Whew! I really don't know how some people upload every week. I am in awe. This chapter's a hefty one. Enjoy!
Kieran does not have the bandwidth to process the last fifteen minutes. She's known John for . . . what? Three days tops? Her first impression wasn't bad. Mostly neutral. Net positive? Sure, she'll go with that.
And then John went and torpedoed her opinion of him in about three seconds. As if Kieran hasn't been replaying every moment she could remember of that night every night. He had no right to say any of that. He wasn't even there! And before Kieran could even get a real hit in, he was saved by the bell. The doctor. The—whatever. Carson called and that gave Kieran enough cooldown time to consider not immediately ripping her father's tongue out through his teeth.
Kieran does not choose flight. She wants to fight, and she's cursing herself for fighting. So much for keeping things on the down-low! Teyla stays planted in front of her, in case she takes off like a wild boar and tries to gore John with nonexistent horns.
There's an extra minute or two of Kieran heaving and pacing just to get her heart rate and adrenaline to drop back to something manageable. To rein in the red-hot anger. The urge to lash out.
As soon as John's footfalls fade, Teyla fixes Kieran with a look, oozing concern from every pore. Something unidentifiable and uncomfortable settles in the pits of her stomach.
"I'm fine." Kieran says automatically.
"Are you sure?" Teyla asks. She steps closer, halting when Kieran reflexively jerks back. "That was extraordinarily out of character for him to say."
"Out of character?" Kieran repeats. Mom hardly spoke of John, and never by name. But she always said he was a good man. She'll believe it when she sees it.
"It was cruel," Teyla says. "And it was wrong. I don't know what's gotten into him but—"
"It's fine." Kieran takes a deep breath and hands the Bantos rods back. "Whatever."
What Kieran was hoping for was that her waspish tone on top of her snapping like an old, frayed rope would be enough to end any more conservation. It's not.
"Can I ask where you learned to fight—"
"This conversation is over," she snaps. "Mind your business."
Things happen very quickly in the next several hours. There's an all-hands-on-deck meeting of medical personnel locked in Atlantis' main conference room. Colonel Caldwell, commanding officer of the Daedalus, has assumed the role of Atlantis' chief military officer.
Stewing in her room or some corner of the city isn't a good use of her time, as much as she wants it to be. She needs to get her footing back and figure out what's going on.
Kieran can't loiter in the infirmary without drawing attention. And with the rest of the base as tight-lipped as they are, any questions she will ask will get shut down. Shut down or dodged unless she backs them into a corner.
There's a time for subtlety and a time to start swinging. The difference between a scalpel and a steel chair is elbow grease. To operate without knowing all the variables is a risk. A liability. To show a full hand is an act of desperation.
Voices bounce in her head. Mom's. Her grandparents. Hell, Stick—
She just might be that desperate. If no one is going to give her answers, she'll just have to squeeze them out.
Kieran marches down to the gate room with a scowl severe enough to make most civilians step out of her way and most of the military give her a double take. She vaguely registers Chuck's hesitant wave.
The conference room is closed.
Kieran waits in Elizabeth's office. It's a dirty move. She doesn't care.
She doesn't have to wait long. She recognizes Rodney, Carson, Elizabeth, and Colonel Caldwell as they step out of the conference room. There's another man she doesn't recognize; he's military for sure. Major Evan Lorne, John's XO, maybe.
Elizabeth spots Kieran loitering in her office immediately, and Kieran pastes on a pleasant smile as she watches Elizabeth try and force the tension out of her shoulders. Colonel Caldwell is right behind her. She doesn't miss Carson's wince and Rodney's grimace as they shuffle off to do . . . whatever they need to do.
Elizabeth has endeared herself to Kieran, somewhat. She's in charge of the most prestigious expedition on the planet, whose efforts and accomplishments are buried under layers of security clearance and red tape. At best, they're anonymous. At worst, forgotten. And Kieran respects that.
Colonel Caldwell. He's a colonel. That's basically the beginning and end of all Kieran knows about him. Her only real interactions with him were stilted introductions and when he told her which places aboard the Daedalus were off-limits. She respects his rank, but not really him as a person.
"Was anyone going to tell me what the hell's wrong with John?" Kieran asks instead of a normal greeting.
