Chapter Text
"Ouch."
The complaint echoed in the mostly empty infirmary.
"Well, if you'd sit still, it wouldn't hurt as much."
John Sheppard cast a glance over his shoulder at the young doctor currently cleaning out his latest battle wound – a nasty gash in the back of his shoulder thanks to a piece of shrapnel. "You're quoting a Disney film?" he asked her incredulously.
The doctor bit back a laugh. "Perhaps. But then again, you were the one who called the reference, Colonel," she told him, humour tinging her voice. "Regardless, it is a medical truth that if you let your doctor do their work without moving around too much it is a lot less painful. Not to mention quicker."
"Medical truth?" That prompted another raised eyebrow. "Or just something you tell all your patients?"
"Only the ones who can't sit still," she replied, not taking her eyes off what she was doing. Sheppard was perhaps one of the worst patients Addison Parker had had to deal with since arriving in Atlantis to join the current medical team, because unless he was bedridden, he did not seem to be able to sit still long enough to let anyone do their job. Parker did not think it was personal, she had heard comments about him from the nurses – who seemed to put up with him mostly because he was charming and good looking.
At least attempting to sit still for the time being, Sheppard gripped the edge of the examining table. To distract him, while she cleaning out the dirt that had managed to find it's way into his wound, she asked him, "There weren't too many wounded when you all came back through the Stargate. How did you end up the lucky one with the most severe injuries from the attack?"
"The perks of being the team leader – Ow!"
Parker winced. "Sorry, Colonel. I'm almost done."
"Oh, good," he replied. His voice was thinly laced with veiled sarcasm, but she took it in stride. Most people got along with doctors – unless they were the. Regardless, Sheppard seemed eager to keep his mind off what was being done to his shoulder, and asked, "How are you finding Atlantis?"
Behind him, Parker smiled. "Better than anything I could have imagined," she admitted. And it was true. Atlantis was beyond her wildest dreams, and she was determined to take advantage of every minute she had. She had arrived aboard the Daedalus with the rest of the new personnel after Atlantis had been able to establish a wormhole back to Earth.
Back when the Atlantis mission had still been in its planning stages, Parker had been short listed on the medical roster, thanks to possessing the Ancient Technology Activation gene, and a connection to the chief medical advisor. However, when the mission itself became feasible, and the medical team selected, Parker's name had not been on the final list. The reasons she had been given were that there were too many medical personnel, and that her relative experience in her profession was less than that of some of the others. Even now, on Atlantis, she was one of the youngest medical team members. Instead of the Atlantis mission, the Air Force had offered her a placement at Stargate Command, which she had eagerly accepted. It was not what she had hoped for, but it was a good second-best.
However, her mutation had played an integral part in her role at the SGC. Considered a low-level healer, Parker had been able to use her powers to help aid in faster recovery rates of the base personnel. In her personnel file, it had been listed an as indispensable talent. While she might not have the capabilities to fully heal severe injuries – in fact the only injuries she had ever been able to heal completely, on the spot, were relatively minor cuts and bruises. For everything else, she was able to advance the rate of healing, but not complete it. Some things the body needed to heal itself.
Still, when the opportunity came up for extra personnel to travel to Atlantis, Parker had jumped at the chance, signing the one-year commitment papers without even hesitating. This time, a place had been offered to her.
Finishing up the cleaning, Parker covered the wound in Sheppard's shoulder with her gloved hand. "This might feel a little strange, Colonel," she warned him. Drawing in a deep breath, she focused on his wound. In her mind she could see the damage and began repairing it. Beneath her hand, the cut skin re-grew, slowly, but steadily. She could not see the expression on Sheppard's face, but she hoped it was not too uncomfortable for him.
When she finished, she removed her hand, and checked the skin on the back of his shoulder. "Okay," she told him. "We're nearly done here. You can put your shirt back on." Grabbing his chart off the examining table where she had left it, she turned around to lean on the counter behind herself while she wrote a new entry to add to his file.
