Chapter Sixteen
The days came and went in a blur for Carson and Alex. They rushed through whatever it was they had to do just so they could spend every last minute together. Most of Atlantis had learned to ignore them, but there were a few who still threw disgusted looks their way from time to time. As ever, the rumor mongering took less time to travel across the city than a teleporter. Some said Alex was pregnant with Doctor Beckett's child, now instead of Major Lorne's. Others said they had been married in secret and he was trying to give himself Wraith DNA so they could have children. And then there were darker rumors of her controlling his mind with her Wraith telepathy.
These brought little more than chuckles or rolled eyes whenever they came to the ears of those who actually knew the two of them. All but Doctor McKay seemed to be happy for the couple, or at least not openly disgusted. And, for a while, it almost seemed as if the universe had agreed to give them all a break. Life had grown almost boring for the Atlanteans, even with the ever-present threat of the Wraith. Meanwhile, Doctor Beckett had continued to work on the Wraith Retrovirus in the hopes of finding a formula that meant Alex wouldn't have to have daily injections. At the same time he continued to work on the male formula in the hopes of making it an effective weapon. By attempting to turn it into an aerosol weapon, they might stand a chance of taking out whole hives in a single shot. At the same time, they all worked on designating a planet that they would setup and use as their settlement for the newly converted test subjects.
So quiet had things been for all of them, that the whole of Atlantis found itself approaching the Christmas season with anticipation. In years past they had been too busy with their constant fight for survival to do more than make a note of the holiday. This year was different. The Daedalus arrived with a ship load of requested cargo and many things not originally requested. Much to everyone's delight, the holiday cheer spread quickly. Little parties were organized and gifts were traded. Carson, John, and the others attempted to explain such holidays to the utterly lost and confused Alex. But, once she understood, she was as enthusiastic as a child.
But, of course, this peaceful time could not last forever. As the New Year arrived and the parties wound down back to more serious business, Doctor Beckett finally had the breakthrough he had been hoping for. The female formula still worked the same. That he was utterly stuck on. But, the male formula appeared one hundred percent effective and he had managed to aerosolize it. Now it was time to test it. Multiple teams were sent out to capture a male Wraith. Screaming his rage and fighting at every turn, the Hivemaster they captured very nearly wound up escaping before they could get him into the isolation room that had once been used by Alex what now seemed a lifetime ago.
Most of the leadership of Atlantis and Alex gathered in the observation room above to watch as Carson tossed in a small canister that began to fill the room with teargas-like white mist. Alex's normally pale face was now ghostly white as she watched. She had already done her part to control the Wraith's mind as much as possible to keep him at least somewhat under control. Her lips were a thin line and her eyes were wide and intense as she focused on trying to calm the maddened Wraith. But, as the aerosol began to take effect, she gasped and stumbled backward into a chair.
Colonel Sheppard was at her side almost before her bottom hit the chair. Alex waved at him to stop him from calling for Carson. She shook her head a couple of times to clear it before explaining to them what had happened.
"That stuff is…fast. I was still linked with him when it began to take effect. It was…unpleasant," she explained, trying to allay their concerns.
It was then that the screams could be heard. But, unlike Alex's conversion, this was much, much faster. The male Wraith DNA being so much more closely related to human actually made the transition faster and easier. The screams were more of horror than pain. Though there was still some waste material, it wasn't nearly as much or as messy. Within a single day, they now beheld a human with white hair, much as Alex. His eyes, however, had come out a deep, rich brown; though with the same cat-like appearance. And, unlike Alex, he seemed to have no memory of who or what he had been.
Doctor Beckett quickly sedated him until they could figure out what else to do with him. The first phase having been successful, Doctor Weir wanted to implement a second phase most of the others didn't think was a good idea. Instead of shipping him off to some Pegasus Galaxy settlement, she wanted to see if he could be integrated into the rest of the human population. With Doctor Heightmeyer's help, they came up with a background and a story about a possible head injury that occurred while he was a prisoner of the Wraith. This combined with a diagnosis of Type One diabetes seemed to be a workable cover story that would ensure he had his daily injection. Unfortunately, that part seemed much the same as with Alex.
