Note: The McKay backstory in this chapter refers to events that happened at the end of The Lost, book two of the Legacy Series of SGA novels written by J. Graham, A. Griswold. Spoiler alert.

Disclaimer reminder: SGA characters/tv episodes/books are not mine. I wrote this story for fun not profit.

Chapter 14

The meeting had gone on for a while. Jennifer wished she had pen and paper in her hands instead of a computer tablet—a wonderful tool that had completely taken away the joy of doodling during a meeting. She really needed something to do while Beckett reported their latest findings on how they could turn Wraith-Rodney back to human.

They had tirelessly tinkered with computer simulations using all the available data gleamed from the extensive experience with genetic transmutations the two of them (or more accurately the three of them, when counting original Beckett and the present Beckett clone) had accumulated during the past five years. The computers had churned away at the huge amounts of data on the Michael & Company Wraith-to-human fiasco, the disastrous infection of the Wraith girl Ellia with the experimental anti-Wraith retrovirus that original Beckett had been designing to strip away key iratus bug-derived genes (hopefully the ones controlling the human-exclusive diet) from Wraith DNA, and the successful John human-to-bug-back-to-human conversion. Zelenka and other scientists had also been scouring the Atlantis databases for any other applicable information.

Their simulations were chock-full of parameters and accounted for numerous variables, generating models ranging from worst case to best case scenarios. Impressive, but they were still just theoretical models, which were only as good as the data and parameters used to generate them. What they knew about Rodney's transformation was highly conjectural, based on scanty visual observations, nothing tangible. Bottom line, they had done all the prep work they could. Now they needed Rodney, or at least a tissue sample from him, to run the laboratory tests and trial experiments necessary to come up with a viable method to bring him back to humanity.

These thoughts made Jennifer inwardly cringe. She must be a horrible girlfriend, lover and almost fiancé for using the words Rodney and 'tissue sample' in the same sentence. Obviously, if they got close enough to get a tissue sample, the rescue team would just snatch Rodney (kicking and screaming) away from his captors. Jennifer wanted this to happened so badly—she had actually started praying at night to whatever deity kept watch (albeit poorly) on Pegasus to bring Rodney back—but that thought also terrified her. What if she fell apart at the sight of Wraith-Rodney? What if they couldn't make him human again? What if they did and Rodney was changed because of his experience? What if he had fed?

Without the freedom to doodle, part of her mind could not stop worrying about Rodney. She hadn't seen him in over a month. The day the Wraith snagged him in New Athos, they hadn't even had breakfast together because she had been too exhausted after a very long emergency surgery the night before. The worst thing was that she absolutely could not remember if she had at least sleepily mumbled, "love you too" when Rodney had kissed her on the top of her head before leaving the room to join his team for breakfast. She had wrongly taken for granted that she would see him again at dinner.

And now, by all accounts, Rodney was a bone fide Wraith. Enough of one that a little over a week before, he did not recognize his best friend John and had proceeded to blast him with a stunner not once, but six times. Zapped by that huge amount of ionized charge, John had been lucky not to have gone into cardiac arrest. The only consolation was that Rodney was not a very good Wraith. No self-respecting member of that life-sucking species would risk potentially killing a good meal that way. Maybe, he hadn't changed enough to feed yet—she fervently hoped.

Jennifer had read and re-read Teyla and Ronon's mission report of the incident so many times that she had it memorized. Especially the part where they described Rodney's alarmingly changed appearance: the bone-white hair, the marked ridges on his face and the dark claws in his hands. The report hadn't said anything about his eyes—those eyes so adept at expressing arrogance (very often), cluelessness (pretty frequently too) and love compounded by lust (mostly in private). She wondered if they were still that deep blue she loved to lose herself in. She really missed him.

Until John's recent mysterious abduction, the search for Rodney had been the top priority mission for the Atlantis military contingent. The search-and-rescue efforts were now divided. She understood and supported the reasons why, but it still drove her crazy with anxiety. The night of John's disappearance, she had cried herself to sleep for the first time since the first week after Rodney became MIA. It wasn't solely because she considered John and Teyla very good friends, but it was also because she knew that John was the best hope for finding Rodney. No one could beat the we-don't-leave-people-behind drum like he could. For a few irrational minutes, she had even been angry at John as if this added obstacle to Rodney's recovery were his fault. After she cleared her head with cold water, she felt awful for thinking that, for all she knew John could now lay somewhere badly injured or worse.

