Brother's Keeper

Gaelic conversation in italics, others with translation at bottom.

Dedicated to all EMSs, EMTs, medics and nurses who are there when you need them.
Click clickclickclickclick…

I wake with a start at the sound of a gurney echoing through the halls. I don't remember falling asleep, but obviously I did, and I somehow ended up under the blankets next to Gilleasbachan. I vaguely wonder if Carson had anything to do with it…

"In here lads!" Carson calls out as I struggle blearily to extract myself from the tangle of blankets before the med team arrives—I would irrationally like to keep a shred of dignity in this horrendous day. But as soon as my body is no longer in contact with my brother's he awakes in a panic, his eyes wild in terror and confusion, still glazed with pain and painkiller, grasping for me with wasted arms and bony hands.

"Mairghread!" he rasps, dread dripping from that single utterance. "Please, don't leave me alone with her!"

I tuck my legs under myself as I gently hold his hands and lock his gaze with my own, speaking calmly, as to a child awakened from a nightmare. "Gilleasbachan, the queen is dead, I promise you. She can't hurt you anymore. Ever."

He shakes his head, terrified—I remember a newly arrived soldier having a similar look after his first encounter with the wraith ended with half of his team dead…his face bore the same marks of fear, but on my brother, it is inconceivably more terrible, for it is the fear born of many years of experienced horrors. "When you leave, I'll wake up, and she'll be back and…I can't! I can't! I can't!" he sobs over and over, his skeletal fingers digging into my arm with strength I would not have believed him capable of.

"Gilleasbachan!" I shout, taking his face between my hands, bringing my face so close to his that our foreheads touch. "Listen to me—this IS real. Feel me—I am flesh and blood. The queen is dead—I took her life with my own hand, she is dead. You are alive and awake. I will never leave you again." He still shakes his head, his eyes wide with fright, his body trembling with pain and exhaustion and fear. "Gilleasbachan MacCullough! LISTEN TO ME! I AM REAL. I am Mairghread NicSeàrlaid, your sister! Believe me! No one can hurt you now! Look at me!"

Slowly the seconds pass as I wait, holding his eyes with mine, waiting for him to believe me…slowly his breathing eases…slowly his eyes lose their glassy fear, drifting half closed…slowly his grip on my arms lessens…

And he is left drained…that damned queen—physically, she pushed him to the brink of death, dragging him back just as forcibly each time, but far worse is that mentally, emotionally, spiritually, she had all but broken him. And now, left with no one to fight, nothing to struggle against, he has collapsed, like someone pushing with all their might to keep a door from closing completely, only to have the door yanked open, and they fall forward onto the ground, lost.

Even his mental barriers, so strong, weaken without something to fight…and I feel how profoundly tired he is, in body…in heart…in mind…in spirit…

"Hey, how's our boy doing?"

I jump and spin around to see John standing behind me, shirtless, just a few gauze pads peeking around from his back…

Mmm, his muscles stand out, rippling under taut, tanned skin, now covered with a fine sheen of sweat. I wonder what he would look like without the rest of his clothes—

Stop that!

I mentally slap myself. He's your brother! He's another species for heaven's sake! Stop trying to undress him!

It's a shame he's from a different species, really…

He saved you as an infant! Stop it!

I sigh, pushing these intrusive thoughts from my mind and flash John a tired smile. "Not too well. Being a queen's slave is…" I swallow sickly—what words are there to describe it? The words that come to mind—terribly, horribly, horrendous, unspeakable, horrific, dreadful—can never encompass it, never express it as it truly is—language fails…

He nods, as sympathetic as anyone can be who has not endured it, and turns his cheerful charm on Gilleasbachan.

"Hey there, Gil, how ya doin'?" John asks my brother, his casual joviality back in full force. Any injury to himself seems to demand an increase in relaxed attitude.

Gilleasbachan looks from John to me, with a look that, under less strained circumstances I would translate as "what the hell did he just say?!"

"Gilleasbachan does not speak English, John," I tell the man quietly, as I begin quietly stroking Gilleasbachan's hair with one hand to keep him calm.

"What?" John looks confused. "The queen spoke it well enough."

"I know," I explain patiently. "But I believe she simply 'hacked' into Graydon or Dickenson's mind, found the 'language center', as Dr. Beckett calls it, and copied. She could have learned perfect English in three seconds."

"So why doesn't he just, I dunno, link minds with you or something?"

"To link minds requires trust, or force, neither of which he has at the moment." These humans are rather frustrating. Just because they can walk, does that mean they are able to all the time? They eat, but are there not times when they can't or don't want to?

An idea occurs to me and I flash John a smile, which makes him cringe.

"I know that smile," he shakes his finger at me accusingly. "That's the smile that says 'I'm gonna teach you something new', and it's never about a new weapon or airplane."

I shake my head with silent laughter, still stroking my brother's ragged locks. "I'm just going to teach you a few things in our language. Just to talk to him for a moment, so I can discuss moving him with Dr. Beckett. Let's start with 'hi, how are you?'"

John shrugs, winces and says, "Yeah, sure. Okay. You know I can never say no to you."

I grin broadly and begin: "Halo, ciamar a tha thu hein?" I say it slowly, and then gesture for John to parrot it back to me.

" Ah-low, chye am-are ah ha hoo hane?" he nearly butchers the simple phrase, but I smile encouraging, and indicate that he needs to say it to Gilleasbachan now.

