Title: "Neither Friend Nor Foe"
Author:Kristen999
Word Count: 10,600
Rating: T-For Occasional Language
Genre: Gen, Angst, H/C
Characters: John and Todd
Spoilers: Through Season 5's "The Lost Tribe"

Summary: Todd was eerily calm while his own people swarmed closer. He must have sensed the internal battle and shrugged his shoulders, not caring that the barrel of an automatic rifle was shoved in his face. "You can fight alone, John Sheppard. Your choice."

Notes: Thank you to my patient beta Frisco for all of her help. You rock!

John landed the jumper near a clearing. The HUD showed one life sign. He peered through the front window regardless; night was settling in, obscuring most of the outside. He grabbed his P-90, patting down the extra clips bulging from his vest pockets. His .45. Check. The backup strapped to his ankle. Check. And his trusty Gerber knife. There was enough ordnance on him to take on a small army.

"Colonel Sheppard, this is Caldwell. Everything appears normal on our end."

"Copy that. I'm about to step outside. I'll signal if anything seems hinkey."

"Hinkey? You know this whole thing is idiotic, right?"

"Just stand by, McKay," John sighed, signing off. The team hadn't taken the whole solo meeting very well. As in they were all pretty pissed about it, but it was too late to turn back now. This was his idea.

The hatch opened, and thick humidity smacked him in the face. John walked outside, checking out the dart parked casually nearby, feeling very grateful that the Daedalus was in orbit. This wasn't his thing. Never had been. These meetings were always ripe with unease and apprehension. Like waiting for a knife in the back from the next double-cross.

The tall, familiar silhouette emerged from the shadows of a gigantic tree, its thick trunk and endless branches as old as the visitor next to it.

"Sheppard. I am glad you agreed to come," Todd said, smiling. The Wraith always wore a slight smirk, never willing to share the private joke. John didn't want to be part of the next punchline.

"Considering what happened last time, I wasn't willing to let you board one of my ships again," he said, grinning back.

"A very unfortunate misunderstanding, I assure you."

"Yeah, it was. Next time you should check the police scanner. If we're a victim of another heist, you can go play cops and robbers instead of holding an entire crew hostage." John stood there, waiting for the reason for the rendezvous. Anticipating the next move.

Todd's eyes sparkled in amusement. "I saw your ship in orbit. Thought it might be a good time to...how do you say it? Smooth things over."

If he had a BS meter, it would be off the charts. Yesterday John's team returned from P2X-269 only to encounter a Hive hidden by the moon's odd energy field. None of them thought it was a coincidence when it turned out that the Hive belonged to Todd, who requested a face-to-face.

No way in hell were they going to host another round of talks after the Wraith tried to kill everyone on board the Daedalus.

"How is Mr. Woolsey? I take it he granted this arrangement."

"No, he wanted us to blow you outta of the sky," Sheppard lied, to see if he could unbalance things.

"And you?"

"What can I say? That's always my go-to plan."

"Very well. Then we should say our goodbyes." Todd nodded, turning his back on him.

No, that wasn't right. Maybe John had misjudged the game. This wasn't another move in their ongoing chess match. It was down and dirty poker and Todd had gone all-in to call his bluff.

"Wait," John called after him, feeling like a damned fool. Todd kept walking, probably enjoying how he twisted in the wind. The thing was, he was sick and tired of this. "What do you really want?"

The Wraith slowed, turning around, those damn insect-eyes twinkling. Then John's radio crackled with Caldwell's harsh voice. "Sheppard! We've got another Hive that just jumped out of hyper-space!"

"Make that two!" Rodney's voice shouted in his ear next.

John pointed his P-90, finger squeezing the trigger, only a hair's fraction from expending the magazine. "What's going on!"

Only a millimeter of pressure. And it would be over. Todd's eyes grew large, long strands of wispy hair revealing his own hidden radio. His pupils reacted with genuine shock. "It's not us!"

John reached for his ear piece, but it blared before his fingers reached it. "We've taken damage and had to raise our shields," Caldwell yelled.

No direct beam out. He eyed his jumper; the sky overhead cracked open with darts.

"Sheppard! There are--"

"I know, McKay. Gotta go!" John yelled, running, heading for the only safety around. He didn't look back to see what Todd was up to. But he did notice the blue streaks of weapons' fire. Not culling beams. Damn! The darts were targeting his only means of escape.

Half the jumper blew up in front of him, the explosion's force knocking him down. His head bounced off the ground painfully, and loud ringing filled his ears. The sky tilted suddenly, but he scampered to his feet, the P-90 cold and hard in his hands. The moisture in the air couldn't hold back anymore, dumping all its extra weight.

Rain. Lovely.

The darts dropped off ground troops; the planet crawled with Wraith. Everything felt off-kilter. John was half deaf, his equilibrium wobbly, and he was soaking wet - things couldn't get any worse. Except they could.

"Sheppard!"

Todd came out of nowhere, grabbing his arm hard. "We must run."

John twisted the hand away, held the wrist at a sharp angle and stuck his P-90 under the Wraith's chin. "Give me one reason why I shouldn't--"

"Because I know the way to the 'gate on this world."

Todd's dart was a smoldering mess. They were both stuck. John breathed fast through his nose. Not this again.

Todd was eerily calm while his own people swarmed closer. He must have sensed the internal battle and shrugged his shoulders, not caring that the barrel of an automatic rifle was shoved in his face. "You can fight alone, John Sheppard. Your choice."

The smug bastard backed away, confident that John wasn't going to fire. And he was right. "Fine. Let's go."

They went full throttle, the ground crunching under their boots, stray branches slapping clothes and bare skin.

The woods exploded with stunners and now they were dodging those, too.

"What the hell is goin' on!"

"Wraith politics."

John wanted to slam the end of his rifle over the pale head. "Really? No shit!"

Blue energy blasts were coming high and low. One impacted the tree right next to John's head. An inch closer and his brain would've been fried. He spun around, spraying their six with ammunition.

"Don't waste time. We are out numbered!"

The gap between them got wider. Todd was several feet ahead, never slowing down. Of course the Wraith couldn't do something useful...like provide some firepower of his own. John felt his thighs and calves burning; sweat poured down his face. The rain was a grease stain over his vision. Or it could be a concussion.

"Are we close?" he yelled.

"Yes."