Both of them flinch. Elizabeth recovers first. The harsh fluorescents glinting off Caldwell's nearly bald head is almost enough to distract Kieran, but she catches the uncomfortable grimace and furrowing of the brow. She can't quite explain it, but it doesn't have the same sense of concern that Elizabeth does. If anything, he almost looks annoyed, and that's really not going to earn any brownie points with her. Or maybe she's just being paranoid again.
Her track record with authority figures isn't great.
"We're just having him under medical observation," Elizabeth says evenly.
Kieran is not stupid. She knows all too well when she's being kept in the dark. She's heard it all before. It's for your own safety. I was trying to protect you.
Yeah. Sure. And look where her mom ended up.
"Elizabeth," Kieran says pleasantly. She's trying to channel her friends, her inner Akechi and Haru, keeping her tone perfectly light and even, staying aggravatingly unflappable as she cuts to the heart of the matter. "How stupid do you think I am?"
"That's not what I was saying—"
"I know how to read between the lines." She makes very pointed, very angry eye contact with the both of them. "You were the one that commed me and let me know that John was being rushed to the infirmary. His cut looked bad, but it ended up being more superficial. John might have come into contact with something that wasn't human, and Carson was running tests until he called John in." She raises an eyebrow, unimpressed. "If you don't fill in the holes, I'll go and do it myself. You can save me the trouble by keeping the bullshit to yourself and giving me the truth."
"Look, your attitude isn't doing yourself any favors," Caldwell snaps. Sure, he's allowed to be frustrated. But he's only going to be dealing with the death of a subordinate, not another parent within a month of the first one. He can deal with this for two minutes. "We're doing the best we can. Just let us work—"
"I'm not asking for a favor," Kieran snaps. "Can either of you just fucking tell me if John's turning into a Wraith or not?"
This time, the flinch is visceral like an electric shock. Colonel Caldwell's face twitches violently, while Elizabeth's mouth hangs open.
Elizabeth, ever the diplomat, recovers first. "Colonel, I think you should leave now."
"Dr. Weir—"
"Colonel." Elizabeth's tone is sharp enough to cut steel. Kieran's heard it before, or something like it from her mom. There's no room to argue. It makes her stand a little straighter. She's not in danger. She just needs to pay attention. "I have this handled."
The look Colonel Caldwell gives her as he steps out isn't a flattering one. She'd laugh if she had the emotional bandwidth; she's gotten worse looks from worse people.
Caldwell shuts the door behind him, though Kieran doesn't know how private her office really is. It's all glass, and she doesn't know how well it's soundproofed.
Well. As long as sound's dampened when the door's shut. Any pretense of subtlety sailed as soon as Kieran bellowed like she was trying to herd goats from the mountains.
Dr. Weir takes a deep breath. "Why don't we have a seat?"
Kieran drops down, not taking her eyes off the woman in front of her. Dr. Weir hasn't looked away yet. The amount of mutual sizing each other up going on is so funny Kieran would laugh if she didn't think she was teetering on the edge of hysteria.
"Why don't we start with how much you know," Dr. Weir says. "And I can fill in the gaps."
"I got a call from you early this afternoon." Kieran cocks her head to the side. "It would've been 1:30 at most. I headed to the infirmary from the jumper bay, and I saw Carson cleaning up John's arm." Kieran crosses her arms. "Both of them tried to play it off. And honestly, it might've worked if you didn't call me in a panic. But John was rushed in on a gurney, and by the time Carson got to him, his injury was fully healed. There wasn't even a scar. Then John said he'd meet me in the cafeteria." Kieran meets Elizabeth's eyes. "It didn't add up. So I stuck around."
"Oh, I'm sure they took that well."
"They didn't know I was there."
"You were snooping."
"I think the technical term is eavesdropping." Kieran flaps her hand dismissively. "Anyways. The gist of what I heard was that John thought that maybe all that blood was from whatever bit him or scratched him—or whatever—him. Carson said that couldn't be the case because the blood was human."
Kieran takes a deep breath, both to calm herself and to give her brain a moment to straighten the rest of this out. It's taken a sharp turn into weird territory fast. It's not new territory for her, just different. "John seemed perfectly fine at lunch. When we met up a few hours later—" Kieran wrinkles her nose. "He wasn't."
