It has to be this way. You have to survive; to live." He ran his fingers slowly down her right hand to the fist she'd made of it, to tease apart the fingers. "Give me your hand," he told her.

"Michael, no… not any more," she tried to pull her hand away, but he held her tightly.

"It's all right," he told her. He brought her hand to his chest, laid it flat against his skin, beneath his own. "You need to feed. Trust me."

Haley almost turned away; almost couldn't watch as Ayesha's need got the better of her, and trust her flattened hand harder still against Michael's chest. Almost at once his features began to age; to wither before Haley's eyes.

"Come on, Michael, what are you waiting for?" Carson hissed.

Morbid fascination led Teyla still to watch, and so she saw the subtle shift, the way Michael almost gently pressed his own feeding hand to Ayesha's chest, and closing his eyes gave an almost painful growl.

"Michael!"

Ayesha's gasp was high, full of emotion and almost one of rapture. Her feeding hand shifted against his chest and then Michael, too, cried out, the same near ecstatic sob escaped his lips as his flesh began to fill, become vibrant and youthful once more, as Ayesha too began to look more hale and whole… at peace.

Teyla felt the tears running down her face as she watched the way that Michael and Ayesha were looking at each other, as each gave to the other the Gift of Life. It could have been strangely voyeuristic, but the love and tenderness which held two such savage beasts as these had become in its calming grasp made it something beautiful, something life affirming.

They pulled away simultaneously, both breathless, to lean their foreheads against each other, and Haley couldn't help but sob out loud as she heard Michael whisper, "Just promise me, 'Esha, that you know how much I love you."

"Daiman, Hayati," she whispered in return, weeping as if she understood what he had not said. "Daiman."

"Carson," Michael said clearly, and swallowing hard, Carson reached out to press a switch on the panel, flooding the room with the mix of strong sedative and retrovirus gas.
Day 7

"Hey Chewy, Teyla, how's he doing," Sheppard said softly, smiling at the two of them.

"Sheppard," Ronon rumbled, "I can hear you, you know."

"His is fine," Teyla added quickly, "doing well, Carson said."

Sheppard nodded, and kind of as an afterthought squeezed Ronon's shoulder as the big Satedan gave him a threatening look. She saw Sheppard smile and couldn't help but glance at the isolation room, and at the curtained off bed across the infirmary from them…

She knew that Michael was awake because she'd heard Carson talking with him before the doctor had left for the lab. She hadn't seen him since his reversion, and her curiosity was almost burning her up from the inside.

"Hello, Michael. Is it all right to come in?"

"Hi," he answered with a smile of his own, "Sure, take a seat," he waved at the chair beside his bed. "I'm sorry; you'll… have to remind me, I…"

"Oh, sorry," Teyla blushed a little bit, a strange flush of déjà-vu. "Teyla…Teyla Emmagan. We are friends. Ayesha and I are friends also."

"Right," Michael interrupted softly. "Teyla."

"That is right," Teyla said, sinking into the chair, finding it just that little bit harder to keep the happy expression on her face. Michael had clearly suffered a complete amnesiac episode and remembered no one or nothing from before the retrovirus. She didn't know why, but Teyla had hoped that the love he had shared with Ayesha would somehow shield him - that he would at least remember that; remember her, but there had been no recognition of her name. No reaction at all, as though hers was just another name the vast roll call that was Atlantis.

"I've disappointed you," Michael said as if reading what was in her heart.

"What? No," she said, too quickly. "I am just more tired than I thought, but I wanted to come and see how you were doing."

"I'm fine," Michael told her. "Carson said that so long as I eat later, I can be back on my feet, get discharged to quarters-"

"Yours and-"

"-they've arranged on the east side of the city."

"Oh," said Teyla, her heart sinking still further. The quarters on the east side were far away from the main population, little more than guest quarters, really. It felt to her as if they were trying to keep him from remembering his life with Ayesha. "Well that is good… I suppose."

"I've done it again," Michael said astutely.

"No, I-" Teyla's voice caught in her throat.

"Don't lie, Teyla, please," Michael said softly. "You think I should be some place else."

"Well," she said slowly, "It is just that…you and Ayesha…"

Michael sighed, and closed his eyes.

"They just don't want to overwhelm me, that's all," he said quietly, "and I'm sorry, I know this isn't what you want to hear, but… I don't remember Ayesha."

"Hey," Sheppard called softly, drawing her back from her memories. She turned a smile his way and he continued, "Thought we'd lost you there."

"No, I was just… "

Running feet interrupted them, and a stony faced marine came to a halt at attention in front of Sheppard.

"At ease, soldier," Sheppard said, "report."

"Pardon the interruption, Sirs," the marine shifted his stance and gave Teyla a nod, "Ma'am, but I've a message from Major Lorne at the Alpha site."