Three days after the conversion from Wraith to human, Lieutenant Michael Kenmore awoke in the infirmary. Doctor Beckett greeted him with a warm and welcoming smile as he radioed the others. Within minutes Colonel Sheppard, Doctor Weir, and Alex all arrived in the infirmary to be met by a tired, but smiling Doctor Beckett.
"Blood pressure's fine, pulse is normal; you're bouncing back quite nicely," Beckett told Michael.
"Bouncing back from what?" he asked, clearly confused.
"Hello, Michael. Do you remember me?" Weir asked with a smile.
For a moment, Michael seemed to seriously consider her. But there was a slight edge to his voice as he shook his head and said, "No."
"I'm Doctor Elizabeth Weir. This is Lieutenant Colonel John Sheppard. And this is Alex."
Sheppard, his arms crossed and his expression neutral spoke up, "You serve under my command."
Michael seemed utterly disappointed as he failed to remember any of this.
"Do you know where you are?" Weir asked, before he had a chance to think too deeply on this.
Irritation coloring his voice Michael shot back, "I don't even know who I am."
Beckett, standing beside Weir watched the man's reactions closely as Alex kept her mind open for any signs of Wraith telepathy.
"Your name is Lieutenant Michael Kenmore. You're in a private room in the infirmary here in Atlantis," she explained.
The sudden shifting of Michael's eyes back to hers at the mention of Atlantis brought her up short.
"Is that familiar to you?"
Suddenly his face lit up as a memory sparked somewhere in the back of his mind. "Atlantis. Yeah…I think."
Continuing with the well-prepared story, Sheppard took over with Alex still faded into the background. "You're a member of a team that went off world. You were captured by the Wraith."
"I see you remember the Wraith," Beckett observed gently as Michael's brows furrowed slightly.
"What did they do to me?" Michael asked, not bothering to hide his fear.
"We're not quite sure, yet," Weir cut in before Beckett could answer.
"We sent a rescue team for you, but you were wounded during the mission," Sheppard explained.
"You've been unconscious for days and had us worried sick," Beckett added with more sincerity than he felt.
"Why can't I remember anything?"
"We don't know, yet," Beckett answered, hoping he sounded truthful. "Hopefully we'll learn more as we conduct further tests."
"And, in the meantime, I can assure you that we will give you the best possible care to help in your recovery," Weir promised.
Michael seemed almost sad as he nodded in acceptance.
"Just rest for now, son," Beckett told him. "I'll be back shortly."
With that the four of them filed out of the isolation room and up to the observation room. All of them were quiet, considering what they had just started and what might come of it. If this worked, it would be a huge step toward possibly eradicating the Wraith without further bloodshed. On the other hand, it still felt wrong on a very basic level. As they closed the door for privacy in the observation room above, they turned to Alex; who, other than giving Michael a warm smile on her way out, had said nothing.
"I don't feel anything except a low level of confusion and frustration. But, even then, I don't think he's aware he's projecting it," she explained.
They all turned their attention to the young man in the bed below.
"Keep a close eye on him. Until we know more, we need to proceed with caution," Elizabeth said, her eyes locked on the figure below. She heaved a sigh. "This may just be the start of our problems."
Tired as he was, Carson nodded in agreement. Alex gave him a quick hug as she settled down on a sofa brought into the observation room. It wouldn't do to have her visibly close all the time; but they still needed a way to keep someone watching that could alert them to any telepathic activity. Meanwhile, Carson returned to his lab adjoining the isolation room to continue sorting through the endless data from the transition.
The next morning Beckett returned to Michael's room attempting to be as chipper as possible. Filling a syringe with the male formula Wraith Retrovirus he quite openly showed Michael what he was doing to avoid making him jumpy or suspicious.
"What is that?" Michael asked more out of curiosity than suspicion.
"I'm afraid you have Type One Diabetes. It requires a daily injection of insulin to maintain normal blood glucose level. You've managed it quite nicely, actually."
The irritated look in Michael's face at not remembering or knowing this reflected on Beckett's face as he turned serious. "Michael, we believe you may be suffering from what we call generalized dissociative amnesia; which usually occurs as a result of significant trauma."
"Trauma caused by the Wraith?" he asked in a voice neutral enough to border on suspicious.
