Fic: Here Only To Wither (Part 2 of 2) (Emmagan/Sheppard)

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Title: Here Only To Wither
Author: tielan
Pairing: John/Teyla
Rating: R
Recipient: jeyla4ever, who wanted 'romantic, sensual, angsty, fast-paced, action packed and with the rest of the team on the side' and didn't leave much wiggle-room!
Spoilers: Diverges after the episode Missing.
Summary: Teyla stood over him, his life rolling through her in a fierce flush of energy, her expression tense with the struggle to accept what she had just done. She had killed before, in cold blood and hot. This was different.
Author's Note: My betas have been the awesomest of the awesome, going through this story for me. Thank you!

Part 1

-oO Here Only To Wither - Part 2 of 2 Oo-

Her arms were bare and the weight of the earth above the bunker pressed down, yet she was not cold. The lights were off, yet her sight was still clear. Her body felt heavier, yet her mind felt strangely light.

And she was hungry.

It was the hunger that terrified her most - the ache of something that wasn't her stomach but which she knew as hunger all the same.

More than the sensations that tottered at the fringes of her consciousness, the whispers beyond her ears, the colours for which she had no name, it was the hunger that savaged her thoughts. It shredded through her control, carefully won, and left her shaking with the need to rein it in. Her lips peeled back from teeth that were too long and too sharp, and she screamed with the agony of hunger that crawled through her like a dark beast.

Dimly, in her mind, a part of her beat human fists against the prison in which it was caged, and summoned the cold rage with which she had hunted down the Bolo Kai when she found her people missing. It did nothing - the hunger raged within her, unstoppable.

She didn't want to understand them. She didn't want to comprehend the hunger that drove them.

She had no choice. Michael had taken that from her.

Teyla had lived her life hating the Wraith, and now she was one.

And then the voices began.

~~~~~

Panic gave Teyla strength, the oozing terror of her last dream still strong in her mind.

"You know what is happening to me." It was not a question.

It had been growing steadily in the last month, since the planet of the Wraith-worshippers.

He looked up at her with pale eyes, struggling against the imperative she'd laid against him. In his mind, she could feel angry disbelief: this strength shouldn't have been possible - not from a mere human.

A long-dead Wraith had created her ancestor, given him or her a gift which had been passed from parent to child, through generations, to appear in Teyla and be identified by the Lanteans. Michael had taken that gift - that touch of inhumanity - and activated it, intending to mould her to his ends.

He had made her more than a mere Wraith.

"Tell me what is happening to me."

He struggled against her will, but she was stronger - the Queen both he and Michael had made of her.

"Tell me!"

"You are a Queen," he rasped, the voice old and husky. "Each year, the Queen goes into heat and chooses a male to be her mate."

Into her mind came the image of a Wraith male - a warrior, his hair streaming about him on the ground as the Queen took her pleasure over him. Although the Wraith had been created from an insectoid base, some aspects of humanity remained.

Teyla flinched back from that image, turning away from the Wraith who knelt before her, subservient, releasing him. "I am not--"

"You are a Queen." The broken voice laughed, and even in the rough, Wraithen voice, there was mockery. "And you have chosen a mate."

She turned back, suddenly seeing him with new eyes. "You thought it would be you." Revulsion clung to her voice.

Again, his laughter rang out, mocking as he climbed to his feet. "I hoped, perhaps. The others are hardly worth noticing. And the outcast hoped he might be your choice - you had felt something for him, once." The wide mouth bared ichor-slick fangs. "We are both of us disappointed."

It was not disappointment she tasted in the air, on his skin, but heat. And although her senses knew this scent for what it was, in her mind, she felt nothing but revulsion at the thought of him.

Michael had been able to change her body, and the chemistry affected her mind in the same way that the menses affected the mind of women when they were fertile and when they bled. But it was not the Wraith Queen's deterministic lust that ruled her, but the woman she'd been - Teyla Emmagan of Athos.

Her body was Wraith and influenced by that chemistry, but whatever her body, the core of her was still Teyla, daughter of Taigan, and Teyla would never choose a Wraith male for a mate.

Instead, she had dreamed of John, fierce and needy, silently begging forgiveness with his hands and his lips and his body as he dragged her down to the floor and eased the ache within her before taking his own pleasure - and hers, once again.

Yet in the hazy, drifting aftermath, she had stroked her hand down his chest, twisting his 'dogtags' in her fingers before rubbing her palm along the breastbone as he lay with his head thrown back and his eyes lazy with male satisfaction.

And even as Teyla leaned down to savour the strong cords of his throat, the ache in her hand had grown to a sharp hunger. He had withered before her eyes as she drained him of life.

Teyla had woken choking on her scream.

For the first time, Teyla felt trapped - insidiously, bitterly trapped between Michael's grand vision and her own bleak prospects of a future. She could fight the Wraith eternally, this body had life and living in it for tens of thousands of years, yet the prospect brought no joy.

In living, take joy; what else is there in life?

Her people were gone and there was nothing that could bring them back. Atlantis would not trust her as she was. She had no allies and no friends.

Only herself and the goal she'd set herself.

"You let me live," she challenged the Wraith, looking up at him. "You allowed me to wage war against your kind. Why?"

Beyond the shadows, the tall, spare figure in its leather duster stood like a statue.

"Why?" Teyla made it an imperative, with the force of the hive behind her.

"You know where we met," he said in a voice cracked with weariness. "You saw me give the gift of the Wraith to your friend."

"You called him brother."

"And brother he was, then. He returned me to my hive."

His mind was laid bare to her, open to her seeing. And in his history, Teyla saw what had made him.

He'd returned to his hive, old and weak, with the stain of humanity clinging to him too closely to allow the other Wraith to be wholly comfortable with him again. After years of solitude, the collective consciousness intruded too closely in his thoughts, and his thoughts were out of step with the hive. If Michael had been tainted by humanity, this warrior had been changed by his encounter with humanity's inhumanity. And in a time when food was scarce, another mouth to feed was unwelcome.

In the end, they'd cast him out, and he'd wandered, bitter, until he crossed Michael's path.

"He intrigued me," he said. "So young and with so much hatred in him. You made a dangerous enemy when you made him."

"It was not my choice," Teyla said. She had reconciled to it, easier than Ronon, but her first reaction had been instinctive, horrified. "And bitterness drove Michael, but you, I think, are different."

The eyes gleamed, a predator's eyes. Teyla remembered what it felt to be prey - and remembered the blood flowing through her as she fought back against the hunters.

"Sheppard gave me back my life," he said, reflectively. "I did not expect to live beyond the escape - his hatred and fear...no, it was not an easy gift to accept. And I was alone. Then there was the hive - the community of minds - and then I was alone again."

Teyla wondered if he'd gone a little mad. Perhaps she was a little mad, even now, with the hive's thoughts always in her head. Still, she'd always lived with the sense of community. Even, she realised with an ache, after her people were gone. Atlantis had been a community of sorts, too - a forced one, living in each others' pockets, unaccustomed to the scrape and tide of human interaction, but a community all the same.

The hive was simply one step further.

"You feel responsible for me."

"When a Queen chooses her mate, there is no gainsaying the choice." He shrugged. "And your choice is plain enough."

"I..." She should be flushing, but only felt cold. "John is not my choice."

"Your dreams say otherwise."

"He is not here."

"That makes no difference."

"And if he did not want me?"

"In the hive, every male is willing."

"He is not of the hive. And I am not--" She felt her lips pull back in a bared snarl of frustration.

"We are what we are; what the moment makes of us." His voice rose and he straightened, pulling himself up to his full height. "I am outcast from the Wraith, you are outcast from Atlantis. The crew would be accepted nowhere else but here. Do you think they do not know that?"

Michael had not been the only Wraith to escape the planet when Teyla and her team bombed the camp. And if the others had been angry, they had not Michael's will or his bitterness.

"I did not want exile," Teyla said softly. "For myself or others. Even them."

But what she wanted - her people back, her humanity returned to her, her team by her side - no-one and nothing could give her.

Her skirts swirled around her as she turned away, the heavy material lying cool against her skin. She started up the stairs to her dais...and frowned.

Something was not right.

In the steady hum of the Wraithship, there was a catch, like a short inhalation of breath, a hitch. Then the hum resumed, but something was different.

Teyla whirled back to her throne and slid her fingers into the curves of the armrests. In her mind, the hiveship consciousness was flexible and elastic, a smooth flow of organic data. And in the flow there bloomed a blip, like a grain of grit in a mouthful of sieved soup.

After all this time, she knew the ebb and tide of the ship, its habits and vagaries. This was new.

"What is it?"

"The systems," she said already feeling the change in the eddy and flow of the hive around her. "We have been infected." She reached out through the hive to the hybrid Wraith who manned the ship, warned them of what was coming.

"The inhuman virus." The Wraith straightened. "We will not win against them."

"Which is why we run."

The Asuran virus crippled Wraith systems and set off a signal that alerted every Asuran ship of their location. For a brief window of time, it was possible to send out darts before that aspect of ability also ended, and some of the crippled hives had done that in an attempt to survive.

All they knew of the Asuran infiltrations came from the escaped darts, and even that was sketchy. The Asurans left no survivors behind.

"The drives are failing."

Teyla nodded. "Concentrate on the subspace and watch for the signal, disable it as soon as possible."

"We should jump before the drives fail."

"If we are still sending when we arrive, then it will make no difference where we jump," she countered. "Work on the signal. Leave the drives to me."

He strode to the console column, closed his hands around the interface controls, and Teyla closed her eyes and opened her mind.

Rodney had not made much effort to teach her - his skill and patience with people was not so great. Nevertheless, Teyla had learned more than a few things about the systems in Atlantis, as well as the Wraith and Asuran technologies. She could not do the things that Rodney did, but this was her hiveship.

She remembered another time when she had fought the Asurans, mind-to-mind. In the Asuran city, upon their first discovery. The others had been put through nightmare simulations as the Asurans sought to find their weaknesses, exploit them. Elizabeth had later explained that the simulations opened up their minds to the Asurans, allowing them free access to their memories and thoughts.

This was something like that, and yet not the same.

The intrusion slid between the smooth flow of the hiveship consciousness, interrupted it, corrupted it,

Teyla could not have explained what she did, but the combination of gleaned knowledge and her intimate knowledge and awareness of the Wraith hiveship showed her what needed adjustment; what could be fixed to work and what must be abandoned to the Asuran virus.

She felt the sudden flare of gritty heat as one system gave up to the Asuran virus. Felt the sudden darkness as another system went off-line. Tried to contain the virus. Failed.

Vaguely, she heard someone report that the signal was cut, and knew that it was now or never.

Ancestors, she prayed as she hadn't prayed in years. Please.

Her order took the ship into hyperspace, limping.