Todd's voice sounded distant, his black coat harder to pinpoint in the darkness. The Wraith were hot on his heels, their grunting echoing closer, their aim more accurate. John tripped over a root, falling to one knee, and dodged two shots that would have tagged him in the back.

That was close.

There was no sign of Todd, and John had no idea where the 'gate was. Crap! He ran in the same direction, hoping to catch a glimpse of Todd, but Drones were encroaching from all sides.

John fired at the ones in front him, trying not to think about how they got ahead. Did he get turned around? Bodies dropped while others filled the ranks.

His finger never let up on the trigger, left, right. And back again. Amazingly the oak he slammed his body against took the brunt of return fire. Run. He should run.

Rain pelted his head; the night blurred in and out. Then click-click.

"Damn it!"

He ducked behind a hunk of trees, shoving in another clip. The Wraith were diminishing. John inhaled deeply and took off in a mad sprint. The woods pounded with the sound of drums; everything whirled around him. His lungs screamed, but he pushed harder until the trees thinned, and he was out in the open, unable to command his feet to stop.

He ran right into a Wraith party.

John opened fire. He emptied a whole clip, but there were six of them. And they wouldn't freaking stay down! He smashed the butt of his P-90 into the nearest Drone's mask. The Wraith to his left swung its stunner, slamming it into John's shoulders.

The pain was blinding, and he fell to his knees from the blow. Out of the corner of his eye, John noticed a Wraith on the ground take advantage of the distraction and stab the closest Drone in the thigh.

Todd.

The attention of the group of Wraith was split. John pulled his .45 and shot the nearest target from his kneeling position then whirled around to take out the two in front of him. Todd growled, striking with a silver blade, slicing open a Drone's throat.

John felt something sizzle by him; heat grazed his arm then the tingling sensation turned into numbness. His weapon became useless. Sounds were going in and out, and he couldn't stand.

"This way!"

Someone was propelling him forward. Two blurry rings twirled ahead. John rubbed his eyes with his good arm, and the images merged together.

"Dial! I'll hold them off."

Right. Alpha site.

John punched the DHD one-handed. Todd laid down cover fire, using a stunner he'd snatched.

It wasn't enough.

Todd was overwhelmed by blurs of black leather. All four Wraith became a tangled mass of growls, fists, and knives. John hit the fifth symbol when he sensed movement from behind. He jumped to the left, the DHD bombarded by stunners. He rolled twice and came back up, firing awkwardly with his left hand.

He hit one and missed two others. John dived, using the back of the DHD for cover. When he popped back up, the other Wraith seized, falling into heaps on the ground. Todd stood behind them, looking a bit peeved.

"Finish dialing!"

John scrambled; the symbols spun dizzyingly, but he entered the last ones. "Now!"

The 'gate whooshed open, and Todd didn't wait, rushing towards the blue field. John followed, dodging and ducking stun blasts along the way. There was a crackling sound, maybe even a snap and pop. It was hard to tell. Everything had turned mono.

All he knew was stumbling through the wormhole, and the familiar energy whiz. Then something kicked him in the chest and sat on him. And John realized - this wasn't the Alpha site.

It felt like he was pulling Gs without his flight suit. John staggered, mouth gasping like a fish, wondering how the hell they'd ended up on Mars.

"Where did you take us?" Todd accused.

The Wraith seemed to have the same difficulty drawing air into his lungs. Good. John loosened the straps to his tac vest to relieve the pressure around his chest. A portable O2 tank would be great about now. "I don't know. This isn't what I dialed."

"There is nothing here." Todd stated the obvious. The Wraith stepped towards the DHD, studying the barren landscape surrounding them with a scowl.

The entire surface of the planet was covered in red dust. John cautiously walked towards the end of the platform, the simple act exhausting. He wiped a hand over the soil, his fingers coming away rust colored. "Iron oxide of some sort." He blinked at the oppressive landscape. The rocky terrain reflected in the atmosphere, casting shades of red everywhere.

Todd wasted no time dialing the DHD, drawing John's attention. "Wait. What coordinates are you entering?" He trudged up the stone platform, fighting the extra lead weights someone had slipped into his boots.

"Somewhere safe, I assure you," the Wraith replied.

John didn't like the sound of that, taking aim with his weapon. "Back away."

Todd growled, holding up his hands, frowning even more at the energy needed to lift them. "The heavy gravity of this place is most tiresome. I merely wish to leave it."

"Fine, but I pick the location."

"Like you did this one?"

John didn't rise to the bait. "Obviously your pals screwed things up on the other end when they damaged the DHD. I'll just redial and we'll get outta here."

He pressed the familiar buttons, but it was like mashing a dead keyboard. "What the hell?"

"Move!" Todd commanded.

The Wraith jammed a shoulder into his, the force nearly toppling him over. John was caught off guard by the shove, the momentum strengthened by the heavy pull of the planet. He righted his balance and barged right back into Todd's personal space, ignoring how his head swam with the motion.

"Something is wrong," Todd seethed.

"You don't say?"

The Wraith's fingers curled around the edges of the DHD; his yellow eyes narrowed dangerously. John remained outwardly still, ready to pull the trigger at the slightest threatening move.

Todd's hands relaxed, the calm and cool demeanor returning. "I'll see if I can fix it."

"Sounds like a plan," John said, easing back to give him room.

Todd didn't reply, intent on his work. John took the time to flex his right fingers, rewarded by pins and needles. He'd feel better with his P-90 in his dominant hand. He studied the environment and tested how much his lungs could expand under these circumstances. A vice squeezed his sternum, and his whole body felt sluggish and heavy. Hell, even swallowing hurt. Running anytime soon wouldn't be advised. He casually observed his buddy. Todd was taking slower, more purposeful breaths. Their difficulties with the air were even.

The planet was about twenty degrees colder than most environments. It reminded John of the desert at night. His body shivered, and goosebumps prickled across his forearms. He gazed up. The sky almost touched the ground, visibility an endless red haze. John picked up a jagged piece of rock, the ends sharp enough to slice open his fingers. He threw the stone, and it sailed through the air like a fastball, plummeting back to the ground in seconds.

"There is no power to charge anything," Todd announced.

"Nothing at all?"

"See for yourself."

Todd stood back, and John resisted for a moment, not wanting to drop his guard. But instinct took over, and he examined the open panel, recognizing a dead control crystal.

Damn. It wasn't like he carried a spare one of those.

"We should look around," John announced.

"And then?"