"Did you notice any physical changes?"
She shakes her head. "Not really. Nothing obvious. I don't know—the way he carried himself when he walked in. I couldn't put my finger on it, but something felt off. When we were sparring, he was hitting stronger and moving faster than I thought he would. Teyla had just taught me some basics. I thought he'd go slow. Or slower." Kieran laughs humorlessly. "And then he—he said something that set me off. I don't know. I snapped. Then I saw his arm. Then Carson told him to come down to the infirmary."
Elizabeth blinks, and Kieran has the feeling that she's being scrutinized. It's not a great feeling on its own, but Kieran knows she showed her hand a bit today. The snooping. The sparring match. Ambushing Elizabeth in her own office. She's used to getting answers and taking care of things herself. And she's equipped with the tools to do it.
Kieran scowls, but immediately tries to dial it back. It's not Elizabeth she's mad at Not really. "I'm sick and tired of adults keeping stuff from me. Important stuff that ends up biting me in the ass. I'd rather know about John actively being in danger instead of just hearing that he dropped dead one day."
"Because you care about him."
"I'm pissed at him, actually," Kieran says. "I just—I just need to know what timeframe we're working with. And if I'm about to become an orphan. Again."
"I can't promise you that everything will turn out okay." There is a very complicated look on Elizabeth's face. Unfortunately, Kieran isn't a mind reader, and jumping to conclusions isn't going to do her any good. "I can't do that. But I can promise you that we have the best and brightest people in two galaxies working on a solution."
It's not good enough, but Kieran knows what a rock and a hard place feels like. She knows that sometimes the best people can do isn't good enough. That's just life.
"Alright, my turn." Elizabeth clasps her fingers. "I'm assuming you know what the Wraith are at this point."
Kieran nods. "Going forward, I want to know if there's something out to kill me."
Elizabeth barks a startled laugh.
Kieran scowls. "I wasn't joking."
It's a statement loaded with the same amount of seriousness, but it wipes the brief amount of startled mirth off Elizabeth's face with an accuracy only seen in old slapstick comedies.
"Right. Of course." Elizabeth clears her throat. "Last year, John was bitten by a creature the Ancients referred to as an Iratus bug. We believe that they're the evolution ancestors of the Wraith."
"Space vampires," Kieran remembers. "That's what John's turning into? A space vampire? Do we have space garlic? Space stakes? Space holy water?"
"Vampire is a little too literal. Wraith are humanoid aliens that feed on the human lifespan. He's not turning into a Wraith." Elizabeth says quickly. Oh, well that's good. "He's turning into something . . . worse."
Oh. Never freaking mind. "W—worse?" Kieran croaks. "What—how—"
"You'd have to ask Carson for the specifics, but according to the mission report, there was a man who raised a baby Wraith as his own daughter." Kieran's heard stories about people who raise big cats as pets. Sometimes they end up as really wholesome but somewhat dubious YouTube vids. Sometimes they end up as really, really bony wet food. So that concept, but specifically only for a creature that feeds exclusively on humans. Yeah, there's no way that doesn't end badly. And it did. "The Wraith being descended from the Iratus bug and humans, Carson thought that he could create a retrovirus that would eliminate the Wraith DNA and leave only the human."
"It didn't work, did it?"
"We don't know." Elizabeth grimaces. "It was taken and administered before Carson finished it. So that Wraith girl, Elia, began devolving into this . . . bug-like creature and lost her sentience."
"And—and that's the non-human DNA Carson found on John? That's what he's turning into?" Kieran's stomach flip-flops so hard when Elizabeth nods she nearly projectile vomits. It's a good thing she doesn't, because Elizabeth is sitting right in front of her. "How much time do we have? Months?"
Elizabeth shakes her head. "Days."
In fact, everything was not fine. Very much not fine. It just seemed like it was fine at the moment. There was actually a long collection of moments that seemed on par with Kieran's admittedly whack level of normal—and then John started turning into a bug! A motherfucking literal bug! With chitin!
Days! They have days! And Kieran can't do anything!
What's worse, Mom dying trying to save her life or John turning into a goddamn bug?
It's hard to say, really.
