DISCLAIMER – Stargate: Atlantis is the intellectual property of MGM/UA and associates. I do not receive compensation from any source in any form for writing this story. It is a work of fan fiction, created solely for fun and personal entertainment. No copyright infringement is intended.
Shadow, Morin, Hanna and the scene-stealing Dr. Perlman are my original characters. If you want to use them, ask me nicely, and I'll probably agree to your request.
RATING – Story rated T
ARCHIVE – Anyone who wants to archive this story has my permission to do so. Let me know where you're archiving it, though. Thanks!
A/N – Thank you to all who replied to the last chapter. The reviews are excellent and I love them! I thrive on them, even. I definitely appreciate them, and each person who takes the time to leave me one.
I hope you'll enjoy this Chapter 24. It got a little crazy in the middle because the aforementioned scene-stealing Dr. Perlman demanded to have the spotlight more than once. Naturally, I let him run wild, as I have no will power when it comes to these situations. Thanks to Dr. P, you get a little humour in the midst of the doom-n-gloom tone of this story. I am working on Chapter 25 now, so it should be up tomorrow. Enjoy!
Oo...and just so you know, I'm a lawyer not a doctor. All medical stuff in this chapter is based solely on research and not any practical knowledge of my own.
I still have no beta, so if you find any mistakes, they're all mine.
The Song Of Silent Rivers
24. Methodical Madness
Radek was sitting on the floor.
This was a strange piece of information for his mind to settle on, he mused; an irrefutable yet utterly mundane fact. He, Dr. Radek Zelenka, Ph.D., was sitting on the floor, saying nothing and doing nothing, while his four teammates stood mere metres away and conducted an impromptu meeting. Nobody had asked for Radek's opinion. Nobody had even suggested that he should get up, so he continued to sit, perspiring and uncomfortable and perplexed, next to the stasis pod where Dr. Kadan Morin had the good sense to have become unconscious.
Radek closed his eyes, wishing he could sleep as well, just for a few minutes. He hadn't slept much during the last couple of days, although he vaguely recalled Itzhak Perlman and others telling him he should. Good advice, he decided. It had been good advice, and he ought to have followed it. Radek tried to concentrate on what his friends were talking about, instead of thinking about his own little problems. Someone might ask him a question, and it wouldn't do if they turned around and found him asleep.
"He doesn't look too good," Ronon was saying.
Radek wondered if the Satedan was referring to him or to Morin. Surely Ronon must be talking about the man in the pod. After all, Morin was the comatose one. He had to look far worse than Radek, and besides, Radek guessed his friends had the grace not to discuss him while he was sitting right here within earshot.
"I do not think it would be advisable to move him," Teyla said. "He is very weak."
"We can't just leave him here," said John.
"Why not?" demanded Rodney. "We can't bring him back to Atlantis. The risk—"
'He doesn't look like much of a threat to me," Ronon said.
"Oh really?" said Rodney's insistent voice. "That just proves how much you know. All you warrior types ever think about are physical threats. Well, there are a lot more dangerous things out there than somebody attacking you with sticks. I mean, he could have some kind of horrible, communicable disease that could cause us all to die a slow painful death. Would you want to be the one responsible for bringing that back to Atlantis? Huh? Would you?"
"Rodney," John cut in. "If you were in his place, would you want to be left here? He needs help. If we leave him, he's probably going to die."
"If we bring him with us, we might die!" Rodney said. "You know how I feel about the prospect of slow, painful death, Sheppard."
"McKay, is all this death talk necessary?" Ronon asked. "Look, the way I see it, If we leave him here, we miss the chance to learn anything from him. That's what we're trying to do, right? Learn about this place? He'd know."
Morin. They were discussing Morin, after all. Radek felt foolish. He should have realized they'd been talking about the scientist in the pod all along. He gave his head a little shake. What was the matter with him? First he hadn't been able to pay attention when he and Rodney were working on the pod, and now he could barely follow a conversation without an effort. He willed his eyelids open. It wouldn't do to drift off, now. More than being embarrassing, it might actually prove dangerous.