"We'll figure something out." John wasn't going to think about the rest. Not yet. "We should see if we can find anything useful."

Todd scanned the dusky horizon. "Like what?"

"A Seven-Eleven. I'm not sure. But standin' around isn't going to accomplish much." John needed time to think. To find a McKay-like solution to this problem.

"I do not see how leaving will help things."

Frustration got the best of John's patience. He blamed all the angry Martian colors. "Can you repair the DHD? Pull out a white towel and wait for a lift?"

Todd glowered at the broken console.

"If there's a gate then there might be people around." They could be living underground. Bunkers were all the fad in this galaxy. "We should find shelter, just in case the temperature drops." John didn't know a lot about Wraith physiology, but they did hibernate and maybe they hated the cold even more than humans.

"I can regulate my body temperature," Todd said, shocking John. "Though I think it wise to conserve energy. Just in case we have to wait a while."

And that was another thing John didn't want to do. "Then let's go." He led the way, each step and breath an extra workout. If this ended up a test of endurance, he didn't want to know who'd win that particular competition.

Wraith or human.

The surface of the planet was unforgiving. Thin layers of talcum-like powder hid a crystallized under-layer, marred by cracks and craters. They left a trail in the cinnamon-covered wasteland easy enough for a blind man to follow. John reached for a canteen that wasn't there, his throat and mouth dried out from breathing too harshly. Water was the main reason for their little search. Food would be an issue later, and a topic of discussion that he'd like to avoid.

John's head pounded, the outside of his skull trying to cave in around the pain. He slipped on his aviators to conceal how much he squinted against the overwhelming redness, the effect reminiscent of snow blindness.

"Do you think your people will find you?"

"I know they'll be looking." They always did. John had doubted it in the past, but it was one of the few things he held true now. McKay would find them. If Rodney dragged his ass back from thousands of years in the future then being sent to some random planet had to be a piece of cake. A day. Two tops.

"So, who'd you piss off this time?"

"Those who wanted to meet the queen."

"Guess a little make-up can't conceal that face."

"Like you could tell the difference between us."

"Actually we can." John remembered sketching out Todd's markings in detail after their first, memorable encounter. "It's just most of the time we don't care."

"It is that type of ignorance that shows your weakness."

"I don't know. We seem to be doing alright of late," John taunted. "And we even know who's in charge now. Makes for an easier target."

Todd chuckled. "It does. Doesn't it."

John felt his gut twist. If Todd meant to plant the seeds of doubt about what happened today, he succeeded. "I wouldn't think you'd want to advertise our little arrangements. How'd they find you?"

"I have an idea," was all Todd said.

Discussion time was over. An hour passed and their pace slowed to a crawl. Todd showed signs of fatigue with an occasional stop for breath. John didn't complain; he wasn't even sure if he'd been walking in a straight line the last hour. His brains were being squeezed out of his ears at a slow, methodical rate. Every second they stayed on this planet, the more gravity applied pressure to his bones.

"Sheppard."

John flinched, cursing. Todd must have called his name more than once. Instead of saying anything, the Wraith merely pointed ahead. They reached a small canyon; cliffs led down the walls towards a tiny river. Water. Finally.

"The decline doesn't seem too bad," John pointed out. He'd climbed down worse without equipment. "The plateau level isn't too high; this is more like a valley." He looked up, realizing that all those terms were meaningless. "I'm just pointing out that--"

"--we should not have a problem scaling down," Todd finished for him. He neared the edge, peering over. "It is steep but manageable."

"Yeah, but let's take it slow. The acceleration speed on this planet is a bitch." John slipped on a pair of gloves and secured his P-90 so it didn't flap around.

They found a slope that had several footholds from protruding rocks and John located a wide crevice that ran almost to the bottom. He took point, the slate underneath easy to grip. It was tedious work. The sides of the crevice were made of the same razor sharp crystals that could slice open his gloves. He felt his center of gravity get pulled, resisting the tug-of-war on his body to drop.

Todd grunted; his boots slipped and dangled, knocking dust and debris into John's face. The silica could easily tear up his corneas, forcing John to hold still, eyes clasped, until things stopped falling on him.

"Stop screwing around up there," he shouted.

John cursed Todd because fighting gravity sucked. Fighting the downward tug on his fingers, wrists, spine and – God, his head; it was going to explode. And all the reds, red-oranges, scarlet-reds were merging and swirling. Up was down and down was up.

All this for water. But John knew the truth. He could stand around the DHD waiting for help. But not with a Wraith for company. And not with this Wraith. Yeah, Todd had been a guest of Atlantis for weeks, but shackles and guards offset a few things. And behind the jokes, the whole my buddy cracks, were fundamentals that were hard to reconcile with.

There were things that no matter how deeply buried, found ways of coming to the surface.

It must be the head injury or all the blood and adrenaline being pumped at greater levels that muddled his thoughts. He was halfway to the ground, a ground that wanted to rush and meet him. Below was a rocky shelf large enough to rest a moment before completing the descent. Only twenty meters left.

Rock and silt rained down on his head again. John craned his neck upward and it took pure force of will to do it. "What are you--"

But John didn't finish his sentence. Todd's boot slipped, then his arm, then the rest of him. And the only way to go was down.

An object falling freely near the surface increases its velocity with 32.2 ft per second or 22 mph for each second of its descent.

When Todd impacted with John, it felt worse then any aerial collision. Before his brain processed the pain of a falling body meeting his, John's back slammed onto an unmoving surface. There wasn't enough time between seconds to register the shock to his vertebrae or to the billions of nerve impulses.

Todd's weight disappeared, and velocity and inertia sent John over the rocky shelf, gravity claiming him, the rest of the canyon wall offering painful resistance, slowing his descent to the bottom.

An initially-stationary object which is allowed to fall freely under gravity drops a distance which is proportional to the square of the elapsed time.

In case of large initial velocities we have to use the principle of conservation of energy to find the maximum height reached. This same expression can be solved for v to determine the velocity of an object dropped from a height h immediately before hitting the ground assuming negligible air resistance.

Somehow he saw it coming, realizing during his falling and rolling that he shouldn't land face first. John braced for a final impact and funny how it took five, six seconds at the most. There was a crunch…or maybe a crack. Then hot-white blinding pain.

John's lungs fought against his ribcage, his brain registering the full implication of colliding with many objects. He was allowed one last gasp for air, body shaking in shock, and all that angry Martian red melted to black.

