A/N: I'm not normally into including song lyrics in my stories, but my character seems to be a bit obsessed with music at the mo. ;) Hey, we all know how cathartic music can be when we're troubled, right? Right! And heavens know Jessica's been through hell the past few years. So, lyrics shamelessly borrowed from Loreena McKennitt's "Dante's Prayer" from her CD "The Book of Secrets", and the second song is Alanis Morrissette's "Everything" from her CD "So-Called Chaos".
So, anyone wanna give me any suggestions on what kind of music other than classical Rodney'd like? I somehow can so see him secretly listening to The Cure in his room… (snicker)
Ah well, you all should know how much reviews soothe the savage muses… please tell me how I'm doing, and now… on to the updated chapter!
Jessica Monevata listlessly stared at the ceiling of the infirmary room. She felt so helpless just lying there for days on end, even though she was acutely aware just how close she'd come to dying this time around.
And it wasn't like the folks here on Atlantis had a sarcophagus handy to just pop her in, either.
Not like Jessica would ever go in one again. She'd rather die.
She stared at the nearly invisible lines running over the ceiling, imagining constellations from all the different worlds she'd visited, just letting her troubled thoughts wander.
She'd been on the run for so long, it felt really weird to be stationary for more than a couple of days at a time. Panic attacks weren't something she normally had, but she'd been fighting them off fairly frequently since she'd arrived in Atlantis. They were the worst when she woke up for the first time each day… she'd be confused and in pain, sweating and nauseous at the thought that Jaffa patrols could be on top of her any minute. Twice she'd fallen out of her bed trying to get away, and she'd aggravated her injuries. Dr. Beckett had to surgically reset her arm with pins yesterday, and now she had to remain flat on her back at all times with her leg up in a sling, as well as her arm completely immobilized against her bruised chest.
'Well, at least I don't have to worry about them not understanding me any more,' she mused with a small grim smile. She'd finally recovered her mastery of her languages, and had soon afterwards asked if there was any translating she could do to help the Atlanteans in their efforts.
There was a small funeral held for Jessica's companion… held off until she was stable enough to attend. Although, Dr. Beckett had insisted that she remain on a stretcher the entire time. He didn't even want to allow that, but the woman had been quietly insistent, and he finally capitulated. The lass needed some closure after all she'd gone through; she'd also had no way of saying goodbye to her fallen teammates in the years she'd been on the run, and Dr. Heightmeyer had strongly recommended that Jessica be allowed this.
Only a few people gathered at the East Pier: Carson Beckett, Elizabeth Weir, John Sheppard, Aiden Ford, Alan Bates, Teyla Emmagan, and at the back of the group reluctantly stood Rodney McKay. Seshat and her Host Tirel were wrapped in a sheet almost mummy-style at Jessica's request. The Cheyenne woman lay propped up on the stretcher, looking wan and exhausted. Although she didn't once cry, her eyes were filled with soul-crushing sorrow, and Elizabeth for one felt the tears prickling at the corners of hers.
Elizabeth said a few words, consigning the body to the ocean, and after a few minutes of silence, Jessica began to sing. Her voice, though soft, carried over the waves and was reflected back to the group by the ever-present ocean breeze ruffling their hair.
"When the dark wood fell before me
And all the paths were overgrown
When the priests of pride say there is no other way
I tilled the sorrows of stone
I did not believe because I could not see
Though you came to me in the night
When the dawn seemed forever lost
You showed me your love in the light of the stars…"
What surprised John more than anything was that after the second verse, Carson joined in, his clear tenor beautifully complimenting Jessica's alto. The thing of it was, the doctor was singing in his native Gaelic, and it didn't detract from the English in any way. Actually, it only added to the emotion that had settled thickly on the people present.
"Cast your eyes on the ocean
Cast your soul to the sea
When the dark night seems endless
Please remember me…"
John regarded the small group as Bates and Ford carefully lowered the body into the sea from the end of the pier, and noticed Rodney had retreated from the others. The scientist was turned partially away, his profile backlit by the brilliant sun setting on the floating city behind them. Rodney's arms were wrapped around his ribs in a fierce self-hug, and if John hadn't known any better, he would've sworn that the man was crying. Or at the very least about to.