He told himself he had to keep his brain occupied, so he mentally replayed their first contact with Morin. There was no longer much doubt in Radek's mind that Kadan Morin had been the person who'd created Shadow. Jana, he reminded himself. Her name is Jana. It seemed odd to think of her being called something other than Shadow, for that was how he'd come to know her. Shadow. His Shadow, who'd rescued him from the river, who'd said she wanted to stay with him and who had followed him all over Atlantis until she'd become too ill to do so. The memory of her lying in the Infirmary made him ache with tangible empathy. He thought he understood how a father must feel, worrying about a sick child.
A father. The force of the thought overwhelmed him for a moment. How could he even consider such a thing? Morin was the one who had created Shadow. Morin was her father, in whatever form that definition represented. Morin was concerned about her whereabouts and her safety, and he was the only one who had the right to claim her parentage, biological or otherwise.
Radek knew he should be pleased they'd found Morin alive. He supposed some part of him really was happy about that, but that feeling was overshadowed by something else. He couldn't help experiencing a sense of emptiness, of obsolescence when he arrived at the understanding that caring for Shadow was no longer his responsibility, if ever it had been his at all. He asked himself why this should matter so much. He'd never even wanted such a responsibility before. Why should it make any difference to him, who took on the duty of being Shadow's caretaker now?
It mattered, his rational brain concluded simply, because somewhere along the way, he had changed his mind about what he wanted. He'd seen the way to the end of his loneliness, and had taken comfort in both needing and being needed by someone else. Without even being fully aware of it, he'd been preparing himself to accept guardianship of Shadow. Now, that might not be necessary.
The knowledge hurt.
Stoically, he told himself not to dwell on it. He was used to dealing with hurt and disappointment and loss and all those other mental pains. He'd been doing it all his life, compressing all his hurts into a tight little ball and locking them away in the deepest recesses of his consciousness. He had to think of something else, something that didn't hurt. It was the way he survived everything from losing his first love, to being conscripted into the army, to coping with the death of his father. He'd endure this as well, because he had to. There was work that needed to be done, people and things that needed attention. Duties could not be ignored.
It took a lot more of his energy to stand up than he'd anticipated, but nevertheless, Radek got to his feet and made his way to where his four colleagues were still conversing. Ronon gave him a mystified look. Rodney gaped openly. Radek ignored them both.
"Hey," Colonel Sheppard said. "Glad you decided to join us, Doc. You all right?"
"Yes," Radek said, knowing full well no one would believe it. "I'm fine."
"Good," Sheppard said. "So, what do you think we should do about Morin?"
"We need to take him with us," Radek said.
"What? Just like that?" said Rodney. "Are you out of your mind? Haven't you been listening to a word we've been saying over here? You probably haven't been, have you?"
"Yes, I have," Radek said evenly. "I'm aware of risks and I know Morin is very weak, but I think we must take him."
"Why?" Rodney demanded.
"Ronon was right. We might learn a lot from him. Just as important as that, he is Shadow's father."
"So what?" said Rodney. "That has nothing whatsoever to do with protecting us from any insidious diseases he might be carrying, or…or any evil plot he might have cooking in his wrinkled head. The guy knows something about Atlantis. He's—"
"He is Shadow's father," Radek repeated quietly. "How would you explain it to her, if we leave him behind?"
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"What do you think?" Itzhak Perlman asked.
Carson stood next to his friend at the window that gave them a view of Shadow's isolated room. Itzhak had exited the room only moments earlier, and was pulling the mask from his face as he spoke. Itzhak never kept perfectly still while doing anything, Carson noticed. The man seemed to be brimming with energy all the time, and Carson couldn't help envying him a little for it. If Itzhak was tired, it certainly didn't show.
"What do I think about Shadow?" Carson said.
"Of life, the universe and everything," said Itzhak. "Of course, I'm asking what you think about Shadow."
"At this point, to be perfectly honest, I don't know what to think."
Itzhak snapped off a latex glove. The sound was loud and abrupt, incongruous with the stillness of that part of the Infirmary. Carson flinched, even though he'd seen Itzhak start to pull the glove off and had known the noise would be forthcoming. Itzhak offered him an apologetic look and peeled his other glove off slowly.
"Her fever's gone down half a degree in the last hour," Itzhak said.
