Warhead On Legs

Title: Midnight in Soho
Fandom: Stargate: Atlantis
Characters: Michael, OCs
Word Count: 1,271
Rating: PG
Summary: Michael with small children. Not eating them.
A/N: Set immediately after The Prodigal.

He wasn't supposed to be alive.

Michael didn't understand how he had survived the fall, but he was aware enough of his body to know that he wouldn't survive much longer. Too many bones in his body had been shattered. There was most likely internal bleeding, and the cranial injury would kill him within a day or so if nothing else. He could feel his body shutting down around him, noting every failure of a critical system as though it were an item on a ship's log. It was easier than facing what had happened. That Teyla, his beautiful warrior Teyla, his Queen, had killed him.

He had fallen in an area of the city that had been shut off or shut down for some reason. Inhabited until recently but now shut down, perhaps for repairs later. Perhaps because they didn't have the energy to sustain it. He wasn't sure where it was and he didn't much care why; dying in privacy was favor enough. Michael's eyes scanned the ceiling, then closed. He should have done some things differently, but they had left him no choice.

You keep telling yourself that. He heard it in Sheppard's voice.

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Title: How to Save A Life
Fandom: Stargate: Atlantis
Characters: Michael
Word Count: 951
Rating: PG-13
Summary: Michael tries to save a life this time, instead of taking one.

It was the second jumper crash he was on hand for. A part of him wondered if the people of Atlantis could continue on losing jumpers this way, even as he reminded himself that he had no idea what the limits of their resources truly were now. The Wraith who was sometimes known as Michael picked his way through the wreckage, identifying twisted and mangled bodies as unsalvageable, resisting the temptation to feed on the dying. It would only mark them as having been used by a Wraith and he did not need the people of Atlantis knowing where he was again.

Even if it meant Teyla knowing where he was. Letting her find him again, being able to see her again. To feel that bond. A mental connection with someone else. It was tempting.

It was very tempting, and the thought of her was so vivid in his mind that he knew without it playing through that she would not forgive him for feeding off of the dying. Not with all that they had shared and what he had been able to achieve. She knew that he was capable of better than that.

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Title: Desperado
Fandom: Firefly/Stargate Atlantis
Characters: Mal, Inara, mention of Sheppard
Rating: PG
Word Count: 1,132
Summary: Mal gets some really good bad news
A/N: How is it I don't have a Firefly icon? Any Firefly icons? This fic is set in the Firefly/Stargate: Atlantis mash-up wherein Inara and Shep are together most commonly known as "The Special Hell." Because that's exactly where we're going for mashing the two 'verses together. Don't worry, I'll balance it out with a Mal/'Nara fic soon enough.

It was his ship.

He knew every nook and cranny, every bolt, every scratch on the bulkhead. He knew which were the creaky panels on the floor and which cupboard door in the galley wouldn't shut all the way. He knew when people came on board, he knew when they left.

Well, ideally, he knew when people came on board and left.

( He knew when _she_ came on board )

Title: Bad With Words
Fandom: Stargate Atlantis
Characters: Sheppard, Lorne
Word Count: 748 of 'em
Rating: PG
Summary: Sometimes secrets are hard to live with.
A/N: Still all age's fault.

Well, he'd found it. This was hell.

"... and apparently Ronon's taking her side on this one, and I have no idea what's going on..."

Lorne nodded, made the appropriate faces, and poked his food around on his plate as he listened to Sheppard ramble on about Teyla and her pregnancy. About how he'd snapped at her and removed her from active duty and how could she not tell him and so on and so forth. The fact that Sheppard was acting like an idiot did not help the discomfort he felt at hearing the other man ramble on about this woman he'd been working with side by side for a couple of years now, clearly nurturing a deep affection for her.

"I don't know." Sheppard rubbed his temples. Lorne knew exactly how he felt. "Maybe ..."

"Maybe you should try talking to her." He said it, but he didn't look up to see the other man's reaction, poking at what was supposed to be Salisbury steak with his fork still. At least, it claimed to be Salisbury steak. "I hear women like that sort of thing."

Sheppard made a noise that Lorne interpreted as I would but I don't really know a damn thing about talking to women and I don't want to betray my ignorance. Lorne could translate because he'd made that exact same noise quite a few times. Sheppard had even less excuse, as far as Lorne was concerned. He'd been married. He had to have at least done a few things right.