"Though we share this humble path, alone
How fragile is the heart
Oh give these clay feet wings to fly
To touch the face of the stars
Breathe life into this feeble heart
Lift this mortal veil of fear
Take these crumbled hopes, etched with tears
We'll rise above these earthly cares…"
Jessica and Carson sang on as the body sank beneath the gently rippling waves, the Cheyenne's voice growing husky from using it more than she was used to.
"Cast your eyes on the ocean
Cast your soul to the sea
When the dark night seems endless
Please remember me
Please remember me
Please remember me..."
The singer's voices trailed away after the last words had been uttered, and silence once again descended for a few minutes in deference to the spell woven by them. Carson rested a comforting hand on Jessica's shoulder from his position directly behind her, and Elizabeth had taken the woman's uninjured hand somewhere along the line. Jessica sagged back against the pillows propping her up, her eyes fluttering closed on the violent and vicious memories the ceremony had dredged up.
John reflexively looked back to where Rodney was, and managed to catch a glimpse of his friend's rapidly retreating back. The Major's eyebrows bunched together in puzzlement; what was going on in that man's head?
Little by little in the days following the burial the senior staff accepted that Jessica was who she seemed to be, and they filled her in on their current situation with the Wraith.
"I don't suppose you've run across them in your travels?" Elizabeth Weir had asked during one brief visit. She'd made it a point to periodically check in with Jessica to make sure that the linguist was progressing well in her recovery.
"No, I'm sorry I haven't," Jessica replied quietly, before tilting her head slightly to the side. "Or… maybe I shouldn't be sorry."
Elizabeth snorted. "I think you had enough going on with the Goa'uld."
Jessica looked away, her expression haunted. "Yes, you could say that."
Elizabeth made a sympathetic grimace. "Have you spoken with Dr. Heightmeyer at all?"
Jessica looked back at her. "I've never been one much for talking about my feelings, Elizabeth," she replied gently. "I'll be fine. I expect your people need the doctor's assistance now more than I do anyway. It's not like they're used to dealing with this kind of situation."
"No, but that doesn't lessen the impact of your experiences, either," Elizabeth argued. "I can't begin to understand everything you've gone through, but I know it'll be good if you can talk about it all with someone who could at least help you gain a healthy perspective."
The corners of Jessica's mouth curved into a sad, gentle smile. "Thank you for your concern, Elizabeth. I know I've been having difficulty adjusting to being here," she ruefully waved her uninjured arm at her broken limbs. "But I also know that's normal after being a fugitive for two years. It's a lot to adjust to, but I'm handling it."
"I've been told you're having some pretty intense nightmares," Elizabeth observed.
Suddenly the younger Native American's eyes hardened. "Please, don't push me on this, Elizabeth. Right now is just not the time."
"When, then?"
"Maybe when this entire planet isn't in imminent danger of being destroyed by these Wraith?" Jessica reminded her.
Elizabeth hadn't pursued the subject further; only had promised to Jessica that they would return to the topic after the immediate threat from the Wraith had been dealt with. Until then, though, Elizabeth had agreed that, under Dr. Beckett's close scrutiny and approval, Jessica could use one of the infirmary's laptops to help with translating files from the Ancient's computer system. So Jessica had concentrated on finding maps of the city, in hopes of determining if there were any places yet to be discovered harboring weapons that could be used against the Wraith. She also had pulled up the schematics on the weapon's chair to see if there was a way to create more battle drones from materials the humans had brought with them from Earth.
Sergeant Bates hadn't been very pleased to find out that Jessica had been able to access files about weapons, and was even less happy when she had blithely explained that she wasn't only a linguist and translator, but also held a doctorate in mechanical engineering, and was also an accomplished computer hacker.
Bates had immediately gone to Major Sheppard with his concerns regarding their "guest", and John and Elizabeth ended up having a "talk" with the slowly recovering woman about working herself too hard. Not to mention going through files that she had yet to be cleared to look at.
Jessica was nonplussed. "It's not like I have a lot of quality reading materials here," she replied softly, nodding at the stack of magazines on the small table to her right. "I've never been one to pay attention to stuff like this. Now, schematics on these Zero Point Modules…"
John shook his head. "Hunh-uh. No way." He narrowed his eyes, suddenly curious. "Why would you want to know more about the ZPM's?"
"If I can learn how these Ancients created the energy source, then maybe I could come up with a suggestion on how to recharge the modules," Jessica replied, thoughtfully tapping one slender finger against the casing of the laptop.
"You really think you could do that?" Elizabeth questioned.