"Kie am are ah ha hoo hane?" he says somewhat…hammishly to my brother, who, for the first time, smiles slightly at the absurdity of John trying to speak our tongue, looks at John and then me, asking, "What did he say?"

"He asked how you are, though rather badly I admit," I laugh with him before Sheppard breaks in.

"Hey, hey, stop laughing at me when I can't understand you!"

"Sorry," I snicker at the mock-indignant look on John's face, and for the briefest of moments I would swear that Gilleasbachan did too. "Here, just talk to him for a moment. If he looks confused or upset, just say, 'Tha e ceart agad'."

"Which means…?"

"It's okay."

"Sheesh!" John shakes his head. "Only you could have a seven syllable sentence for 'kay."

I move to clap him on the shoulder, only to remember in time that it was probably tender to the touch, and so ended up patting him on the top of his head instead, which brings a smile to his face. "Good man." I turn back to Gilleasbachan. "Gilleasbachan, I am just going to go talk to Dr. Beckett about getting you out of here. Okay? John is going to keep you company." I can see his fear and panic rising again, so I move to quell it quickly. "Shh, no no, don't worry. I'm just going to be over there, see?" I point to Carson, speaking with the medics not 6 feet from us. "I'll be right back. I promise." Reluctantly, he nods and lets go of my arm, which he had never really released. As I jump off the bed and walk over to Carson, I hear John begin chatting to Gilleasbachan lightheartedly.

"Carson?" I break in on the conversation tentatively, ducking my head into their circle so that I join them. "What do you want to do?"

The Scotsman sighs heavily and runs a hand through his hair, unintentionally spiked from that constant motion. "Ah'm afraid the best thing would be tae sedate him again. It will hurt him tae move an' he's so fragile…"

I sigh and bow my head in aquiesence. I do not like it particularly, but it is the best way. I do not imagine Gilleasbachan would do well in a jumper crowded by strangers for hours on end.

"Just let me explain it to him. That's all I ask."

Carson nods his head. "Of course. We'll be a few minutes yet."

I return to Gilleasbachan's side, where John is still talking to him.

"Now, see Gil, there is a problem with joining an international expedition. People can be right in front of you and you still have no idea what they're saying!" he's telling Gilleasbachan, who smiles at him strangely, and then worriedly when John tries to throw his hands in the air only to hiss and wince when it pulls the burned skin on his back. Sheppard quickly recovers, noticing Gilleasbachan's concerned look, says, "No, it's okay! Um, ha ee kert ah gad!"

Again, for the briefest of seconds, I would have sworn that Gil snickered. Father said that John reminded him of Gilleasbachan, perhaps he will help my brother heal, I think, but immediately the empty, despairing look is in his eyes again.

I hop up next to my brother once again and smile at both of them. John returns my grin and announces to Gilleasbachan, "You see, I told you she'd be right back."

I shake my head in mock despair. "John Sheppard, you are incorrigible," I tell him before turning to my brother. "Gilleasbachan, we are going to get in a ship and return to my home now. Dr. Beckett is going to give you something to make you sleep—I promise, when you wake up, I'll be there and you'll be safe. Do you believe me?" More slowly this time, he nods nervously, though I feel the terror building up in the back of his mind. "It will be a few minutes. I'm just going to make sure your blankets are arranged right, okay?"

I jump down again and begin my semi-pointless task of "fixing" the blankets—it's an excuse of course to let John continue to talk to him while I'm close enough for Gilleasbachan to be comfortable.

I am told that Sheppard has a great deal of experience with this. Before I came, several wraith soldiers were captured and John would first name them and then talk at them. Actually, from what I hear, that is his response to many situations. Babble and prattle on until they knock him out or otherwise force him to be quiet.

Oddly enough though, Gilleasbachan seems to like it, despite the fact that I don't think he understands a word of what John is saying. Gently, I nudge his mind, asking him if he would like to understand John's language. Tentatively, he consents, and in short order I have carefully fed him all my knowledge of English and basic phrases in several of the other earth languages he will encounter.

"Now, Rodney can be a real pain in the ass sometimes," John tells Gilleasbachan as Dr. Beckett approaches and indicates to me that he will administer the sedative in a moment through the IV line. "Brilliant scientist, but an ego the size of a small moon."

"Ego?" rasps Gil with a small smile as the sedative flows milkily down the plastic tubing towards his veins.

John snaps his head around to look at me, wincing as he does. "I thought he didn't speak English."

I grin mischievously at him as I stroke Gil's hair as his eyes drift closed. It can be great fun messing with John sometimes. "He didn't, until three minutes ago."

"Ugh!" Sheppard expostulates exasperatedly and heads out into the hallway. "Come on, Ronon. Let's get out of here. I've had enough for one day. Maybe enough for a week. What do you think?"

I share a smile with Carson at John's antics before stepping back to let the medical team move Gilleasbachan to the gurney and move him out along with all the equipment.

As we walk towards the jumper, I cannot help but stare at my brother's haggard face, pained and troubled even in the dreamless sleep of Dr. Beckett's medicine.

I must help him. If I cannot help my brother, who can?

TBC

A/N: I am so sorry I did not update sooner! Jetlag is a bitch. Anyway. Will keep updating, I promise. And Please review! It keeps Steve Plushie from hitting me! Ow, stop that, ow! Please, save the author!