Elizabeth never gave her a number of days John has left before he . . . finishes growing an exoskeleton or whatever "turning into a bug" really means. Whatever prepping Kieran's been doing for school's been shoved onto the backburner until they figure out a cure or some way to reverse it. Or when John finishes his metamorphosis into something . . . something not human. Whichever happens first. Probably by the end of the week.
This week.
Just when she thought her life reached a peak of just . . . crap and that she was approaching her limit, life hits her with gut punch after gut punch.
She spent a year studying abroad in Tokyo, and as fun as that was, it came with a lot more stress and trauma than she expected. A week after she got back to the States, her mom died. Murdered. She spent three weeks on a spaceship heading to another galaxy that had space vampires no one bothered to mention to her. It's . . . what? Her third full day on Atlantis? And now John is turning into a bug.
And Kieran can't do anything. Elizabeth sent John's team through the gate to try and get some Iratus bug eggs. Instead of working through pre-calc, Kieran spends her time combing through the Ancient database on the Wraith.
It's not promising. Most of what's in the database is more about the war between the Wraith and the Ancients rather than what led to the Wraith themselves. The Ancients got their crap kicked in so hard they turned and fled back to the Milky Way which also doesn't bode well if all the Wraith are waking up this time around.
If there's any info on John's condition, any info that she could pass along to Carson and his team, it's locked behind a serious language barrier.
She's useless. She's fundamentally, completely useless. She can't help John.
And somehow that's worse than being pissed at him.
"You don't want to see him? Talk to him?" Jonas asks.
"If I did, I'd be at his bedside," Kieran says curtly. "Or his room."
"Maybe you should take a break," Jonas suggests, not unkindly. "You've been here for a while."
Kieran glares at him, but he's entirely unfazed. "You should take a break. I'm going to keep working."
Jonas shrugs. "Alright. Suit yourself. I need to use the bathroom anyways."
She tries not to overthink him leaving. She's the one who came into his space in an awful mood, but at least she's not snapping at everyone anymore.
Kieran isn't sure what to feel. She's definitely angry at John, but if he died right now—or worse, they had to release him into the wild because they lost hope and he turned into an unrecognizable humanoid arthropod thing—she's not sure what she would feel.
She doesn't get the chance to marinate in that for long, because Jonas comes back with an all-too-innocent smile plastered on his face. Sora is right on his heels. Compared to the golden retriever sunny smile on Jonas' face, the utterly neutral impressed look on Sora's face is so much more severe.
Uh oh, Kieran thinks.
"Let's spar," Sora suggests. Kieran gets the feeling it's less of a suggestion and more of a very polite, unforceful demand.
"I'm kind of in the middle of—"
"So you're free," she says.
"—Something." Kieran sighs, peeling herself off of the table. Might as well, if people are going to insist are forcibly removing her from her spot or whatever.
Instead of Kieran's brain working overtime to try and parse a long-dead language to put together info about the most goddamn advanced biology, it's working overtime to make sure Sora doesn't kill her and also making sure that she doesn't look too competent. Kieran loves a good spar, but she already tipped her hand a bit in front of John and Teyla.
She's not interested in answering more questions.
Sora doesn't ask questions. Instead, she points to a rack stacked with practice weapon. "Take your pick."
" . . . What?"
"I don't have Bantos rods," Sora explains. Her voice balances on a razor's edge of patient and impatient, and it's impossible for Kieran to tell which it is. Maybe both. Or neither. "If there's another weapon you're comfortable with, feel free to use it."
Kieran scans the racks. There's bokken, practice katanas, staves, and other things she has at least a passing familiarity with. Sure, she's probably a little rusty with some of them, but she knows her muscle memory is good enough to make up for it.
"I'm good with a punching bag," Kieran says. "I just want to hit something."
"Hand-to-hand then." Sora tosses Kieran a roll of boxer's tape. That's muscle memory too. She's always been a bit of a baby, so she pads out the knuckles a bit more before tossing the tape into the basket.
"What makes you think I'm even good?"
"You don't need to be good to hit something," Sora says. "Just be good enough not to injure yourself."
Wouldn't that be embarrassing. Plus, she's not looking for reasons to be in the infirmary if John could end up there at any time.