John couldn't move.

"For Wraith, hunger burns like a fire."

Something pressed down on his chest, something unforgiving.

"Tell me, Sheppard, if you found yourself burning alive, would you settle for just one drop of water..."

It'd start to burn soon, and the layers of his skin would stretch and break away into leathery flakes. Bones would become brittle...healthy muscle would wither...and the pain would overwhelm every exploding cell.

"...or would you take more?"

"No!" John screamed, his voice ragged. Then the real pain blossomed into a spectacular red.

It was blood, fire, the dying embers of the sun. The colors bled into his eyes, stole his breath, crushed and pulverized his body into the ground. John gasped, igniting flames throughout nerve endings, starbursts exploding in his vision.

Breathe. He had to breathe, one heavy, stuttering hiccup at a time. With every draw of air, reality dug a little deeper. The first thing he did was move. Bad idea. He cried out. His back...oh God, his back.

John stopped squirming and shifting. Breathe. Just breathe. In and out.

"You are awake."

He knew that voice, the same one who had called out in that darkened Genii cell. John's Adam's apple bobbed while trying to water his mouth, the simple movement a strain. It came back to him, the ambush, the crazy-assed Martian planet. Falling.

"What?" was all his brain came up with.

"It seems I lost my balance and...well..."

"And fell right on top of me!" John hissed. And regretted it.

Yelling hurt; his whole body did. He had to detach, absorb the pain, and find a way to deal with it. First thing was to take stock of himself. He felt Todd's eyes on him just out of view, waiting and watching.

His right arm throbbed. He didn't dare move it, craning his neck to examine where it rested on his chest. John swallowed back the nausea, ignoring the blood. A piece of bone jutted out through the skin above his wrist. The rest of his arm was swelling, his fingers growing number by the second.

Damn.

He tried sitting up, and pain shot across his back. John collapsed from the movement, cursing and screaming in his head. He was so screwed. Limited mobility was a death sentence for a soldier.

"You are injured."

And trapped like a rat.

Pain be damned. He couldn't just lie there exposed. He took a deep breath, jabbed his left hand into the dirt and with all his might--pushed himself up.

And screamed. Or might have screamed. He panted, reds graying to black. His body trembled, all his weight supported by one failing arm. He had two seconds maybe three before collapsing again. His body gave up and flopped back down, but he moved just enough to lean against the rocky incline.

The buzzing in his ears faded and new sensations made themselves known across his body. There was a wicked case of rock rash all over his right side. All those sharp edges had done a real number on him. John counted his blessings. He hadn't passed out again. He searched for the person responsible for this.

Todd sat against the same slab of rock a few feet away, looking a few shades paler and just as battered.

"I guess Wraith don't go repelling very often," John said, wincing at how hoarse he sounded.

"The need has rarely come up," Todd responded.

"You hurt?" John asked.

There was a pause. "I am not seriously injured."

Yeah. This was really, really bad. Not 'seriously'? What the hell did that mean? John studied the Wraith; his body was tense, huddled in on himself, all that gray skin covered in freely bleeding cuts. But what else?

If things were bad, would Todd actually admit it? Or wait for John to fall asleep and get in a little healing time.

So, they both sat there, staring at each other. Faking each other out.

Until the raw agony of fractured bone demanded attention. The tiniest motion pulled and stretched his back in ways it refused. And it hurt like hell; pain ricocheted down his spine, reverberating through muscle and tissue.

John used the pain in his back to deflect what he needed to do to his arm. Pain was good. Feeling meant less chance of nerve damage or paralysis. He used his good hand to pull out a field dressing, holding the gauze between his teeth.

He wrapped the fabric around his wrist once. The second loop he pulled tighter, biting his tongue in response. Copper filled his mouth on the third go-around when the bones began to grind. Moisture trickled out the corners of his eyes; his whole arm pulsated. He felt the tackiness of blood drip over his skin, making his head swim.

He was going to pass out. Or throw up. Maybe both.

"How will Atlantis find you?"

The fourth layer added the needed pressure to stabilize the break. "Not...sure," John gritted out.

"Perhaps Dr. McKay will figure out something."

The bone shifted back in place and John was sure he was white as a ghost. "He...always...does." He closed his eyes; cold sweat dripped down his face.

Todd knew McKay couldn't use the DHD to find them. Was that a distraction? He tucked his arm into one of the straps of his vest to secure it. "What about your pals?" he asked, still breathless.

The Wraith seemed to consider things. "They will search, of course, but perhaps not as diligently."

"What? No loyalty among your crew?"

"There is loyalty but also practicality."

"Practicality doesn't go a long way out here," John snorted.

"Your decision making process is very irrational."

"Who are you? Mr. Spock?"

Todd didn't answer which was fine by him. He was still shaky; the canyon wall was the only thing keeping him up. His throat felt as dry as the dust around them and he gazed towards the tiny river. John looked over at his companion; certainly a Wraith needed water, too. After all, Todd agreed to the trek. And damn it...it was his fault they took a tumble to begin with.

"It might be better to get some water before nightfall." John had no idea when that was, but he felt better phrasing it that way. It kept the fact that he was incapable of standing out of the picture.

Todd grunted.

"We don't know how long we'll be out here."

The lack of a response was really pissing him off. "You know, if you didn't take a swan dive down the ravine, I wouldn't be making the suggestion."

Todd gave him the equivalent of the evil eye.

What the hell? John felt his temper rise. His arm was royally messed up, who knew what was going on with his back, and he fucking hurt! "Is this some game to you?"

"No."

"You could've fooled me."

"I cannot get to the river."

John blinked. "What?"

"My knee and ankle are sprained or broken. I cannot walk that far on them. I tried while you were unconscious." Todd looked at him thoughtfully. "As I said, it is nothing serious, but it hampers my ability to move."

Things were getting better and better.

John judged the distance to their only source of water. It looked further away than it was. He swallowed some Tylenol and waited an hour, hoping it would dull things enough. Then he rallied his strength and counted mentally.

One.

Two.

Three.

The middle of his back spasmed, locking up his entire body, and he slumped to the ground before making it up three inches. All he wanted to do was curl into a ball to ride it out.

"How long can humans go without water?"

"A while," John lied.

"I know you will only last a few days. Wraith can endure a little longer."

