Warning: I do not own anything in this universe except for my own demented ideas. Blah blah blah... don't sue... hell, I'm a frigin writer here, what'd you expect? That I was rich like Donald Trump? (snort)

5 hours later

"So, I hear we have some unexpected guests in the infirmary."

"I was wondering when I'd hear from you, Rodney." Elizabeth sighed without moving her gaze from the computer screen.

"And when exactly were you going to tell me about them?" he shot back acridly.

"When you were finished debriefing from your latest mission," she replied evenly.

"Ah, yes. That."

Elizabeth finally turned to face her chief scientific advisor. "Yes, that," she smiled. "How did it go?" She leaned back in her chair and crossed her legs.

"I'd rather not talk about it," he muttered as he kept from meeting her level, and now amused, gaze. He sprawled into the chair behind him and rubbed his face with one hand. "Let's just say that what I first thought was a ZedPM turned out to be anything but."

The corners of Elizabeth's eyes crinkled. "But it is Ancient technology, yes?"

"Yep, that it is," he sighed. "But damned if I know what it is. It sure as hell looked like a ZedPM."

"Relax, Rodney," Elizabeth soothed. "You can't figure them all out right away."

"It's my job to figure them out right away," he shot back irritably. "Anyway, I have Zelenka working on it now. I'd like to hear more about our visitors."

"Not much to tell," Elizabeth sighed a little. "Somehow they managed to activate the Stargate, bypass the shield, and shut it back down before too many of their pursuers followed them through."

Rodney McKay's eyes grew thoughtful. "Carson said something about the woman having Goa'uld tech on her."

Elizabeth nodded. "She had one of the ribbon devices on. Carson's hoping you could take a look at it, since it seems to have been spliced with one of our GDO's, as well as some other technology he's not sure about."

Rodney's eyes widened. "She has a Garage Door Opener? Did you get her ID code?"

Elizabeth shook her head. "Unfortunately, it was damaged in the fight with the Jaffa, and Carson hasn't been able to get it to work since."

"Which is where I come in." Rodney's face firmed. He wearily hauled himself out of the chair and turned to leave.

"Rodney…" Elizabeth began, and he stopped and twisted around to look at her. "The woman hasn't regained consciousness yet, and her companion died soon after they arrived. And I'm sure you haven't had much sleep lately either. So don't go bothering Carson about her yet until you've had some rest too, all right?"

Rodney flashed her a devilish grin. "Why Dr. Weir, perish the thought." And he strode purposely from the room.

All Elizabeth could do was shake her head, and pray that Carson's normally even temper would hold out in the face of Rodney's insatiable curiosity.

"Hey Beckett, how's the patient doing?" Rodney asked cheerfully as he entered the doctor's office.

"Ah, good, Rodney. Ye're here," Dr. Beckett replied wearily from where he was sitting behind his desk. "We got some technology here that I for the life of me canna figure out." He picked up the hand gear that his latest patient had been wearing when she was rushed to the medbay. "It was covered in all sorts of filth, so I had it cleaned as best it could. Looks like the power supply was damaged. Hopefully ye can make the little bugger work."

Rodney strode over to take a closer look. "Weir mentioned that this woman somehow spliced a GDO with the Goa'uld tech, but I didn't believe her."

"Well, see for yuirself," Carson handed the delicate looking devices over. "The GDO was set into this leather arm cuff, with the wiring connecting it to the Goa'uld hand devices running in between two layers. I wonder if she did the work herself?"

"If so, then she must be some sort of engineer," Rodney replied absently as he studied the device with increasing interest. "Whoever did this has some mechanical aptitude." He paused as a frown crossed his features. "Did you check either of them for ID?"

"Aye, I did," Carson answered. "No dog tags, and if either of 'em had been implanted with a chip, they dinna have it now. Although I found this interesting tidbit…" He indicated a small worn pouch lying on his desk.

Rodney picked it up, and the contents 'clink'ed. He cocked a curious eyebrow at the doctor, and Carson shrugged.

"Take a look," was all he said.

Rodney loosened the leather thong sealing the pouch shut, and tumbled about half a dozen sets of dog tags onto the palm of his other hand.

"What the hell!"

Carson nodded. "My thoughts exactly," he replied quietly. "Take a look at the names on 'em."

Rodney separated one set and read the name inscribed upon it. His stomach bottomed out. "Private Dennis Johanson."

"Do ye recognize the name?"