~~~~~

John checked the spare clip on his P-90 out of habit, even as the Daedelus's armoury sergeant handed out the Wraith stunners right, left, and centre. "Ten hours since they sent the retrovirus in?"

"More than enough time for the change to have set in," Lorne murmured.

"I've done a preliminary check on the hive," announced Rodney, tucking his handheld console away and accepting a hand-stunner almost absent-mindedly and tucking it into the appropriate holster. Beyond him Zelenka was studying something on a tablet and muttering in Czech to himself.

All personnel going aboard the hiveship were to be issued with at least one weapon - in the case of the scientific personnel, it was to be locked on stun. If they couldn't handle a weapon, then they weren't to come along.

Rodney was chattering merrily along, hardly noticing if anyone was listening to him or not. "The hive is crippled. It looks like the Asurans did a number on their systems. The Daedelus didn't have any trouble transporting the canister in, and their communications are down, no drives - sublight or hyper, life-support is working but nominally. Whole sections of the ship show no life-signs at all..."

"But there are still live Wraith on the ship." Ronon was inspecting the charge on his stunner. He flipped it back into his holster, and stood with his hands on his hips, waiting for the rest of the boarding party to gear up.

"Not a lot," said Zelenka anxiously. "Life signs show a very small number of Wraith who survived the retrovirus - including one in the Queen's chamber."

"Oh," Rodney said as he settled the weapon on his hip, "and the females don't change."

Across the room, Lorne snorted. "I don't think I'm gonna forget that."

Considering the last time they'd been through this, Lorne had nearly been killed by a Wraith Queen, John figured Lorne wouldn't.

"Boarding party to transporter room in ten minutes," he announced to the room. "Have the secondary boarding group standing by, and tag Keller and her team once we're on the ship so they're ready for the incoming." He gave the Daedelus's armoury sergeant a brief nod of gratitude, then strode from the room.

Ronon caught up with him a moment later. "You ready for this?"

"Shouldn't I be?"

The other guy was silent until they reached the next cross-corridor. "The retrovirus worked before."

"I'm not worried about it working." I'm thinking of Teyla.

He didn't see the shrug, but he knew Ronon made the movement. "Jen made a lot of adjustments to change that."

John glanced at the big guy, tempted to question the familiar use of the doc's first name. He decided to let it pass. "We'll see. We were lucky to find this hiveship at all. They don't exactly leave them lying about these days."

The signal had come from an outlying Ancient satellite, reporting the appearance of a hiveship around the same time as the biogenetics lab came up with the first batch of the adjusted retrovirus. The Daedelus had been in range, and Carter had given authorisation for a test.

"I'm not entirely happy with this," she'd said. "A more practical way of dealing with the problem would be to change the way the Wraith feed. If they didn't have to drain a person entirely - if they could go longer on less, then a more...symbiotic relationship might develop between human and Wraith." When John had frowned, she'd shrugged. "Sometimes, you have to pick the lesser evil."