"We don't know for certain," the doctor admitted, before putting his grin back in place. "Hopefully, over time your memory will return. In the meantime, we'll do our best to help you fill in the gaps a wee bit at a time so as to not completely overwhelm you."
Tossing his head back and giving a sardonic grin Michael shot back, "I'm already completely overwhelmed. How much worse can it get?"
With one last comforting pat on the shoulder, Beckett turned away. From up above, Alex clearly caught the frown and worried look on Carson's face. Though she had not heard the exchange, she could guess by the expressions it had not gone very well at all. A couple minutes later he joined her in the observation room. Rubbing his face tiredly, he flopped onto the sofa.
"You need sleep," she told him, cuddling up next to him.
He didn't bother to reply as he held her close for a moment. He didn't have to. She could sense his exhaustion and worry in every inch of him.
"Let me talk to him," she offered.
For a moment Carson seemed about to argue. But, he knew sooner or later Alex was going to need to if their story was going to work. He still didn't like the idea of putting her in danger of exposure. But, if they were to convince him that his white hair and eyes were normal, she was going to have to be the one to prove it. Nodding, Carson kissed her forehead.
"Just be careful."
"No problem. You, on the other hand, are going to stay right here. Give me your radio," she demanded.
"But—"
"No 'buts'. You're going to get at least a couple hours of sleep even if it means I have to weld that door shut. I'll tell them you're busy or something. Everyone here knows you're completely consumed by this experiment. Your people in the infirmary are more than capable of handling anything else that comes up."
Her eyes boring into him and her speech having left him no chance to argue until she took a breath, he felt a grin slowly spreading across his face. "Have I ever told you how cute you are when you're angry?"
Alex blinked at this before growling playfully and pouncing on him. After a few seconds in lip-lock, Alex managed to slip his radio off and dance out of his reach.
"Good night, Carson," she called over her shoulder, closing the door behind herself.
Shaking his head, Carson again thanked anything that would listen that she had survived the transition.
~o~o~o~
Pocketing the radio, Alex headed downstairs and to the door to the isolation room. As had been the case when she first changed, there were two guards posted outside. For a moment, she wondered if she could really do this. Unlike the man on the other side of that door, she had chosen this. He hadn't. How far could they trust him? She desperately wanted to welcome him as a friend, but something still didn't feel right. Shaking off all of this, she put a smile on her face and entered the isolation room.
Michael was sitting up on his bed with a breakfast tray on his lap poking at it half-heartedly.
"Hello, Michael," she called. "I'm Alex. Do you remember me?"
Michael cocked his head with an almost-grin forming. "You look familiar. Do I know you?"
"Yes," she answered with a delighted smile. "You assisted my team on several missions."
His grin gone, Michael's face took on a look of intense concentration. "There's more, though. Are we friends?"
Unspeakably glad that she had spent so much time studying human facial expressions Alex kept her smile as genuine as possible. "Yeah."
"That's the best news I've heard all day," he said, seeming genuinely relieved.
"How are you feeling?" she asked, hopping up onto the edge of the bed near his feet.
"Physically, fine. But my mind is…completely blank," he replied with what now appeared an almost sheepish expression. "They said I'm a Lieutenant."
"Yep," she said cheerfully, swiping a piece of fruit off his breakfast tray. "You just got to Atlantis a few months ago. But you've proven yourself to be one of the city's finest soldiers."
Michael's expression flipped so fast, Alex found herself struggling to maintain her happy façade.
"Well, if I'm such a fine soldier, then how did I get captured by the Wraith?" he asked bitterly.
"Easy. Your whole team got ambushed when a Wraith Cruiser landed just outside a village. You practically took on the whole cruiser yourself just to give your team and the villagers more time to escape. It was actually ridiculously heroic," she said as casually as possible. Then she glared at him, "Don't ever do that again. You scared the crap out of me. I thought you were gone for good that time."
His cheeks coloring slightly, Michael nodded as if accepting this chastisement; making Alex relax considerably, if not visibly. "Were you part of the team that rescued me?"
"You bet your ass," she shot back with a smile.
"Well, then that make you even more heroic."