Her guilt about harboring such selfish thoughts had resurfaced the next day, when she noticed the flicker of fear in Teyla's usually composed exterior on hearing that the blood on the arrow was indeed John's. Jennifer had almost burst out and apologized for thinking badly of John for being so inopportunely kidnapped. Instead, she tried to reassure Teyla that the arrow had probably not caused a serious injury and that the traces of a powerful narcotic indicated that the intent of the attack had been to very quickly subdue John, not kill him. The two of them were joined by their pathetic hunger for tiny bits of hope about their lost lovers. She consoling herself with evidence that Rodney wasn't a very good Wraith and Teyla with the knowledge that John's captors hadn't intended to kill him on the spot. Right now she hated Pegasus.

"Unscheduled gate activation," Banks's voice crackled from everyone's head sets and the room speakers.

All eyes in the conference room turned to the floor-to-ceiling windows facing the gate room, one level below them. Beckett and Woolsey immediately stood up and stepped out on the balcony.

Jennifer didn't move yet. She wasn't eager to jump into another crisis. In her experience, ninety-eight percent of the time these unscheduled activations were harbingers of something really bad like death, life-threatening injuries and foreign invasions. She had long stopped raising her hopes that one of these days Rodney would come back on his own—given who had taken him, that was totally unrealistic.

"It's coming from M8J-367 and it's Colonel Sheppard's IDC," a twinge of excitement evident in the technician's voice. "He can't communicate with us without his com, but he is on a planet on our latest 'safe haven' list. What do you want me to do, Mr. Woolsey?"

"Lower the shield," Woolsey said.

Amazingly, no one tripped as they rushed en mass down the stairs. Always vigilant, the Marines on gate duty shifted to a guarded stance with P90s pointed at the cobalt blue of the event horizon.

While John and an unknown young woman walked through the gate, Jennifer scanned their figures to identify any possible medical problems. With relief, she noted that they were both conscious and no one had missing limbs or otherwise visibly gushing wounds. She concentrated on John, not just because he was one of her responsibilities, but also because he looked worse off.

He had fading bruises on his cheekbones and a couple of minor cuts around the mouth. Someone had definitely slapped him around a bit, probably with the back of the hand. The mandarin-style collar of his dark burgundy shirt (definitely not Atlantis-issue) wasn't buttoned all the way, so she glimpsed contusions around his neck, as if someone had tried to choke him. The sleeve cuffs were unbuttoned too, stained bandages clearly visible around both wrists. The pain lines on his forehead were unmistakable. Somewhere under his clothing there had to be the wound from the arrow—most likely his right arm or shoulder, she suspected from the stiff way he held that side. Jennifer found it interesting that his hair looked damp, while his clothes were dry. He had a bit of a five o'clock shadow but no more than a day's worth—she had seen him often enough after multi-day missions to know the difference.

Both of them were clearly exhausted. But the girl appeared to get a second wind as she took in the impressive sight of the Atlantis stargate room. John, on the other hand, looked a tad uneasy at the number of people staring at him with smiles and grins plastered on their faces. Probably because of his innate dislike of being the center of attention and the marked absence of Teyla and Ronon—the only people left in his team. John's slight smile seemed forced.

"Welcome back Colonel," said Woolsey, she could hear the relief in his voice at having his military commander back. "It's really good to see you. Since you disappeared four days ago, Teyla, Ronon, Major Lorne and several squads have been scouring the galaxy to find you. They will be reporting in soon and we'll tell them the good news."

"Glad to be back sir. Four days —wow," John cleared his throat but failed to get rid of the hoarseness in his voice. "Sorry it took so long to get back from Khamala Prime."

"Khamala Prime? I have never heard of it," Woolsey said.

"And I really wish I hadn't," John cast an apologetic look at his companion, who stood a step behind him. "This is Kharla. Kharla, this is Mr. Woolsey, the leader of our base, and these are Doctors Beckett and Keller, the healers I talked to you about. You'll meet the other people later. Mr. Woolsey, Kharla helped me get free and we escaped together. We went through three different stargates to make sure no one followed us. It's … it's a long and complicated story. I hope it can wait until after we get checked in the infirmary, sir?"

Jennifer noticed that she wasn't the only one momentarily dumbfounded at that last and very unexpected sentence coming out of John's mouth. If he hadn't looked so beat up, she would have suspected that he was a clone, doppelganger or some other type of impostor. He must be in really bad shape to actually make that request, she thought with a growing sense of worry. Catching Beckett's frown, she realized that he too was concerned by John's uncharacteristic eagerness to get medical attention.