Todd didn't mention food. He knew Todd could wait for weeks from his stay in Atlantis, though he had been whole and healthy then. He could probably last without water for more than three days, but shock would kill him before then.

Water would help for a little while. And it was so freaking close.

"What the hell is wrong with you? Why do you want to meet Todd alone?"

"Did you forget what happened last time, McKay?"

"Actually the last time, Woolsey grounded you."

"Funny."

"Seriously, Sheppard. Why can't we--"

"Because it's my call."

"You think he won't turn on you...is that it?"

John jolted awake, flat on his back and unable to move. Panic caused his heart to double then triple beat. He jarred his wrist flailing for his .45, his breathing nearing hyperventilation.

Calm the fuck down, John!

He ground his teeth together to control the blossoming pain of jerking his broken arm. Night had fallen; the sky was black with deep crimson highlights. The evening brought a bone aching chill, making him shiver. His vertebrae felt fused together and his legs tingled...and it wasn't the kind of pins and needles from falling asleep.

It was hard to shake the whole being watched thing. Studied even. "Why did you really call for a meeting?"

The sounds of someone shifting had an amplified effect in the silence around them. "To test the waters."

"Why?"

"Because I needed to know if your people would show up and I would not rather find out during an emergency."

"You're king of the Wraith. When would you need our help?"

"You've given us an experimental drug that alters the core of our existence. I deem it a wise thing to do."

"I didn't think you'd actually use it."

"It has...potential."

That wasn't the answer he'd hoped for, but he knew deep down the Wraith would never buy into it. "I'm sure you'll find all sorts of useful ways to solve some of your political problems with it."

"Just because you see it as a solution does not make it one to us."

"I'd call it a galaxy-wide answer."

"From whose view?"

"I'd say just about everyone's."

"And who are you to judge such things? You have had a great impact on the Wraith, John Sheppard. But not in the way you think. A time would have come when we faced a food shortage; all you did was to make it now. Wars are nothing new to us."

John didn't know what was worse. To have his part in awakening more of the Wraith belittled...or that his guilt about it was so transparent. It didn't help that he felt like total crap and wanted to saw off his own arm.

"I think Atlantis has delivered a pretty big blow to your kind. Counted the number of Hive ships recently?"

"We have lost numbers, but then again, we had a surge in population in recent years."

"I don't know...it's still a crap shoot feeding these days," John growled.

"Yes. It is the reason we even considered the option you presented to us recently. It is ironic. It was Atlantis' research that led to the one called Michael. And he is the one who tainted our food-- I mean infected so many human populations."

"We could've let you guys poison yourselves—make things easier for us later," John said, allowing the hatred to distract him.

"How honorable. Nothing like creating the disease and offering a treatment that is far worse."

"Last I checked, living was better than dying."

"Really? And if we are rescued and all you are able to do is just lie on some bed like you do now, unable to be what you once were, would you feel the same way?"

John felt gut-punched. All the anger and frustration boiled over and he used both his hands to shove himself up, to prove the bastard wrong. Things crunched near his wrist, the white-hot pain struck so hard, so fast, that his arms betrayed him, folding under his weight. He fell, rolling over in agony, cursing, swallowing back the bile burning a path up his esophagus. He cradled his broken arm, fresh blood seeping through the bandage.

Fuck. He was so fucking stupid.

"Maybe we have more in common than you will ever admit."

John resisted giving Todd the middle finger, too busy fighting for control over his own body. A body that wouldn't obey.

The sky was getting darker and soon they would have been here a whole day. And he didn't have a plan for escaping and worse yet--the ability to enact one if he thought of something.

John kept falling asleep and jerking back awake. Each time he berated himself, knowing the chances of not waking up were getting worse. The fifth time, he snapped open his eyes to find a set of yellow ones staring back at him. He lifted the barrel of his gun to put a bullet between them.

"Wait!" Todd shouted.

John's .45 was twisted away before he squeezed off a round. Todd's face was in his, both of them panting in sync. "I was only seeing if you were alive."

"Bad idea!" John snarled, yanking away his weapon awkwardly with his left hand.

Todd backed off. "You were unresponsive."

John rested the gun on top of his rapidly rising chest. "Been waiting long?"

"I had no intentions of feeding on you."

"For now. There are no Genii running around for you to snack on this time," John said, trying unsuccessfully to roll to his side. He gave up, not wanting to demonstrate just how weak he'd become. "And I thought you said you couldn't move?" he asked suspiciously.

Todd used the canyon wall to lean on, still panting heavily. He limped badly a few steps to give them space and half-sat, half-crumpled a few feet away. Too close for John's comfort. The Wraith wasn't looking too hot and now he was within stumbling distance.

"I cannot make it to the river. And I cannot move very much without pain," Todd growled.

John dropped his gun to his side, too exhausted to hold on to it. His entire arm was one massive spike of pain, and it was draining all his reserves away. Shock was settling in nicely. He wiggled his toes and sighed in relief.

He wiped cold sweat from his face, coughing to clear a scratchy throat. He felt himself drifting off. "How long were you there?" The topic came out of nowhere, but idle chit-chat helped him stay awake.

"Where?"

"That Genii hellhole."

"Many years."

John thought about the length of such captivity. How it could rob you of will. Of hope. "You became their evil pet?"

"They did what we often have to our prisoners. Used them to learn things. Though I do not think they were smart enough to use anything from their experiments."

The Genii couldn't get nukes right, thank goodness. John doubted their abilities in any kind of bio-warfare against the Wraith.

"They use you often to torture other prisoners?"

"No, they tortured me by not allowing me to feed. I survived off the people they disregarded or found no use for."

"Genii death row. How convenient."

"And if it had taken me longer to figure out how to reverse the replicator attack code with Dr McKay. What would you have done?"

The sky above was blood red. John stared at it, the voice next to him taking on a fuzzy quality, like the ones in his dreams. He ignored it, like he ignored most things that were not worth dredging up. At least not in the open.

"You are not answering."

"Doesn't matter," John said. Replying to both voices. "It didn't come to that."

"But it did."

No. But John didn't argue that one out loud. And never would. He'd given someone a way out. Gave them honor to right a wrong. A choice.

"You've always found a way to feed me, Sheppard."

John shuddered.

He couldn't feel his legs anymore, not even the bowling balls of his feet. The planet's weight pressed him further into the ground, marking the area of his grave. Todd's heavy breathing was a lolling soundtrack to the pounding in John's skull.

