Chapter Ten

Watching the cameras from his quarters, Zalenka sat back to rub his eyes. It felt as if he'd been watching the monitors all day and night; when, in fact, it was only approaching suppertime. Speaking of which, he wondered if Sheppard intended him to starve tonight. Slipping his glasses back into place, he watched as one of the infirmary guards appeared to stifle a laugh at something in his hand. A moment later he motioned for the other to take a look. While the man was focused on whatever was in the other guard's hand, the first one's hand whipped up and caught him on the back of the neck. As the second one began to fall, he caught him and delivered a few more carefully aimed blows. He laid the man out on the floor and seemed satisfied that he wouldn't get back up.

Already Zalenka was cursing himself. He's left the radio in the pocket of his work shirt in the other room. Tipping over the laptops in his scramble, he ran to retrieve it.

~o~o~o~

The world erupted in pain for Doctor Beckett. But gentle arms were holding him and moving him carefully as they lay him down. They murmured something soothing in a calming voice as he felt himself released on the cold, metal floor. His limbs were far away and useless as he fought to keep the darkness in his vision from taking over completely. Despite the gentle touch and soothing voice, his heart was screaming warnings. A pale, angelic face with intense blue eyes and white hair floated in front of his closed eyelids. Finally he managed to get his eyes open. The world was upside down and tilting crazily. He found himself looking up at a man in uniform from where he lay on the floor. He felt like he should know him, but his mind was too foggy.

The man's face was twisted in rage as he held the knife from his belt sheathe. Suddenly it all came back into focus. To the day he died, Carson could not say how it was that he went from prone on the floor to tackling Sergeant Holmes, but he knew he was too late. The whole scene played out in a sickening slow motion he had heard of many times in his career; but had prayed he, himself, would never experience. As he forced his slow, stunned limbs to motion and threw himself at the man, he knew he wouldn't make it. Somewhere in the back of his mind he saw Alex's intense blue eyes open wide in confusion. She started to roll away from the Sergeant and the knife, but it was too late. Like Carson, she was too slow.

The knife came down with all the force of the man behind it, burying itself to the hilt in Alex's ribs just under her right arm. She gave a choked off scream as Holmes pulled the knife out preparing for another stab. Even as the knife was leaving her flesh, Carson impacted the man with his full weight. Alex rolled off the other side of the bed taking half the equipment to the floor with her.

Holmes, struggling like a wild animal, tried to throw Carson off. He struggled and flailed trying to get around the doctor and back to his feet. Not able to entirely control his own body, Carson did what he could to keep the man off balance while trying to get to his own feet. Never having had any combat training beyond the use of basic firearms, he knew he didn't stand a chance against someone trained. But he would be damned if this maniac was going to kill one of his patients without one hell of a fight.

He wound up catching the man by the belt and then eventually wrapping one arm around the muscular man's waist. When Sergeant Holmes realized Doctor Beckett's grappling wasn't going to stop any time soon, he reversed the blade and swung blindly behind himself. He connected with flesh at least three times that he felt, but the stubborn doctor just wouldn't let go. Growling like an enraged beast, he twisted and thrashed, trying to break the doctor's grip around his waist. He only managed to drag the two of them to the end of the bed, instead. Finally he was able to twist around enough to get a good aim at the doctor's face with the hilt. He really didn't want to kill the man. He knew Beckett was a good man, just misguided in his overwhelming compassion even when pure evil was involved.

Before he could crack the doctor's skull, though, a screaming beast attacked him from behind. It was the Wraith. She had come to feed on him. He knew she would. He had always known. His screams joining hers, he twisted his upper body violently enough to shake her off, but the extra weight of the doctor on his lower half sent him crashing to the ground. The time for being gentle and compassionate was over. If Beckett refused to understand, then he just had to die.

