To Be Clean

My hands are shaking so badly I have trouble undoing the buttons, clasps and laces that hold my clothing together.

"Damn it!" I cry with frustration, my teeth chattering one of the knots on my bodice refuses to relinquish itself…

Mommy, it hurts!

I know, baby, I know.

Die!

"Stop it!" I scream and fall to my knees, covering my ears, trying to block the terrible sounds, voices in my mind….

"Mairghread?"

Through the tears I see Mum, standing a little ways off, her eyes full of concern. She comes over and kneels by me, placing a hand on my shoulder comfortingly.

"Dr. Weir told me of what you have done, and what the queen did to you," she says softly. She pauses, brushing my wild hair out of my face, and then helping me to undo the knots my trembling fingers can't manage. "Can I get you anything?"

"No, no…w-wait, um, R-Radek has some, uh, some s-soap, he uses to, um, get r-, uh wash grease off with…um, maybe…?"

Mum finishes untying the last knot and pulls me into a gentle hug. "Of course. I will return shortly."

I nod mutely, and as soon as she is gone, step out of my clothes and into the shower. Thank the Spirits, the Lanteans installed hand controls! I stand under the scalding stream of water, blessed water, trying to burn away the thick layer of blood and dust and smoke I can feel clinging to me.

No! Leave my family alone! Take me! I will serve your damned queen, just leave my family!

Stupid! Do you really think the Queen will suffer rivals?!

ARGH!

Iain!

A bar of rough soap is pressed into my hand, and through the cacophony in my mind I hear Mum whisper, "I'll be right outside if you need me."

I nod, already scrubbing the soap all over my body; the rough ground pumice which impregnates it tears at my skin, leaving it raw, and in some places bleeding, but I still feel the dirt, the slime on my skin!

If Dr. Beckett saw me with this soap, he would be furious. When he sees how I've wash my skin raw with it, he'll probably have me stripped and cover in cream in much the same way a cake is frosted, all the while giving a lecture in a mix of English and Gaelic.

Though you kill me and my family, it will gain you nothing! You will die alone and desperate!

Foolish bitch! You think your curses frighten me? Die, and know your curse dies with you!

At the moment, I would gladly listen to his lecture, even be scanned, rather than be here, alone with these terrible thoughts.

I would rather die free than her slave!

My mother weeps over the body of her daughter, her fifth child to fall to the queen.

Durhan! No! No, it can't be! He can't be dead! No, he was barely six! No, no no

The soap is half gone, but I still cannot get rid of the scent of her on my hands, the sensation that I have touched something…rotten, decayed. And it can't wash away these thoughts

My hands are bleeding, and I laugh, hysterically. What would Carson say if he saw me now?

I leave off washing my hands and turn to my hair. It has long since fallen out of the braid I put it in this morning, and I rub the rough soap into it and work it through, scouring my hair and scalp until the soap is all but gone, and I use it up in one last attempt to be clean. But scrubing my head will not purge these voices, these visions these memories!

Dead! All dead! All my children, my wife, my family, dead!

I rinse my hair, doing my best to wash out all the grit from the soap, and then I just stand under the water, hoping it will carry everything—soap, pumice, stench, dirt, pain—away from me, into the depths of wherever shower water goes here.

Twenty one deaths. Twenty one agonizing deaths—Durhan, stabbed with a poisoned blade, dying for a week; Ceana, oh Ceana! victim of wraith soldiers, their 'reward' for capturing a hive; my mother, fed on by that queen…

"Mary?"

The sound of John's voice calls me back, and I step out of the shower to see John standing in the doorway, looking rather please with himself. I wonder how long I have been in here, trapped with my thoughts and trying to be clean?

"Oh!" as soon as he sees me, he turns away, blocking me from his sight with his hand and going a peculiar shade of red. "Um, can I get you a towel?"

I had forgotten my lack of clothes. Nudity does not bother me or my people as much as it does humans.

"Uh, yes, thank you," I say as he hurries out of the bathroom; I can hear him rummaging around in the cases in a panicked haste. He comes back, his face carefully averted, a towel in his outstretched hand.

I take the towel with a smile—a light moment in this day of darkness—and wrap it around myself, making sure that my entire torso is covered by the thick terry cloth.

"Better?" I ask him, and he turns around, looking much relieved. I am tempted to drop the towel, just to make him blush again, but I behave myself, securing the towel as I sit on a bench.

"Yeah," he sits down on a bench across from me. "Hey, thanks for that, back there; the command code worked great. No being caught in a blast radius today," he jokes.

"You are welcome," I tell him as I wring out my long hair. "but I'm sure you did not end my shower just to thank me?"

"Well, actually, I ended your shower because I wanted to make sure that there was gonna be enough hot water left for the rest of us."

I tilt my head in confusion. "Lantean stations do not r—"

"I know, I know! It was a joke! Sheesh," he cracks his neck tiredly. "No, I came to talk to you about old, blue and ugly in there."

"Ah."

"We can't let her live," he begins. "She's too dangerous. And mass-murdering, megalomaniacal, war criminals deserve stronger punishment than confinement."

"You will kill her then?"

He sighs and leans forward. "I was kinda thinking you might want that job. I mean, she did kill your family and all."

Take only what you need; do not kill out of hatred….

"Revenge is not a reason take life."

You will die, alone and desperate…

"No, but," he has a glint in his eye, "if I remember correctly, convicted and condemned murderers are fair game under the Spirit's laws, right?"

I want to, but it seems crooked somehow—she is condemned by me and my second family.

"Look, Mairghread," he looks me in the eye, all seriousness. "She's going to be dead before the Jumper from Atlantis gets here in an hour. Either you can do it, or I can empty a couple of P-90s into her. There isn't a court in the galaxy, any galaxy that wouldn't condemn her. As military commander of this base, I have found her guilty of unspeakable crimes and have sentenced her to death. Is that enough to clean your conscience?"

I nod. "Yes."

"Good," he stands up. "Get dressed—we've moved her to the brig. She's all yours."

TBC

Next: Execution and Revelation

PRETTY PLEASE PUSH THE LITTLE BUTTON AND REVIEW!!!

A/N: To those of you who are going "What happened to chapters 7-12? Hell, what happened to this chapter?" this is what happened/ is happening. I am moving 600 miles from my current home to begin a new stage in my life in a completely unfamiliar territory. While I am not one to panic, is has affected my writing. I realized that my last few chapters were of poor quality to say the least and crappy to say the most. So I've deleted what I have and am redoing them. Please read and review if you think it's better or worse. Thank you, Cainwen

Steve Plushie would like to add that he will force me to type regardless of the work I will have to do, so fear not, this story will be updated and not abandoned in my move.