"Let's hear it," Sheppard said lazily. It was the tone that Teyla knew he used when he expected the boring, mundane, pain-in-the-ass procedural BS that Lorne was so often too good at.

"Sir," the marine said and clearing his throat said, "Major Lorne reports that a Wraith Cruiser just dropped out of hyperspace practically on top of the Alpha site. It's take up a geostationary orbit and the woman Rahla has contacted Major Lorne from aboard ship."

Teyla frowned, the name familiar to her - a woman that had, until recently, been their guest in Atlantis.

"What the-" Sheppard got up from the chair, frowning deeply. "I knew there was something off about that woman. All right… what does she want?"

"Sir, Major Lorne reports that… that…"

"Come on, spit is out, man!" Sheppard snapped.

"Report is, Sir, that the woman's Commander has offered an assist regards the situation involving Doctor Haddad."
Day 8

Carson had insisted on sitting in on the meeting. Ayesha was his friend and if they were going to let the Wraith anywhere near her, then she should at least have one of her friends in on the decisions that were being made. In point of fact, Carson believed it should have been Michael. Before the retrovirus, Michael would have been there to vehemently protect the woman he loved, who had been snatched from him just when they were preparing a life together. Before the retrovirus, he would have been adamant that the Wraith would get nowhere near Ayesha unless he thought it would be entirely safe. Before the retrovirus there would have been someone there in defence of Ayesha as a person not simply as another bargaining chip in the ongoing dance of subterfuge and counter-measures against the Wraith, and he hated that his retrovirus had taken all of that away.

So Carson had stepped into the breech… and truly he felt as though he were a bullet waiting to be fired from a gun. As he sat waiting for Sheppard and Lorne to bring in the Wraith commander and his entourage, he wrung his hands, and tried his hardest to stop himself from trembling.

When he heard the footsteps in the hallway he gripped the arms of the chair. The distinctive dry, warm leather scent of the Wraith armoured coat came ahead of the Wraith party, and Carson was only a little comforted to see that it was preceded by four marines all armed with stunners. He gasped when he came in through the door.

He was easily as tall as any Wraith she had ever seen, his long white hair hung immaculately about his shoulders and down his back, providing a teasing curtain around the Wraith characters tattooed up the side of his neck. He carried himself with all the arrogance one would expect, but there was something more about this Wraith; something that spoke of hidden details about the savage race that they had not yet discovered.

"I should have thought, Colonel Sheppard," When he spoke, the Wraith's voice was deep and strong amid the triple tones, bur with a softer cadence to the harmonics in his voice, even more sibilant that his Wraith counterparts. He glanced around at Sheppard and Lorne that both took their places at the conference table as they group came into the room, and spoke with a clipped manner as he said, "that given the urgent nature of your problem, you should have brought me to your compatriot and not into this meeting space for further wasting of time. Time is a luxury she does not have, unless I miss my guess."

"Just what do you know?" Carson snapped, unable to keep the comment to herself, coming to her feet as she did.

The Wraith Commander turned slowly his way and tilting his head, took a step toward him. Beckett backed up a step, and the marines raised their weapons, but the Wraith took no notice, and continued to stalk, catlike, toward him.

Carson swallowed. It was the last thing she expected the Wraith to have said, "Um… well… look, I'm here because of Ayesha."

"As am I," The Wraith said, and halting, nodded his head in agreement. "The scientist that has done this to your… friend is well known to me, as is his work. He broke taboo when he created his infant queen and if, as I suspect, he has further manipulated the DNA within your friend that allowed him to impregnate her in the first place, then it is only a matter of time before that DNA template becomes as if it were her own, and she will never be able to be as she once was. You see - it isn't simply a matter of her becoming insane, and dying in agony through the inability to feed."

"Yeah, yeah, yeah," Sheppard said, his tone the one he used when dealing with Wraith, when he was pretended more equilibrium than he had. "We know all that. We understood it the first time, when Doctor Beckett-"

"Ah, Beckett," the Wraith purred turning his way again, "architect of the original retrovirus, that took one of my brother-commanders from me. The one you now call Michael. I should very much like to meet him."

"I don't think so," Sheppard said with a razor smile.

"You worry I might… confuse him, make him doubt his-"

"I know what I once was," Michael's voice came from the doorway as he came into the room, his steps angry. "I might not be able to remember anything from the last few years, but… hard to forget the life of millennia. Isn't that right… brother?"

His voice, like his steps, was angry, bitter, and he came to a halt in front of the much taller Wraith.

The Wraith commander hissed softly, his head tilting to one side, as he reached out slowly with a slightly clawed feeding hand toward Michael's chest. The marines were on the alert again instantly, weapons raised, and both Lorne and Sheppard drew their side arms as well as the Wraith settled his hand there. Michael didn't flinch, simply met the commander's eyes with resolve in his own.

