Chapter 3

~Pulling the Thread~

Doc opted for a quick jab of her 'approved' sedation, before she ran the kid through every test known to mankind, and a few I'm sure she made up along the way. At that point I was starting to wonder if Fraiser had left a handbook of 'how to do' in her office before she died. Wouldn't surprise me really, woman was a true legend.

Limpet, as I've christened him, has been unfurled from his flag and draped in an over-sized pair of scrubs with the arms and legs rolled up.

"You can stand down the bomb squad, General." Brightman returns Limpet's chart to the slot at the end of the bed and moves to check on the monitors she's attached him to. "There was nothing abnormal in his preliminary blood work."

"No bombs hidden in teeth, odd mechanical heart doodads?"

"He's a perfectly normal human child of approximately five years of age."

"What about his DNA?"

"Well, it's safe to say he has some," she replies, deadpan.

Damn! She does understand my humor! I'm in the company of a professional comedian.

"Funny, doc."

She gives me a small smile, the first I've seen from her since she took over the CMO position from Fraiser.

"The DNA will take a while longer."

Really? Well, that's sworn me off all those Maury Povich 'Who's your daddy' programs for life. "Then when can we expect him to wake up?"

Brightman nods towards the bed. "He's awake now."

What? I turn my attention back to Limpet, who is staring up at me from under a whorl of bed head hair, one hand curled under his chin. I'm not sure why I didn't notice this the first time we locked eyes in my office—perhaps it was the whole naked kid on my desk, alarms blaring, blinding light drama—but he has the most brilliant blue eyes. That is, once I've pushed aside a few unruly blond bangs to find them.

I hook a plastic chair with my foot and drag it over, parking my weary butt alongside his bed. "Hey,' I offer in my best caring tone. "You got a name?"

Limpet blinks slowly and licks his lips, and I'm pretty sure he's going to answer me.

But he says nothing.

"Okay, well, I'm Jack," I say, pointing to my chest as if to emphasize my identity. "And this," I toss a thumb over my shoulder at Brightman, "is Doctor Brightman."

"I don't think he understands you, sir."

Really? What gave that away? "You wanna try?"

"He either can't understand you or can't hear you."

"Oh, he can hear alright. How do you explain his reaction to Carter? He definitely heard her before he saw her."

"You didn't mention that."

"I didn't think it was relevant or I would have."

Brightman stepped in closer and crouched down to his eye level, and for a moment I thought she was going to pull out the penlight of death and blind the poor kid with it.

"Hello," she whispers. Now, see, I tried that and it didn't work.

Limpet, living up to his new name, has his gaze firmly fixed on me and appears to ignore her completely. I'm starting to wonder if this is a woman thing he's got going here, although he hasn't done that whole stiff as a board and scared witless routine with Brightman.

She stands back up and moves away, telling me she has other patients and that if I have other duties to attend to, she'll have one of her nurses' sit with him. I check the time on the wall.

"Na, I'm good," I say, looking first at the kid and then back at her. "Shoulda bugged out of here a few hours ago."

After the doc has left, I turn back to Limpet to find him asleep again, hand still tucked under his chin and those errant bangs of his falling against his eye lashes. Whoever this kid is, he's going to be a real lady killer when he grows up.

Which, of course, leaves me wondering about the greater picture: If he is a descended Ancient, exactly which Ancient is he and what the heck is he doing here?

To be continued...