Woolsey recovered first, "Yes, of course. Please go take care of yourselves. I will make sure to bring in the search teams." Looking at the girl, he graciously added. "Kharla, we are in your debt for allying yourself with Colonel Sheppard."

"No, it is I that am in his debt," Kharla said in a very soft voice. She seemed overwhelmed by the attention paid to her.

Jennifer decided it was time to take charge of the situation as the Chief Medical Officer, "Okay, you can all discuss this later. Now, it's time for the infirmary for both Colonel Sheppard and Kharla. I think that they could both use some TLC."

"Don't worry, Kharla, TLC is a good thing," said John, the first to respond to the girl's confused expression. Jennifer reminded herself once again not to use Earth sayings when trying to lighten up the mood of Pegasus' natives.

John unclipped his P90 one-handed and gave it to the Marine who had just approached him with a snappy salute. "Glad to have you back sir."

"Thanks, Martinez," John gave him one of those meaningful silent glances that often passed for communication between the military personnel.

Both she and Carson converged on John. He took a small step back. "Hey, no double teaming. Would you at least hold off until we get to your home turf?" he said. A typical John Sheppard remark but delivered without the usual panache.

Jennifer had a close-up view of the dark shadows under blood-shot eyes. She controlled her professional impulse to snatch his wrist and start checking his vitals.

"Okay Colonel," she agreed. She almost bit her tongue to hold off the barrage of medical questions that were ready to burst out of her mouth. John deserved a break. He had made it back to Atlantis on his own two feet and he seemed determined to make it to the infirmary without help.

"I really appreciate it, doc." He walked next to her down the corridor. Behind them, Carson explained to Kharla the rudiments of transporter function, basically a one-sided conversation.

"How's Torren?" John said a couple of seconds later.

"He's fine. Teyla told him that you were away on a mission and would be back in a few days. She didn't want him to worry."

"Good," he said.

He seemed momentarily lost to his own thoughts. She decided not to add that when she took Torren to lunch today, he had gone up to a bunch of Marines in the mess hall and asked: "Where my da?" The quickest witted one had flashed her most reassuring smile and promptly answered that his dad was helping some people on another planet and would be back as soon as he could. It had been a cute and heart wrenching scene.

As they approached the transporter, John stopped. "Uhm …, I wanted to ask you one more favor. Kharla has been through a lot and I was wondering if you could check her while Carson does me? I think she would be more comfortable with the attention of a woman —a nice woman, instead of a man."

It sounded like a perfectly reasonable and sensitive request, she thought. She couldn't refuse but she had an inkling—what did Rodney call it? A spidey sense—that there might also be another motive behind it. "That's fine John," she said.

"Thanks Jennifer," His visible relief seemed a little out proportion for the small favor she had just granted him. "You are going to like Kharla. You two have some stuff in common."

Once they reached the infirmary, she guided Kharla to one of the corner exam bays, to give them some privacy. She noticed John stop near the entrance and speak quietly with Beckett. Then, the two of them walked off past them to the back corridor that led to the surgical suites—not standard protocol, by any means. She would find out soon enough what that was about, now she needed to concentrate on her patient.

Jennifer didn't have much of a chance to learn what, if anything, she had in common with Kharla. The young woman had promptly and politely told her that she didn't need help to change into the clean scrubs she offered her. During the exam, she became practically mute. She barely went beyond yes and no answers to all her questions about what hurt and what didn't. Jennifer thought it was a mixture of shyness and extreme fatigue.

Thank goodness for the Atlantis medical scanners—they revealed a lot about her silent patient. While she had no bone breaks or fractures, she had some bone bruises to her ribs and back. As if someone much heavier than her had held her down. She was undernourished and slightly dehydrated. She didn't have a fever or other signs of disease. In addition to the cuts and abrasions around her neck, Jennifer noticed some healed circular burns and constellations of new and older bruises on her arms. Marks of a difficult life, to say the least.

The scan also estimated her age to be approximately twenty Earth years. Jennifer had learned quickly enough to stop asking Pegasus natives how old they were since the length of years varied from planet to planet. Many of these people had also moved so much to escape the Wraith that they could not possibly keep track of (or care) about their birthdays. They were just satisfied to still be alive.

"Kharla, I am going to give you something for the pain, so that I can clean up the cuts around your throat. The medication might make you sleepy, but I hope you'll eat and drink something before you take some well-deserved rest," she said. "We'll talk more later."

Footnote: If you got this far in the story, please click on the Review button and send me some feedback. It could help me with the rest of the story. And in case you are wondering, the next chapter will go back to John's POV.