All Quiet on the Atlantean Front

Mairghread was spending the night in the infirmary, for reasons Dr. Beckett left unspecified (it was harder for a patient to argue when they hadn't a clue what they were arguing against). Whether it was because she had shown a slight heart arrhythmia right after the 'demonstration' or because he wanted to make sure that she didn't do anything stupid was anyone's guess.

She was sleeping peacefully in the infirmary bed, monitors silenced for the night, the lights low and the only sounds were the soft clunk of machinery in the other rooms and the squeak of the night staff's shoes.

Lt. Gotobed's shoes didn't make any noise at all as he slipped past nurses, cleaning crews and Mairghread's guard into the depths of the infirmary, to the curtained off area where the wraith slept. A serrated hunting knife was in his hand.

This farce had gone on long enough. Woolsey knew, and he was going to have her killed. But he was a bureaucrat—they took too long. Gotobed couldn't allow a paperpusher's delays to jeopardize his people. He would end it himself. He would put an end to it, and everyone would thank him for it.

He stood by her bed and sneered. She looked so innocent, the lying jezebel! Pretending like she was helping them, translating and building and cooking. Bull!

He pulled back the blanket to get a cleaner kill and plunged the knife into the left side of her chest, where he believed her heart to be.

Incredible pain tore Mairghread from sleep, but it was no dream, she realized with a horrified shock when she saw the knife handle protruding from her chest, a man's hand still holding it.

"You missed," she hissed at him. This was idiotic! she thought to herself. I'm conversing with my would-be murderer! But she had to, it was keeping her grounded. She was dying, and it was sheer will that was keeping her from draining the terrified man in front of her. She had to talk, no matter how ridiculous, until help arrived. "You forgot your basic wraith anatomy."

In response, Gotobed twisted the blade and yanked it out, causing her to shriek in pain. Her hand shot out and grabbed his wrist, the blood from the knife dripping onto her arm.

"My heart is on the other side, and a little lower," she rasped as blood began to fill her lung and darkness gathered on the edge of her sight. She heard footsteps approaching, panicked and hurried. "You should clean that blade. Wraith blood will make it corrode."

Sgts. Kafka and Kierkegaard skidded around the corner along with nurse Kathy and Dr. Biro, who had taken the night shift.

The infirmary burst into activity as Mairghread lost her hold on the living world. Someone took the frantic lieutenant from her hand as someone else pressed heavy bandages to her bleeding chest. Biro barked orders to get Carson and prep Operating Theatre 1, stat.

The next morning found Sheppard sitting in Dr. Weir's office with her, sharing an early breakfast.

"Dr. Beckett says she should heal fine, it'll just take a little longer 'cause she has to build up her strength first. They have her on a feeding tube at the moment, and kinda loopy on painkillers—she said she was feeling, uh, Hungry," he said, pronouncing 'hungry' in such a way as the capital could be heard.

"Mmm," replied Dr. Weir through her coffee. "And Lt. Gotobed?"

"Kate thinks he's suffering from a psychotic break—his whole team was killed in a wraith attack a few months back. We all thought he'd dealt with it but…"

"Well, at least one good thing has come of it," Elizabeth told him. "I just got this report from Woolsey."

John took it and read aloud, "Despite my initial misgivings and personal aversion to the wraith Mairghread Nic Seàrlaid agus Cullough, I must conclude that she is both a non-threat to the security of the Atlantis Expedition as an institution and its personnel and is an asset to the Expedition as a whole. Her knowledge has greatly advanced the research and security of the city and she has demonstrated many times her concern for the safety of its residents. The recent attack on her life, during which she showed remarkable calm, restraining without aggression her attacker and successfully overcoming her instinct for self-preservation by feeding, proves, without a doubt, that she is deserving of the trust of the Expedition and the IOA. It is therefore, my recommendation that she be relieved of her guard, unless necessary for her own safety and granted level 2 security clearance on the base. However, I continue to stress the need for 24 hour video surveillance throughout the whole of Atlantis, as unexpected situations with all personnel will no doubt continue to occur, and the need for continued oversight."

He looked up. "Do ya think the General put him up to it?"

Weir shook her head. "No, I don't think so. And I asked."

Sheppard tossed the report back onto her desk. "Well, that's the best bit of news we've heard from Woolsey in a long time."

xxxxx

"Great news Mary!" announced O'Neill as he bounced into the infirmary later that afternoon. "You've won over Woolsey."

She smiled tiredly. She was still in pain, and healing slowly. She was poking her jello non-commitedly. Knowing you have to eat, and actually being hungry were two different things.