Then they're circling each other on the mat, sizing each other up. Kieran's not sure what Sora sees in her, but Kieran can definitely see the militaristic way of life Sora was brought up in settle on her shoulders like a heavy cloak. The way she scans Kieran is clinical and calculating. Kieran has to wonder if they have the same definition of "going easy."
They might end up being more similar than whatever guesses Sora has in mind.
Kieran doesn't know Teyla well enough to know if she's a gossip, but—
Sora moves in for a punch, and Kieran twists around it. Simple enough. It was telegraphed to hell and back. Sora's eyes narrow. Kieran grins.
Sora's attacks ramp up. She hits harder. Faster. She's harder to read—but not impossible. Kieran sidesteps, shuffles, parries each one without compromising her stability or her center of balance. It's easy to fall into the ebb and flow of a simple fight. Well—not that this is a fight. It's Sora testing the waters and Kieran having an airtight defensive game.
"Are you going to throw a punch or not?" Sora huffs. Sweat's dripping down her forehead. Hell, they'll both probably go for a shower after this. "You obviously know what you're doing in a fight."
"Probably not," Kieran says. "And maybe I'm just winging it this whole time."
"Of course you're not." Sora says. "I would've landed a hit if you weren't. So why are you holding back?"
Goddamn it. Even when she tones it down, she's getting questions. Maybe the solution is getting her ass kicked.
It knocks the wind out of her sails. She steps off the mat, already unwinding the tape from her fists. "That's complicated. I just don't want anyone to know."
"Why not?" Sora asks. "I'm sure it would be a relief to everyone if they knew you can defend yourself."
"Because." Kieran says, like that's an answer.
It's not enough of one for Sora, who gestures impatiently for an elaboration. "It might be normal for Genii or other cultures in this galaxy, but it's not normal for a seventeen-year-old on Earth. I'm better than most. People are going to want to ask questions I don't want to answer."
"Okay."
"Okay?"
"I won't tell anyone," Sora promises. "And you get a sparring partner here."
Oh. "Nice." Kieran grins before it's wiped off her face. She was able to forget John was turning into a bug for a whole ten minutes. "So what now?"
"If you don't want to go another round, I was planning on annoying Chuck for a bit."
"Chuck?" Kieran repeats. "Gate tech Chuck?"
Sora flaps her hand dismissively. "It's fine. He's used to it."
It's not hard to figure out that plenty of people on Atlantis don't touch Sora with a ten-foot pole. Or if they do, they're a little skittish about it. The military and security personnel zero in on her like hawks but don't give her a hard time. It makes Kieran wonder what that "altercation" between Atlantis and the Genii really was, and how bad the ongoing beef is now.
The gate room is one of the most—if not the most—vital parts of Atlantis, but no one outright stops Kieran and Sora from hovering around Chuck Campbell. Like most of the other gate technicians, he's color-coded green. She can tell he's Canadian before she spots the maple leaf flag patch on his shoulder.
Oh yeah. He's the guy who nearly keeled over from cuteness overload when Kieran said bye to John yesterday.
Chuck, who looked bored out of his mind, happily explains that he's the one who dials the gate, activates the shield—all of the stuff Sergeant Harriman does at the SGC, but with significantly less secretary work.
He's walking them through what he does for maintenance. Scanning and checking the Stargate's subroutines is a redundant chore, but quite possibly the most important one. The Ancients programmed protocols for the Stargate to self-monitor, but Kieran is getting the idea that for all their technological prowess, they might be a bit arrogant. Short-sighted. Et cetera.
And really, when a machine is responsible for breaking matter apart at the molecular level and putting it back together on the other end of the wormhole, there is no such thing as redundant maintenance.
It's not Kieran's cup of tea. It's more intense than jumper work, more stressful too. Chuck always has another tech or two going over the subroutines at different intervals, but that level of coding makes Kieran want to cry her brain out.
She's trying to pay attention to Chuck. She really is. But his work just doesn't seem . . . fun. She'll take a distraction. Any distraction.
"Hey." Sora bumps Kieran's shoulder. She jerks her chin at the catwalk, towards Elizabeth's office. "Look."
