TITLE: Left Behind – Chapter 3
AUTHOR: renisanz

. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . ..

After leaving Ronon alone with Seraih, Jennifer had retreated to the quiet of her office, sat down in her surprisingly comfortable desk chair, and buried her face in her hands. She sighed heavily before crossing her arms on her desk and plopping her head against them.

There was so much to think about, and she just wanted to sleep. She felt a fresh blush coming on as she thought of Seraih's last words. He has spoken of you before. Jennifer found herself shocked at the revelation. Her stunned mind failed to formulated a way to ask more without sounding like a lovesick schoolgirl. Then Ronon was there, and Jennifer had struggled to maintain a professional air as she briefed him on Seraih's condition, informing him of Seraih's lack of memory as to how she'd come to be in Atlantis.

Jennifer truly hoped that it was only a temporary side effect of the psychological stress Seraih had endured, the same stress that precipitated her going into premature labor a few days ago. Jennifer was deeply disturbed by what Ronon and Teyla had reported on what they had found on Seraih's homeworld. In any other case, she would consider it a mercy for one not to recall the horrors of a culling. However, so much more had occurred besides the culling, and it was important for them to determine what exactly had happened.

After Ronon brought Seraih to the infirmary, they had been able to stop Seraih's contractions. Jennifer shook her head as she remembered the near chaos that had ensued, when she tried to get Ronon to leave the treatment area. Seraih has basically freaked out, for lack of a more appropriate medical term, and Ronon hadn't been keen on leaving letting the girl out of his sight either.

"You need to sedate her."

"What?" She knew Ronon meant well, but he was no doctor. She focused on administering an appropriate tocolytic when Ronon grabbed her arm, forcing her to look up at him.

The conviction in Ronon's eyes held Jennifer in place. "If it's safe for the baby, you need to do it. Trust me."

It was the last word of entreaty that quashed whatever doubts Jennifer had about Ronon's uncharacteristic request. She told herself that she had not let her burgeoning feelings for him cloud her judgement, reasoned that, given the girl's obvious distress, it couldn't hurt to calm her as quickly as possible. However, it was Seraih's teary, frightened eyes that made the guided Jennifer to her ultimate resolve.

She requested one of her staff to bring her a certain dosage of sedative.

Fortunately, her water had not broken, otherwise they would have had no choice but to delivery the baby. They seemed to be out of the woods, for now, though. Jennifer had been worried about how Seraih would react when she woke up in Atlantis, so she was very pleased if slightly unnerved at Seraih's calm responses. She really was an unassuming beauty, and Jennifer had been taken aback by her penetrating blue eyes.

Jennifer looked at when she heard a light rapping on her door.

"Dr. Keller?" came the cautious tone of Dr. Marc Pedersen.

Jennifer immediately straightened and smiled. It was not a good look for the CMO to seem passed out on her desk. "Hey, Marc, what's up? Uhm. . . you made any progress on the Wraith autopsy?"

"Some," he nodded, waving the laptop he held under his arm as he stepped into her office. "We can talk about it over dinner."

Jennifer shot him a look full of incredulity.

"I mean at dinner, in the cafeteria, with other people. . . " he explained.

Jennifer blinked.

"With Teyla. She's waiting for you there, actually. She asked if I'd fetch you. She's still hesitant to come near the infirmary," he finished, stopping a short distance in front of her desk as he waited for her response.

Finally Jennifer nodded. Awkward. She hoped her resultant blush wasn't sending the wrong signal. It was late, and she need to eat. Marc as pretty good company, and her interactions with Teyla had been scarce over the last few days.

"Alright," she sighed, pushing up from her desk.

. . . . .

There was a slim crowd in the mess hall at this time of evening, just after the dinner rush. After exiting the line with a tray of Pegasus-style spaghetti, Jennifer followed Marc as he led her to a table out on the balcony where Teyla and Colonel Sheppard were already seated.

Jennifer slid into a seat across from Teyla, and Marc took the seat to Jennifer's left.

After they all exchanged greetings, Teyla asked, "How is Seraih?"

"She's good," Jennifer sighed. "She's awake."

"Oh?" Teyla looked uncertain and then glanced at John.

"I thought you were supposed to let me know when she woke up?" He said.

"I'm letting you know now, Colonel," Jennifer replied cooly. She hadn't meant to come off challenging, but something about Joh's tone rubbed her the wrong way. "No offense, but she's been through a lot. Though I understand your need for information on what happened to her world, as her doctor, I didn't think it was a good idea to bombard her with strangers right away. Ronon's with her now," she added. Jennifer also recalled the promise she had made to Ronon that she would be personally responsible for Seraih's medical care. At the time, it was the only way she could get him to leave the infirmary.