"That is wonderful news, General," Teyla replied for her. "Col. Sheppard told us when he came to release her guards from duty."

"Oh, I thought he hadn't come by yet," Jack thumbed over his shoulder at the two marines lurking in the shadows. "What with the leathernecks still around."

"Sgt. Lukinov and Lt. Johnson asked to stay on guard until Lt. Gotobed was transferred to the brig in the Daedelus," Teyla explained.

"Ah," Jack shoved his hands in his pockets and rocked on his heels. "So, Mary, you up to a little trip? I cleared it with the doc already."

She didn't really feel much like moving, but she would be grateful to see some different décor. "Yes, thank you, Grandpa."

"Grandpa Jack, thank you very much," he told her with a smile as he pulled a wheelchair through the curtained barrier. "Let's see if we can't get you into this thing without setting any alarms off."

Nevertheless, Dr. Beckett appeared to help them connect her to a portable EKG and oxygen tank. He was about to call for one of the strong male nurses to lift Mairghread into the wheelchair, but O'Neill stopped him.

"It's been a while since I got to lift a beautiful young woman out of bed," he said with a grin.

Mairghread bit her lip to keep from whimpering when he picked her up. He was very gentle, smoothly sliding his arms under her knees and shoulders, lifting her and settling her in the wheelchair with minimal jarring, but it still made her broken ribs grind and moan with protest and she would have sworn she could have counted all her stitches, inside and out, just by the number of tiny screams in her chest.

Once she was settled, Carson carefully tucked a blanket over her lap and helped her wrap up in a light shawl from her room. Teyla pulled aside the curtain as Jack pushed her out of the cubical and out the door, into the hall, around the corner and onto a sunlit balcony where her family and friends were waiting.

"We thought that a coming-of-age-cum-welcome-officially-to-Atlantis celebration was in order," Jack told her quietly as she stared dumbfounded at the huge group.

Woolsey came up to her, looking rather sheepish. "I'm…sorry. I misjudged you…severely," he stumbled over his words.

Mairghread held up her hand to stop him. "It's alright. It's past. And this party is about the future. Think no more of it," she told him.

"But really—" he began again, but Mairghread cut him off.

"No more," she smiled at him beatifically. "But perhaps you would be good enough to get me some punch?"

Woolsey scuttled off and Ronon came up to her, the bandages gone but his arm still in the sling. Beckett had threatened him with unspeakable things unless he kept his arm in the sling until the end of the week. Even Ronon had learned not to cross the good doctor.

"Hey, how ya feeling?" he rumbled as he bent down to kiss the top of her head.

"Better," she replied. "How's the shoulder?"

"'S fine. Beckett's a mother hen."

She chuckled and then hissed. "Please don't make me laugh!"

Chairs appeared from apparently nowhere and Ronon sat down beside her while the others silently slipped away, figuring that father and daughter needed a moment by themselves.

Ronon slouched in the chair, resting his elbows on his splayed knees. "Mairghread—"

"Dad, I'm sorry," she interrupted. "I should have asked before I healed you, but you were asleep and there was so much pain—"

"Hey!" he cut her off, cupping her face with his good hand. "I wanted to thank you."

"Thank me?" She was confused. She thought she knew her adoptive father. A strong warrior, who lived by the code that you dealt with pain, didn't ask for help, only screamed when you were alone. She was certain that if and when he found out what she did, he would surely be angry.

Ronon smiled sadly. "You know, just because I've had to live with something—"

"Doesn't mean you like it or accept it," she finished for him. "I just thought, it was a badge of courage, a way of proving yourself, somehow."

"Old habits die hard." He shrugged one shoulder. "Don't ask for things, don't hope either."

"Never?"

They shared a knowing smile. "Well, sometimes."

Mairghread pursed her lips. "Dad, what about the visible scars? Are they the marks of a warrior?"

"I try not to let things I can't change bother me."

"But if they could change?" she led.

"I wouldn't ask."

"And if I were giving?"

He shrugged again. Mairghread reached forward for a hug, but he pushed her hands back.

"Uh-un. You heal first. Then we'll talk about it," he scolded her.

"Okay," she paused. "But can I still have a hug?"

Ronon grinned and embraced her one handedly, careful of her wound and growled.

"Always got a hug for my little girl."

TBC

Next: Lazy Summer Days

A/N: Please, please please review! It makes me so happy! And as a random tidbit for the curious, the term 'stat' is not an acronym, but an abbreviation of the latin 'statim', meaning 'immediately'.