"You should...go back. To the DHD," he rasped. John wanted to spit, to moisten the dried husk of his mouth, but someone or something kept bearing down on his windpipe.

"I told you. I cannot repair the power crystal." Todd grunted, shifting around his weight. "I never thought you would give up."

"I'm not," John replied. "But one of us...can still move better than the other."

"Not by much."

The air was tainted by the scent of blood. John turned his head because it was the only part of him that worked right. The fuzzy haze over his brain cleared a little. Todd was slumped nearby, closer than before. His face was chalky—even for a Wraith.

"If McKay was here, I'd be home by now."

"There is nothing he would be able to do."

"He always finds a way," John said, drawing in a heavy breath. For as much as he wished for his teammate's ability to pull off miracles, he was thankful the scientist wasn't here. "You're...like ten thousand years old. You lettin' a crystal beat ya. Talk about giving up."

Todd growled, snarling something unintelligible.

Ten thousand years. John closed his eyes wondering what that would feel like. Then the part of his brain not asleep started calculating death ratios.

Todd stared back at him. "What?"

"Just wondering how many." They both knew what he was referring to.

The Wraith's expression didn't falter. "Many more than the years I've been alive."

John's gun was still within reach.

Todd looked past him, where his weapon lay, almost knowing what was going through his mind. "How many have you killed to survive? And when did you stop counting in order to keep doing it?" He closed his eyes. "We are who we are."

There were at least two bullets left. John could prevent the inevitable.

"There was a time when I did not think I would see the stars again." Todd's voice distracted him. "You proved me wrong."

Maybe Todd was stalling. John stared up at the smear of red, imagining the constellations hidden above. There was still time. He just needed a way to alert his team, leave little breadcrumbs. Create a smoke signal.

Then it hit him.

"Sonuvabitch!"

"You thought of something?"

John turned an angry glare in Todd's direction. "Your transmitter. The one you used on Atlantis to signal your people. We took it out, but I'm betting you have a new one." There was something in the way Todd reacted, or didn't, that set him off. "You haven't forgotten. I mean, how does one forget about an emergency transmitter? Unless you're an idiot like me."

There was no mistaking a guilty look. Todd settled against the wall. "It will not work."

If John could crawl, he'd beat the hell out of him. Then himself. "Why not?"

"Because my enemies will use it to find me. It is compromised."

"Atlantis could trace it!"

"I have changed the frequency. They would not know what to look for."

"But the bad guys do?" John shook his head despite the nausea it caused. "McKay will see it. Hell, he's probably searching for it, or something like it!"

Todd looked torn. "I cannot fight anyone in my condition if my enemies came. They would have no intentions of capturing me alive."

John felt a sinking feeling. "Is that what you were waiting for? See if you could have a repeat performance from last time? Wait till I'm too far gone and get your fill of what's left?"

"I was not lying to you, Sheppard. I have no intentions of feeding on you."

"Not until it was too late that is." The world was spinning, swallowing him up in a scarlet haze. He clawed at the ground, gripping his weapon. "I'd rather die fighting," John ground out before unconsciousness claimed him.

We are who we are.

A noise startled him and he opened his eyes to a world of soft fluffy pink. He felt disconnected, floating slowly towards the cotton candy in the sky. A gruff voice in his head kept telling him to stop being so lazy. It sounded a lot like Ronon's.

"We must be prepared for whatever happens."

The moving shadows didn't bother him. Neither did the man dressed in Halloween make-up. The white face paint was surreal. John should have been scared; his heart always gave him away even if his outer appearance didn't. It was roaring along at a freight train's pace in his chest.

There was a heavy scraping noise, like someone dragging a body. Then the ghoul stared down at him, talking in a voice that sounded vaguely familiar. "I have your weapon."

John's P-90 blurred into view and he blinked owlishly at it. Didn't he lose that?

Things started clicking in place, like maybe he should be really pissed off right now about the stolen rifle. Except a Wraith was touching him, pulling on his tac vest. Getting way too close and personal.

John tried to grapple with his enemy and instead gasped at being pulled upright. Numb legs unwilling to support his weight and a back forced to bend. He heard Keller and Carson's voices combined, yelling about spinal cord injuries. All he could do was concentrate on breathing, something that was increasingly difficult to do. And then his stomach rolled and things got real fuzzy.

"You did that on purpose," Todd growled.

John was leaning against a cold surface, and he didn't realize how hot his skin was until it relished the iciness of rock. His belly felt better and his insides were not threatening to rebel anymore. He recognized Todd. Realized the Wraith had propped him up against a boulder.

Todd panted as if he had run a marathon. John smelled a familiar sour odor and wondered if he gotten Todd's boots. "What's going on?" It was a dumb question, but his head didn't feel right.

"I used my transmitter to send out a signal. I don't think we'll have to wait very long."

Todd had gotten him mobile—kind of-- and in a defensive position behind a hunk of rock. John's only thought was of his P-90, and he grabbed it with his left hand. This was going to suck big time. It was one thing to wield a handgun awkwardly...the kickback from the rifle alone would cause problems.

Instinct told him to offer it to a more able bodied teammate. The problem was none of them were here and Todd's best weapon was biological. "What..." John swallowed painfully. Damn heavy gravity. "What changed your mind?"

"As you said. Better to fight than to wait for death."

Yeah. Too many years in a Genii cell.

"You know, I killed him."

Todd eyed him strangely.

"Kolya. I shot him a couple of years ago. He's dead."

It was surprising how much relief those words caused John by just saying them. Like a large weight lifted from his shoulders.

Todd's normally unreadable face faltered. Satisfaction. Rage. Maybe even disappointment of not being a part of it.

"I'm sure it was not slow enough."

For John it had been the ultimate kind of violation. Beyond taboos of war crimes or blood feuds. Way past personal vendettas. His subconscious protected him except in the dead of night—by the very readable expression of Todd's face—perhaps they shared similar scars.

John could always feel the one etched along his breastbone. Who knew where the Wraith carried his.

"We...many of us know of you," Todd said thoughtfully. "My enemies will recognize you."

That was a given, but there was something more. John didn't like the sound of this.

"You would be highly valued."

"Don't think I'll be around long enough for that." That was the truth; even talking and not falling down was a challenge.

"We have ways," Todd said.

God, no. John thought of Ronon.

NO!

He shook his head, ignoring the aftershocks. "You kill me. If it's the last thing you do." What the hell was he thinking? Like Todd gave a crap.