They had been able to stabilize Seraih's condition fairly quickly, but after the sedatives wore off, she continued to sleep. Jennifer had calmly explained to Ronon that there was nothing more they could do for her. All the tests showed that Seraih was healthy, and the baby wasn't in any distress, so all they could do was wait and see.

Jennifer had never seen Ronon so . . . protective. He refused to leave the young woman's bedside. At one point, Jennifer threatened to sedate him and have him fed intravenously (she would have laughed at the dubious expression he gave at that, if she wasn't so serious), until he finally gave in took a few meals, always in the infirmary. Still, Jennifer knew that this arrangement could not go on forever. His constant presence unsettled her staff so much so that Jennifer always had to be present when any of them had a hand in Seraih's care. She was extremely relieved when Seraih's vital monitors indicated that she was regaining consciousness.

John nodded an understanding at Jennifer's explanation, then asked, "Has she said anything?"

"Not much," Jennifer admitted. "I mean, she was pretty mellow, considering. But she said she doesn't remember how she got here, on Atlantis."

"It's possible that's a side effect of her psychological trauma, no?" Dr. Pedersen piped in around a mouthful of spaghetti.

"Yes, that's what I suspected," Jennifer agreed. "Speaking of which," she turned to Teyla, "How's your headache?" She was shocked at the amount of pain killer the Athosian had requested on their last encounter, as Teyla was not given to readily admit to pain, no matter how extreme. During her time as CMO, Jennifer had come to know just how difficult it was to always give the appearance of unwavering strength in the face of adversity.

"The pain has," Teyla considered a moment, "lessened a great deal with the help of the pain killers."

"Oh," Jennifer winced, "still not better?"

"It is subsiding, slowly," Teyla admitted. "I have never experienced anything quite so intense, not even after encountering the mind of a Wraith queen."

"Well, that's . . . scary," John replied, his brow furrowed with concern.

"Oh, that reminds me," Dr. Pedersen said, waving his fork for attention. His eyes almond eyes wide with excitement. "The Wraith autopsy. . ."

"Oh right," Jennifer remembered. "You said you found something interesting."

"We are at dinner you know . . ." John reminded him, doing his best job to look squeamish.

"Right," Mark smirked. "It's nothing too gross, don't worry."

"Great," Sheppard quipped, not at all relieved.

"Alright," Marc wiped his mouth with his napkin and discarded it onto his empty tray. Jennifer wondered where he'd put it all. She hadn't really noticed him eating, and her food remained relatively untouched. He rubbed his hands together in preparation for the explanation, and Jennifer allowed himself to smile at the unabashed enthusiasm. "Remember a few years back, when you guys uncovered a nanovirus in one of the Ancient labs that caused the infected subject to hallucinate, go crazy and die from a brain hemorrhage?"

He glanced at each person around the table to make sure they were following.

"Are you saying that's what killed the all those Wraith we found on the planet?" Col. Sheppard gestured with his mug.

"No. Well, sort of." At Sheppard's look of annoyance, Marc explained further. "I'm appears that they died of a brain hemorrhage, but it wasn't a nanovirus that caused it."

"So what are you saying," Teyla prodded.

"Well, after what you told me about your initial encounter with Seraih in the planet, and her apparent abilities, with Dr. Keller's permission, I took some neurological readings," he produced the lap top he had brought with him and began typing in commands, "and I discovered quite a few anomalies in both her brain structure and it's activity. So, I compared the data with some of the readings from when you," he made eye contact with Teyla, "were being monitored the first time you tried to connect with a Wraith mind. . ."

"They were similar," Jennifer stated. All of the pieces were coming together now, and she found her heart racing at the weight of the implications.

"Mmm," Marc nodded while taking a gulp from his water bottle. "Not just similar. Seraih's brain activity was a lot more extensive than Teyla's." He held up the screen for Jennifer to see. She looked at the two brain scans. On the left was Teyla, on the right Seraih's. The areas in Teyla's brain responsible for her telepathic abilites were colored in red. On Seraih's brain, the same areas were colored, but they red covered a more extensive area.

"Oh my God," Jennifer gasped. That explained why Ronon had been so adamant for her to sedate Seraih. Somehow he already knew.

"What does this mean?" Teyla leaned forward, urging them for further explanation.

"Are you saying . . . she killed them with her brain?" John questioned with a furrowed brow, the disbelief evident in his voice.

"She killed them with her brain," Marc confirmed.

TBC.

. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

A/N: I hope I did alright on the medical jargon. I decided to bring Dr. Marc Pcdersen over from my stories "Making Up the Past" and "Back Home," because he has so much untapped potential. ;) I actually kind of like that Ronon and Jen haven't had much interaction so far. Builds tension I think.

Feedback is much appreciated. :)