“All right, I think,” she said. She paused, assessing. “Everything feels normal.”
“So why’d you pass out?” Ronon asked.
“I don’t —” Jennifer stopped, considering. OK, what was behind her reaction? She’d been in good health before they started; the only thing that was at all out of the ordinary was the retrovirus, but she had taken that days before, and it had had no effect. Or had it? She had calculated that any effects would show themselves within thirty-six hours of the injection, but if she’d been wrong… She said, slowly, “It might have been the retrovirus. It didn’t do that before, but — this was a different formulation.”
Ronon scowled. He hadn’t liked the idea in the first place, and he looked as though he was having a hard time not telling her so.
Rodney said, “What retrovirus? Why are you testing things on yourself, anyway?”
“Because I couldn’t ethically test it on anybody else,” Jennifer snapped.
“It’s one of Todd’s bright ideas,” Ronon said.
“Not entirely,” Jennifer said. She looked at Rodney, green-skinned, white-haired, his slit pupils narrowed to a thread against even the filtered sunlight of the clearing. If she hadn’t known him before, she would not have recognized him as anything but Wraith, hunched there in his black coat like a crow on a branch. “We, Carson and I, have been working on a treatment that would counteract the effects of Wraith feeding — that would allow a human to survive being fed on. As Ronon said, Todd has also been working on the same idea, and, well, we ended up pooling our knowledge.”
“You and Todd,” Rodney said slowly. To Jennifer’s surprise, he began to laugh. “Of course he did! It must be at least a quintuple cross by now! No wonder Ember was scared to death the whole time.”
“Ember?” Ronon said.
“One of Guide’s — Todd’s — clevermen.” Rodney paused, as though he’d just realized he was translating Wraith terms. “Scientists. In fact, it wouldn’t surprise me if he was involved in developing it, it’s his kind of project.” He shook his head. “But that isn’t really relevant. So you tried this retrovirus yourself?”
Jennifer felt herself flush. “Yes. Look, after I let Todd feed on me the first time, I couldn’t let anybody else do it.”
“You let Todd feed on you?” Rodney’s voice scaled up, and Ronon gave a sympathetic grunt.
“You’ve missed a lot of fun, McKay.”
“Yes, I let him feed on me,” Jennifer said. “Somebody had to test it, and I trusted that he would revive me if the virus didn’t work. Which it didn’t, the first time, and he did.”
“You let Todd feed on you,” Rodney said again, more quietly, this time. “And restore you. Did you have any idea of the risk you were running?”
“Yes, as a matter of fact, I did.” Jennifer glared back at him. “And I still do. And you may be grateful for it in the long run.”
Rodney winced at that, and Jennifer bit her lip. That wasn’t something she’d meant to say, at least not yet. She didn’t really want to know if Rodney had fed, though he must have done, to stay alive this long.
Ronon said, “So you think you passed out because of the retrovirus?”
Jennifer took a breath. “Yes. At least, that seems the most likely cause. There’s nothing else that was different.”
“Does that mean it worked?” Ronon’s expression was unreadable.
“I don’t know.” Jennifer couldn’t look at Rodney, looked at her hands instead. “I won’t know until we can test it.”
“Well, I’m not going to test it,” Rodney said. “That’s not going to happen.”
“Damn right it’s not,” Ronon said.
“Rodney.” Jennifer laced her fingers together. She couldn’t come right out and say it, couldn’t ask him when he’d last fed — couldn’t bear to think about it, Rodney with teeth bared, his claws, his handmouth fixed on someone’s chest. “Look, I’m going to need to examine you, to find out what they did to make you change.”
“If I’d known you were coming,” Rodney said, “I’d’ve stolen a dose of the drug they were giving me. At least, I assume that’s what it was, something to keep me — I don’t know, wraithified. But, no, you had to stun me first.”
“That’s because you tried to kill us the last time,” Ronon said.
Jennifer closed her eyes for a moment. “I can probably get an idea of what they were doing from a blood sample, but not here. Though it’s actually good news that this process requires a booster, that means it ought to just wear off, more or less.” Except that all their simulations showed that it didn’t wear off entirely, that Rodney would be stuck halfway, partly Wraith and partly human, just like Michael. She shoved that thought aside. “So. Do we have a plan for getting back to Atlantis?”
“Yeah.” Ronon pushed himself to his feet, began collecting more scraps of fallen wood. “McKay says we’re about fifty kilometers from the Stargate, and the terrain’s not much different than here. I figure we can walk that in two days, three at the most.” He squinted at the sky. “I’m guessing it’ll be dark in a few hours, so there’s no point in getting started today. I say we get a good night’s sleep here, and start for the gate first thing in the morning.”
“OK.” Jennifer reached into her pockets, began taking stock of what she found. There was no sign of her P90, she realized, and guessed it had been left on the hive. Basic first aid kit, a case with a second dose of Wraith-level tranquilizer — they weren’t likely to need that unless something went drastically wrong — three, no, four power bars, plus a multi-tool. She checked the last pocket. Two more power bars and a crinkly mylar emergency blanket still in its wrapper. A twist of string, and three spare elastics for her hair.
“You’ve been taking lessons from Teyla,” Ronon said, with approval. He dropped another load of wood beside the fire.
“It seemed like a good idea,” Jennifer began, and made herself stop. “Thank you.”
“If you don’t mind sharing,” Ronon said, “that’ll get us through tonight and still leave some to spare. I’ll set snares overnight. From the tracks, there’s plenty of small game.”
“Couldn’t we just, I don’t know, find fruits and berries?” Jennifer asked.
“Sometimes they pick up weird trace minerals,” Ronon said. “It’s not so bad with animals.” He pointed to one of the elastics. “Can I use that?”
“Sure, go ahead.” Jennifer watched as he twisted it around a thin, flexible stick — making a snare, she guessed.
“We’ll need to split the watches, you and I,” he said, and Rodney lifted his head.
“Hello? What about me?”
“You’re what we’re watching,” Ronon said. “If you weren’t you, I’d tie you up overnight. Or stun you.”
Rodney opened his mouth to protest, closed it again, a look almost of misery flickering across his face, before he bared teeth in a snarl that did nothing to reassure anyone. “Fine. Be that way.”
Jennifer closed her eyes again. Somehow she’d imagined that when they finally found Rodney it would just be a matter of getting him into the infirmary, that it was just a medical problem, the kind of thing that, while admittedly difficult, she knew how to handle. She had no idea what to do about Ronon, about Rodney as a Wraith, about Rodney and Ronon together or anything else that involved interpersonal relations. They were all professionals, she told herself. More than that, they were a team. Rodney and Ronon were teammates, they were friends, and somehow that would be enough to get them to the Stargate. Surely.
Chapter Three
Queen’s Return
The rain was streaking down in sheets, soaking Sam in the short distance from the Hammond’s ramp to the door. There were no transfers this time to Atlantis’s infirmary, which was a good thing. No one was critical, just bumps and bruises and a few second degree burns. That was a thing she’d look forward to reporting when she uploaded for the databurst to the SGC.