"We will both die. Or we shall encounter each other again. As enemies or temporary allies."

John wasn't ready to comment, any remarks cut off by a commotion nearby.

Todd's signal had been received. When they saw the darts overhead, they knew who had found them first.

"How many will they send?"

"I don't know. Five. Maybe ten."

John didn't bother with the odds. "Got a plan?" Todd didn't answer, his yellow eyes milky. "Fine. I'll knock 'em down. You make sure they're dead." If Todd healed himself, than he'd be more useful.

John was missing half his ammo, some of the clips lost from the fall. The remaining ones he put within reach. He hoped the little hunting party would split up to search for them. He studied the canyon wall, the piece of rock that screwed up his back jutted out, protecting them from any fire from the high ground. That was if the Wraith climbed down, a few of the darts could have landed elsewhere and might attack in the other direction.

They waited. John leaned all the way on the boulder, not trusting his legs to support any weight. His back wasn't happy about being up and couldn't decide what to do. The numbness from earlier was alternating in and out with sharp radiating pain running down his spine and into his lower limbs.

The double vision was new.

His self assessment was thrown aside when Todd whispered, "Here they come."

Down the hill it was. One...two...three...four. Like ducks in a row. John bid his time, balancing his P-90, calculating how the kickback would effect things. He fired, strafing to catch them all. His aim was off and it took longer, but all four Wraith toppled down.

The ricochet from his weapon vibrated throughout his body and he slumped over the large rock trying not to throw up. War drums pounded in his ears, his pulse was at humming bird speed. Todd hobbled towards his buddies, stumbling every fifth step. He slammed his feeding hand into one of the Drones, face contorting in glee. It was like watching a bad horror movie and John was too drunk to look away.

Instinct told him to stay alert, keep his eyes open. The gunfire would bring the rest here. He squinted, trying to focus. Nothing above, nothing across. He brought his attention back to the carnage in front of him, two of the Wraith doing their invincible thing and getting up. Before they could locate their stunners, John brought his weapon to bare.

His shots went wild, the P-90 wobbling in his trembling hand. He forced the sausage fingers of his right one to steady it and fired again, nailing the bastards. This time he couldn't hold onto his rifle, the gun sliding over the boulder where he couldn't reach it.

More Wraith took that moment to join in the fun.

"Crap!" John grabbed his .45 to bring it around, but he was too dizzy and too slow.

He was a goner, except he hadn't been stunned. Howls mixed with growling and the sounds of flesh hitting flesh. Todd loomed over him, breathing heavily, manic and very Joker like. "Here," he put John's P-90 in his hand. "Keep bringing them towards you and I'll take care of the rest."

He disappeared, adrenaline and life energy making the Wraith quick and deadly. John was still trying to breath and keep his stomach contents on the inside. Never mind the fresh blood stains all over his arm, or that he was freezing.

John curled his working left fingers around his weapon, and tried to aim for the center heads of the blurry approaching Wraith.

A few went down, Todd struck from nowhere, using a knife, snapping necks, or taking his fill again. Time got fuzzy. Todd was talking and then he wasn't. John forgot he still had his P-90, but that didn't matter because suddenly a Wraith that wasn't Todd appeared and back-handed John hard enough to rattle his teeth.

He found himself sprawled on the ground, a Wraith knelling over him. This one had a mow hawk thing going on which was odd."You will tell me where he is, or you will die."

"You mean Todd?" John rasped, then laughed.

This Wraith wasn't amused. He wrapped his fingers around John's throat and began squeezing. "Tell me."

"S'rry...he's...not here," John strangled out.

The Wraith, Sid. Smiled at him. "Your defiance will be exquisite." Sid tore open his shirt, fingers tracing the faint scar near his heart. "Such a rare gift to be wasted."

John squirmed, never taking his eyes off his tormentor. On the inside he was shaking. "Screw you."

Sid grinned wider, plunging his hand down, setting all of John's cells on fire. Paralysis locked up his limbs, heat swelled in his chest, flaying everything on the inside. He forgot how to scream.

He could feel the chemical breakdown of his body, the broken bones of his right arm deteriorating as they aged. Calcium, cartilage, and blood vessels wasting away second-by-second. It was excruciating.

Sid stopped, admiring his handiwork. "I'm going to do this slowly. Take your life a year at a time."

John panted for breath, still stunned.

"How many do you think you have left? And how long will it take?" Sid taunted, slamming his hand down and began again.

The Wraith was a maniacal evil surgeon, using rib spreaders and cracking open John's chest without anesthesia.

Just let it be over. Let it be over. He prayed.

Sid stopped, it took effort, but he pulled away his bloody hand. "Where is he?"

John said nothing. He was dying; he could feel it. Didn't matter how much life Sid tried to take, the accumulative shock of his injuries and the feeding were too much. Muscles twitched involuntarily, his numb body couldn't stop shaking.

"If you tell me, I'll drain you quick. If you don't, I'll give it all back and do it again. Maybe break your other arm, see what effect that has when I rip the life out of you."

No. Where was his gun? The spare was strapped to his ankle. John tried to reach it, but he couldn't move.

Sid shook his head, hand poised. "Where is he?"

"Behind you."

John listened to life and death beside him, thinking how ironic it was. He hoped Todd won, so he'd end this quickly. The struggle was over fast and his buddy crouched near him, face almost glowing. Probably from a feast overload. "You are not well," Todd said.

John coughed. "No, kidding. Took...you...long enough."

"I told you I was going to track the others and kill them. I didn't know that one slipped by."

"Just...just," John bit his lip. He was in agony.

"He only took a few years," Todd said, looking over him.

The hair along his arms were tinged silver, his face felt drier. It didn't matter, John didn't think he'd survive even if a jumper landed now. "Get me...to a dart...got to...contact...Atlantis." Maybe he could get a message through before he died. Preserve their little 'alliance' for future use.

"Very well, but one thing first. This will hurt."

John didn't expect it. He gasped. Speed and adrenaline poured into him. The rush was overwhelming, things glittered bright white and violent red. His stomach revolted and he rolled over before choking.

He waited, his heart rattling against his sternum, breathing rapidly through his nose and mouth. It felt like his arm had been crushed into millions of pieces, nerve endings all firing at once in his back. "Why? He rasped.