"What do you think you can do to me," he asked softly, the pain in his voice evident to Carson if to no one else in the room, "that hasn't already been done a thousand times over - and worse than you ever could?"

"Michael," Carson whispered, but he didn't get further due to the snarl from the doorway.

"John!" Teyla's voice was low, dangerous. "You should have told me there was a Wraith in the city!"

"And you must be their little hybrid," The Wraith commander said, releasing Michael and turning to face Teyla, his voice almost sing-song. "Teyla Emmagan, at last we meet."

Teyla launched herself at him, her face contorted with the hatred she felt for his kind. He blocked the blow she aimed his way easily, his wrist coming together with hers, and rolling around her slender forearm to grasp her wrist in his hand. It was only momentary, however, as Michael jabbed an attack against the Wraith's forearm, against a pressure point to release his hold and quickly pulled Teyla behind him, putting himself between her and the Wraith.

"No," he said commandingly. "You won't touch her."

Almost as if amused, the Wraith tilted his head again.

"Isn't it gratifying to find something you worked so hard to achieve has born fruit… brother?" he said.

"What?!" Teyla demanded, looking between Michael and the Wraith commander in horror. Confused - terribly so - Carson looked around at the faces in the conference room.

"Ayesha Haddad," Michael said softly, ignoring Teyla, and casting an almost apologetic look Carson's way, added, "If you truly have the key to return her to her former Humanity, then, for the sake of what I'm told once existed between the two of us, I will ask you, even if these people will not, please - do it."

"I accede to your request," the Wraith answered, lowering his head in an almost respectful bow. "Bring her to my cruiser."

"Whoa, whoa, whoa, whoa," Sheppard held up a hand, voicing everyone's objection. "She's going nowhere. You do it here, or not at all."

The Wraith commander turned to face the colonel. "Colonel Sheppard, I assure you of her safety. I do not mean to harm her, you have my word, and if that is insufficient, then as surety I will allow my servant to remain." The wraith gestured to Rahla. "Make no mistake, she is as dear to me as is your compatriot to you, for as your doctors surmised, Rahla has been with me through many centuries."

"Not good enou-"

"John," Teyla interrupted. "I believe him… no, more… I believe her. Look at her. Look in her eyes."

As the Wraith had spoken, Teyla had been drawn to Rahla, to the pain she saw in her eyes, the love, unrequited, for this alien creature, this Wraith, but more, had found the echo of as close to it as a Wraith could ever come, in those of the Commander. It had startled her, startled and chilled her. This Wraith was not as others at all.

"You can… cure Doctor Haddad?" Sheppard asked slowly.

"I can restore the woman to her former self, yes," the Wraith answered. "It will take perhaps the length of one of your days to complete the genetic surgery necessary, and for the reversion to occur. She will be returned unharmed and then you will release Rahla to me - are we agreed?"

Carson watched as Sheppard looked around at everyone. He looked to where Lorne stood, his weapon still pointed uneasily at the Wraith's back; at Teyla, still held by Michael - pushed behind him and at the woman from the commander's hive…

"All right," Sheppard said quietly at last. "Teyla, go with Carson - prepare Ayesha for transport to the Alpha site. Take this woman with you."

Teyla took a deep breath, so many unanswered question floating around in her head, feeling buffeted by the effects of so much anguish.

"Come on, Rahla," she said quietly.

They walked together in silence for a while and she looked over at Rahla then, to study the woman that once had seemed so child-like, innocent and helpless. Now, her long, soft leather dress sweeping the floor behind her as she walked, she appeared almost like some kind of royalty - self assured and haughty - but, Teyla noted, with a crease of worry at the corners of her eyes.

"You love him," she said to Rahla as they reached the infirmary door.

"Of course," Rahla said softly, "Do you not love your mate?"
Day 9

It was late, but Teyla wouldn't miss the moment of resolution for any reason. Months after her recapture by Todd, Ayesha would finally be back with them, hale and whole - and wholly herself again. The thought made her very happy.

Lorne had radioed ahead that Ayesha had been returned to the Alpha site, and that she was just fine, requesting that their guests be returned to the Wraith commander. The parting had not been a lengthy one.

Now, with the incoming wormhole established, Teyla stood beside Ronon, who had insisted on being present and on his feet - and not hell, nor high water, or wild horses could have kept him from the Gate Room.

They were all of them there, her friends, to make it a true homecoming for Ayesha and Teyla looked along the line of them. She couldn't help but chuckle, thinking that they were lined up like soldiers for inspection by royalty, with Sheppard at one end, and Carson, and even McKay, all standing next to one another. It made her smile.