The biogenetics team had started with the retrovirus, though. "It's easier to adjust something that already exists," noted the team leader, Jillian Sanchez. "Dr. Beckett did the hard yards to develop this - we're just refining it. Once we have a feel for that - and once we have some Wraith physiology to study - which you and your team will be bringing back from the hiveship - I'll look at re-engineering the Wraith metabolism entirely."

John waited in the transporter room for the group to assemble. The initial boarding party was all-military, except for Rodney, who knew how to handle himself in one of these ops, and one of the medical personnel who'd worked on the Wraith last time - one who hadn't been left behind with Carson and the doomed marines. And the only reason John had okayed Reena Vandross' presence was because he'd seen her keep a cool head in a crisis situation, and witnessed her shooting skills.

"All right, you know the deal," he said when it seemed they had the entire group. "Those of you that don't, keep behind, keep your eyes and ears and senses open, and try not to shoot anything that might be one of the boarding party. Tell the Colonel we're ready to go."

Caldwell cleared them, wished them luck, and a few moments later they were standing in one of the corridor intersections on the Wraith ship.

The first thing John noted was the cold. The hiveship temperature was turned way down, and he bit back a shiver.

They moved out with the neat, careful practise of men accustomed to infiltrations, John spearheading the movement, Rodney a few steps behind.

"No life-signs anywhere in the ship but the bridge," he muttered when John stopped at an intersection.

"No bodies either," John muttered.

It was freaky. The last time they'd sent the retrovirus into a hiveship like this, there'd been bodies everywhere, as the Wraith fell where they were hit. This time, the corridors were clear and silent, empty of anyone and anything, and while John had walked the corridors of a hibernating hive before, this hive had a different feel to it.

Suddenly, he thought of Teyla walking through the halls of her own hiveship, implacable and cool-headed as she schemed to bring down the Wraith. Somehow, although he knew Michael had done something to turn her into a Wraith, he couldn't imagine her as one of them. Especially not after last night.

Dreams of Teyla had become habitual for John lately, not every night but often enough and hot enough to leave his sheets a mess, and caused raised eyebrows when he went for new linen every couple of nights.

It wasn't the embarrassment that twisted his gut now, though; it was the memory of her hand against his chest, sliding beneath his dogtag. In his dream, she'd drained him of life, forcefully and viciously - a memory too close to the scent of dry forest floor and the green-skinned Wraith kneeling over him.

John shook himself out of the shuddering horror of the memory.

He didn't have time for this, not now.

They found the first Wraith in the corridor leading up to the bridge.

"Oh, my God," Rodney muttered.

Once, it had been a Wraith. Now, it was a wreckage of skin and claw and scale, like someone had slammed together a Wraith, a human, and the Iratus bug in a single body and then slashed and peeled the results.

Curling flakes of what John presumed had been flesh cast irregular shadows in the overhead lights. The face was human, but with Wraith teeth and a neck and jaw of blue scales. John resisted the urge to rub his hand over his own jaw. His memories of that time were a little hazy, but he remembered the way his jaw had felt against his still-human fingers. Until they went and it was all impermeable scale.

He breathed slowly, carefully, through the masks that had been considered a precaution, and now seemed only too necessary.

Dr. Vandross crouched down beside the body. "God, I hope this is dead."

"Your optimism is reassuring, Vandross," John couldn't quite keep the revulsion from his voice. "Is it?"

She held up the life-signs scanner. "Seems like it." Her face was all shadows and angles as she looked up at John. "I have a bad feeling about this version of the retrovirus, Colonel."

"I have a bad feeling about this hiveship," Rodney muttered, looking at his own life-signs detector. "Okay, we're nearly at the bridge. No life signs in this area, but further on...two of them. Probably in the Queen's chambers."

"Probably the Queen," John muttered. "And a hold out? All right, we'll go in, check out what's happened to them."

They proceeded along the corridor, and found another Wraith. This one was more human than Wraith, and curled up in foetal position. "Interesting," was Vandross' pronouncement. "Very interesting. Note the colour of the skin - better colour than the previous Wraith subjects. Still. Looks like the long-term retrovirus plays havoc with their genetic systems." Even through the observational chatter, Vandross kept her weapon and her scanner up - the reason John had allowed her to join this party. "Colonel? Did you want to bring in Dr. Keller now? Since it looks like the ship's empty but for these."

John glanced back along the hallway. He had a full squad of Caldwell's marines wandering the apparently empty hiveship, which made for way more men than he needed. Technically it should be safe enough.

Technically.

He shook his head. "Hold off. We'll make certain the hive is clear before we bring the others in."

There were more Wraith on the bridge. Most had found a wall to set their back against, their expressions twisted in rictuses of agony.

"Not an easy death," Lorne muttered as he toed one over with a booted foot and the long, sinewy arm with its bony knuckles rapped echoingly on the ground.

Ronon turned, stepping away from Rodney who'd started setting up his laptop on the control console of the hiveship. "Death's never easy. Not even for them." There was a brisk matter-of-factness to his words.

"Well, we've got ourselves a hiveship."

"Uh, just as soon as you dispose of the Queen," Rodney said. "Air's clear." He pulled off his mask without further ado. "God, I was dying in that."

"Better dying in it than dying without it," said Lorne, frankly.

John agreed as he set down his mask. Then he turned to the marines, indicating the scattered Wraith who lay about the bridge. "Take these guys out of here, find somewhere to line them up - somewhere with lighting, so the docs can take a look at them. Tell them to bring bodybags."

"Yes, sir."

Privately, John was just as glad that it was the docs who'd be working on these and not him. He'd seen a lot of things - hell, he'd been a lot of things - but the sight of these Wraith really turned his stomach. He caught himself in the middle of pity for them, and swiftly squashed it.

The biogenetics team was going to be pissed off that the permanent retrovirus hadn't worked as they'd hoped. And, at the least, they'd hoped for at least one Wraith subject that they could test metabolic adjustments on - although how they were going to test the rate of feeding, John didn't know. Ask volunteers to step forward?

Over by the console, Rodney was muttering to himself. "Hm...We've got no shields, no power. They fried their jump systems coming in...now, wait..."

John glanced up, as Rodney paused, frowning at something on his tablet. "What?"

"Oh, nothing." The dismissal might as well have been calculated to raise John's blood pressure. He hated it when Rodney made noises and then refused to explain. "Well, actually, their hyperdrive systems experienced a...a temporary...reconfiguration just before they entered hyperspace."

"What kind of a temporary reconfiguration?"

"Nothing destructive," Rodney hurried to explain. "Just...it seems that someone overrode the native state of the hyperdrive systems, forcing connections so the drive would work."

Ronon stood up from beside yet another Wraith. "And we're worried because...?"

"We're not worried," said Rodney flatly, his face shadowed by the downlighting in the hiveship, but lit up by the glow of his computer tablet. "I just thought it was...interesting, is all."

