Well, did it work?!
Disclaimer: I do not own Atlantis. I do not own Sheppard et al. I wish I did. I do own this plot, Mairghread and associated family members. No profit was made from this.
It was a very long two weeks later. Mairghread had spent most of her time in a modified broom closet just off the infirmary. All the cleaning supplies had been removed, and spare mattresses temporarily attached to the walls to provide a degree of soundproofing. Another pair of mattresses covered the floor and pillows from who-knows-where were thrown in for comfort and good measure. The only light source was a darkly shaded 15 watt bulb, just enough light for her to orient herself and find things.
She didn't remember a whole lot of the past weeks—they were largely lost amid pain and pain-killer drugged sleep. A part of her regretted it; she had lost her 'tenth year' of life to a series of migraines and vertigo attacks. She had woken up this afternoon to find that her breasts had grown from apricots to small peaches.
She hadn't discovered it this morning because before she could become terribly coherent as the painkillers wore off, Dr. Beckett had given her a sedative so he could run a couple hours worth of scans.
So, here she was. Lying groggily in a bed in the infirmary, painkillers still being pumped into her arm because the maniacs and the miners had refused to leave with everyone else. At least she wasn't quite so sensitive to light and noise anymore.
Key word being 'quite'.
When Rodney burst into the infirmary, attached at the hip to his tablet, late to the 'meeting' and shouted "Well, did it work?" Mairghread was very tempted to use language borrowed from Carson and shout at McKay, 'Will you shut it, you bloody idiot!'
Or course, she didn't and simply continued to count the dents in the ceiling. She wondered how they got there. Hundreds of years of patients becoming irrationally violent? Or purposeful design so that even if violent patients did throw something and make a dent, no one would notice?
"Fer God's sake, McKay, shutit, ye bloody idjeet!" Carson hissed. It had been two of those weeks. The kind of week were treatment for the good of a patient meant putting them through hell. Were he had to watch people he cared about suffer. Not only Mairghread, but all the scientists and marines that routinely came shuffling, limping, screaming or deathly still into his infirmary, some only to leave in body bags, no matter what he did.
"Come on Carson, you've kept us waiting while you did your little voodoo rituals!" Rodney exclaimed. "Did your so-called-science work or not?"
"Rodney, please keep your voice low," broke in Weir. "Dr. Beckett says that Mairghread may still be sensitive to loud noises."
"Loud nois—"
"Rodney, do like the Doc said and shut up!" Sheppard ordered him. "Or I'm sure Ronon will be very tempted to carry out his perpetual threat and shoot you!"
When McKay opened and shut his mouth a few times but said no more, Teyla cast Sheppard a grateful glance and Ronon's hand fell away from his holster. They had just gotten back from MD4-058, aka the Game planet, and he hadn't had time to remove it before Weir sent them all down to the infirmary for the scanner results.
"Well Doc?" asked Ronon. Why did these people have to draw everything out?
"It seems tae have worked. Every cell in her body is registering as having been altered by the retrovirus," Beckett confirmed.
"Wait wait wait. How do you know that? I mean, how did you tell the difference between a virus affected cell and one that simply hadn't had that gene turned off yet?" demanded Rodney. Beckett gave him a withering glare.
"We included a mute genetic tag in the retrovirus. It doesn't do anything except differentiate between affected and not affect cells," the geneticist explained to the physicist.
"Oh."
"So…?" pushed John, clearly waiting for the bottom line.
"She will be capable of feeding and healing, but will have no need for the former."
"Ya hear that Mary?" Sheppard clapped her on the shoulder in congratulations. "You're as good as human."
"Better, really," pointed out Rodney. "I mean, she has unlimited healing abilities for herself and others, no set lifespan and telepathic abilities beyond even the average wraith!"
"Dr. Beckett, may we take Mairghread back to her room now?" asked Teyla. "I am certain she would be more comfortable in her own bed."
"Of course. Let me just…" he swiftly removed the IV and placed yet another band-aid on the back of the girl's wrist, which was covered in bruises from the IV's.
Ronon carried his little girl back to their apartment and helped Teyla settle her in bed. They had to be careful because the vertigo was being stubborn, but they were assured by the Scotsman that it would dissipate in a few days.
"Mama?" called Mairghread softly, afraid of the vibrations her own voice sent through her head.
Teyla sat cautiously on the edge of the bed. "Yes Mairghread?"
"Does this mean I get to stay?" She was aware, perhaps more painfully aware than even the adults, what would need to happen if the retrovirus failed.
"Yes, it does. Now," said Teyla, as she tucked her daughter in more firmly. "Get some sleep."
"Well, it's something to be happy about this week," sighed Sheppard as they sat in the mess eating a late lunch/high tea/early dinner.
"Mmm. The question is, what will Woolsey's little underling say when they show up?" put forth McKay.
"Hopefully, not much," ground out Sheppard, annoyed that Rodney always had to ruin the current smoothness of the road by pointing out that the bridge was out a half mile ahead and the ford across the river meant a mile detour.
"Let's deal with that problem when we come to it, hmm?" suggested Weir, effectively cutting off all conversation on the subject. "More pressing is the question of what exactly this is on my plate" she said poking at the grey-brown fried and/or boiled quasi-meat thing on her plate.
"Is better not ask," offered Radek as he walked by with his tray, bearing still the suspicious pseudo foodstuff. "Is best not eat. I am thinking is leftover from hydro-quantum energy experiment of Dr. Huang."
TBC
Next: Trials of Womanhood