"What?" He finally looked up at the other man.

"I just..." Sheppard shrugged.

"You've had to have known pregnant women before."

His commanding officer gave him the sort of eyerolling look that normally would have gotten him more sarcasm in return. But this was Teyla, and Lorne actually liked Teyla. Lorne liked Sheppard too but there were times when he just wanted to smack the man upside the back of the head. Teyla came in for far fewer of those impulses.

"That's not the point. It's not that she's pregnant, it's..."

It's exactly that she's pregnant, you fool. It's that she's pregnant, which means she was seriously involved with someone because Teyla wouldn't do casual. Which means that she has someone and it isn't you. And that bugs you. Lord knows, it bugged Lorne, in his own relatively similar circumstance. He settled for conveying all that in a look, which had much the same effect.

"It's..." he gestured for Sheppard to go on.

The other man shrugged after a little while, evidently not finding anything to say that was to his liking. Or at least, nothing that would justify the entire tirade he'd just indulged in. "She didn't tell me. She should have told me, I wouldn't have let her go on the mission, get stunned..."

"If that's all you're worried about," and Lorne knew it wasn't, but he leaned back as though he had no personal stake in the conversation. "Keller should have told you. She's the chief medical officer, it's her job to know the status of the teams and whether or not they're capable of being in the field. If she had a concern, she would have told you." Granted, Lorne wasn't certain about the wisdom of letting Teyla get stunned or the advisability of some of the things they did in the field. But just because Keller hadn't anticipated every contingency, he reminded himself, did not make her a bad doctor.

It did make him a cranky Lorne. But this whole conversation was making him cranky.

"It would have been better coming from Teyla."

Lorne stopped even pretending to eat and said nothing, because there really was nothing he could say against that. It was true. John would have been less hurt if Teyla had told him, but she hadn't, and that was that.

And he wasn't going to be able to keep up this conversation much longer.

"I still think you should talk to her," he said, dumping the trash onto his tray and turning to go.

"Well, what do I say?"

Lorne was at least glad for the small bit of luck that his back was to the other man, just so he didn't have to deal with Sheppard's questions on why the wincing. He sighed, turned around. "I don't know, man, say anything. Say what comes into your head." Or your heart. Too sappy?

Too sappy. And Sheppard was beyond bad with words anyway, where feelings were concerned. They stared at each other for a second before he turned and left.

Lorne wasn't too good with words either.

Title: Untitled
Prompt: "Children are our most valueable natural resource." from museimagination
Fandom: Stargate: Atlantis
Character: Michael Kenmore
Word Count: 646
Rating: PG
Summary: Prompt response; Teyla and Michael's child
A/N: Set in the AU 'verse where Teyla and Michael met in the lunatic_cafe, written as a drabble for a topic response for a comm. Cross-posted here and linked at teyla_michael

Perhaps the advantage to them requiring so much preparation and careful manipulation of biology to make it happen was that there were no unauthorized or unexpected conceptions. Every child was wanted, from the first to however many there might be. They sat together in the laboratory when they could, when she could steal moments away, him hard at work and her silent except for the occasional murmur of their conversations. How Atlantis was faring. How he was surviving.

Occasionally the conversation ventured into the area of, did they both truly want this child. The question was more out of insecurity than anything else; the answer was invariably something along the lines of don't be silly and of course. Combined with the little touches, hand to hand and mind to mind, that reinforced those words. Teyla's longing for a child was not desperate but palpable enough to make him ache with it. He had been alone for so long and now, even with Teyla, it was not the gentle pressure of a Hive, all those minds all linked by family and purpose. He missed that, so much, so terribly much.

It had to be done, not the old fashioned way with nothing but two people desiring to share their love with a new life, but with enzymes and equipment and much discomfort for Teyla. They consoled themselves with the thought of what would be, the hope of a healthy child, neither of them allowing the thought to cross their mind that cross-species hybridization often went through a lot of sick or disfigured creatures before something that could be considered whole emerged. Neither did they think on his previous mad-scientist attempts. Those were creatures, things to be pitied for certain but things nonetheless, desperate attempts to reach some sort of demented goal. This was different. This was two people wanting a child. And that was surely different.