Jessica carefully shrugged her uninjured shoulder. "Wouldn't hurt to try."
"Oh my god, I'm surrounded by morons," Rodney McKay's voice keened throughout the infirmary, and John and Elizabeth's heads whipped around at the scientist's sudden unseen clattering entrance to the main room.
"WATCH IT!" Rodney snapped as something metal clanged to the floor, and John's one eyebrow shot up.
"I'd better see what's going on," the Major commented wryly. "Make sure McKay doesn't tick off the nurses again." With that, he turned and sauntered out of the private room, leaving Jessica and Elizabeth looking at each other curiously.
The corner of Jessica's mouth curled up in a wry smile. "Think something might've gone boom?" she inquired, and Elizabeth snorted softly.
"Knowing Rodney, more than likely," Elizabeth replied with the grin obvious in her tone. "I'd better…"
Jessica nodded. "Go, make sure he's not bleeding to death." Her chestnut eyes lit up with amusement when Rodney's voice sharply cut through the air once again.
"Oh jeeze, I'm bleeding to death! A little help here? Hello!"
Elizabeth shook her head as she walked out of Jessica's room, wondering how the woman seemed to know Rodney so well.
"Well?" Rodney asked for what seemed like the millionth time.
"You'll need stitches," Carson sighed as he peeked under the soaked gauze pad on the wound. He patted his friend on the knee before moving off to a supply cabinet to gather the necessary items.
"Wonderful," Rodney snapped waspishly. "That spectacular dumbass'll be scrubbing out the inside of the sewage treatment system for a damned month for this!" He kicked the side of the bedside table with his foot in frustration.
"Rodney, what happened?" Elizabeth strode into the room and saw her head scientist perched on the edge of one of the treatment beds, fidgeting as he cradled his wounded right arm against his blood-smeared chest. Blood was still seeping into the gauze that Carson had him holding firmly over the wound, which looked to be about 4 inches long, and located over the top of his forearm.
"Kavanagh happened," Rodney spit back. His face was a little pale, and his arms trembled slightly… probably from shock, Elizabeth guessed.
John sighed from where he was leaned against the wall beside Rodney's bed. "What'd he do this time?"
"Only nearly severed my arm with his complete and utter incompetence!" Rodney retorted hotly. "I've had it… I want his ass out of here! Send him to the mainland… chuck him off a pier for all I care!"
Carson returned to Rodney's side, wheeling a tray with his supplies on it alongside him. "Deep breaths, Rodney," he spoke soothingly. "Ye need to watch yuir blood pressure, lad."
"Yes, yes… and I'm sure working with imbeciles is doing wonders for my ulcer, too," Rodney replied scathingly. "But that doesn't make my job any less urgent, does it?"
"Rodney…" Carson warned, but he was cut off by the irate astrophysicist.
"Look, I have so much work to be done, it isn't even funny. Just stitch me up, give me something for the pain, and I'll get back to trying to keep us all from getting slaughtered within the week."
"Jesus, McKay, way to be a drama queen," John snarked.
"Bite me, Major," Rodney shot back, and yelped when Carson tugged on his wrist to bring the arm over the tray. "A little warning!" he snapped.
"I need to give you a local anesthetic to clean the wound," Carson replied calmly.
Rodney averted his eyes and waved his free hand. "Fine, fine, go ahead."
"Seriously, McKay… what happened?" John spoke up in order to distract his friend from the needle pricking his arm beside the ugly deep cut. Carson began irrigating the wound with saline soon after he determined that the area was numb.
"We were attempting to recalibrate the Naquadah generators to be more efficient, and Kavanagh," he practically spat out the name venomously, "swiped me with his box cutter!"
"He attacked you?" Elizabeth asked worriedly.
"No no no… he was stripping the protective coating off of wires… which I told him not to touch… and when I asked him what the hell he was doing, his hand slipped and…" he waved his free hand at the nasty looking wound without actually looking at it. "Do I look like a turkey? Shut up, Major," he snapped before John could do more than open his mouth to comment.
"What? I wasn't gonna say nothing," John defended himself with a small smirk.
"Right."
"Gentlemen," Elizabeth shook her head at the two men's ever-present squabbling. "Carson, will Rodney be all right?" she asked the doctor.
Carson briefly looked up from threading the suture needle. "Aye," he nodded before returning his attention to his task. "He's lucky no tendons or ligaments were nicked. It'll smart for a while, but as long as Rodney takes it easy on this arm and keeps it clean, he should be fine in a few days."