"Interesting?" John asked in a dangerous voice.

"I'll tell you what's interesting," said Dr. Vandross, standing up from one of the corpses. "These guys are very...human for Wraith. I mean, the parts of them that are visibly human."

"What do you mean?"

Vandross had put away her stunner and slipped on a rubber glove with which she picked up the almost wholly-human-limb of a dead Wraith...that ended in blue claws that John remembered only too well.

"See this? Note the colour, the moles, the arm hair. The first-injection group we had on P8D-919 were mostly albino pale, hairless. These guys are way ahead of them. Closer to human with the first shot."

"Closer to dead with the first shot," muttered Ronon.

She was unperturbed. "That, too. Maybe they're a different strain of Wraith? We've assumed that the Wraith are a single species, but there might be variation within them after however many thousands of years travelling across the galaxy."

"Speculate later," said John firmly. "Stick with the retrieval now. Rodney, how many more life-forms on the ship?"

"Uh...only the two in the centre of the hiveship."

"The Queen's chambers." John looked around at the group. "Ronon, Lorne, Andrews, Ottaman, you're with me."

"What about--?"

"You stay here," he told Rodney. "You can tell us how close we are to the life-signs from here. Don't go wandering off to look at something interesting, don't start anything up or run any programs, just stay here and take stock, and if I call for help send Manning or Tranh. Just stay put and we'll check out the rest of the ship."

He led the way into the corridor, Lorne covering his left, Ronon bringing up the rear. They found two more Wraith in the corridor, in various states of metamorphosis.

"Ever been to one of those house of horror freak shows, Colonel?" Lorne asked in conversational tones.

"Yes. We're not going there."

"Yes, sir."

"All right, now, the first live Wraith is in the room front of you," said Rodney, following their progress through the life-signs detector.

They were staring at a set of doors. John tried the controls.

"Doors are jammed. Is there an alternative route?"

"Then unjam them. That's the only way into the Queen's chambers, and there's at least one life-sign there, so you'll have to go through this way."

John rolled his eyes and signalled to Lorne who crossed to the console and, grimacing, began poking and prodding at the controls to the Wraith doorway. It was a sticky and nasty process, but after a second, the doors slid back.

The man - it was definitely a man, and not a Wraith or a hybrid - nearly skewered John with the pointed end of the stunner. He'd seen the movement just in time, and instinct turned him. The blow scraped his ribs, just hard enough to hurt, and John lashed out with his P-90 as a club against the head, knocking it to the side.

There was a shot from Ronon's gun, a chatter of bullets, and then silence.

John looked down at a human man, pale and sweating, but with madness in his eyes, and a bloody wreck of a chest. Even as he watched, the madness drained away, like the blood oozed from the chest and belly to drip on the floor. Lorne had shot to kill.

"John Sheppard of Atlantis..." The voice was a rustling husk, stirring echoes and memories long since buried.

John looked into a face he'd never seen and suddenly smelled the damp rust of an ancient bunker, saw the cadaverous form, tasted the bitter musk of the Wraith who'd taken his life only to give it back.

Something painful and unwelcome jolted through his belly. "You."

"You said there would be no second chances," rasped the former Wraith. There was a gleam of amusement in the pale eyes - eerily human, even as his breaths grew shorter. "A man of his word."

The mockery stung. "I didn't know."

"Would it have made a difference?"

And there was the crux point. "I don't know."

The Wraith nodded, and there was something measuring about the look in its eyes that made John uncomfortable. "Well done...brother."

Its breath was coming shorter, the human body had little of the Wraith resilience.

"Your kind have a saying, do you not? 'One may live as a conqueror, a king or a magistrate; but he must die as a man.'" The thin lips stretched in a smile even as life faded from his face. "She will not be sorry to see us go..."

John waited until he was sure the creature was dead. They only had the Queen to cope with, he could spare a few minutes for this thing that had saved his life. When it was over, he stood slowly, wiping his hands against his trousers and feeling somehow...tainted.

"You okay, Sheppard?"

He nodded. "A bit sore, but I'll live." He still felt insulated from anything other than mild distaste. He hadn't thought of his Wraith benefactor in a long time, unconcerned with the fate of the creature - not wanting to be concerned about a Wraith.

Dimly, he realised he would have preferred it to end another way, but that was a regret to be pushed far back in the recesses of his psyche and ignored.

He stood, wincing at the ache across his ribs. "Just the Queen left?"

In his ear, Rodney's voice was grounding. "Just the Queen."

"Where in the room is she?" After the last surprise, John wasn't going to take any chances.

"Towards the back of the room, away from you. Probably sitting on the throne."

She was. Although 'sitting' was the wrong term for it. She was slumped over the arm of the chair, apparently unconscious.

John approached cautiously, remembering the Wraith Queen that had nearly taken Lorne out last time. And a Wraith Queen could be a problem - psychically - because she'd still be able to do the old Jedi mind control trick.

He was halfway across the chamber when the lights came on, brightening everything. "Rodney?"

"I didn't do it! I swear I didn't mean to - I thought that was the control for in here--"

Movement caught John's eye, the sudden upwards jerk of the Queen as she abruptly woke. His trigger finger instinctively tightened. Then his heart and the P-90's chatter stuttered to a stop.

Disbelief choked him, rough and brutal as Teyla lifted shocked, dark eyes to John's face and sank back down to the throne, one hand groping for the armrest.

No. No. It can't be...

John couldn't move, couldn't breathe, couldn't see anything but the achingly familiar figure, a backlit silhouette as she put one hand to her side and it came away shiny with blood.

The scarlet gleam broke John out of his shock and he was at the dais and up it in seconds, pressing against the wounds at her waist. Her blood was warm and oozed disturbingly through his fingers. "God, Teyla..."

She'd been staring at her hand, thick with blood. When he spoke, her gaze transferred to him, then flickered past him, before coming back to his face. "John?"

Distantly, he could hear Lorne calling for Keller and a gurney to be transported in immediately. Terror made him light-headed. "Hey," he managed, speaking softly, as though to a child. "Teyla? You're going to be okay."

"John?" Her breathing was shallow, and her pupils dilated, but he could see recognition in her eyes. One hand lifted to his face, her fingers marking out his cheekbone, testing his physicality. Then her hand drifted down his throat with a softness that terrified him - as though she had no strength with which to touch him.

"Teyla..." His throat closed around the syllables, and a footstep behind made him turn.

Ronon had come up the dais. "Doc's on her way." He paused, then bent and gripped Teyla's shoulder. "Hold on."

She wasn't paying him any attention, her hand drifting down John's vest, her eyes fixed on him. "I drained you."

The hairs at the back of his neck prickled with the memory of last night's dream. Down on the rug in his room, panting and warm with the weight of her on his chest and belly and the slide of her thigh between his legs before her hand found his chest... "No, you didn't."