"I wouldn't be too optimistic about that. Half a degree isn't much, and it might spike again."
"It's down a whole degree from three hours ago," Itzhak reminded him. "And she's still awake. She's been awake for several hours, now."
"Aye, but she's still unresponsive, for all that."
Itzhak absent-mindedly played with the surgical gloves he still held. "She keeps staring at the window. Maybe I'm reading too much into this, but it's almost as if she's watching for someone. It's like she's afraid she'll miss something if she looks away."
"I've got that feeling, too. I think she's waiting for Radek to come back."
"I'm worried about him."
"Radek, you mean? Why are you worried about him?"
"You didn't see what kind of shape he was in when he finally left here last night.," Itzhak said. "I did, and if it'd been my decision to make, I wouldn't have cleared him for full duty. Let's face it, I probably wouldn't have cleared him for much of anything, if I thought I could make the order stick."
"He was fine when I released him," Carson said. "Well, on the mend, anyway."
"That being the operative phrase," said Itzhak. "On the mend. All I'm saying is that I wouldn't have cleared him to go offworld."
"He's not usually assigned offworld. When I released him from the Infirmary the other day, it was supposed to have been back to his normal activities. Sending him offworld is Dr. Weir's responsibility, and Colonel Sheppard's. Not mine. Besides," Carson added, "I'd have liked to meet the person who could've talked him out of going offworld this time."
"Isn't that Dr. Weir's job, too?" Itzhak said.
"Oh, aye, it certainly is." Carson's opinion on Elizabeth's execution of her responsibilities was right on the tip of his tongue. He might have held back if he'd been with anyone other than Itzhak Perlman, but he trusted Itzhak not to repeat anything, so he decided to relieve some of his own tension by venting a little. He said, "Forgive me if you think I'm a talebearer, but I expect Dr. Weir wasn't exercising her usual degree of logical reasoning when she made this particular judgement call."
"Hmm…" Itzhak hummed thoughtfully and fiddled with his gloves some more. "I don't want to get into that kind of conversation, if you don't mind. I don't know Dr. Weir well enough to understand what her usual reasoning process is like. All I was trying to say before is that somebody objective should have intervened. I should have intervened."
"It wasn't up to you."
"I guess not," Itzhak said, "But, I could have told you, and maybe you could've done something."
"It's not like you to second-guess," Carson said. "What's done is done."
"I suppose so. Anyway, the team should be back soon. With any luck, every one of them will be perfectly fine and all this worrying will be moot." Itzhak gave the gloves in his hand a brisk snap. "Well, I'd better get rid of these and find a new pair. I have things to do, and I don't want to keep Dr. Biro waiting."
"Right," Carson said. He was saved from trying to think of something more to say when his radio headset clicked in his ear.
"Dr. Beckett, this is Dr. Weir," said Elizabeth's disembodied voice.
Carson touched his earpiece. "Yes, Elizabeth, go ahead," he said. "What can I do for you?" Carson noticed Itzhak giving him an eyebrows-up look of curiosity.
"Colonel Sheppard's team is on the way back," Elizabeth said. "Carson, they found another survivor."
"Another…?" Carson began to say, but stopped himself mid-thought. There'd be plenty of time to get the details later. He said, "I'll be down there in a minute."
"I'll see you in a minute, then," said Elizabeth. She signed off, and Carson heard another click in his ear.
"Well?" Itzhak said when Carson didn't speak for several moments.
"I have to go," Carson said.
"Right," said Itzhak. "We'll hold the fort around here until you get back. I'll be the general."
"I've heard those general's stars can weigh rather heavily on a man's shoulders."
"I can handle it," Itzhak said. He gave Carson a flippant salute. "Go."
Carson didn't allow himself to smile until he'd turned toward the door and away from Itzhak's line of sight. Good people, Carson thought. How thankful I am to be surrounded by such good people.
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As he always did, John felt an overwhelming sense of gratitude and relief when he and his team emerged from the Stargate's event horizon into the gate room in Atlantis. They'd taken much longer in getting back to the 'Gate from the Ancient structure than John would have liked, but considering he and Teyla, and then Ronon and Rodney had been carrying Morin on the makeshift stretcher they'd constructed, he supposed they'd made okay time.