With all his one-armed force, he planted the knife in Beckett's back just below the shoulder blade. The pain-filled gasp when it impacted bone was enough of a reaction to tell Holmes he was free. He was sadly mistaken. Instead of just holding on, Beckett now fought. Realizing he had nothing to lose and was likely going to die anyway once Holmes got a good aim with the knife, Carson swung and kicked and bit and punched with all the fury of his famed Scottish ancestry. Left with no choice, Holmes retaliated blade-first. Time and again he sliced and stabbed at the doctor inflicting wound after wound after wound. Blood was everywhere. Yet it seemed like an eternity before he finally got an opening to plant the blade somewhere useful. Right between the ribs on his left side under the arm. Holmes didn't have to check how deep it had gone in, he was good enough to know the doctor would not be getting up again.

Kicking violently one more time, he flung the corpse away from himself. Turning, trying to find the damn Wraith, he found her pathetic form trailing a small river of blood as she dragged herself toward the doctor. Beckett lay on his back, motionless.

"No, no, no," she cried over and over again.

Approaching, Holmes cocked his head watching in curiosity. Seeing him coming, Alex threw herself over the doctor as if to shield him.

"Stop it! Leave him alone!" she screamed.

"Fine by me," Holmes replied, raising the knife again.

As if something inside of her had snapped, Alex turned and lunged at Holmes' knees. The knife still came down, but being so off balance it only managed to tear down the left side of her back instead of puncture her heart. Rolling with the fall, he was barely back to a crouch before she was on him again. Unlike Beckett, she knew was she was doing. With inhuman strength and trembling muscles, she grasped his arm and twisted over her shoulder ripping the tendons, ligaments, and muscles, and snapping the bones like twigs. Screaming, Sergeant Holmes collapsed to the floor cradling his mangled arm.

Having used the last of her strength, Alex collapsed a few feet away from Beckett. Coughing up copious amounts of blood, she sobbed. Somewhere in the mix of sobs and coughs, she begged the doctor not to die, not to leave her alone. Holmes, recovering from the shock, found his knife and picked it up. Staggering toward the vicious bitch, he roared animalistically.

The three gunshots that rang out were a distant pop by comparison to the roar the man unleashed. But, the moment they sounded, his scream of pure rage ended as his face and most of the upper portion of his head exploded. Numb with fear for Carson, knowing she was going to die, Alex stared up at one of her guards.

"Please, help him," she begged around a mouth full of blood. "Don't let him die."

Cruz's face had gone from horror to grim determination. Already his radio mic was hot and he was calling for help. Wondering where the hell all the infirmary staff were, he reported the situation to Sheppard. Already Sheppard was close by and relaying instructions to all available medical personnel. In the meantime, Cruz took in Alex's condition and Doctor Beckett's as best he could. Already she was unconscious and lying across the doctor. Not sure if she was alive or not but seriously doubting it given the enormous gaping wounds, he could see through her open hospital gown, he gently moved her aside. Surprised she still had a pulse considering the gaping wound in her back alone, he was reminded once again that she most certainly wasn't human. Deciding to ignore her, he focused on Doctor Beckett. Given the amount of blood and the sheer number of wounds, he was amazed the doctor was still alive. Doing what he could to slow the flow of blood from the innumerable amount of wounds, he waited for help to arrive; hoping it would come before it was too late.

~o~o~o~

Late that night, Doctor Weir still sat in her office staring at her laptop. Her green eyes focused intently as the scene played out in all its high definition horror. The entire incident had happened in less than a minute. Sergeant Holmes had knocked out Captain Cruz, entered the infirmary, told the one doctor on duty that his partner had collapsed, said he was getting Beckett, and headed toward the back ward where Alex was being kept. There he closed the door to the ward effectively sealing off any chance of help for Beckett. Seconds. That was all it had taken. In seconds he had ensured his privacy enough to finish what he started and to hell with the consequences. Were it not for Cruz's ATA gene and the memory of watching Doctor McKay override a door lock once before, both Carson and Alex would now be dead.

Weir's brow furrowed and her lips thinned as she watched it over again. Part of her wondered what had happened. What went on in the mind of that Sergeant that led him to this? She watched Beckett's desperate struggle, not in the least surprised by the man's tenacity to defend his patient. But what surprised her to displaying open shock on her face the first time she watched it, was the sight of Alex struggling up off the floor to attack Holmes not once, but twice.

