A/N – I apologize for any inaccuracies with the medical stuff.

Chapter 4

Rodney McKay hissed in pain. His right hand trembled violently, and he dropped the Ancient scanning device on to the floor. Damn it! He grabbed at his arm, automatically rubbing at the scar that marred the skin. Throbbing agony ricocheted up and down his arm, and pins and needles began to do their dance in his fingers.

He stood up, trying not to draw attention to himself. Although he was alone in the lab, the entry door was wide open, and anyone could walk by and peek in. Seeing the chief science officer of the Atlantis expedition rocking back and forth, moaning in pain as he clenched his arm to his chest would not be prudent.

He leaned down, carefully picking up the scanner with his left hand. His right arm continued to throb, and Rodney grimaced. Soon, the entire arm would go numb, and he wouldn't be able to do anything. He plopped the scanner on to the work bench and hurried out the door. Carson. He needed to see Carson.

The hallways of Atlantis were eerily silent. It was early, probably close to dawn. Rodney preferred working at these odd hours, without the constant interruptions and background noise of day. It was common knowledge that the physicist worked harder and longer than the rest of his staff, and, despite continuous admonitions from both Dr. Beckett and Colonel Sheppard, Rodney often worked more than thirty hours straight. Especially when there was a problem that needed to be solved. Which was all the time, lately.

He hurried down the hallway, wondering if this was the time that his body would finally fail him. When Kolya had stabbed his blade into Rodney's arm so long ago, he had done much more than create a bad memory. Carson Beckett had sutured the wound, administered antibiotics and assured Rodney that he would heal. But, for the first time, Carson had been wrong.

It had started with little things: his fingers would suddenly tingle, then go numb. His elbow wouldn't always bend, at least not without excruciating pain. He dropped things, all the time now, and he couldn't seem to control the tremors that shook his entire arm. He had approached Dr. Beckett, for once more annoyed than concerned. But when Carson had returned after performing a multitude of tests, the look on the doctor's face had confirmed Rodney's worst fears: something was definitely wrong.

Nerve damage, Carson had said. And the Ancient technology that they had come to rely on could do nothing to repair the injury. Instead, Rodney would have to return to Earth, consult with a neurosurgeon and, with a little surgery and a lot of physical therapy, get the arm back into working order.

"How long?"' Rodney had asked. Carson immediately understood the physicist's question: How long would he be away from Atlantis? Softly, his Scottish brogue thick with regret, Carson had answered him.

"Six months. Maybe a year. It depends on how soon you regain function of the arm." Rodney had stared at the doctor in shock. Six months? A year? Atlantis couldn't function without him for six hours, or so it seemed. How could he leave his friends – hell, his family – for all that time, always worrying that he wouldn't be there to save the day? He had shaken his head, sworn Carson to secrecy and continued to deal with the pain.

Only now it wasn't just pain. The tremors were getting worse, so bad that he could barely conceal them from John and the others. But the worst was the numbness; the feeling that his arm was completely gone, severed at the shoulder. It was during these times, when his arm hung uselessly at his side, that he fretted. What if it happened when his team needed him? How would he help them with a dead weight on his right side?

He entered the infirmary, automatically slowing down and trying to appear as if everything were normal. The room was quiet, the only patient being the woman they had rescued from the derelict ship. Rodney paused a moment, glancing at the figure lying quietly in the bed. Carson had said she was getting better, and Rodney's quick glance confirmed it. Color tinged her pale cheeks, and her breathing was soft and deep.

Next to her, slumped in an uncomfortable hard-backed chair, was Dr. Beckett. He was snoring lightly, his head resting on his left shoulder. His one hand held the woman's hand, while the other rested in his lap.

Rodney shook his head. And people called him obsessive. Carson hadn't left the woman's' side since they found her on the ship. Still, how many times had he blinked open his eyes to see Carson's concerned blue gaze staring down at him? Those moments were unsettling and reassuring at the same time. And as much as he belittled the doctor for his career choice, Rodney knew he trusted this man more than most.

"Carson," Rodney whispered. He walked over to the sleeping doctor, gently shaking him with his good hand.

"Whaa? Rodney? What are you doing here?" Carson glanced up at the physicist, his eyes blinking as he tried to come awake. He stood and stretched, then ambled over to the monitors. He peered down at the woman, who still slept soundly, then tugged the blanket up around her shoulders.

Carson turned back to Rodney, finally noticing the strain on the physicist's face. Immediately, he knew what the problem was. He restrained a sigh; soon, he would have to make McKay return to Earth. And he was sure Rodney would fight him every step of the way.

"Is the pain bad?" Carson asked. He gripped Rodney's good arm at the elbow, guiding him away from his sleeping patient. He stopped two beds away, mentally increasing the light overhead. He was shocked to see the sheen of sweat on McKay's face, and pain radiating from his eyes.

"Damn it, Rodney. You need to get back to Earth." Carson tugged gently at the damaged arm, and Rodney reluctantly let Beckett run his hands up and down the exposed skin. Spasms followed the doctor's light touch, and Rodney clenched his jaw against the pain.

"I can help you," a soft, hoarse voice said. Both men whirled to see the woman standing about three feet away. She swayed slightly, like a gentle breeze was tugging her back and forth, the ugly blue hospital gown moving with her. She turned her eyes towards Rodney, and he saw puzzlement and intelligence in their depths.