Morin had been unconscious the whole way back to the 'Gate. John was concerned about the old man, and couldn't stop himself from wondering if Morin would ever wake up again. He didn't like the thought that Morin might die in Atlantis, though the way things were going, it was a likely possibility.
Along with his concern for Morin, John was worried about Radek, too. The poor little guy hadn't looked all that great since they'd found all those bones in that clearing, and he'd seemed just about ready to fall over by the time they'd gotten back to the 'Gate. In retrospect, John was glad he hadn't asked Radek to help carry Morin, because the scientist probably wouldn't have been able to do it.
John was grateful to see Elizabeth waiting for them when they arrived. He was even happier to see Carson Beckett and a pair of medical technicians ready to receive them. Carson would know what to do for Morin. Since Radek was still upright and mobile, John decided he'd escort the little scientist to the Infirmary personally. One of Carson's capable minions would know how to take care of him.
While Carson and his staff busied themselves with getting Morin onto a more conventional gurney and whisking him out of the gate room, Elizabeth came over to talk with John and the rest of his team. She looked only a little anxious, which John took as a good sign. She wanted to debrief them, but she said it could wait. They all needed to get cleaned up, and get themselves checked out by the Infirmary staff. Some of them needed to eat. Elizabeth had glanced pointedly and Rodney when she mentioned that and John had been hard-pressed not to laugh.
For once, John wasn't about to argue with the directive to go to the Infirmary. Altruistic motives aside, he was a little desperate to get something to stop the itch from the dozens of insect bites all over his arms and neck. He'd gotten a few bites on his last visit to M4X-382, so at least he knew they weren't going to kill him unless, of course, he happened to scratch himself to death.
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"You guys look like the fourth day of a three-day weekend," Itzhak Perlman said cheerfully as John's team shuffled its way into the Infirmary. "It must've been one heck of a mission."
This wasn't the sort of greeting John had expected to receive upon arriving for his post-mission check-up. He'd grown accustomed to Carson's fussing and fretting, so he found it a little weird to be met by somebody who was actually smiling and joking with the team. He couldn't say he objected to it, though. There was no denying Itzhak Perlman was a people-person, and it was kind of refreshing to hear the relaxed cadence of the Israeli doctor's voice. Itzhak was easy on the nerves, John decided. He sized up the blond-haired woman standing next to Itzhak. Her name was Hanna…something, and she was a doctor, too. Dr. Hanna is easy on the eyes, said the voice in John's head which, at the moment, could not be brought under any sort of control.
"One heck of a mission, huh?" John offered up a lopsided smile for Itzhak. "Doc, you have no idea."
"You don't have to tell me. I think I can guess," Itzhak said. "My best recommendation for all of you is a shower. Definitely a shower, but post-mission physicals come first. I know you guys don't like us doing that to you, but it's protocol."
"I'll let you do pretty much anything if it means I can get something to stop this damn itching," John said. He held out his arms for Itzhak's inspection. "Alien mosquitoes. They've got sharp teeth."
Itzhak studied the team for a moment as if he might be trying to decide who needed the most attention. After a second or two, he let his gaze rest on John again. He clapped his hands together in an all-business sort of gesture. "Okay, Colonel, come with me and we'll see what we can do about the alien mosquito bites. Radek, you come along with me, too. The rest of you can go with Dr. Eriksson." Itzhak nodded in the direction the blonde lady doctor, and smiled. "Topical analgesic for everybody, Hanna. I bet the colonel's not the only itchy one."
Hanna Eriksson gave her colleague a look of mock-indignation, "And who appointed you king of the Infirmary, Itzhak Perlman?" she demanded.
"Nobody," said Itzhak. "I just got tired of playing second fiddle around here. Thought I'd try being the boss for a change. You know, to see how I like it."
That statement earned him a groan from Hanna, "Second fiddle? The violin jokes never get old for you, do they?"
"Nope," said Itzhak. "Go on, now. Don't keep your patients waiting. I know Dr. McKay must be anxious for his shots."
"Oh yes, I can hardly wait," said Rodney. "Can't you see that I'm just giddy with excitement?"