It's John. He must not have seen her since she's crouched with Chuck with a laptop jacked into the console. He has a security detail on him, armed with giant silver energy rifle things. Definitely not from Earth, and they lack the precise geometry and angles the Ancients loved. It's bulbous, almost like it was grown organically. Kieran makes a note to look up Wraith tech later.
But that's not why Sora got her attention.
She can't make out what John and Elizabeth are saying, but she can see the tension in everyone. John. Elizabeth. The security detail. They're treating John like a powder keg.
For a split second, John takes his hand out of his pocket.
"Holy shit," Kieran whispers.
His whole hand is gunmetal gray. His fingers. His nails. She can't make out any real features, but if she had to guess it was the same cold chitinous texture as that patch of not-eczema earlier.
That's all well and good—
"GODDAMMIT!"
All well and good until John whirls around and punches through one of Elizabeth's office walls. There's shrieking from startled techs and people on the stairs below scramble to avoid the shower of glass. The security officers raise their rifles, but Elizabeth jumps in front of them almost reflexively and diffuses it. John's body language goes from taut as a rubber band to ashamed in an instant, and he practically scampers out of the gate room and disappears up the tower steps.
Anyone that wasn't staring at John is staring at Kieran.
Kieran hears through the grapevine that Lieutenant Colonel John Sheppard is confined to his living quarters. Not an hour later, there's a base-wide email sitting in Kieran's inbox.
It's a memo to all Atlantis personnel regarding security protocol. Updates. Sweeping changes. On the authority of Colonel Steven Caldwell as acting Chief Military Officer of Atlantis.
The team that Elizabeth sent to get Iratus bug eggs comes back short two people.
It feels like every time she gets news, it's another nail in the coffin. She's wondering if the next thing she hears about John is going to come with a folded American flag.
Kieran needs to see John again.
Her stomach twists at the thought of seeing John again—frankly, she's not sure she can stomach it. Even if John didn't mean it, he still said it. Teyla says he didn't mean it, but—
John and Teyla are strangers. She's not sure what their word means yet.
The plan was to meet Elizabeth outside John's room. The security guys posted outside his door says that Elizabeth decided to talk to him alone with no backup. Kieran winces. It's not smart, but if security didn't stop her then it's probably fine.
Probably. She's not sure what the protocol for the chief military officer turning into a bug is.
She's even sure what she's going to say to John. She's not even sure if she can muster the courage to say anything to him. She's sure she'll regret it later, but now? Security detail might have their hands full. She might try to punch John in the face or burst into tears, and neither of those are probably good for someone holding on to their humanity by the skin of his teeth.
She's not sure what the point of being here is.
First thing's first: wait for Elizabeth to come back out.
How long is too long? How long until Kieran has to be actually worried John lost it and murdered Elizabeth?
Well, if the security isn't worried . . .
The door to John's quarters whooshes open, and the tension goes out of Kieran's shoulders—
A gray and black blur slams one security officer into the wall. The other tries to raise the stun rifle, but he's batted away like an oversized fly. In an instant, the security detail is lying in crumpled heaps on the ground.
Kieran can tell that the humanoid that comes out of John's room was . . . is John. Mostly. The gray chitinous ridges have climbed from his hand, up his neck, across his face. The shape of his face is the same, but it's like he got dipped in the most disturbing coat of paint. His nails are practically talons. His eyes are green, slit like a cat's. Or a reptile.
And they're trained on her.
She can't hear Elizabeth, but her vision tunnels on John. The only thing she can hear is her own heartbeat.
It's just John and Kieran here. Help isn't coming. She's not sure she could fight him to a stalemate this time. If it comes to that. He isn't just a little faster and stronger—he's inhuman now.
For every step forward John takes, Kieran matches him, keeping the distance between them. Forcing herself to meet his eyes makes her hands shake. John is barely an arm's length away and already incapacitated two—maybe three—people. The thought makes her mouth dry out.
Forget sudden moves—she's worried any moves might provoke John.
Can he smell her fear? She wouldn't be surprised if his freaky mutation gave him crazy enhanced senses—it's comic book law. Sure, this isn't a comic book, but the freaking Pegasus Galaxy got pretty damn close with the space life-sucking vampires (that John failed to mention) and whatnot.