"You know, Doc," Sheppard spoke up, slipping his shirt back on over his head. "That's just plain weird."
Turning slightly to look at him, she grinned, amused. "Thank you." Finishing up with the chart, she shut it, and left it sitting on the bench. "Okay, so no heavy lifting for the next day or so. The worst of the damage is healed, but if you do anything too strenuous too quickly, you risk tearing it again."
The colonel's eyes glittered with mischief. "And here I thought you'd healed me, Dr. Parker."
"Yeah, well, unfortunately it doesn't always work like that," she told him, grin still firmly in place. "If you want me to perform a miraculous healing, come to me with paper-cuts next time, Colonel."
"I'll keep that in mind," he told her. His face bore the irresistibly charming grin that had wooed the female nursing staff.
Giving him a bemused smile, she shook her head. Then she remembered something. "Actually. Do you mind waiting for a minute? I think Dr. Beckett wanted a word with you."
Carson Beckett was the Chief Medical officer on Atlantis, and a good friend to Parker.
Sheppard nodded, and hopped back into a sitting position on examining table. "Where is the good doctor? I haven't seen him since we came back through the 'gate."
"He's with the two patients that you brought back with the survivors," she told him. "Dr. Beckett wanted to run an MRI, see if there's a reason why they've been unconscious for so long, and to find out if there's any damage. It's a bit of a mystery." She smiled. "Don't worry, he should be back any minute now."
Sheppard's latest off-world mission had been to a planet with a small population; most of the small communities lived a great distance away from the planet's Stargate. Originally Sheppard's team had been there to negotiate trade with the closest settlement, but a Wraith attack forced an immediate evacuation through the 'gate, and Sheppard brought as many of the survivors from the small settlement inhabitants back to Atlantis. While Elizabeth Weir had not been expecting such an event, she offered the services of the Atlantis expedition team to help the survivors return to their home, or to find another planet that would be suitable for them to start over.
Upon their unexpected arrival, Beckett had taken the two unconscious men directly to the infirmary room where they had set up the MRI, leaving Parker and a handful of medical technicians to check the rest of the off-world visitors. Most of them were suffering shock, and they had all been gathered in one of Atlantis' many conference rooms, and hot drinks distributed, while the medics did their work. Parker had seen to the post-mission medical check of Sheppard's team; Sheppard insisted on being treated last.
Parker was startled out of her reverie when Beckett and two of his assistants returned to the infirmary, wheeling their two patients on gurneys. She offered him a slight wave, and pointed in the direction of Sheppard.
Nodding ever so slightly, Beckett offered her a brief, but troubled grin. She recognised the look. It meant he was puzzled by something. "Thank you, Addison," he told her as he passed by, towards Sheppard.
Parker watched as he met up with Sheppard, before she turned away towards the infirmary's primary computer – a laptop set up to interface with the Ancient system. They used this primary for their main research, and for patient files. She was still coming to grips with the system they had on Atlantis – they did not have all the luxuries of a modern, up-to-date hospital. Then again, some of those hospitals did not have what they did. It all took some getting used to. Not to mention she was still learning the intricacies of the Ancient language. Whenever she accessed the Atlantis mainframe directly without interfacing it with on of their computers, she ran the risk of not being able to translate the text correctly.
It took her less than ten minutes to update the Sheppard's file. When she finished, she closed the program and glanced back in Beckett's direction. He was still engrossed in conversation with Sheppard. Sighing, she headed towards the infirmary entrance. A good cup of tea sounded good right about now. Then she would check on Atlantis' latest guests. Perhaps they could shed some light on the condition of the two men still lying unconscious on gurneys being attended to by the nursing staff. So far all they had been able to ascertain was that the two men had fallen ill, then unconscious nearly a week earlier.
As she passed the medics – Cally Anderson and Rebecca Childes – she asked if she could get anything for them while she was in the commissary. Two coffee requests later, she called out to Dr. Beckett, "Can I get you anything?" She hated to so rudely interrupt his conversation, but she felt it ruder not to at least offer to get him something while she was out.