The first time she launched herself at the crazed Sergeant Holmes, her piercing scream of, "Leave him alone!" made her think her eardrums were going to rupture. This time there was no shock. Weir frowned deeply. She watched again and again as Alex, a horrific wound still wide open on her back and now a new knife wound in her side making her bleed through her mouth and nose, dragged herself to Beckett's prone form and protected him. And, with that camera angle, there was no mistaking the kiss she planted on the doctor's forehead while begging him not to die.

Until now, she'd had no reason to believe there was anything more between Carson and the former Wraith queen than a friendship, at most. Now she wondered. She wondered at what point Carson had gone from seeing her as a patient to seeing her as something more. When had she begun to see Carson as more than just her doctor? What affect would this have on his research? Did this really change the fact that Alex couldn't be trusted? Had Weir been wrong about her? Was there more humanity in Alex than she first believed?

Still glaring at the paused scene as if it would give her the answers, Doctor Weir was so absorbed in her thoughts, she failed to notice Sheppard enter her nearly lightless office. When he tapped the desk to get her attention, she glared up in irritation at the interruption. Seeing Sheppard, she softened her expression.

"You alright?" he asked, sitting in the chair opposite her desk.

Leaning back, Weir crossed her arms. "I don't know."

Sheppard's eyebrows shot up. That was not typical of the Elizabeth he knew. "What's up?"

"Have you seen the video from the infirmary?"

John shook his head. "No, I've been busy rounding up Belby and anyone else under suspicion until I have enough to satisfy my paranoia. Why?"

Heaving a sigh, Weir contemplated the laptop for a moment. Finally, coming to a decision, she set the video back to the point where Holmes entered the infirmary and turned it around. Sheppard leaned forward and hit play. The dark look on his face sent a shiver down her spine. She knew full well what the man was capable of when pushed. But she knew he'd gotten to the spot that had captured her attention when his eyebrows shot up into his hairline. Still, he played until Captain Cruz began working on Doctor Beckett before stopping it.

"Did I see what I think I just saw?"

"There's no mistake."

Sheppard sat back in the chair and considered this. "Well, she is human, now," he pointed out.

"More human than some born that way, too, it would seem," Weir pointed out darkly.

"But Beckett?"

"Aside from the obvious affects to his research, I'm not sure I like where this is going?"

"Whoa, wait a minute. This is Carson we're talking about, here. Just because she's got a thing for him, doesn't mean he's reciprocating. He's too professional for that."

"Have you seen any evidence?" she asked.

Sheppard's mind flashed to the brief scene he had witnessed earlier that day when he'd walked in on Beckett alone with Alex. If the man was in love with a former Wraith and a patient that was his business.

"No."

"What should we do?"

"Nothing."

"Are you certain that's wise?"

"Well, considering Beckett's on death's door and no one can tell me if he's going to survive and Alex is no better, I don't see that there's anything we can do. Besides, what would you do? Order Beckett back to Earth?"

For a moment Elizabeth seemed to consider it. "No. Maybe I'm overthinking things. But…"

"But what?" Sheppard prompted as her expression seemed distant.

"Do you really think it's possible?"

"What? That she could be in love with someone?"

Elizabeth nodded.

"I don't see why not. Aside from the obvious that I've pointed out already, she's never struck me as a Wraith…Wraith," he said, not sure how to explain it.

Weir nodded again. "Did you see Carson's video of her feeding test on the pack animal he brought in?"

"No. But I know she refused to feed on them again. Why?"

"She refused to do it again because it hurt her to look into the animal's eyes and see the innocence and trust before she fed."

"Seriously?"

For a moment they both considered these things. Doctor Weir still couldn't bring herself to trust the former Wraith. In many ways, she still saw Alex as a Wraith, if one in disguise. She had no idea what Colonel Sheppard saw, but she knew what the rest of Atlantis felt. Aside from a very small group of people, most viewed her as just another Wraith. Which is part of what had led to today's bloodshed and death. At this point, Weir was thinking it was time to remove Alex from Atlantis altogether. She even considered moving her to the Alpha Site. But this attachment to Beckett could prove a serious complication in that plan.