For a moment Alex just stared. Then she started laughing heartily. "Yep, smooth as ever, Michael. You should use that as a pick up line. I'm sure there's plenty around here who would fall for that one."
Again, Michael's cheeks colored even more deeply.
"Oh, come on, Michael. That was awesome! Seriously, you should use that one," she said, shoving him gently in the shoulder.
Though he said nothing, he seemed to have lightened up considerably.
"Well, enough food stealing and chatting. I've got stuff to do, and Doctor Beckett would skin me alive if he knew I was in here bugging one of his patients. I'll sneak out quietly. But if you hear screaming, he caught me," she said. "Get some rest. I'll be around when he finally lets you out."
"Thanks."
With one last wave, Alex headed out. For a moment she sat on the stairs leading up to the observation room. Though it had gone better than she had any right to expect, she just couldn't shake off the feeling that this had yet to turn for the worst. Pulling herself together, she let herself back into the observation room to find Carson sleeping soundly. Setting the radio on the table beside the sofa, she quietly left to gather her thoughts.
~o~o~o~
As expected, there was some dissention over Michael's next move. Doctor Beckett agreed he was physically sound enough to be out of the infirmary, and keeping him there longer than necessary might arouse suspicion. Doctor Weir, of course, turned to Doctor Heightmeyer for guidance. Kate believed he needed to be moved into his own quarters and treated like any other person before he got too suspicious; and giving him something else to focus on might keep him from spending too much time trying to recover memories that didn't exist in the first place. Colonel Sheppard, of course, disagreed; arguing that they still had no idea what kind of residual effects there might be. Deadlocked between Heightmeyer and Sheppard, Weir considered these things for a moment. Finally she turned to Alex.
"Do you have anything to add?"
Not entirely certain how involved they would want her, she had kept her peace. Now she looked from Kate to John. Heaving a sigh, she sat on arm of the chair with her arms crossed.
"I'm with Kate in that he needs to be introduced into the population and given time to adjust. On the other hand, John is right, too."
"How so?"
"He can't be left unguarded. If he starts remembering anything, he's going to be a threat; and in ways none of you could see. I can sense if he's using telepathy to call to others. It would be extremely weak right now, but if a hive is close enough, they'll sense it. However, the longer we keep him in the infirmary, the more suspicious he's going to get. Plus, we need to keep him off-balance and somewhat overwhelmed if we're going to keep guiding him toward a recovery that isn't real. Until he's been in this environment long enough for all this to feel normal, he's going to be suspicious, skeptical, and possibly even hostile when he gets frustrated."
"What are you suggesting?" Weir asked for all of them.
Glancing at Carson, Alex made a disgusted face. "None of you are going to like this, least of all Carson."
"Oh no. Absolutely not!" Carson caught on first.
Everyone else's eyebrows shot up as they began to catch on.
"Carson, I love you. But shut up and listen for a minute," she said, her expression leaving no further room for argument. "First of all, I don't like it any more than you do. Secondly, the only other one in this entire city that can sense Wraith telepathy is Teyla. And, even then, she's nowhere near as experienced or as sensitive as I am. Thirdly, I can use it to our advantage. As long as I am very, very soft and subtle, I can use it to steer his emotional state and possibly even keep him distracted without him ever noticing. And, finally, can anybody in this room come up with a better plan for keeping him guarded and not raise suspicions?"
By now Carson's expression was furious, but he kept his peace. As the others looked from one to another shaking their heads, he finally exploded.
"You can't be serious! That's insane! He's—"
His next words were cut off as Alex stormed across the room and took him by the arm with a quick, "Please excuse us for a moment."
Stepping out onto Weir's balcony and closing the doors, she crossed her arms and faced her furious boyfriend. "Go ahead. Finish whatever you were about to say."
"You know what I have to say."
"Are you done then?"
Carson glared in silence, his blue eyes hard as ice.
"Good. Now put away the part of you that is my boyfriend and think for a minute. I know you're exhausted, but you need to think. I know you're not jealous, because we both know you love me enough to trust me. So what is it you're afraid of?"
For a moment Carson just frowned. Then he scrubbed his face as if he could scrub away the exhaustion. Running his hands through his hair, he sighed deeply. "You're right. This isn't about any jealousy. I can't put it into rational terms. But this isn't right. Something's not right about him. And I can't bear the thought of him attacking you when your guard is down."
