Warhead On Legs

Word Count: 872 words


All the little sounds of the station faded into a blur of white noise. Breathe.

Legs crossed, shoulders relaxed, Teyla kept her eyes closed and her body still, the hammering of her heart in her chest. They had discussed it over and over again, they had argued about it, and none of them had come to any personal conclusion about the experiment, she thought. The official conclusion was that it would proceed as planned, from the moment it had begun with the capture...

Something crashed. Teyla opened her eyes, took another couple of breaths, and started again.

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[Many thanks to age for the title!]

Title: A Certain Point of View
Fandom: Stargate: Atlantis
Characters: Michael Kenmore, Teyla
Word Count: 3,952 words
Rating: PG-13
Summary: Teyla and Michael meet, quite by accident, after the events of Vengeance. Michael discovers that he is not as alone as he thinks. Written for age, spoilers for season four.
Author's Note: This is a first draft and written mostly with Dragon, so there may be odd typos here and there.

It was the first uninhabited planet they had come across in some time, and Teyla welcomed the chance for a bit of shore leave that did not involve responsibility, Ronon, or the folk on Atlantis.

As much as she loved them, and she did love them dearly as comrades at arms and friends, there were times when they were just so different. With ideas and senses of things and concepts that didn't match hers in small ways, little moments of dissonance. Their treatment of the Wraith. Their approach to certain problems.

And Ronan. For all that he was closer to her in some ways than the Terrans, there was a single-mindedness to him that was exhausting.

Here on planet whatever-its-number-was, there was nothing but her and the grass and the trees and the open air. She could breathe, and she let her head fall back and the wind pick up strands of her hair and enjoyed the few moments' peace. So much so that she did not hear the quiet footfalls of boots breaking grass behind her.



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Title: Species
Fandom: Stargate: Atlantis
Character: Michael Kenmore
Word Count: 1,020
Rating: PG (ish)
Summary: Michael, after being kicked out of Atlantis the first time and out of the first Hive ship he comes across, is not having a very good time.



He didn't stop running until he reached the third transition after the Hive ship's current resting spot. He didn't know know if they were following, if they cared enough to track him through three Stargates. He thought, probably, they didn't.

He spent the first night underneath an overhang of rock, huddled against the stone on a bed of dirt and leaves. What little clothing he had seemed inadequate, but there was nothing to be done about it. About any of it, this situation he found himself in. Untenable, irrefutable, he doubted that he would have been one to sulk or brood on the hatefulness of the situation whether he were human or Wraith. And yet, that was exactly the point. He was neither.

It surprised him, a little, the part of him that still remembered what he had been, that his body wasn't rebelling against itself and killing him. And then again, it might have been, and he wouldn't notice until it was too late. It wasn't as though he could go in for a full body scan. He wondered if he could even still feed, and then remembered that he could. Really, a marvel of genetic engineering, Beckett's retrovirus. It shouldn't be possible to suppress half a person's DNA. Not and have that person still live.

And yet, he was still alive. Amazingly healthy, or at least he had been at his last checkup at Atlantis. He retained all of his memories, even the ones he most wanted to forget. He wasn't sure if that was an even greater injustice, or better than the alternative of being half a Wraith and not knowing why. And yet. The betrayal of the humans was less understandable, more painful.

Michael, or the creature who had been Michael, pushed those thoughts away and tried to go to sleep.



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