Weeks became months. Of waiting, of hoping, of the light in her eyes as she found him in the laboratory certain that she had noticed some change in herself, only to have the elation fade from them both as they realized it was nothing. Disappointment echoed back and forth between them until it was painful to be together, compounding hurt upon hurt.

When Atlantis' former Wraith ally took her Michael thought it was first as a hostage, and finally approached the human city to offer his assistance. When they learned what his true purpose was Michael felt a simultaneous surge of elation and dread. And a conviction that this was the worst idea of all possible ideas. Their child (their child!) would be wanted all the way across the galaxy for what she or he represented, a new race, a new creature that mixed the best qualities of both species and hopefully the weaknesses of neither.

Not that he cared about any of that. Michael found that, beyond anything his or her physical form might represent, he wanted Teyla and their child back with him, his family, safe and whole and with him. For no other reason (he snarled at Sheppard and Ronon and anyone else who insinuated otherwise) than that they were his family, both of them. If he no longer had a Hive, he at least had his beloved and his child, more precious to him than any material goods or knowledge or power or currency in the universe. If he had not wanted to be with Teyla, he would not have risked so much to be with her. If they had not wanted this child, they would not have worked so hard to conceive it. Him. Or her. He wanted his family returned to him; he would protect them at any cost to himself, or to anyone else, for there was nothing in the universe he held so dear.

It was, at least, a sentiment both Wraith and human could understand.

As much as John complained when the sun shone in his eyes first thing in the morning, Inara liked that his windows faced the dawn. It gave a sort of freshness to the morning, a sense of hope that completed the joyous feeling of waking up with him there beside her. Or half stretched out on top of her; there were moments that usually followed a hard mission or a threat to Atlantis when he got a little possessive, or protective, and on mornings afterwards she usually found him wrapped around her and clinging tightly.

He was already up and moving around this morning when she opened her eyes finally, stretching out and smiling with sleepy contentment. Dressed and looking ready for a mission, he turned and smiled to see her awake.

"Hey, you." She wrinkled her nose playfully at him. "Heading out today?" She couldn't remember what planet they were supposed to be visiting today, but it was a new one, she remembered that much.

"It's been postponed," he shrugged, coming back to crawl up the bed, stretching out next to her. "Lorne's team spotted a Wraith patrol, so we're hanging back to see if they need help before we head out, since we're still here."

Inara nodded. They were spread a little thin these days, but nothing they couldn't handle. Especially not with a fresh influx of people and resources from the Daedelus. John had been particularly relieved to see them arrived, and she wondered just how thin they'd really been spread, if there had been more worry over supplies and personnel than she'd realized.

"Well…" She put her arms around him, pulling him close and smiling as he snuggled up. "I suppose they'll know where to find you when they need you."

"Mmm-hmm." He closed his eyes, seemed to be settling back to sleep with a satisfied little grin.

The sun warmed the blankets and what skin was open to the air outside of blankets and clothing. She hadn't bothered to get up and dressed yet, but then, he was the one who had the early mission and she had another hour and a half before she had to be anywhere. His fingers brushed the strap of her night-slip down off her shoulder and traced back up, along her neck, back down again. She closed her eyes for a moment, enjoying the sensations.

After a moment his fingers left her skin and she felt the bed creak, felt him shift against her and heard the soft sliding of the drawer on the bedside table. His fingers combed through her hair for a moment, and she snuggled into his arms this time instead of pulling him back into hers.

The kiss softly brushed against her temple was nothing new, but the sensation of cool metal against her skin was. She opened her eyes, twisted a little in his embrace to look up at him.

"'Nara…" he started, but couldn't find the words to continue. Not that he had to explain; the look in his eyes that was all at once a little scared and a little hopeful, the object held between their fingers as his hand curled around hers said everything. She blinked once and it seemed to take a long time to focus back in on his eyes, somewhere hovering between blue and gray and green, another color that matched Atlantis so well but didn't have a name. "I…"

She held her breath to keep from sending him skittering back from whatever it was that he wanted to say, not that it was hard. Her chest seemed to have tightened, preventing speech or breath or anything like that.

"I …" He struggled so hard with saying what he felt. She never could figure out why, if it was shyness or worrying over the possible consequences or feeling that his words were inadequate or something else entirely. "Every morning I wake up with you is a… a gift. And I want to have as many more of those mornings as I can."