"Who said I was going to let my guard down? He scares me, Carson. I'm with you. There's something not right about him. There's something lurking under the surface we can't see, but can instinctively feel. But if we have any hope of making this work so we can do the same for the billions of other Wraith out there in the galaxy, we have to try. And this is the most logical option."
Carson shoved his hands in his pocket. "Fine. You're right. But I don't have to like it."
"No, you don't and neither do I. We just have to do it."
Nodding, Carson hugged her one more time, knowing this was likely to be their last embrace for a while if this worked out even half as well as they hoped. Both of them having regained their composure reentered Weir's office to find the tension so thick you could feel it. Carson moved away to the other side of the room facing the group.
"Carson and I agree with John. Michael's not to be trusted. There's something not right about him. Like I told Carson, I can't put my finger on it. But there definitely is something lurking just beneath the surface. If I play this right, I can be as close to him as humanly possible and with him constantly. That will keep him guarded and, hopefully, avoid suspicion."
"You're sure about this?" Sheppard asked before Weir could; he seemed about as happy as Carson with the idea.
"No, but it's the best option we have."
They all turned to Weir. She'd been eyeing Alex this whole time. Finally she nodded as she seemed to come to a decision. Turning to Beckett she said, "Okay. Release him."
Sheppard was practically gritting his teeth as he left Weir's office.
~o~o~o~
Carson wound up having to take a long detour to avoid going directly to the infirmary just as angry as when he'd left Weir's office. After a nice, long walk around the city, a lunch spent lingering in the mess hall, he finally made his way back to the isolation room. Still not happy, but at least able to smile half-heartedly, he found Michael poking around a dinner tray that looked about as appealing as gruel. Not blaming the guy one bit, he finally found something on which he could focus to try to get the next part of this plan out of his head.
"I see your appetite is waning," he commented. "Not that I blame you with that kind of tray in front of you."
Michael just nodded, not really bothering to look up. Clearly he was already feeling cooped up and had way too much time on his hands to think. Alex had been right.
"Well, I guess we'll just have to get you some real food, then," Beckett said happily. "Let's get you out of here."
"I'm being discharged?" he asked, clearly surprised.
"Unless you're feeling unwell?" Beckett asked, pausing for a moment to watch the man's reaction.
"No. I feel fine."
Plastering a smile on his face, he continued, "Good. Then let's get you back to the comfort of your own quarters. I've already sent someone for Alex. I know you two were close friends, and I thought having a familiar face to guide you around a bit would help."
"Thanks," Michael said, clearly happy with this idea.
"She should be bringing some clothes. I've already informed Doctor Weir and Colonel Sheppard. They've agreed to speak with Major Lorne about giving Alex some time off to spend with you while you recover."
Doctor Beckett's face felt like it would shatter he struggled so hard to keep that huge, happy smile in place when all he wanted to do was punch the man in the face. He had no right to be that happy about—
"Heya, Michael!" Alex called, practically bounding into the room. "I'm here to bust you outta this torture chamber."
"I beg your pardon?" the doctor said, in mock offense.
Alex winked at Michael as she handed over the clothes. "Hurry up and change, before he changes his mind. I'll hold him off."
Grinning, Michael headed toward the restroom. The moment he was out of sight, the two lovers glared warnings at each other as if silently demanding the other behave so as not to ruin it. Finally Carson stalked away, not wanting to see her pretending to be happy with Michael. Alex waited patiently for Michael to emerge before plastering a grin on her face again.
"Took you long enough. Come on," she said cheerfully. "Doctor Beckett told me you didn't really eat. And if that tray is what they gave you, I'd rather starve, too. You hungry?"
"At little."
"Great! Let's swing by the mess hall and grab some stuff on the way to your quarters," she suggested, heading out the door.
Thankfully, Sheppard had already gotten rid of the guards. She chatted about current goings on about the city as they headed for the nearly empty mess hall and then to his quarters. After some minor debate, they had decided to put him in a similar area as Alex that was virtually unused. But, unlike hers, he at least got windows and a balcony. She wasn't sure if she was jealous of this or amused.