"Because you are more use to some of us alive." Todd's expression went inward. "And it wasn't your time. Not like that." The Wraith stood. " I could have done whatever I wanted. Turning you would have provided me with much advantage. Remember that I did not, Sheppard."

Todd walked away, leaving him there. John's mind was too busy riding a wave of Wraith enzyme to care very much. He was high as a kite and ready to scale the canyon and run all the way to the gate—if his body wasn't so messed up. He was still injured, John wasn't a Wraith. His life had been returned, but he was still screwed. No healing for him.

He stared at the sky; a single dart took to the horizon and flew away. And he was alone.

"The gift of life is reserved for our most devout worshipers...and our brothers."

John jolted awake, his left hand going toward his chest. His right one weighed a ton, but he wasn't paying it much attention.

"Sheppard."

He went stock still at the deep voice, eyes adjusting to the darkness. Ronon stood next to him, about to touch his shoulder, pulling it back at the last second. "You're on Atlantis."

Home.

"How?"

Ronon gripped the bed rail tightly. "Todd radioed us. McKay had tracked his signal, so we were already on the way." His knuckles were turning white. "We tried finding you earlier."

John's fingers brushed by wires and ekg pads, searching for the newest mark. "I know you guys did." He found them, faded, but there. "I'm fine." He looked up at the big guy. "Right?"

Ronon stared down at John's hand, jaw clenching. "Your arm's pretty messed up. Doc fixed it in surgery."

"And my back?" The pain was underneath, muted and aching.

Ronon shrugged. "Something about pinched nerves. Fractured vertebrae."

His eyes went wide and John first noticed the beeping sounds around him as they got faster.

"What are you trying to do? Rile him up?" Rodney's voice entered his view then his agitated face. "You fractured them, yes. Sounds really bad, but they'll heal. No permanent injury. Your arm however, is going to take six to eight weeks. Oh and your side looked like you rubbed up against a cheese grater, just more scars to add to your collection."

Ronon hadn't let go of his death grip and Rodney was a mountain of vibrating energy. Looking at him made John exhausted, his eyes were getting heavy. "I'm good now, McKay."

"You were fed on! Again," Rodney added. Like it was John's fault.

"Not by Todd," John said, and that was all he was going to say on the subject.

"So, he gave it back. A second time....you know for the record. What's with you two?"

John didn't know. "Just a means to an end."

"Well, it's a good thing he did. That is...give it back. Seems the enzyme gave your body a needed boost. Jennifer says you would have died without it," Rodney blurted. He had dark smudges around his eyes . "You were really bad off when we found you."

John stared at his hands. His right one was puffy and red, his wrist and most of his arm in a cast resting on top of a pillow. His left one still had callouses, the skin smooth. Hairs all dark brown.

"Want us to leave?" Ronon asked. It didn't look like he wanted to, but there was understanding in his eyes.

Part of him wanted them to go. John cleared his throat. "Yeah, just later."

"I'll tell Teyla you're awake. She left an hour ago," Rodney said hurrying out.

"How long have I been here?"

"Three days. You had a fever and was out of it," Ronon provided. "You were gone for two."

Two days with Todd. Two days too long.

"No more meetings alone," Ronon spoke. "I told you that he can't be trusted."

John was going to argue that it wasn't Todd's fault, but he drifted off again. The good stuff floated through his veins. The ceiling was a fuzzy white, the color of calm and peace. He planned on tucking most of the week away, where he kept the other things not to dwell on. Hive ships. Darken hidden cells. Bullets with people's names on them. Red, angry planets.

He survived them. They all did. It was what life was all about and that thought stayed with him as the drugs took over. The murmuring of his team around his bed allowing him to fall asleep.

John relished being on his feet, soaking up the freedom of roaming around. The sky outside was blue, the atmosphere reflecting the endless sea. He didn't think he'd ever take the tranquil color for granted again. The salty air was invigorating and he stood over the balcony. It was his first day not flat on his back in the infirmary and he needed this. Wanted to experience things for himself. The back brace under his shirt was uncomfortable, but considering the alternative...

He tried not to dwell on what ifs, thinking things had been too close for comfort. The ocean waves lapped below, drawing him in. Once he was healed, there would be no excuse not to check out the surf on the mainland. He'd put it off for too long.

"There you are."

John turned around; Richard Woolsey heading over. "Hey."

"I was told to find you out here," his boss said, admiring the view.

"Yeah, forgot what walking around felt like," John replied.

Woolsey studied him, contemplating his next words. "I was hesitant to bring this to your attention since you were just released, but it couldn't wait."

John felt a spike of adrenaline flood his veins. "What?"

"We received a message from Todd. He wants to speak to you."

John adjusted his sling, curling and uncurling still slightly puffy fingers around the hard plaster of his arm. "Oh?"

"He's waiting for you on a secure channel."

Woolsey followed behind him, nodding to people they encountered in the hall. John tried to ignore those in the gate room, watching his every step. He couldn't imagine what most of them thought about the military leader of Atlantis who had private chit-chats with the newly crowned king of the Wraith.

He wondered how many of them were here during the first siege. How many had survived and stayed on. If they had lost friends.

It never occurred to him that some might have been around for Kolya's horror show. If they all shared different versions of the same nightmare.

John found himself in front of a view screen, mostly in private. Woosley stood off in the far corner even though it would be recorded.

Todd's image appeared and John questioned if there would ever be time when he didn't feel like he was selling out Peter to save Paul.

"I am glad you survived."

"Feeling's mutual."

Todd didn't smile this time. "We need your help with the gene therapy."

"Cutting to the chase I see." He was shocked that Todd had begun testing it. John heard footsteps behind him, felt the presence of three more individuals in the room.

"I would rather discuss this face-to-face."

John could practically hear Ronon growl and Rodney and Teyla's protests. "Really?"

"It is vital we speak."

Two years ago, John would have laughed over the idea of meeting with any Wraith after past betrayals. Before a Genii hellhole, he might have taken a chance and shown up with a strike force and hidden explosives.

"Alright. But, I'm not coming alone."

"I assumed as much. I'm transmitting the coordinates to you now."

Keep your friends close and your enemies closer. And when black and white turned to grey. Be willing to stand side-by-side with them all. "Receiving them," John said, switching off the signal.

"I don't think Dr. Keller had missions scheduled as part of your recovery," Woolsey piped up.

To survive, one had to make concessions. "I'm sure we can find a way to work things out," John replied, turning toward his team.