"You're doing it again."

"Excuse me?" she asked, cocking an eyebrow.

"That face you make when you've got a plan, but you don't like it."

Heaving a sigh, Weir shook her head. "It's late. You should get some rest."

"Not going to share?"

"Let's see if Beckett and Alex pull through. We'll go from there."

"Agreed."

With that Sheppard bounced up out of the chair with as much energy as he had left. "You get some rest, too."

"I will," she promised, watching him leave.

Of course, there was a huge difference between rest and sleep. Rest she got in the privacy of her own quarters. Sleep eluded her as the scene between Alex and Beckett played itself over and over in her mind.

~o~o~o~

Late the next morning, Colonel Sheppard, the head of the military contingent for the entire Atlantis Expedition found himself in his seldom-used office trying to sort through all the reports of the incident with Holmes and Belby. This was an aspect of his command position he hated; but this time he couldn't fob it off on Major Lorne. He was fairly certain at this point that the two had acted alone. Based on what he could guess, Holmes had found a willing partner in crime some time after Alex's arrival and his tour of guard duty in the prisons. Now he faced the daunting task of going through months of Holmes' activities to see what else he had been up to and who with. Meanwhile, Rodney was doing the same for Belby's activities. Neither really expected to find anything or anyone else once the lair had been raided; but better safe than sorry.

Feeling like he was drowning in administrative nonsense, Sheppard began sorting through the stacks hoping some semblance of order would present itself. Based on the numbers involved, there was a one in ten billion or so chance of that happening without human intervention. He wondered if he could call on Weir's expertise. This, inevitably drew him back to the message he was going to have to send back to Earth sooner or later. At some point, he was going to have to send a message to Holmes' family; possibly the worst part of his command position.

And then there was Carson. The surgeons had managed to patch the man up, giving all of them a bunch of medical mumbo jumbo that Sheppard took to mean it looked worse than it was. While it looked promising, Sheppard still wasn't going to believe the man wasn't dead or dying until he could see him for himself. The doctor had been covered head to foot in his own blood and had left a pool big enough for three people on the ward floor. Sheppard had seen it for himself. Having had enough combat experience, he knew people did not survive that kind of blood loss.

Then there was Alex. She they didn't know. Her body was regenerating at an insane rate, but this was causing her to lose muscle mass and maintain extremely low glucose levels. They estimated that she was far more likely to die of the regeneration process than the wounds at this point. But, only time would tell. Apparently Doctor Knightley was the only one on the team with enough experience with Alex to give any kind of real answer. Though he didn't like it, he could understand the woman was doing all she could. Beckett had warned him, too. It just didn't make it any easier. Much as he hated to admit it, he'd grown to like Alex, in a way. There was something about her that was just…childish and innocent. It was almost irritating to realize he thought of her like something of an annoying little sister.

Feeling helpless and overwhelmed with meaningless papers, Sheppard slammed down a stack with a grunt and rubbed his throbbing temples. He hadn't had nearly enough sleep for this shit.

"Colonel Sheppard?"

"What?" he snapped, not meaning to be so harsh.

"I see you're busy, sir. Never mind. I'll come back another time."

"Stop right there. Get in here, Major. I'd welcome the distraction. Unless it's more reports or bad news. Then you can take that with you on your way out," Sheppard said tiredly.

Lorne gave an impish grin. It always annoyed him that the man looked at least a decade younger than he actually was. It must be those rounded cheeks or something.

"I'll not say what I'm thinking about that, then," Major Lorne commented. "But I did want to talk to you about something."

"Good or bad?"

"Well, I guess that depends on you, sir," he said, all seriousness now.

Sheppard heaved a sigh. "Out with it."

"Well, the good news is that I found a replacement for Doctor Parros."