A ghost of a smile touched her mouth. "Maybe not." Then her hand fell, and her fingers caught in the front of his vest as her gaze drifted.

"Teyla, hey, don't fall asleep." John tried to shift so he was in her line of sight without losing pressure on the wound. Blood was still seeping out between his fingers. "You're not allowed to sleep." Now that we've found you, you have to hold on...

"You shot me, John."

"I'm sorry." He'd acted on instinct, aiming for the heart. The only reason he hadn't killed her was because she'd stood up when she realised they were in the room. And the thought of how close he'd come to killing her was like a block of ice in his gut. "You'll have to let me make it up to you."

The tiny smile deepened. "How?"

John opened his mouth to answer and realised that all of the 'making up' scenarios he had in his mind were picked out of his dreams of the last six months. "I'll think of something," he assured her. "But you're not allowed to sleep."

Teyla sighed, a soft rattling echo of breath. "I am trying to remain awake... It is hard."

"Stay with us, okay? Stay with us."

Then Keller was there with a gurney rattling along behind her and there were hands to press pads of material against the still-seeping bullet wounds, and shoulders easing him back, out of the way.

John let them do their job, but he sent Lorne to manage the marines.

He wanted to be here.

~~~~~

Voices scrabbled for purchase in her mind, a constant cacophony of sound and sensation, feelings, emotions, thoughts, elemental and urgent. Teyla tried to recoil from them, but they speared into her mind like hooks into a fish, dragging her out from where she tried to hide from what she had become.

You cannot escape this. The other voices flailed at her, clamouring for her attention; this one thrust through the darkness, claiming his right to be heard. What you have been made, you are.

I am Teyla Emmagan of Athos.

You were Teyla Emmagan of Athos. Into her mind poured memories of another time, a place she had never known anywhere but deep in the genetic memory of a few strands of her DNA: a community living and working for one purpose - the good of the hive. And the one mind that rose over all, dominated all, ruled all.

Her mind - the mind of the hive.

It revolted her, intoxicated her. She tried to pull away but the hooks of their minds held her fast. They were Wraith without a hive, they needed a Queen. And she needed to escape from here - escape Michael and his plans.

She wanted to retch, but her body no longer had that function. And cold calculation took over, the ruthlessness that Jennifer had seen and misunderstood when they were on New Athos, running for their lives. She was the last of her people - even in this nightmare of a body - and she would survive.

It took less than a moment for them to break out, working in concert under the aegis of her control. The power terrified her, increased her heartbeat for all that she felt no physical flush at the thrill - cold-blooded excitement, for one who no longer felt heat. Their claws picked the restraint buckles undone and they stepped back as she rose, the dead reborn.

She walked through their midst without a word, and felt them follow her up to the surface, up to the sky.

~~~~~

There were voices in the air, sounding soft and distant through the cloud of light that hovered around her, above her.

"How is she?" Teyla heard John asking. She couldn't open her eyes to see where she was, but even the sound of his voice, quiet and urgent, was like a hand at her cheek.

Atlantis.

"She was lucky." Dr. Keller sounded tired.

"If you call a bullet in the stomach lucky." That was Rodney, subdued, in spite of his sarcasm.

"Better than a bullet in the heart."

"Thank you for that, Ronon." There was a frown in Jennifer's voice and Teyla wanted to smile. "Okay, so, we got everything out, stitched her up. Physically, she'll mend. What I don't know is how she's going to cope with all this on top of the retrovirus."

"So, she's fully human again? I mean, as much as she ever was? Given that, you know, her Wraith DNA."

"As much as she ever was in body." A sigh. "But in mind... We don't know what was done to her - what happened to her while she was Wraith. And it could interfere with her recovery. Either way, it's not going to be an easy journey back."

"Teyla lasted this long," John said quietly, and his voice seemed closer. "She won't give up."

"Well, she was lucky that the retrovirus only changed her back to human and didn't splinch her like the others."

"She had someone good working on her."

"Yes, well... Better wait until we know if she makes it, Colonel. We're not out of the woods yet."

Teyla wanted to smile at the exchange - at being home, but she was floating somewhere high and to smile would bring her down, down, down to a sea of pain that was waiting for her to fall.

