So I wanted to explore the main characters' reactions to what happened with Michael. Teyla is the first in a series of 4.
He wants to know who he is. He remembers who he was, and who we tried to turn him into, but he doesn't know who he is NOW. What we did to him was life-shattering. We did not take into account his feelings, whether or not what we were doing is right.
We thought only about what would benefit us, and not what the ramifications of our actions would be. That makes us no better than the Wraith.
Dr Beckett thought that he was doing good. Maybe he was. However, even he believes that he has gone against his own creed of "first, do no harm". I have never seen a man so broken, so cowed and utterly different, changed by events which will haunt all of us to our graves.
My life was placed in danger through this experiment, and my first thoughts now are not for my own safety, my own wellbeing, but for how it must have affected him. Michael Kenmore. The Wraith. The killer.
We rationalised it to ourselves, telling ourselves that we were preventing this particular Wraith from ever killing again. How wrong we were. How proud, boastful and sure of ourselves we were.
How wrong we were. How stupidly, recklessly wrong.
I cannot condone the actions I took, I cannot even truly understand them. I simply hope that, one day, in some small way, some good can come of this.
Then maybe I can wash the blood from my hands once and for all.
Elizabeth Weir paced up and down her small office like a caged lion, tense and ready to spring at any time. She had to keep reminding herself that negotiations were not an option this time. The Wraith weren't best known for their willingness to talk.
It really was a case of survival of the fittest out here in the Pegasus Galaxy - and they had to do whatever was necessary to survive. When Carson had said he believed that he could isolate the Iratus bug gene, and possibly come up with a "cure" for the Wraith characteristics, she had barely hesitated. The thought of being able to bring the Wraith down to human level had been too much of an opportunity to pass up.
However, it would seem that, although the retrovirus suppressed the physical manifestation, no-one - not even she - had taken into account what would happen to the personality, the memories - the very being of the Wraith.
That had been the one fatal flaw. You might be able to take the man out of the Wraith, as it were, but they had been unable to take the Wraith out of the man. She leaned heavily against her desk, a brief respite from the pacing, before slapping a palm down in frustration, anger, bitterness, regret. She couldn't forgive herself for being so shortsighted, so centred on the wrong aspect of things.
She was so busy measuring the cost if they DIDN'T try this, that she ignored the potential cost of going ahead.
It had almost cost Teyla her life. It had cost Elizabeth herself her unshakeable belief that the Wraith were nothing other than pure evil. And Carson... what was it going to cost him? Only time would tell how this would affect the gentle Scottish doctor...
Carson is probably the most affected of everyone regarding the experiment with Michael, so I tried to put myself in his position.
Oh good god, what have I done?
Since when did someone give me the right tae play God? Since when did I become th'arbiter of what should and shouldn't be allowed tae live?
I'm shaking. Just a little nip there, a wee dram tae get me through this.
Michael Kenmore. Michael the Wraith. Mikey, as Sheppard called him. Ach, my pride, my damn fool stupid pride is what got us intae this mess! My idiotic consideration of advancement over ethics nearly got Teyla killed!
Carson lad, y'always were trying tae run before ye could walk. The goal was always th'important bit, and y'often lost sight of what was happening on the way. Isn't that why ye went intae genetics in the first place, lad? Yes, okay, y'were tryin' tae help. Ye had all these grand schemes in your head, wanting tae make a difference, wanting tae change things for the better.
But somewhere along the way, ye lost sight of what it might do tae people in order for ye tae get tae your goal. Ye didnae consider the consequences, lad.
And ye just went and did it again.
All I was thinkin' about was how it was going tae benefit us - here on Atlantis - and not how it would affect anything or anyone else. Least of all that poor Michael. I actually liked him, once I'd suppressed the damn Wraith. But it wasn't enough. Things didnae work out how I'd hoped. He needed more of the retrovirus than I had anticipated, and it wore off much faster than I thought. And once the Wraith in him was out again, we couldnae give him the dosage he needed in order tae keep the Wraith suppressed.
Just a little drop more.
I knew what I was doing was wrong. Something, a wee little bit of conscience, kept naggin' on at me the whole time. But I couldnae help myself. I had tae try, you understand? I had tae try!
But all the trying in the world's not gaunnae put this one right. I'm gaunnae havtae live with this for the rest of my life. And I dinnae know if I can do that.
I looked like Wraith, I spoke like Wraith, I fed like Wraith.
Now I look human, I speak like a human, I eat like a human.
Yet I am not human.
I am... nothing. Inside, there is an emptiness. I feel only a hunger that cannot be sated by nourishment, a void that cannot be filled with human contact.
For the first time, I feel.
I feel pain, anger, regret at things that are not to be. I feel an overwhelming longing to belong. And yet I must remain separate, for I belong in neither world now.
An outcast, rejected from society as I no longer fit their norm. For a brief, sweet moment, I felt as though I belonged on Atlantis, felt as though I was accepted by my peers, and cared for as one of their own. I felt... right.
And then the memories came.
The feedlust, the power coursing through my veins as I drained the very life-essence from these people who were claiming I as as they were, from these... cattle. For that is what I was becoming. Nothing more than one of the herd upon which my own kind feed.
When I was Wraith, I was one yet many, possessing the knowledge of the hive, sharing, needing, hunting as one. Yet now I am... not-human, I feel the liberation of individuality. Its strange seductiveness is calling me, almost... almost persuading me that this is right.
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