Her skin felt all hot and cold at the same time. He managed about as far as 'Will you' before she put them both out of their anticipation, pulling him close and kissing him with happiness so acute it felt almost like tears. Somewhere in all that he hugged her tightly back, laughing softly (and with much relief) into her hair.

"So, that's a yes, then?"

"Goof." She tickled him, he fumbled to catch her hands before they lost the ring in the sheets, and somehow it ended up on the proper finger. "Of course, yes."

"You want to what?"

Teyla had taken a few hours to come up with convincing arguments just for this purpose. At least they were doing this in her quarters; Rodney wasn't likely to notice and if Ronon passed and heard them arguing at top volume he would assume what he had been assuming the whole time. Never mind that it was no longer true, and…

But she wasn't going to think about that. Not now.

"I want to consult our foremost expert on Wraith tactics and behavior," she rephrased, and made it pointed, although without glaring. "Michael did not do this. He did not bring this Wraith ship here, he has nothing to do with whatever it is they are searching for. And I want to ask him what he believes is happening."

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It was getting harder and harder to see him, regularly. There was the fear of discovery by the Wraith, the problem of the Replicators, the Wraith and the Replicators making war against each other and human settlements on all worlds getting caught in the cross-fire. Teyla never questioned whether they had done the right thing by re-activating that portion of the Replicator base code or not, but there were times when she wondered whether there was any good outcome to be gained from any of this, for any of them.

She gave Michael what news she could of what was going on in the galaxy outside and, true to her promise, helped him try to find a more permanent solution to his needs. It was Ellia all over again, she thought. Except perhaps the retrovirus had made it possible for Michael's dietary need to be changed more easily? Without changing the whole of him, all that made him Michael? She was conscious of it, every time she watched him work at the lab equipment they had borrowed or plundered. What he had said when confronted with the option of retrovirus or death. The death of self had disturbed him more than the death of his body. Not exactly a position she wanted to disagree with.

Teyla was finding it harder and harder to hide such sentiments. Finding it harder and harder to hide the changes that she was noticing within herself. Not the least of which her skill with her gift, which was growing by leaps and bounds.

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Thoughts like that, Teyla supposed, were why coming back to Atlantis didn't feel so much like home. Sheppard was still uncharacteristically quiet, his hands tense and tight on the controls as he flew them back. At least this time she knew why, and he knew what was happening, and there was no deceit between them. Only sharp and uncomfortable silences. Well, she supposed, that was better than the alternative. Maybe.

"John…"

"I don't want to talk about it."

Of course he didn't. She looked back out at the view ahead of them, exasperated. Spending time with Michael was looking to be more and more like a holiday and less like a … whatever it had been when she'd started. A very bad idea.

"Are you…"

"Teyla, I am not fine with what you're doing. I'm definitely not fine with what you're doing, but if you've been sneaking out to see him for the past… god knows how long…"

That stung. She wondered if he had meant it to.

"And he hasn't done anything so far, given what he said the last time I ran into him, I'm willing to take your word that he's not a security risk."

Which meant he wouldn't tell Carter, or Ronon, or anyone else he didn't absolutely need to. Teyla slumped a tiny bit in relief.

"Thank you, John."

He shook his head, muttering. "Don't thank me."

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Walking through a Wraith ship was no longer a nightmare sensation that reduced her to a child again, quivering and fearful. Michael's memories turned it into something like home, although underneath there was still the awareness that they were the enemy, that she was food. From him, the awareness that was sad and lingering, that this was no longer home and never could be again. The images were blurry and drifted as he took her on a tour of his Hive ship, information now three years old or so. Not for the sake of intelligence or even learning more about Wraith culture, but simply sharing.

They sat crosslegged across from each other, hands clasped around each other's hands and foreheads touching. A part of her culture and a part of his, sharing memories. It seemed oddly natural to share memories. To trade experiences back and forth, her learning how to fight at the bantos, his learning hand to hand combat as a young child tusseling with other children.

[What is this?]

They asked it, over and over again, focusing on one particular memory that was incomprehensible or incoherent to them, until they weren't even saying it mind to mind anymore but conveying a sense of query.

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