"Bloody hell," Carson swore. He dropped Rodney's arm, moving quickly towards the woman. She ignored him, her gaze still on Rodney. She took a small step forward, lifting her arms and reaching out, as if to touch him. Suddenly wary, Rodney took an awkward step backwards.

"Come on, lass. You need to get back into bed, now," Carson gently coaxed. He grasped her shoulders, turning her away from Rodney.

She resisted. Determination now flared in her eyes, and her stance became insistent. "I can help you," she repeated. The hoarseness was more pronounced, but her voice was still soft, almost pleading. Rodney felt himself want to take a step forward, but his innate distrust of strangers – especially women – gave him the strength to resist. He watched as a frown crossed her features, and she looked at him crossly. She absently toyed with a small blue crystal suspended around her neck, tugging at the golden chain.

"I don't want your help," Rodney said. He snapped the words out, glaring at the woman, his blue eyes a mixture of pain and panic and uneasiness. He watched as her eyes grew disappointed, then stubborn. She tightened her jaw, her hands fisting at her sides.

"You will," she advised. After gazing at the physicist for a moment longer, she finally allowed Carson to lead her back to her bed, where he helped her climb in. She closed her eyes, settling back against the pillow, as Carson fussed around her. Momentarily forgotten, Rodney scurried across the room and out the door. His uneasiness had been replaced with annoyance. Who did this woman think she was? He didn't need her help. He made his way back to the lab, the agony in his arm finally abating. It never occurred to him to wonder how she knew he was in pain.

oOo

Corynn groaned softly as her eyes fluttered open. Her body felt like it had been trampled by runaway elephants. Her head throbbed. Even her tongue hurt. Vaguely, she registered the gentle voice of Dr. Beckett as he conferred with someone called Elizabeth at the foot of her bed. Another voice, masculine and unfamiliar, but not threatening, also floated across the room. Sighing, knowing that there would be a lot of explaining ahead, Corynn finally let it be known that she was awake.

"Hello," she said softly. The language of these people still felt strange on her tongue, but it was a simple speech, the syntax very similar to her own. She had absorbed their words as she slowly regained consciousness, associating them with her own vocabulary, and she knew that she had learned enough to make herself understood.

She watched as a small crowd of people approached her bed. She smiled as she recognized the bright blue eyes of Dr. Beckett. He leaned over her, checking the various tubes and lines that were attached to her body. Although she was still in some discomfort, she refrained from telling him that she no longer needed his care. Instinctively she knew that he would be offended. Instead, she watched him silently, amused when he nodded in satisfaction to himself.

"Hello," Dr. Weir replied. Her tone was welcoming, but guarded. From her position in the group, Corynn could tell that she was their leader. Dr. Weir was wedged between two men, one with warm, green eyes and funny, spiky hair. The other was the man she wanted to help last night. As her gaze fell on him, then dropped to his right arm, he paled noticeably, then turned away.

"I'm Dr. Elizabeth Weir," their leader continued. She turned to the green eyed man, and gave a brief nod. "This is Lt. Colonel John Sheppard." Elizabeth waved one hand towards the blue-eyed man, who remained silent. "And this is Dr. Rodney McKay." Elizabeth finally gestured at Carson. "And you probably already know Dr. Beckett."

Corynn nodded. She flashed a quick smile at the doctor, then turned her attention back to Dr. Weir.

"I am Corynn Lorell, Captain of the Nomad and leader of my family. I thank you for your care," Corynn replied. Her voice was still slightly hoarse, and she frowned at it's tone.

"Nomad?" Colonel Sheppard asked. "Is that your ship?"

"Yes. Please, is my ship all right? I wish to return home." Corynn watched a shadow fall across Colonel Sheppard's face, and she felt her heart plunge.

"It's pretty much floating junk at this point," Rodney McKay answered sharply. Corynn watched as Sheppard flashed McKay an angry look. But Corynn was not surprised; she knew that her beloved ship had been seriously damaged by Tristan. As the image of her cousin floated in her mind, her face became a mask, hard and emotionless.

"I don't mean to pry, Miss Lorell, but we have quite a few questions. I realize you may be tired…" Elizabeth's voice trailed off, her tone clearly suggesting that they were curious, but willing to wait.

Corynn pushed herself upright in her bed. These strangers had saved her life, rescuing her from a bleak and lonely death. They deserved the truth.

"I understand that you have many questions, and I promise to answer them. But first, I need to know: did you find any other ship near the Nomad? Any at all?"

Everyone in the room looked momentarily perplexed, then, one by one, shook their heads.

Corynn didn't know whether to be relieved or concerned. If Tristan was still out there…

"You need to know that I was transported to this area of space accidentally. I was in pursuit of my cousin, Tristan. He managed to use a weapon, one that nearly disabled my ship, and one that could do damage to your city. You need to keep an eye out for him." Corynn's voice was insistent, and she clenched the sheets in her fists. Tristan would do anything to prevent his capture. Anything.

John Sheppard stepped forward, his protective instincts flaring. "Why exactly were you pursuing this Tristan guy?" he asked.

Corynn paused a long moment. Finally, in a soft voice full of regret, she answered.

"He murdered my brother."

TBC