John didn't know if sending Rodney with Hanna was a strategic decision on Itzhak's part, or if Rodney's reputation preceded him and the Israeli doctor just didn't want to put up with the physicist's whining. Nobody really looked forward to being vaccinated, but John guessed Rodney would complain a lot less about getting a needle in the butt if the person holding the needle was a leggy, blue-eyed blonde.
John grinned at Itzhak. "Maybe you would be a good Chief Medical Officer, Dr. P," he said.
"I haven't given you your shots, yet," Itzhak told him. "Don't praise me until you survive that ordeal, okay? And what's this 'Dr. P' stuff? The last I checked, Dr. P was a urologist."
"Itzhak, you are the living end," Hanna said. "You—"
"No, don't tell me." Itzhak held up a hand. "That last one was way over the top, right? Most crippled joke you ever heard."
That elicited an abrupt snort of laughter from Radek. "Lame," he said. "It was, Itzhak. Really."
"Made you laugh, though, didn't it? Someday I'll figure out how to make Hanna laugh, too. Melt the ice and all that," Itzhak said, and directed a grin with decidedly unprofessional connotations in Hanna's direction.
Hanna's only response to Itzhak was a nondescript grumble. She put a hand on Rodney's shoulder and nodded for Teyla and Ronon to follow them. John watched them, and was amused to see the smug look on Rodney's face as they departed.
"Better luck next time, Dr. P," John said.
"Oh, she likes me," Itzhak said airily. "She just hasn't figured it out, yet. Now, why don't you guys come along with me, and we'll try to get these exams over as quickly and painlessly as possible."
John wasn't about to argue with a quick and painless examination. The sooner the exam was done, the sooner he could take a shower, debrief, and then crash for a few hours.
-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-
Radek was beginning to feel a certain kinship with laboratory animals.
Quick and painless exam, indeed, he grumbled to himself as he sat on his appointed Infirmary bed. He really wasn't sure how long the average post-mission physical exam should take, but he was certain Colonel Sheppard's check-up hadn't taken nearly as long as his own seemed to be taking. He'd heard Itzhak chatting with the colonel behind the curtain of the adjacent bed for what had seemed like only a few minutes. Itzhak had sent Colonel Sheppard off with a tube of something he'd referred to as benzocaine, and a cheerful, "You're fine, Colonel. I'm sure the itch will improve in no time."
Radek should only have been so fortunate himself, but Itzhak seemed intent on prodding him and poking him with needles and incessantly asking him questions. There was no hint of the easy chatter Itzhak had shared with the colonel. The Israeli doctor was all business, now. Radek didn't like it a bit. He was feeling irritable and impatient, and he just wanted Itzhak to give him some anti-itch cream and let him leave.
"Why is this taking so long?" he finally demanded, when Itzhak had deemed it necessary to shine a penlight into his eyes. "Why are you doing that? It hurts."
"Photosensitivity," said Itzhak, rather unhelpfully. 'Your pupils are dilated."
"Very intelligent of you to figure this out," Radek grumbled. "I told you it hurt. Can I go?"
"No, you can't. I'm not done, yet."
"Perhaps I am done."
"Not so fast, champ," Itzhak said. The doctor put out a hand to restrain Radek from sliding off the bed. "Stay right there. You're not going anywhere until I say you can, and if I have my way, you won't be leaving here until tomorrow morning."
"But—"
"You're not going to talk your way out of here, so you shouldn't waste energy trying. You haven't got that much energy to spare," Itzhak said firmly. "You're hypotonic, your pulse is rapid and your blood pressure is way lower than it should be."
"Is this serious?"
"Depends on how you define serious. It's not imminently life-threatening, if that's what you're asking."
"Good, then I can go."
"No, you can't. You're presenting moderate symptoms of shock. To be honest, I'm not surprised, considering everything you've gone through in the past week. Your body and brain are telling you they need a break," Itzhak said. "Now, you're going to lie down for a nap, and if you feel a little better when you wake up, you'll eat. Then, I'm going to examine you again. After that, maybe I'll let you leave."
"Itzhak, you can't keep—"
Itzhak held up a hand. "I can do whatever I want, Dr. Zelenka, and just so we're clear, you can refer to me as Dr. Perlman while you're under my supervision. Now, listen to me. I'm telling you that you need to take care of yourself."