"Ah, yeah, I think so." Rodney tried to swallow past the lump in his throat. "He was assigned to one of the SGC teams. Eight, I think. I'd worked with them once. He seemed like a good kid."

A woman appeared in the doorway. "Doctor Beckett, she's coming around."

Carson cocked an eyebrow in surprise. "Strange. With her wounds I wouldn't have guessed she'd rouse so quickly." He came around the desk and motioned for Rodney to follow him. Which he did, after dropping the dog tags and the pouch back onto the desk.

They entered the private room to witness the woman slowly blinking unfocused eyes. She had been cleaned up after she was stabilized, revealing long, wavy hair so black it had a bluish tinge to it. The bone structure in her face was delicate, almost birdlike. Her skin was a reddish-golden, what wasn't marred by bruising and various cuts, and her dark eyes slanted ever-so-slightly at the edges; revealing that she was more than likely of Native American descent.

Rodney faltered in his steps. There was something familiar about this woman… but… it couldn't be…

"Doctor McKay?" Carson was beside the woman, checking her pulse. But his questioning gaze was fixed on his colleague. "Rodney, is everything all right?"

Rodney blinked. No, he was mistaken. "No. I mean… yes, everything's fine." He strode over to Carson's side and watched the doctor check over the obviously confused and half-conscious woman. "She looks like someone I met."

"Back on Earth?"

Rodney nodded, and then looked down at the device he was still holding in his hand. "I'm gonna go and check this thing out, Carson, if that's okay? Let me know when she's coherent enough to talk to. I'm sure I'll have lots of questions for her about this thing."

"You're not the only one," John Sheppard's voice came from the doorway.

"Ah, Major," Dr. Beckett greeted the other man. "Considering the extent of the lady's injuries, I dinna expect her to be coherent enough for an interview for at least another day or so."

"Is she at least human?" John asked, and the doctor nodded.

"Aye, she is. No modifications that I can ken, and no signs of a symbiont, though it looks like she might have been a host at least once. We'll know more after the complete work-up. I am worried about some of her wounds, though. They look like they might've been self-inflicted."

"How so?" Rodney asked.

Carson pointed to the back of the woman's right shoulder, which was closest to him. "As ye know, all SGC and Atlantis personnel were implanted with an identification chip in the muscle above their right scapula. She's got a small incision scar in the exact same spot, which leads me to think she might originally be from Earth."

"That makes no sense, Beckett," John retorted. "Why would she be running around the universe all by herself?"

"No idea," the doctor replied quietly. "For all I know, maybe she had a team, and the lad with her was all she had left. We'll know more about him too, once the autopsy's finished."

"What about the rest of her injuries?" John asked.

"Well, first of all, she's been shot a few times, I'd say mostly in the past two weeks, with the most recent being here," he touched the edge of the bandage wrapping the front of her left shoulder. "Otherwise, a few broken and cracked ribs, compound break of the radius and ulna in her left arm, heavily fractured right femur and left collarbone, all sorts'a bruising, and multiple contusions to the head. She was beaten repeatedly, and there's evidence of sexual assault, too." He paused for a moment at Sheppard's and Rodney's wince. "I doubt she'll be able to make much sense'o anything anytime soon, as the concussion's pretty severe. Fortunately, she only had to be intubated for a few hours while we stabilized her vitals. Now we're concentrating on monitoring her round the clock to make sure there's no undue swelling of her brain, as well as trying to get her fever down. Some 'o these wounds had gotten pretty badly infected."

"Nana'tose."

Everyone in the room looked down at the woman, whose eyes were now half-lidded. "What?" Rodney asked in bewilderment.

"Nana'tose," the woman whispered huskily again, before her eyes drifted shut.

"Well, that made a lot 'o bloody sense," Carson muttered.

Rodney's eyes had widened slightly. "I'd better go work on this handset," he murmured before he hurriedly brushed past Sheppard on his way out of the room.

"You're excused," Sheppard growled in irritation to Rodney's quickly retreating back, but the scientist didn't seem to hear him. The Major walked into the room and stood at the foot of the woman's bed. "This day just keeps getting weirder and weirder, doc."

"Tell me about it," Carson replied with a furrowed brow.

14 Hours Later

Rodney McKay grinned in triumph. "HA!" he exclaimed to the empty room. "Gotcha!" He raised the now glowing GDO closer to his face as he squinted at the cracked readout. "Now, let's see what you can tell me."