She wasn't ready to fall, so she let herself slip into darkness, comforted by the fact that she was home.

~~~~~

When she woke again, her abdomen ached with the soft heat of a pain dulled by medicines and her mouth was dry of saliva.

Teyla opened her eyes slowly, letting her senses rise out of the fog.

The room was lit by dimmed downlights, illuminating the many-sided room with its tall, polished walls. She was propped up against pillows, a cotton infirmary garment loose around her body, a sheet and light blanket over that. There was a stool by her bed, empty now, but with the faint, fading scent of male cologne to suggest that only a little while ago, it had been occupied.

Over by one of the desks, Jennifer looked up from her notes and immediately stood. "Hey there. Welcome back."

"Atlantis."

"Yes, you're back." There was a moment's hesitation. "Teyla? Do you remember me?"

"Jennifer." Her voice felt thick, unused, rough in her throat. "What happened?"

Flashes came back to her then. The wrenching scrape of hyperspace on failing systems; the rough 'feel' of the Asuran code in the flexible fluid of the hiveship. Reports of a ship coming out of hyperspace, nearly on top of them, a breach in the hive...

And now...

Unsteadily, she lifted one hand, pulling the IV drip with her. A human hand with human skin, marked with creases at her knuckles and joints, the nails pale and thin...but longer than she'd ever had them before.

"We've been testing a new version of the retrovirus for some time," Jennifer said. "For you, actually. We knew you were out there...somewhere, we just couldn't find where. And then we got word of a disabled hiveship. We didn't expect it to be you." She touched Teyla's jaw, tilting her head so she could look clearly into her eyes. "How are you feeling?"

"Exhausted," she admitted as Jennifer studied one eye with a small penlight, then switched to the other. Even through the rubber gloves, the doctor's touch was human, gentle. Teyla felt the warmth of gratitude seep through her, the friendship she and Jennifer had been developing before Michael captured her.

"We had you in surgery for nearly eight hours on the Daedelus, so it's not surprising you're tired. Your body has a lot of mending to do, even though the surgery went well. We can only do so much - your body has to do the rest."

"How long...?"

"Two days since we took you off the ship. Oh, since you went missing? Seven months, and two weeks." Jennifer glanced over at the calendar hung on a blank space on the wall and her lips moved in silent counting as she crossed over to pick up a small computer tablet attached to the foot of the bed and began making notations in it. "Yeah. Seven months, two weeks. Does your stomach hurt?"

"Not yet." Teyla hesitated. "There is the nagging sense of an ache, but it does not hurt."

"I'm afraid it will soon enough. Anything else sore, hurt?"

Teyla nearly blurted out that she was human again, and all pain and discomfort was irrelevant when compared with that. Then the door opened to admit John.

He was frowning at something on his hand-held tablet, his attention elsewhere; so Teyla saw him a moment before he realised she was conscious and was witness to the moment of shock that stopped him in his tracks.

His eyes sought hers, met hers, held.

What he saw in her face, she didn't know, but she saw relief and guilt play their way across his features before he reined them back. The smile bloomed on his lips, slow and small - John at his most uncertain. "Hey. Welcome back."

"John."

He looked tired. Older. More weary in the lines around his eyes and the way his mouth rested when the smile faded. But the look in his eyes... Teyla stared at him for a long moment, then realised what she was doing and looked away. That he had been staring right back only gave her a moment's pause before Jennifer spoke, smiling.

"You're just in time, Colonel." She turned back, giving her full attention to Teyla. "If anything hurts now or starts to hurt - sharp or achy - let me know, okay?"

"Nothing other than the wounds."

"Good. We'll keep you on the drip, even though you're out of the immediate danger zone, but I want you in here for a few more days before I release you. And it'll be weeks before you're back to anything approaching normal." The words were serious, but there was a friendly smile in the other woman's eyes as she put the tablet back down in its bedside pouch and came up to squeeze Teyla's hand in a warm, light grip. "I'm glad you're back, Teyla."

She squeezed back. "I am glad to be back, Jennifer."

And glad of the moment Jennifer had inadvertently given her to compose herself before facing the steady gaze of the man who moved forward to stand by her bed as Jennifer moved away.

This time, his gaze trailed across her face before travelling down to her abdomen and the wounds there. Teyla had the sudden hazed memory of him kneeling before her, his hands pressing against her abdomen as she struggled to comprehend what had just happened.

"Are you okay?"

"Jennifer says the surgery went well."

He winced and looked away, putting the hand-tablet he'd been carrying on the bedside table. "Yeah, about that--"

She interrupted before he could say more. "You have already apologised for shooting me."

"Can't hurt to apologise again," he murmured, embarrassed. "I mean, find a friend after six months of searching and then immediately put her in the infirmary... There's probably not enough apology in the Pegasus galaxy for that."

Teyla heard the strain in his voice beneath the lightness. "Perhaps not in Pegasus. But you have the Milky Way galaxy as well."

"Yeah, well..." John lifted his eyes back to her face. "I might need that as well. When you add in that we left you behind, it gets kinda hefty."

He spoke casually, but Teyla knew him. Guilt might not eat at him constantly, but it nibbled around his edges from time to time.

"Will it make you feel better if I extract full payment?"

The arch question lifted his brows. "And how would you plan to do that?"

"Bedridden as I am, be sure I will think of something." Inspiration struck. "I have six months of Earth television on which to catch up."

He snorted as he sat on the stool. "I can get you the discs, Teyla, but I'm not going to watch it with you."

"Then that is not full payment."

"Teyla, I've already seen most of it."

"It will not kill you to see it again."

"Some of it might," John said, a little grumpily. "I'm not watching Grey's Anatomy with you."

She smiled, enjoying the scowl on his face. "Since I would rather watch Dr. Who than Grey's Anatomy, I believe you are safe."

"I don't know about that. I'm getting annoyed with the new companion on Dr. Who. Of course, that could be because she reminds me of Rodney."

His grumpy expression was so comedic, that Teyla began to laugh, then broke off with a gasp of pain. Her injury protested the shaking movement with sudden stabbing pains all through her midriff.

"Doc!" John was off the chair with one hand on her leg and the other on her shoulder. "Doc!"

Jennifer was there in a moment, her hands cool over Teyla's stomach, but while John moved aside, his hand continued to rest on her leg, a light pressure that she only noticed when the pain began to ease, assisted by the pain-killer Jennifer injected into her drip. Concentrating on being able to breathe without pain was exhausting, and although the abdominal agony was fading, but she felt drained just by those few minutes spent trying to hold back the scream that had gathered in her throat.

John was still standing by the bed, as Jennifer glanced behind. When he followed her look and began to move away, Teyla realised that not only John and Jennifer, but Ronon, Rodney, and Colonel Carter were in the room.

"Just for the record," Jennifer was saying wryly, "laughing's probably not a good idea. And you shouldn't have visitors too much longer. Your body will need all its energy to heal." She eyed the others. "Ten minutes max."

"We'll be out soon, Teyla." Colonel Carter smiled faintly at her. "We just wanted to see that you were okay. It's good to have you back."

"It is good to be back," she managed, a little breathlessly. "Although, next time, I would prefer not to have the injury at all."

"Yes, well, you'll have to blame Sheppard for that," said Rodney, shooting John a glare. "Seeing as he decided he wanted a matched set for his team."

Puzzled looks were cast his way. Rodney rolled his eyes. "He's shot all of us at some stage or another now."

"Those were all accidents!"

"You still shot us!"

"It was a year ago. You could just drop it." John rolled his eyes at Teyla.

"I believe you would be disappointed if he did not bring it up, John," Teyla said, smiling. The heat of pain in her belly was giving way to another warmth as she nestled back against the pillows - the pleasure of seeing them again.

"See?"

"I'm sure I'd survive."

Ronon glanced at her with a familiar look of exasperation at their team-mates' antics, and she smiled back.

John caught the smile and frowned at the amusement of his team-mates. "We're not that bad."

"Yes, you are." Ronon weathered Rodney's glare with a broad grin before turning to Teyla. "You look tired."

"I am tired."

"And I think that's my cue to shoo you all out of here," announced Jennifer. "You can see her later."

"Want us to bring you anything?" Rodney asked. "DVDs, books, the head of John the Baptist on a platter?"

Teyla smiled, appreciating the gesture, although she could feel the tiredness pulling at her, rolling her under. "Your company would be welcome," she told him. "And the seasonal shows I have missed."

Rodney patted her arm. "Yes, well..." He hummed a little in his throat, then turned away to follow Colonel Carter.

A grip of the arm and a press of forehead to forehead was Ronon's farewell, a gratefulness for her return that needed no words.

John stayed for a moment more, waving to indicate that he would be with the others shortly. "Hey, I know you're tired, but I just wanted to say..." He hesitated. "I'm sorry."

It wasn't what he'd meant to say. Teyla could tell that. But she could not quite hold back a smile as she murmured, "Do not apologise again, or I will have to kick your ass, John."

"You'd have to get out of bed to do that."

"Yes," she agreed, looking up into the angles and lines of his face, and wondering what he would do if she brushed her fingers over his cheek. But this was not a dream, nor did she think it was one, and she was quite fully in control of her actions. He would not welcome the contact. "I would."

"We missed you," John said as she looked away.

Then, to her surprise, his hand groped for hers in the sheets, fingers were warm against her palm. And although the contact was slight; from John, it said as much than shouted words.

Teyla closed her eyes against the sudden ache of tears. "I missed you, too."

~~~~~

After her therapy session, Teyla sought refuge in the whip of the sea winds and the bright glow off the clouds. It was an instinct now, something that she did whenever she had time free from her physical therapy and rehabilitation exercises.