Rodney opened his mouth to most likely issue a scathing retort, but was interrupted by a softly singing voice drifting into the main infirmary room.
"I can be an asshole of the grandest kind
I can withhold like it's going out of style
I can be the moodiest baby
And you've never met anyone as
As negative as I am sometimes…"
John snorted. "Sounds like someone wrote a song about you, McKay," he teased.
But he, Elizabeth and Carson all noticed that Rodney's face had blanched.
"I am the wisest woman you've ever met
I am the kindest soul with whom you've connected
I have the bravest heart that you've ever seen
And you've never met anyone as
As positive as I am sometimes …"
"She does have a lovely singing voice," Carson commented lightly as he worked. "The most talking she's done is when she's accompanying the music. As much as I'd rather she take it easy on those ribs of hers, it's nice to have a, mostly, cooperative patient 'round here." He shot a look at Sheppard out of the corner of his eye.
"Think you could hurry this up?" Rodney bit out sharply. His face had closed down, resembling granite as he obviously shoved his emotions deeply down.
"You see everything
You see every part
You see all my light
And you love my dark…"
Carson merely nodded as he finished carefully stitching the edges of the raw skin back together, tying off the ends and gently spreading some antibiotic ointment over the area before taping on another thick gauze pad.
"You dig everything
Of which I'm ashamed
There's not anything to which you can't relate
And you're still here…"
He set aside his tools and snapped off his gloves before reaching into his pocket for a small bottle. "Here," he handed the medication over. "Take two for the pain every 4 to 6 hours, and check in with me in the morning so I can make sure yuir stitches are holding."
"I blame everyone else, not my own partaking
My passive aggressiveness can be devastating
I'm terrified and mistrusting
And you've never met anyone who's as
As closed down as I am sometimes…"
"Thanks," Rodney pocketed the pill bottle and rapidly exited the infirmary, Jessica's husky alto seemingly chasing him from the room.
"Wonder why that freaked him out so much?" John wondered aloud.
"She's been doing that often?" Elizabeth asked almost simultaneously.
"Aye," Carson replied as he cleaned up. "Since the lass was so bored, the nurses got a few things together to entertain her. Madeline even loaned her iPod…"
"Wait, Nurse Ratchett?" John interrupted with widening eyes, "But… but she hates everyone!"
"Nay, lad," Carson failed to completely contain the chuckle rising. "She only hates how much ye complain when yuir injured. Ye're quite the handful when yuir our guest, Major."
"What can I say? I get cranky when I'm hurt," John replied with a shrug. "Doesn't help the mood when that woman uses me as her personal pin cushion."
Elizabeth and Carson exchanged wry smiles as they listened to the end of the haunting song.
John tipped his head to the side. "You're right, Beckett. She does have a nice voice. Can't believe she's able to sing like that with all those busted ribs."
"Aye, I've been monitoring her progress, and must say she's healing a lot faster than I thought'd be possible," the doctor admitted.
"Doctor?" Elizabeth frowned.
"I dinna know how she's able to do it, but I could almost swear tha' Jessica's healing twice as fast as she normally should," Carson finished cleaning up after himself, setting the last of his dirtied tools in the autoclave tray.
In the private room, Jessica started humming another song.
"What about that arm device thingie she's been working on?" John asked.
Carson shrugged. "Dr. Simpson has'na been around for the past day or so. Last time she was here, she said they'd finished repairing the different units," he replied. "An' last I heard, Sergeant Bates had secured it all in the weapons' locker."
"Right," John nodded. "He told me where he was keeping it. You said that one of the parts was a Goa'uld healing device?"
Carson nodded as he waved the other two towards his office. They all seated themselves before Carson pulled out the small leather pouch that he'd been keeping in his bottom desk drawer. "'Twould seem so, Major. Though from my understanding, even a Goa'uld couldn't actually use it on themselves."
"So there's no way Dr. Monevata could have utilized the device on herself?" Elizabeth clarified.
"Aye."
"What's with the bag there?" John nodded to the well-worn leather that Carson was rubbing in between the fingers of his right hand.
"Seems t'be all the dog tags of Jessica's teammates," Carson replied softly. He pulled the ties open and tipped the contents into his left hand. "Interestingly enough, hers are here as well."
John held a hand out in inquiry, and the doctor leaned over the desk to tip the chains into the Major's palm.