Sheppard's eyebrows shot up. "It's about time."

"That's where I think the bad news might be." Lorne's face became stony. "I want Alex."

"What?" Sheppard blurted.

"I want Alex on my team, in field, on off-world missions," Lorne spelled out, and then waited for his commanding officer to make the next move.

His face transforming from surprised to intrigued, Sheppard sat back in his chair. Instead of asking the obvious, he asked, "What exactly happened yesterday, Evan?" The use of first-name signaling that this conversation was off the record and informal. "What was not in your report?"

"Let me ask you something, John. When you and Alex were in that prison, was your promise to make her human just so she'd help you escape?"

Somewhat uncomfortable with this even today, he hesitated a moment before answering. "I didn't exactly promise. I said we could do it. I just never got a chance to explain beforehand that it wasn't ready yet. But I didn't lie."

Nodding, Lorne accepted this. "So it wasn't just to get her cooperation?"

"No."

"What was it that made you trust her?"

Sheppard considered his next words carefully, not sure he liked where this was going. Finally he sighed. "I don't know. I had no reason to trust her, and I didn't really trust her. It wasn't until you guys showed up that I actually believed her story about wanting to be human. And, even then, I still doubted."

Lorne nodded again. "I believe her. I'll spare you the details, but I will tell you that she wants to do more than sit around with guards, and passing on her information to Doctor McKay hoping something will be useful. She wants to make a difference, and that's not happening as things stand, John."

Cocking his head slightly, Sheppard nodded. "I'll ask you again, Evan. What exactly happened?"

Running his hands through his hair as if still experiencing some of what had happened yesterday, Lorne said, "The bomb…ripped her open. She was dying. All I wanted her to do was hang on until Beckett and his team could get in there. I don't know if it was something she said, or maybe her compassion for Weiss and Birchmore and even for the others when they showed her none. Maybe it's because I feel like everyone should be given a chance. Maybe all of those reasons. I don't know.

"Sir, Alex wants to fight. She wants to do something useful. She wants to make a difference. And, given what we've seen so far, I see no reason why she shouldn't be given that opportunity. If nothing else, what she did for Beckett yesterday proves she's trustworthy."

Sheppard took all of this in, his green eyes boring into Lorne. "Have you spoken to Doctor Weir about this?"

"Yes, sir," the Major replied, all formality again.

"And what did she say?"

"That she would take it under advisement."

"As in 'absolutely not'?"

"Yes, sir."

Sheppard stood and paced a few steps away from his desk toward the back of the windowless office. Sensing there was more going on in his Commanding Officer's head, Lorne kept his peace.

"What about the rest of your team?"

"I haven't told them."

"Do you plan on telling them or asking them?"

"That's up to them."

Putting his hands on his hips, Sheppard paced for a moment, deep in thought. Round and round he went in his head, trying to find the flaw in the plan. Aside from the obvious trust issues, which he didn't feel were an issue at this point, he could see no downside. Once she stabilized, if she survived, Beckett could revert back to the new Wraith Retrovirus formula and her body wouldn't try to self-destruct every time she got injured. Obviously, he was going to have to butt heads with Weir. But after what he had seen last night, he wasn't entirely sure it was going to be so difficult to convince her to let Alex loose.

"You do know she's not likely to survive, right?" he pointed out.

"I just came from the infirmary. Beckett's awake and proving the saying that doctors make the worst patients, and Alex should be on her feet in two to three days."

Lorne's grin betrayed his emotions regarding this. Sheppard almost felt it was smug. Shaking off all the complexities of his thoughts, he just shook his head at himself.

"You're sure about this?"

"Yes, sir," Major Lorne replied, all seriousness again.

"I'll go talk to Weir, then."

Lorne's smile was just too young and enthusiastic. Sheppard like the guy, but sometimes those features just rubbed him the wrong way. "Thank you, Colonel."

"Don't thank me, yet. You're going to owe me one for this," he shot back, letting Lorne think the battle with Weir was going to be a fierce one.