"Hi John," Kieran whispers. Her voice is shaky, hoarse. Another steadying breath as she slowly raises her hands, palms out. Holding his piercing inhuman gaze with hers.
John tilts his head. Clearly, he heard her. She wasn't sure if that qualified as lucid, but it was something. His brows (or the spots where they should be) furrow slightly. His gaze flicks to her open palms, then back to her face. Slowly, he brings his own cold, cold hand to meet it, fingertips brushing against her own like he was afraid he would break her.
Compared to a completely human-looking John that tried to bash her head in earlier today, she's not sure what to make of this inhuman one. Capable of incredible violence and a simple gentleness, balanced on a razor's edge.
Kieran would rather take her chances with John attacking her emotionally again—at least she's sure she'd get out alive.
John makes a move like he's reaching for her face, and she flinches away with a sharp exhale.
His hand freezes, and he snatches it back. He turns away and flies down the hall, disappearing around a corridor with fading footfalls.
Every fiber in Kieran's taut body unclenches as soon as Elizabeth appears out of John's dark room. She's speaking urgently into her radio, and Kieran can only make out the words "security" and "medical attention." She's pressing her fingers into the pulse point of one guy, nodding to Elizabeth who's checking the other.
At least John hasn't killed anyone. Yet.
As much as it makes Kieran's stomach churn, she can't bring herself to disagree with Caldwell's order to use any force necessary to take John down. Still, Kieran thinks they were all a trigger finger away from having a cooling corpse in a body bag instead of strapped to a cot on what would be a lethal dose of sedatives for a normal human. Kieran doesn't even want to know what it took to put John in a medically induced coma.
Kieran can't stomach the idea of seeing John, strapped to a bed and asleep. Racing towards losing what's left of his humanity. Instead, she finds herself trying to eat dinner with Teyla, Ronon, and Rodney. Nothing seems appetizing, not even for someone with seven stomachs like Rodney.
The sun sinks well below the horizon, and Kieran scrapes her leftovers into the trash in favor of tea. Decaf. All the nervous energy flooding her body is gone right now. She doesn't need more.
Elizabeth is the one who finds them. "You guys are up late."
"Can't sleep either?" Rodney asks. In a stunning display of empathy, he grabbed Kieran an extra pudding cup earlier. She doesn't have the appetite.
"Any progress?" Teyla asks.
"No." Kieran carefully avoids Kieran's eyes. "He's still in a coma. At least he isn't in any pain."
Ronon's leaning casually against the railing, but the line of his shoulders is tense, his knuckles taut. "Maybe if I went back to the planet alone—"
"It's not open for discussion," Elizabeth says firmly, but not unapologetically. She's not unkind, and Kieran almost wishes she was. Just so she could have something she could lash out at. Then she's ashamed for feeling that way. Elizabeth is probably one of the last people who deserve that on top of . . . all this."
"I'm not good at sitting still."
"I understand. And I appreciate how you feel." Kieran's stomach drops at Elizabeth turns to address the whole group. "Look, we have closed down that section of the infirmary. But if you feel the need to—" She meets Kieran's eyes, her voice catching. "What I mean to say is, if you would like to have a private goodbye, you should probably do it soon."
"A—Are we really there?" Rodney asks. For the first time since Kieran's known him, he sounds quiet. Small.
"I think we might be."
It's a good thing Kieran already packed her bags.
The radio crackles.
"Dr. Weir, I need to speak to you immediately." That's Carson's voice! "Meet me in your office, I think I have an idea."
They make it to the gate level in record time, and unlike Caldwell, they don't have any qualms with keeping Kieran in the loop.
"Sorry, it just occurred to me." Carson's a little out of breath, having met them at the steps. "The fact his mutation has progressed as far as it has may be his salvation."
"Explain that." Thank you, Elizabeth, because that's not the conclusion Kieran came to when John knocked over two full-grown men like bowling pins.
"His sweat glands are actually producing amounts of their signature pheromone."
"The Iratus bugs?" Kieran pipes up for the first time in a while. It's a bit of a relief that none of them look at her like she's out of place.
Carson nods. "When we were in the cave, those bugs knew we didn't belong there. So they didn't really fancy us getting close to their nest."