He poked at a few relays before he was able to access the memory in the device. The scientist's eyes widened at the wide array of Gate addresses the device had dialed, and he shook his head in amazement before continuing on his quest for the ID number unique to only that device.

Dr. Simpson was just entering the room, yawning and nursing a large thermos mug of coffee when Rodney's tools dropped from suddenly nerveless fingers to the table with a clatter. "Holy shit," he murmured.

"Doctor McKay?" the woman asked, cocking her head inquisitively. She strode over to his worktable. "Is everything all right?"

Rodney blinked. All of the color had drained out of his face, leaving quite a strange expression behind.

"Doctor McKay? Do you know what time it is?" Simpson asked, obviously wondering if her supervisor had ever gone home the night before and slept.

Which of course he hadn't. Too much to do these days. You know, what with the Wraith coming en masse to slaughter them all within about… oh… a week or so now.

"It really is her," he murmured, seemingly not having noticed one of his scientists entering the room. "But… it's impossible. She's… she's dead."

"Doctor McKay?" Simpson was getting a little worried, and wondered if she should call a medical doctor into the lab. Her supervisor looked like he was going to be very ill.

Rodney suddenly looked up, Simpson's presence finally making an impression on him. "Oh, Simpson, carry on… carry on," he said distractedly. "Excuse me… need to see a man about a… yeah."

He stood jerkily and made his way out of the lab, leaving a completely bewildered Simpson gaping at his back.

"Carson!"

Doctor Beckett twisted around from where he was standing to the right of his latest patient, checking on her vitals. "Rodney? Mo creach, man, ye startled me!"

"Sorry," Rodney fidgeted at the door, obviously worked up about something.

"Well, out with it, before ye burst."

"I got the device working again." Despite having rushed to the medical wing, his face was still quite pale.

When Rodney failed to continue, Carson prodded him. "Well?"

"I do know her. From Stargate Command."

"So she is one'a us," Carson sighed a little, and leaned over the bed slightly to check the bandages on the woman's shoulder.

"Dr. Jessica Monevata, to be exact."

Carson's brows furrowed. "Is that Spanish?"

Rodney moved into the room, still staring at Jessica as if he'd seen a particularly freaky ghost. "No. Cheyenne. Means 'little bird'. Or something like that."

Carson glanced up at his friend. "Ach, Rodney. She's not gonna bite, ye know."

"You don't understand," Rodney snapped. "Her entire team was wiped out in a Goa'uld sniper trap almost two years ago. She's supposed to be dead, man." He ran his free hand over his face. "The only reason they knew to seal off that particular Gate address was because Monevata threw one of the injured Marines through it before she tried to blow up the one on her side."

Carson's expressive eyes grew sad. "That was a very brave thing she did."

"It's what any of us are supposed to do if hostiles try to invade Earth through the Stargates," Rodney sighed. He looked wrung out, his face tinged with gray. "She and the rest of SG-11 were presumed dead when they failed to check in at their fallback point as well as the Alpha site. And at the time it was too dangerous to send out teams looking for them."

"Ye knew her well, then?"

Rodney shook his head and shrugged a little. "Only in passing," he hedged. "She was a friend of Doctor Jackson's, though. More than likely there're people in Atlantis who'll know her, too."

"Well then, I'm glad that we've security here to make sure people just don't barge in to see her for themselves. Poor woman's been through hell and back," Carson replied with relief. "And I'm sure the rumor mill's been working overtime since yesterday, too."

Rodney snorted. He just didn't get the whole gossip network thing. There was so much more interesting stuff to occupy oneself with than indulging in spurious speculation about others.

Carson's eyes narrowed as he took in the deep shadows under his colleague's eyes. "Ye don' look like ye've slept much. Why don't ye go and get some rest? I can let ye know when she's conscious, if ye'd like."

Rodney shook his head. "No, I'd better let Elizabeth know about this," he replied as he raised the control handset, the weariness seeping into his tone. "Anyway, no time for sleeping now. We'll have plenty of rest when we're all dead."

"Rodney…" Carson was getting right sick and tired of his friend's Doubting Thomas attitude. It certainly wasn't helping the morale of the people working under Rodney, that's for bloody sure.

But the scientist shook off his friend's protest and trudged out of the infirmary.

SGA

SGA

Gaelic

Mo Creach! Goddamn (lit. my ruin)

Cheyenne

Nana'tose. I am cold.