With that, Lorne bounced out of his chair to talk to the other two members of his team. Sheppard would have given just about anything to be a fly on the wall for that conversation. But, he had way more important things to do. Glancing at the piles of papers on his desk with a mental groan, he quickly fled to face Weir. That would be far easier than all this paperwork.

~o~o~o~

"Are you out of your mind?" Weir asked.

By this point in their working relationship, Sheppard had come to expect that question. "I like to think not," he shot back.

"A few months ago she was a Wraith queen. An imprisoned one, but still a Wraith queen. She's barely been human for more than a few months. We still don't know the long-term effect that has on a Wraith. And Carson, himself, even questioned her mental state after such a conversion."

Sheppard kept his peace, knowing Elizabeth would have to get it out of her system before she would listen to anything he had to say, anyway. After a few more minutes of listening to her side of the argument, he began to lose patience and had to force himself to stay calm. Finally she seemed to run out of things to say. Keeping his expression neutral, he waited until the silence had grown uncomfortable for her. It was a trick his father had taught him that he rarely employed unless he wanted someone's undivided attention.

"What?" Elizabeth finally asked warily, as if expecting an explosion.

"You want to tell me the real reason, now?"

"What are you talking about?"

"Enough with the games. I've been patient because I know you well enough to know that sooner or later, you'll face the truth to yourself. But, since that's not happening, I'll spell it out for you.

"The real reason you don't want Alex being treated like another human being is because to you she is not. What you see every time you look at her is a Wraith that was used as an instrument of torture on me by Kolya. A torture you had to watch, and could nothing about."

Taken aback by this, Weir had opened her mouth to protest twice during his little speech; but she had been too shocked to know what to say. Her cheeks colored slightly as she stared at the hands she now kept folded on the table. Seeing he had gotten through to her, Sheppard sat back and gave her the time she needed to process this.

"You're right. And I'm not usually so irrational," she admitted, still staring at her hands.

After another moment of silence she stood from her desk and paced away a bit. Seeming to have regained some of her composure, she spun back to face John's patient expression.

"Have you really forgiven her?" she asked.

"For what?"

"Be serious, John."

"Really? What is there to forgive? She was being tortured as much as I was, and for a hell of a lot longer. Knowing I wouldn't keep any promises once we were free, she still helped me escape. Then, to top it all off, she gave me back my life; at the expense of her own, I might add. And she still expected me to execute her before we left that planet.

"So, you tell me. What is there for me to forgive?"

Elizabeth let all this sink in. "When you put it like that, it does seem kind of ridiculous."

"The only person in this room that seems to need or want forgiveness is you. Let it go, Elizabeth. There was nothing you could have done other than what you did. You made the right choice, no matter how it had ended."

Weir shot Sheppard a piercing look. Now he was treading on dangerous territory. Squaring her shoulders, she sat back down at her desk.

"Why Major Lorne's team?" she asked.

Feeling they had moved on to safer ground, Sheppard sat forward. "A few reasons, but mostly because it's his choice. I trust his judgment."

"And you're certain she's not a risk?"

"No."

"Excuse me?"

"A week ago I would have told you for certain Holmes wasn't a risk. There are no guarantees, Elizabeth. We trust our instincts and get on with it. We can't stop to question every detail, or we'd never get anywhere. We just make the best choice we can and hope for the best. So, no, I can't promise you she won't pose a risk at some point intentionally or inadvertently. But I'm willing to give her the benefit of the doubt. Besides, what good is she here? Aside from being an irritation to Rodney, I mean; because that's just fun to watch."

"John…" heaving a sigh she nodded. "Fine. I'll authorize it on a probationary period. It goes without saying that I want regular reports on her performance."

"I was hoping you'd say that."

"Why?" she asked with a cocked eyebrow.

"No reason," John tossed back with an impish grin as he jumped up out of the chair and headed out of the office.

She watched for a moment, still wondering at the man who saw right through her, but let everyone go on thinking he was just another gun-wielding flyboy. Staring at the various projects on her desk, Weir decided it was time for lunch. She had some serious thinking to do.