Munching happily on an apple, Alex opened the door to his quarters. "Here we are."
Michael stepped into his quarters with a look of curiosity. Alex stood back and let him explore the few possessions scattered around the room. He gravitated toward a side table where there were a few personal items. His hand gently skimmed over a large, felt, tan cowboy hat. Part of their story was that he was from a place called Texas in the United States of America on planet Earth in the Milky Way Galaxy. This, Alex was not comfortable with. Despite all her reading and studying, she still knew very little about where Carson, John, and the others came from.
Alex very nearly let out a sigh of relief as he went from one object to another, not asking any questions. Eventually he wound his way around the room to the table on the opposite wall where there was a closed laptop and a single photo of a middle-aged couple waving at a camera. Behind them was a rather bland scene of a dusty desert. Seeming utterly absorbed, he picked up the picture to study it more closely.
"Those are your parents," Alex told him, thinking this might be a safe subject.
"Family," he said in a distant voice.
"Yep. You have some brothers and sisters, too. I just don't know that much about them, yet."
Michael's brown eyes fixed on her intently. "Yet?"
Alex, blessing her numerous experiences she'd survived that were embarrassing in the extreme, recalled one now, making her cheeks flush. "Yeah, about that. Um, I spoke with Doctor Heightmeyer. She said it would be okay. But I…um…well."
Michael's gaze never wavered as he waited for her to continue.
"Well, we kinda hit it off right before you were captured."
"'Hit it off'?"
"Yeah, Doctor Heightmeyer said I shouldn't be disappointed if you don't remember. But we were more than just…friends," she finished hoping she sounded pathetically lame.
Michael blinked, finally understanding, but not remembering.
"I'm sorry. I shouldn't have said anything," she apologized. "It was stupid. I just wanted so badly to hold you. I didn't want to wait."
Feeling the need to offer her something, Michael gripped her shoulder gently. Flinging herself at him, Alex wrapped him in a fierce embrace. After a few seconds, she backed off, red-faced.
"Okay, there. I'm sorry. That was totally selfish. But I just wanted to feel close to you again, even if just for a minute."
Clearly off-balance with all of this, Michael put the picture back down on the table. "No. No, it's fine. It felt…good, actually."
Alex huffed a huge sigh of relief. "Good. Then I'll leave it at that, for now. We'll get reacquainted in time."
"Okay," he agreed with a smile.
~o~o~o~
Colonel Sheppard's expression darkened as he watched from a room setup just for observing Michael's movements. Aside from what this was likely doing to Carson, he just didn't like it one bit. He cursed himself quietly for not having come up with a better solution sooner. Maybe Teyla…No, he growled softly to himself. He would just have to trust Alex to watch Michael and take care of herself.
~o~o~o~
Feeling somewhat uncomfortable being alone in his quarters with him, Alex smiled as an idea came to mind. "Come on, I'm sure you're feeling as cooped up as I was my last time in the infirmary. Let's go spar. We'll call it 'physical therapy' to please Doctor Beckett."
"Spar?"
"Yeah, kind of like light fighting, but we're not actually going to try to kill each other."
"Oh."
"You sound disappointed. You still owe me for the last round. Are you saying you would much rather be actually trying to kill me this time?" she teased.
"No! I mean, I can't remember anything. How am I supposed to remember how to…spar?"
"Easy," she said, pulling him toward the door by his arm. "Just get moving and your body will remember for you. The way we train it's instinctive. After a while you don't think, you just react. Your memory has nothing to do with it."
"If you say so," he replied skeptically.
Praying she wasn't making a huge mistake, Alex led him toward one of the seldom-used sparring rooms. For a few minutes they just limbered up in silence. Eventually they faced off. Knowing what she knew about Hivemasters having at least some fighting ability even without training so they could defend their queen, she knew this could very well be a painful mistake for her. But, this was another great way to keep him off-balance; or at least focused on something else.
Alex made the first move, which he was too slow to block. This left him reeling backward from a punch to the gut. Seeming totally unconvinced about his own ability, Michael raised his hands again. This time he blocked the first punch, but caught her knee in his chest. Picking himself up off the mat, he prepared to come at her this time. His swings were clumsy and slow, so she dodged and sent an elbow to his head; which he managed to block, but missed the foot she aimed at his ankle.