"Whoa whoa whoa—I see where you're going with this!" Rodney says. "If we can artificially create the pheromone, we might be able to confuse them enough to leave us alone."
"That's an excellent plan Carson!" Jeez, straight from the mouth of Rodney McKay? Maybe things really are turning around.
"I wish it was."
"You can't do that in time?" Ronon asks.
"No, it'd take days."
Well, shit.
"You said we only have twenty-four hours before the damage the retrovirus was causing him would be irreparable," Elizabeth says.
"Exactly."
"Well then it's a terrible plan, Carson!" Rodney exclaims.
"There's only one person on this base who doesn't need the artificial pheromone—"
"You're kidding." That's insane. Even for Kieran's standard of FUBAR plans. "Is that even—can he even—"
"I'm not sure if you've noticed or not," Rodney says. "But Colonel Sheppard's not feeling very well."
"He stopped taking the inhibitor we were administering," Carson says like an explanation. "It was able to keep him lucid."
"I thought its effectiveness had worn off." Elizabeth sounds just as skeptical as they all feel.
"We're just going to have to spike him and hope it's enough then?" Kieran crosses her arms. It's more of a gamble than a plan, but if that's where they're at . . .
Either John gets the eggs or he joins their nest. And if they don't send him at all then they're signing his death certificate.
"If we give him a big enough dose, he may be clear-headed enough to complete the mission before we lose him completely." Carson says quietly.
"But won't giving him that much inhibitor like—" Rodney cuts himself off, looking directly at Kieran.
"Kill him? It's a definite possibility." Carson finishes, wincing slightly. "Even if I knew it was for certain, I'd be tempted to offer him one last hour of lucidity."
There's a pause, and Kieran realizes everyone is staring at her. Elizabeth's mouth is agape, like she was about to give the order. "What?"
"You're his next of kin," Elizabeth says softly. "It's your call."
"Do it." She doesn't hesitate to give them the order. "A slim chance is better than none at all."
Elizabeth nods to the others. "Gear up. Take him as far as the cave."
They let Kieran into the infirmary when they wake up John, but she's separated by privacy curtains and a large armed security detail. She could see John if she peeks through the cracks, but she doesn't want to risk making eye contact with him. She's not sure if she can handle it.
"Sorry about the headache," she hears Carson says apologetically. "It's a side effect of the inhibitor."
And the first thing out of John's mouth is "Did I hurt anyone?"
Kieran's gut clenches. He sounds so soft and vulnerable, she could almost think about forgiving him.
"No, not seriously," Elizabeth responds, just as quietly.
"Did Ronon shoot me?"
"You had it coming." Kieran can hear the smile in her voice, but it drops as quickly as it came. "Look, we don't have a lot of time. This dose of the inhibitor drug will only last about an hour." An hour?! That's all the time he has before he's a permanent bug-man thing. Cool. Great. Completely doable. "How would you like to go on a mission?"
Kieran starts to slip silently from the infirmary as John's getting prepped to go. She stops in her tracks when she hears John's voice again.
"Where's Kieran? Is she—"
"We're working under a strict time limit, Colonel," Carson says. "You'd best get going."
It's not going to take long for John to get ready. They're not going to risk sending him out with weapons. At most, he'll be wearing a tac vest.
She's the definition of nervous: hands clenched in pockets, bouncing on her feet. Her whole body feels like it's buzzing, lit up like a livewire with no way to ground herself.
Rodney, Teyla, and Ronon are all geared up and ready to go. Ronon squeezes her shoulder as he walks past. It helps. Some. Not really.
It's Elizabeth leading John out of the infirmary and into the gate room. He's swathed in a heavy cloak with a low hood. His steps are heavy, and there's something about his gate that isn't quite right.
Rodney beams. "Hey! Good to see you up and—" All the enthusiasm gets sucked out of his body as soon as he catches a glimpse of John's face. "—About."
"Alright, c'mon we don't have a lot of time." Kieran heard that Carson was a little scared of gate travel at first. Either he's really gotten over it, or he's really someone who puts his patients first in every sense. She's glad he's in their corner.
Carson's the first one out the gate. The away team follows single file, Ronon bringing up the rear.
John lurches to a stop once he sees Kieran.
"Good luck John," she says softly.
She turns on her heels and leaves without looking back.
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