Teyla's smile faded as she turned her head to look on the other side, to where Michael stood apart from them all. At least he'd come to see her home. Perhaps seeing her, as she truly was, could help to unlock his memory; his heart. He met her eyes momentarily, and then looked away, his eyes glistening.

Ayesha had been told, Teyla knew, what the retrovirus had done to Michael, and she knew how hard it would be for Ayesha whether Michael had been there or not. For Ayesha to see first hand, or by virtue of his absence, the extent of his memory loss would no doubt be heartbreaking for her. The tears she saw in Michael's eyes told her that even though he remembered nothing, the compassion in his heart wanted to somehow ease the pain of it with his presence.

Lorne was the first to emerge from the wormhole, turning slightly as he stepped from it for the most part, his arm raised, still holding Ayesha's hand, as if she had been afraid to return.

Ayesha stepped into the Gate Room, smaller and more waiflike than Teyla remembered. She was dressed in a light blue dress, so light it was almost white, over which a smoky wrap wound around her head and shoulders, and fell to drape her arms, and with the reflected glow from the wormhole, for a moment, Teyla thought she looked almost angelic.

"Welcome home, Ayesha," Sheppard said softly, and in his voice Teyla heard the cautious, muted happiness at seeing her again.

"Shukran, John," Ayesha said, and her voice trembled. It was only then that Teyla realised that Ayesha was shaking.

"It's good to have you back," Sheppard said, and stepped forward to wrap her in a brief hug.

"Ayesha-" Carson said, but it was all he could say, and Teyla saw that he looked up and away from her, and that his shoulders shuddered with his indrawn breath.

Ayesha reached up and cupped his cheek in her hand making him look at her again. Her brown eyes were soft as she looked on him, and she shook her head.

"Laa, Carson," she said softly, "Ana Faahim. I do not blame you. We have much work to do, you and I."

"Ayesha I-"

"Laa!" she cut him off, and Teyla saw Ayesha wipe away a tear from Carson's cheek as she did her own. "I will not hear it."

McKay shifted uncomfortably as she came to a halt in front of him. "Doctor Habbib," he said.

"McKay," Ayesha smiled just a little, thought it did not reach her eyes. "You do realised you have just called me L-love."

"Yeah well," he said with a shrug, "I wanted you to know that sometimes I can make good mistakes."

Ayesha nodded, and reached out a little awkwardly to pat his shoulder. "Often," she said.

Teyla moved away a little as Ayesha came to Ronon.

"I need no gratitude, Ronon, you understand?" Ayesha said softly as she looked up at him. "It is enough for me that you will live your life."

Ronon shook his head and said quietly, "You're family, Ayesha," before drawing her into his bearlike embrace, when he let her go, Ayesha simply reached for Teyla's hand and squeezed it.

Teyla nodded, and then glancing round, realised that almost everyone else had left. As Ayesha moved on, her steps slowing, Teyla said quietly to Ronon.

"You go on ahead, I will stay…"

Ronon nodded to her, understanding, and turned to walk away with the few that remained. Teyla took a deep breath and turned in time to see Ayesha come to a halt in front of Michael.

They were barely apart, and she slowly looked up from her hands until her face was tilted up toward his face.

"M-Michael," she whispered.

"Ayesha," he answered softly, "I'm sorry, I-"

"Shhh," she cut him off, closing her eyes to dislodge tears that rolled slowly down her cheeks. "Ya qalbi, kull ana, yib'a inta," she shook her head. "Yimsik imbaariH…"*

Michael closed his eyes, lowering his head, pain streaming from every pore. Haley began to step forward as he looked up again when Ayesha spoke again.

"…Dilwa'ti… Ana… ‘andi… bass dilwa’ti."

She raised her hand to stir the air just in front of him, a touch that did not quite reach, and then closing her eyes again turned away.

"Please," she whispered, "Go."

"Ayesha, please…" Michael whispered and started to step forward, to reach for her but Teyla gently caught his arm; shook her head. He covered his face with his hands and took in a deep breath, before he finally turned and slowly left the Gate Room.

Ayesha stood, her arms folded across her belly, staring at the ring of the inactive gate - unmoving. As Teyla stepped up to her she finally let out the breath she had been holding. Her shoulders sagged, and she took another breath, that turned to ragged sobs that she was obviously still trying to hold inside.

Teyla stepped behind her and wrapped her arms around the top of the other woman's chest.

"Cry, Ayesha," Teyla said, her own eyes stinging with unshed tears. "It is all right to cry."

"Once," Ayesha said between shuddering breaths, "I knew love… and it was a bright warmth… and somewhere… inside… is the joy of a moment I borrowed for myself…"

"You still have that," Teyla told her. "No one can take that from you."

"No," Ayesha sobbed, "No… Ana ‘andi… bass dilwa’ti. I have only now."

Fin

*My Heart, you remain all that I am, all that I ever was.