The Major almost reverently sifted through the tags, recognizing some of the names, and wondering what the other people had been like… how they worked as a team… how cohesive a unit they were. Had they all gotten along, or did they bicker like all happily dysfunctional families do? Like his "family" did?
"I wonder when Jessica will be able to tell us what happened to her unit," Carson mused aloud. "I can only hope the poor lass wasn't there t'see them all die."
John's head rose sharply at that, and he narrowed his eyes at the doctor. "Why do you say that?"
Carson grimaced. "Lassie's been having some very vivid nightmares," he replied with a sad note. "More times than I like we've had to sedate her t'get her through the panic attacks these nightmares bring on."
Elizabeth briefly closed her eyes and shook her head. "I didn't realize they were that bad," she murmured.
Carson could only nod. "Aye, and it's pretty obvious that a few'a them died… well… quite badly," he continued grimly. "Although Jessica won't talk to Dr. Heightmeyer, she has opened up with me a wee bit, and it's pretty clear she's carrying a lot of guilt on her shoulders."
John frowned thoughtfully. "She's not military either, is she?"
"No," Carson replied. "So I highly doubt she's had the experience and training necessary to properly deal with these kinds of tragedies."
"Actually," Elizabeth spoke up, "she does." At the others' puzzled looks, she explained. "I worked with Dr. Monevata some years back when I was with the U.N. We were part of a small group that was touring through Tibet as part of a negotiation between the U.N. and China. There had been reports of human rights violations in that area, and we'd been sent to observe and report our findings. Jessica was our translator. We were in a small village at the base of the mountains, when a group of Chinese soldiers had a skirmish with some dissenters hiding there. We were caught in the crossfire, and Jessica was separated from the group for awhile."
John and Carson listened intently as Elizabeth briefly recounted the next 8 hours of chaos.
"When order had finally been established, Jessica had been found injured while saving a little village boy from being shot by the soldiers. Unfortunately, his parents weren't so lucky."
John nodded. He'd seen situations that played out similarly; it seemed to be the same no matter where the battle was. Families were constantly ripped apart in war-torn countries…
"So she's dealt with situations of conflict, then?" Carson quietly asked, and Elizabeth nodded.
"She's one of the few linguists that had no qualms in being sent into adverse situations," the expedition leader replied. "But after Tibet, things changed a bit for Jessica. She adopted the little boy she helped in that village, and soon after left the U.N. to do civilian work stateside."
"How long has she been a translator?" John asked.
"Since she was 18," Elizabeth replied quietly, and the Major's eyebrows rose.
"Wow. Wonder why she never enlisted?"
"I believe she had a birth defect," Elizabeth tilted her head to the side as she tried to remember particulars.
"Tha' canna be," Carson cut in. "Other than her extensive injuries, she'd be in the picture'a health."
Elizabeth shook her head. "No, I remember now. She'd had a pretty substantial heart murmur that she had to take medication for."
"D'ye remember what it was she took?" Carson leaned over his desk earnestly.
But Elizabeth shook her head. "No, I'm sorry, Carson. Dr. Monevata wasn't one to share personal information like that. I do know that she had an irregular heartbeat, though. I wouldn't let her come with us unless I knew exactly what I could expect from her condition, especially since I wasn't allowed to view her medical file in its entirety."
Carson leaned back in his chair with a thoughtful scowl. "Tha's verra odd," he murmured.
When he didn't continue, John spoke up. "And that's… bad?"
The doctor rubbed a hand over his face, ending up absently scratching at the stubble on his cheek. "Well, considering I found absolutely no trace of any murmur with her heart… maybe?"
Elizabeth's expression firmed. "This could mean she's not who she says she is."
Carson quickly rose from his chair. "I'll need to run some tests." He strode towards the door before swinging around and facing the other two. "I'll keep ye apprised of the results."
Elizabeth and John stood as well. "As soon as you know anything, Carson, thank you." Elizabeth nodded her head in her standard good-bye.
"And I'll tell Bates to add another guard on Monevata's room," John added. "Or, whoever the hell she is."
The three exited Carson's office. "Let's not jump to any rash conclusions," Carson warned. "Jessica mentioned that she'd had a few rounds in a sarcophagus. Could be tha' her condition was corrected by the bloody thing."
Elizabeth could only frown thoughtfully. She truly hoped that the woman residing in the infirmary was her friend.