Nearly a month had passed since she had returned to Atlantis, she was walking on her own two feet, could move around the city without needing to pause at every intersection, out of breath. Both Jennifer and the expedition's physical therapist said she was doing far better than anyone who'd been in her situation had a right to be doing.

That did not keep her from being frustrated with herself, or with both the psychologist and the therapists working with her. It did not keep her from being a little angry with John, whose shots had put her in this position in the first place.

Behind her, the balcony doors hissed open, and a moment later, John rested his hands on the railing beside her and looked out over the sea. "How are the sessions going?"

"Very well. Dr. Renwick says I am regaining my former flexibility."

"Uhuh. You were pretty flexible as I recall." He coughed slightly, and she caught the flame of scarlet at the nape of his neck. "That sounded better in my head."

It took her a moment to realise how the phrase could be taken, and then her cheeks flushed with colour against which the wind flapped cool wings. "I am sure it did," she said, carefully neutral.

The dreams had mostly subsided since her return. Once or twice, she had woken from a blatantly sensual dream, panting. Fortunately, it had been after her removal back to quarters in Atlantis, so her reaction had not been seen by anyone. She had not mentioned them to John, nor to anyone else. Her dreams were her own and private.

"And the psych sessions?"

She hesitated, and the wind tugged at her hair. "They go."

"You know they won't let you back on the team without the full approval of Garrison."

Teyla knew. She did her best to co-operate with Dr. Garrison, but it was not the same as speaking with Kate. And she had something she wished to bring up with John.

"You should have replaced me on the team by now."

"You've only been in rehab a month... Oh." He stared down at his hands, then turned his back on the water and the view, looking back in towards the city. "Remember how we tried a few people out after Ford went?"

"And none of them were suitable until Ronon." She remembered that time well, dealing with so many changes at once. "John, I was gone for six months."

He didn't move, but she saw the wind play with the tufts of his hair and felt an urge to turn and slide her fingers through the strands. Instead, she kept her hands firmly on the smooth, cool railings of the balcony.

"You did not want to admit that I was gone."

"When your people went missing...you hoped to find them again, remember? You searched and hunted for them for months, although you suspected they were dead." The mention of her people stung anew, but she had coped with the knowledge. Hope was a difficult thing to give up and a dangerous thing to lose.

"You hoped I was alive."

He tilted back his head to observe something over the door, then turned to look her in the eyes. "And you were. But you didn't come back."

There was a question in the statement, one that he wasn't asking, but which Teyla felt compelled to answer.

So many ways to answer that question. So many things she had left unsaid before she left and now could not say. Her decision to fight the Wraith on her own terms had been difficult, but she had chosen her trail and had not turned from it. She had lost her people on New Athos, lost her humanity, had feared losing those who had become her people in Atlantis through hatred.

If she was truthful with herself, she had lost hope in Atlantis, in what the Lanteans could do - stem a tide, but not wage a war.

And it was easier to leave everything behind - to cut all ties, sever all bonds. Until her people vanished, she had not known she could. Their departure had shattered something within her - an ending to who she had been.

Then Michael had taken even who she had been from her.

"I was...not myself," she said. "John..."

In all of four weeks, she had spoken only to Dr. Garrison about her time as Queen to a hive of 'humanised' Wraith. The others had pushed a little, but retreated when she would not tell them. Teyla could not bring herself to utter the words. Who she had been aboard that hiveship seemed like an entirely different woman to who she had known herself to be in Atlantis.

John was watching her.

"They were my people," she said at last, knowing how it would sound, but needing to try to make him understand. "I did not choose them, but they became mine. To return here was... I did not believe you would accept me as I was. And, in a way, they needed me."

"Did you need them?"

"At the time, yes, I did." She had needed to break the links between her and her people; to sever the memory, cut loose the loss of them and move beyond it. Being Queen to the Wraith hive had helped with that - an innate hatred being overcome by need of reliance. "Still, I prefer being here."

Teyla regretted their deaths. The retrovirus had been vicious on them - the result, said the biogeneticists, of the previous hybridisation they'd undergone. Only John's 'brother' Wraith had reacted favourably, and Evan had shot him.

"Well, that's good to know." There was an edge in his voice, now, and Teyla sighed to herself.

"You should still have replaced me."

There was silence. Then, finally, "I couldn't."

"Why not?"

He was silent for a few seconds, staring at the doors, with none of the casual air that usually marked his demeanour.

"John?"

"I dreamed of you," he said quietly. It felt like the wind hushed at his words, and the sun suddenly seared Teyla's skin. "After you were gone, I had dreams - with Rodney and Ronon, too, at first. Not every night, just...sometimes. When I was tired, or frustrated with whoever we'd tried to fit into the team and who just didn't work. At first they were all of us together, hanging out, chatting, advising you...general stuff. Then they got...personal."

John's eyes found hers, bright and looked away so Teyla was left staring at his profile the clear, sharp line of his nose, the shape of his mouth, the hair that the wind still tossed over his long, high brow.

"Were we lovers in the dream?"

"Yeah. We were." His cheeks were red now, and he looked away, as though he could escape the memory. "The night before we found you, I dreamed of you again."

"As lovers."

The huff of breath was slightly annoyed. "Are you enjoying this? Yeah, we were lovers in the dream," he turned his head to look at her, direct and steady - the military man's look, seeking answers without artifice. "And afterwards, you put your hand on my chest and drained me of life."

She let the breath she'd held shudder out of her. He had dreamed it too.

"It wasn't a dream, was it? I mean, it wasn't just a dream. You said that in the Queen's chamber where we found you - 'I drained you.'"

"John--"

"You dreamed it, too, didn't you?"

Teyla looked away. In all those dreams, she'd never thought that it might be more than just her own imagination. The knowledge was embarrassing, almost shaming. She had always kept herself from giving in to John emotionally; he had not seemed to want their relationship to progress beyond friends and she had respected that decision and the old wounds that seemed to hide beneath the exterior of the casual man.

"I am sorry, John. I did not mean..." She sighed. "The dreams were my escape at first. I did not think they were anything more than that. And then they...changed. It was a difficult time. I needed...an anchor."

In her mind, the Wraith's voice rang mockingly. When a Queen chooses her mate, there is no gainsaying the choice.

She had always cared about John. He was a friend for whom she cared a great deal, a man she was pleased to know and be trusted by, a leader who did his best by those for whom he was responsible. But he had stayed a friend, and she had, in the end, turned to an old friend among her people - until her people vanished.

"And you picked me."

"My subconscious chose--"

"You know once - just once - I wish you wouldn't back away from me."

The anger in his voice silenced her, cutting through her embarrassment like a knife, spurring on an anger of her own.

"In a time before, it was not I who stepped back!"