"I will, but not now," Radek said. "There are things I have to do."
"Nothing that can't wait."
"But, I can't—"
"I don't want to hear it," Itzhak said. "Rest. You need it. I promise I'll wake you if anything happens that you should know about."
-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-
Carson told himself he should have known better by now that he could never guess all the manifestations of the word 'survivor'. There were as many kinds of trauma as there were people in the universe. Each case, each patient was unique. The man named Kadan Morin was exceptional in that he'd survived not only being attacked by a Wraith but also being enclosed in a stasis pod for God knew how long. Carson considered it a miracle the man was alive at all.
Morin had been unconscious when he'd arrived, so Carson had been able to begin examining him without much resistance. During the course of Carson's examination, however, the man fought his way back to awareness. He was clearly terrified and confused. He looked around frantically, and struggled weakly beneath Carson's gentle, restraining hands.
"What…happened?" Morin gasped. "Who're you?"
"It's all right," Carson said. "Lie still. Nobody's going to hurt you. My name's Carson Beckett, and I'm a doctor."
"Doctor?"
"Yes, that's right. Do you know where you are?"
"No."
"Can you tell me your name?"
"Dr. Kadan Morin," Morin said. "I'm…a scientist. Where are…others?"
"What others?" Carson wanted to know. "Were there other survivors on the planet?"
"No, no…" Morin rocked his head back and forth on the pillow. "They said Atlantis…not a myth. Not underwater. Jana…is in Atlantis. Please…I must find Jana."
Carson pressed his lips together in a frown, and tried to decide whether or not he should tell Morin they were actually in Atlantis right now. He recalled Shadow's reaction when she'd first discovered she was in the Lost City, and quickly decided against saying anything to the old man. He was far too weak to undergo any more emotional shock than he must already be suffering from. Carson wanted to ask about this person named Jana that Morin needed to find, but he decided that could wait, too.
"Dr. Morin, are you in any pain?" Carson asked instead.
"Jana's necklace," Morin mumbled. He seemed not to have heard or understood Carson's question.
"Necklace?"
"One of the men…had it."
"One of the men who found you?"
"Yes. Around his neck. It is…a special device. The Ancestors…"
Sudden comprehension collided with Carson's brain at the mental equivalent of a hundred kilometres per hour. The person Morin referred to as Jana was Shadow. One of the Atlantis men had, in fact, gone off with an Ancient device on a cord 'round his neck. Carson had given Shadow's little silvery pendant to Radek for safekeeping and had watched bemusedly as the engineer had put the string around his own neck and tucked it beneath his clothes. Carson never could have guessed anyone would use the device as a token of identity, but now he was glad someone had. If Morin was this concerned about Shadow – Jana, Carson corrected himself – then there was a more than likely possibility he had a close relationship to her. There was a good chance Morin had even been responsible for the genetic engineering that had produced her.
"Dr. Morin," Carson said. "Can you tell me about Jana?"
"She is my daughter," Morin whispered. "Please…"
"Your daughter?"
"I created her. Does this…not make her mine?"
"Aye, I suppose it does," Carson murmured.
"Where is she?" Morin said again. "She…is only a child. She will be afraid. I must see her…please…"
"Dr. Morin, how old is Jana?"
"A child…" Morin repeated. His voice was weakening and his eyelids were slowly sliding closed. "Eleven seasons. Only…a child…"
That wasn't the answer Carson had anticipated. He watched Morin sink into unconsciousness again, and tried to make sense of the things the old man had said. Carson had been certain Shadow and Morin's mysterious Jana were one and the same, but upon hearing that Jana was a lass of eleven, he wasn't so sure any more. It was true Morin seemed to have identified her by the Ancient cloaking device, but it was entirely possible there'd been more than one of those in the laboratory the team had found. Equally plausible was the idea that Morin had created more than one child.
Then again, Shadow and Jana really might be the same person, and Morin thought she was eleven years old because that'd been her age the last time he'd seen her. Morin might have been in stasis for the last eight or nine years. That thought made Carson feel cold. If the old scientist didn't know how long he'd been in suspended animation, then he wouldn't have any idea that his little girl had grown up.
TBC
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