Lying on the mat yet again, he just sat there staring up at her for a minute. "Why are our eyes and hair so different?"
Something flickered across Alex's face before she regained her equilibrium. With a grin, she came up with a brilliant idea. "If you want your answer, you're going to have to land a hit on me."
Frowning, Michael rolled over and stood up. "I told you. I don't remember anything. You can't expect me to—"
Whatever he was about to whine about, she cut off in a flurry of kicks and punches. Now reacting instinctively instead of thinking, he managed to block all of them before she danced back out of his reach. "That's more like it. I told you, stop thinking. Stop trying to remember. Just fight."
"What makes you think I'm so good?" he snapped.
"Because you left me on the mats more times than I can remember. Now quit whining and come get your answer," Alex taunted, a wicked gleam in her eyes.
A furious frown crossed his features for a split second before he attacked. Taken by surprise, Alex found herself dancing backward blocking frantically. Yep, this was probably a bad idea. Too late to back out now. She finally let him catch her in the ribs.
"Ha!" he said, his brown eyes lighting up happily.
"See?" she said. "Now, as for the eyes and hair. There are a very few people both in the Milky Way and Pegasus Galaxies that carry a rare genetic trait. Doctor Beckett and a few others suspect it has something to do with genetic manipulation from the Ancients; just like Colonel Sheppard, Doctor Beckett, and Major Lorne all having the ATA gene. But, because our trait was visible and was so alien to so many people, most of us were killed off millennia ago. The few families that survived with the trait found it to be recessive; so it appears very seldom. Are you with me so far?"
"Yeah, I think so," he said dancing around her looking for an opening.
"Good. So I was born here in the Pegasus Galaxy. You—"
Trying to catch him off guard, Alex dodged and dropped to the floor. Ready for this, Michael hopped over her swinging leg and used her off-balance position to grab her by the hips and flip her sideways onto the mat. With an "oof" sound, Alex felt the air rush from her lungs when she landed flat on her back. Unable to breathe, she watched as Michael backed up in shock at what he'd just done. Knowing she had to relax to be able to breathe again, Alex closed her eyes and concentrated.
"I'm so sorry. I didn't mean to—"
Alex cut off his next words by swinging her legs in a roll with her upper body to catch him squarely under the ribs sending him flying back onto the mat.
"Now we're even," she said coughing as she was finally able to breathe, and then flipped herself to her feet again.
"Ow," Michael groaned, slowly pulling himself back to his feet. "Okay, so it's rare. We're rare, whatever. And that's all?"
"Yep. I'm no geneticist, though. So if you want a more detailed answer, you're going to have to talk to one of them."
"Enough talk, then," Michael said with an anticipatory smile that made his eyes seem more like a hunting cat than ever.
Repressing a shudder, Alex squared off with him. For the next half hour or so, the two were far too involved in their sparring to take notice of anything else. Thoroughly worn out by the match, and coming out even, they finally called a halt.
"Feeling better?" she asked flopping down on the mat.
Michael was grinning from ear to ear. "Yeah, actually."
"Good, cause tomorrow we're going to hurt like hell."
Michael chuckled. "You get to explain to Doctor Beckett why I'm back in the infirmary, then."
"Nope. You can ask him for your own stuff. I've got my supplies in my own quarters. I don't know about you, but I'm ready for a shower and a bed."
"Sounds like a plan," he agreed. "Thanks, Alex."
"No problem. You'll be seeing a lot more of me. And my quarters are right across the hall from yours. Doctor Beckett and Doctor Heightmeyer said it would be a good idea to have someone familiar close by," she said, finally pulling herself to her feet. "And this way I'm not crowding you or going too far too fast. I know you need time to remember or get adjusted. But this way I'm right across the hall if you need anything. Don't be afraid to come to me any time of the day or night."
"Okay."
Together they walked in what outwardly appeared to be comfortable silence back to their quarters. Meanwhile, Alex was wishing she was headed to Carson's quarters, or her own real quarters with Carson. Keeping all this deep inside, she said a silent goodnight to the man she loved.