John turned towards her, heated words on his lips, in his eyes. Then, as she watched, the fire died, leaving grim purpose and a kind of bitterness. "Teyla, you know I'm not good at...this stuff. I never was."

"You did not want us to have a relationship before." She spoke evenly.

"That was before I lost Ford, Beckett, Elizabeth, and you," John said, his voice soft but fierce. "I think I've changed my mind."

"But you are not sure?"

His eyes narrowed. "I'm sure. I'd just like you to be sure, too."

And that was his challenge, laid down between them.

She hesitated. Their history lay between them, the future stretched ahead. He held his wounds and his hurts beneath his skin, so did she. And they must balance this relationship between them while dealing with being part of the team - or not being part of the team. He had made the first move - the move she had wished him to take all those months ago. So why did she wait?

John saw her hesitation, and something in his mouth twisted and his eyes dropped down.

"John."

His eyes rose. "It's okay," he half turned away. "I understand."

But he did not.

Teyla stopped him with a palm against his chest. The left hand - the feeding hand - and saw him tense. "You know what I became."

"Remember the Iratus virus?" His hands closed around her jaw, an angry touch, and his lips hovered just over hers - so close they shared breath. "You know what I became."

"That was different."

"You're not Wraith anymore; I'm not Iratus anymore," he said, not moving back, not giving an inch, with a fierceness that she recognised as fear turned back on itself with nowhere to run. "We're just John and Teyla."

In the blowing whistle of the eddying wind, Teyla looked up at John for a long moment, thinking of many other days and nights, through the tentative stages of alliance, through the testing of friendship's boundaries, to the careful walking of a line that they drew between them.

Then she tilted her head and let her lips brush his with a delicate tingle and a sigh.

The scar in her belly strained slightly, a twinge of discomfort that was lost in a sea of sweetness as John bent his head and mouth tasted mouth in the first kiss of mutual intent.

Her head spun and her pulse thundered in her veins. John kissed like a man drowned and come back to life, as though his hope and salvation lay in her. And Teyla took him back with every nibble and slide of her tongue, tasting him as his hands closed around her nape, hungered for him as his body pressed against hers, and had him, every kiss like lightning in her blood.

When she dragged herself back for breath, her palm against his chest, John was fighting a smile. "That wasn't so bad, now, was it?"

She took refuge in facetiousness. "Rodney would say it is impossible to empirically say from merely one experience."

"I'm not kissing Rodney," John pointed out. He watched her for a moment. "Although, you know, we'd better ensure that you've got enough examples to be able to empirically judge this."

He leaned in. Teyla laid a finger against his lips, halting him. Fear leapt in his eyes and was mastered.

"John?"

"Teyla?"

"We never did this before."

"No, we didn't. But we'll get used to it."

There was bravado in it as well as truth, and Teyla loved him for both as she kissed him again, tender and slow and teasing, feeling John's breath catch against her lips and his hands pull her close.

Teyla Emmagan had died on a far-distant planet and been reborn in Atlantis. This was not a choice she would have made before, but it was her choice now.

When a Queen chooses her mate, there is no gainsaying the choice.

Her choice and John's.

- the end -

Comments

[ticklie.livejournal.com]

Wow. The idea of exploring Teyla's rule as a queen was excellent and magnificently pulled off. Great fic.

[tielan]

Thank you! It's something I've been thinking about for a while, with varying degrees of intent. This just gave me a chance to pull it out and dust off the bunny!

[agriope23.livejournal.com]

Excellent fic. So moving and touching. I loved it.

[tielan]

Glad you do! Thanks for my gift, by the way.

[jeyla4ever.livejournal.com]

Oh, SECRET SANTA... How did I miss this? I sooooooooooo love it! the idea of Teyla a Wraith Queen, is so intriguing, and yet, to me, she is already queen of her people and queen of the entire Pegasus Galaxy including that of the city of Atlantis.

This was beautifully written and the characters were perfectly matched!

The angst, the plot, the voices, drama and heated moments are simply PERFECTO!

Thank you Santa....definetly on the top of one of my BEST gifts this year!

THANKYOU!

[tielan]

Hey hon, you're welcome. I'm glad you liked it!

[madjm.livejournal.com]

Wow, this was fabulous! What a terrific way to explore the idea of Teyla's Wraith DNA. And I love that though it's very John/Teyla it has a whole team feel to it as well. Love! :)

[tielan]

Thank you. :)

[tassosss.livejournal.com]

This was wonderful! It's not often you see good Teyla fic and good Teyla/John stories. Teyla's transformation was brilliantly thought and executed. Thank you!

[tielan]

Yeah, the Teyla and Teyla/John areas of fandom are pretty small - which is a pity, because I'd love to see more stories of this kind around.

Thank you for reading and leaving a comment to let me know you loved it!

[jeyla4ever.livejournal.com]

HAHAHAHAHAHA! TIE....I KNEW IT....I knew it had to be you!!! WOOOHOOO!
All kidding aside, THANKS again! This is wonderful!

*smooch*

[janne-d.livejournal.com]

Wow. I enjoyed this a lot. Teyla as the Wraith Queen was fascinating.

[tielan]

Thank you! Teyla's Wraith DNA and the possibilities of it are woefully under-used in the show, which is a pity. And I like exploring those possibilities.

[greenconverses.livejournal.com]

You slay me with your fics of greatness. Awesome work!

[tielan]

*pokes*

Thanks.

[allisnow.livejournal.com]

Yipes! You rock so hard, you know that? *grins*

[tielan]

See, now what I need is a partner in crime...someone to egg me on...

[allisnow.livejournal.com]

You know, you HAVE gotten me wondering what I did with a couple SGA story starters...

[tielan]

:D

[ruby-caspar.livejournal.com]

Oh my word tielan you're just amazing. What a story! It's just incredible.

[geneeste.livejournal.com]

"We're just John and Teyla."

*happy, happy sigh*

I'm so happy I checked to see if there was any J/T goodness today. :D

Teyla's voice was, as always, spot-on, and John's voice had my heart aching very pleasantly. And this part: Teyla Emmagan had died on a far-distant planet and been reborn in Atlantis. This was not a choice she would have made before, but it was her choice now. Perfect.

Very, very nice. :)

[crazy4orcas.livejournal.com]

Wow -- what a ride, what an amazing story! So many things to love in this -- Teyla's Wraith DNA being expolored, Michael's nefarious plot, John's Wraith "brother" returning, the angst, the romance, the action! All so nicely woven together into a great piece of work.

[agriope23.livejournal.com]

Superb. In a perfect world, this would be an SGA season finale.

[bailunrui.livejournal.com]

Awesome fic. I love the idea of Teyla waging war as a Wraith Queen. :)

[foxyinthecity.livejournal.com]

Wow, amazing story. The ending is beautiful. A perfect ending and beginning for these two, but this story had a little of everything in it action, angst, and romance. Like someone said above that in a perfect world that this would be the SGA season finale. I couldn't agree more.