The delay to her departure proved to be nothing short of disaster.
Turned away from the door, Parker watched as one of their off-world patients began to convulse violently. Both medics reacted immediately, and Parker found herself automatically moving towards their direction to help them strap the man down for his own safety. It was not a quiet event, and the extra ruckus drew Beckett's gaze away from Sheppard. She heard herself automatically start giving orders, then heard Beckett's unmistakable Scottish accent join her own Australian one.
Under a minute later, the second patient also began to convulse, and Parker left the first patient in the hands of Beckett and Anderson, while moving over to strap down the second man. "Page the emergency staff," she told Childes, who gave a brisk nod and immediately moved off to do exactly that. On her own, Parker struggled to get the man sedated and secured. When Sheppard stepped in to hold the man down, it caught her by surprise.
Pulling the cap off the needle with her teeth, Parker administered the sedative through the intravenous drip, and adjusted its release setting, allowing more into the bloodstream of the patient for the time being. With Sheppard strapping the man down, Parker glanced at the bedside monitor; the readings definitely were not like anything she had seen before. Behind her, she could still hear Beckett calling out orders, and absently she acknowledged that Childes joined herself and Sheppard over the second patient. Despite the sedatives, the convulsions were not stopping for either patient.
Parker's patient opened his eyes, and for a minute she recoiled in horror. They were pitch black, like oil, with no iris or pupil. She heard similar gasps from behind her, but didn't turn around. It did not take her long to realise that his eyes were, in fact, not black, but a red so dark they did indeed appear to be black. Blood.
The convulsions started with a new intensity, and before she knew what was happening, one of the straps restraining the patient's arms snapped, and she felt the arm connect with her stomach, as it lashed outwards with astonishing force. It knocked her backwards and down, and she felt her head connect with the steel frame of the other gurney. The sharp pain sustained from the blow subsided almost instantly, but she was unable think straight.
On the floor, she missed what happened next.
Sheppard moved to try and contain the man's flailing arm, while Childes hastened to administer a stronger sedative. For both patients, the convulsions reached critical, and strained against all remaining bonds. And then, just as suddenly as the convulsions had started, the bodies themselves dissolved. Not into water; into ash. As if their bodies were incinerated in a split-second, leaving a cloud of thick ash in the air.
All around her, Parker could hear people coughing as they inhaled the ash. Eventually she started coughing herself, when the ash started to settle. It felt like an eternity, but everything happened so quickly, she barely took it all in.
Until the dull sound of Atlantis' sirens kicked in, and the doors to the infirmary slammed shut, sealed.
Ignoring the sound for the moment, Beckett crouched down next to her, and Parker smiled weakly as he examined her head. "You've a nasty gash there, Addison," he told her, and she nodded. "Can you heal it?"
She shook her head, no. It was not the first time that she wished her powers did not have so many rules.
Sheppard crouched down on the ground beside Beckett. "Any idea on what the hell just happened, Doc?"
"Unfortunately, no," Beckett told him. "I've never seen anything like it." He had Parker hold dry gauze over the cut on her forehead while he fished the adhesive tape out from the medical kit.
Sheppard stood, looking around the infirmary. Unsure of what he was doing, Parker was about to ask him what he was looking for. But before she could say anything, he got up and headed towards the door.
While Beckett finished up, she asked, "What's that sound?"
"I'm not entirely sure, my dear," he told her. "But I suspect it might be Atlantis' quarantine procedures."
Parker blinked, her eyes narrowing. "Suspect?"
"Aye." Finished, Beckett packed up the kit. "When the presence of a threat is sense, Atlantis has the capacity to lockdown itself to contain the threat. We found that out once before."
Threat? Her face scrunched up in puzzlement, trying to coax her mind to work through the fog that had descended.
Then it dawned on her. Threat.
"Oh god," she whispered.
In the background, Parker could still hear the alarms sounding.