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Who: Clove, Connor and Carson. Triple C!
What: Clove being the loving "daughter" and the aftermath
When: backdated to some time before the 7th. Vague~
Where: Connor's room and other locations
Rating: PG-13 because stabbing and swearing is likely

Clove decided to hold onto the syringe she stole from Carson's room. She didn't know what was in it and didn't care. She knew she could use it somehow.

The whole family thing was still in her head. Maybe that's why she was at Connor's door. Or maybe it was something else. Either way she was here and knocking.

"Connor!" She called out his name. "It's Clove."

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Normally Connor would have been wide awake and already starting his day by now. But his friends Carson and Jameson had done him in. He was sprawled on the floor, hugging a pillow under his head and snoring lightly. The knocking and voice made him stir in his sleep, mumbling a threat to his brother before slipping back into the sweet sleep of hangovers.

Dr. Beckett isn't exactly being the best role model right now, being passed out alongside his friend, up on one of the beds. He's on his back, and also snoring lightly, a bottle of half-empty scotch in his hand. None of that watered-down Irish shit for him.

No response. Was Connor out? The only other place Clove thought to look was the church. But as long as she was here she tried the door. Unlocked. Lucky break.

She let herself in and saw two men snoring. Her false memories categorized them as "father" and "uncle". She drew closer and could smell the alcohol. She crouched next to Connor, watching him.

Clove didn't hate him, necessarily. But she didn't want to let this place win, either. She was stronger than fake memories.

So she found a good place to get him with the needle.

It may have been just a needle prick but the sharp pain and pressure from the injection was enough to drag Connor kicking and screaming into consciousness.

Quite literally.

He shouted, flailing awake and scrambling across the floor away from whatever the fuck just stabbed him. "What the fuck?!" He spun around, ready to kill when he sees... "Clove?"

The anger in his eyes mixes with confusion as he stares at the girl.

And the noise causes Carson to snort awake, blinking in the darkness as he sits up on the bed.

"What the bloody hell's going on?" He mumbles, half-asleep and still half-drunk by the sound of it. But he didn't just get an adrenaline kick up the arse.

Edited 2012-08-09 19:33 (UTC)

"Oh, you remember my name," Clove noted. "How nice." She dropped the empty syringe on the floor.

"I don't know what was in that. Better ask him." She nodded to Carson. "I took it from his room. Hope it wasn't too poisonous."

She rolled back up on her feet. She wanted to see what happened next but alslo thought it was a smart idea to leave while they were still half-asleep.

"Th'fuck?!" Connor groped at his side, pulling his shirt up and trying to see the injection spot. "'course I remember yer fuckin' name."

With a frustrated noise he let his shirt fall back and stared at the girl, completely dumbfounded. What the hell? He'd tried to be a good father... as weird as it was to think of later... he had never done anything to outright piss her off... as far as he could tell. "Why th'fuck'd you do somethin' like that?"

Wait. Did she just say poisonous?! His pulse quickened and his head snapped over to look at Carson, "What th'fuck was in that thing?!" He pointed at the offending object on the floor.

Carson's up and walking over to the syringe on the floor and picking it up. "The label is in Ancient..." He mutters as he squints at it in the dark, his other hand going to his pocket to take out his scanner.

"I think it's my ATA gene therapy. But it's not ready for human trials yet. Let me take some scans, make sure nothing bad's going to happen."

And there's the adrenaline shot. It's sobered Carson up considerably. "I lock these samples in my lab. How did you get into them?"

"Guess you missed one." Her voice was calm and steady. Calmer than was probably right for a girl who just stabbed her one-time father. But she would've done the same thing to her real father without blinking an eye. And with a knife, not just a needle.

"It's just a needle. I wanted to see what it would do." Clove wouldn't give more reason than that.

"Not ready fer..." Connor's eyes got wide and he pulled up his shirt to look at the spot again, "Not ready fer human trials?! What th'fuck's that s'posed t'mean?"

His mind was whirling. Not only had she stabbed him and injected him with who the fuck knows what but she was being really fucking creepy about it. Seriously. Even knowing what he did about the kid it's downright unnerving to hear that tone or lack thereof coming out her mouth.

His eyes narrow as he stares at her "What th'fuck's wrong with ya? Wanted t'see what it would do? That means y'fuckin ask. Y'don't go 'bout jus' injectin' people with shite!"

She almost forgot how good it felt just to attack someone and watch the fear in their eyes. There was power to it, and the stronger they were the stronger she felt when she was the cause of their fear.

Clove almost felt like her old self again. But there was too much of the fake life still inside her. She hoped that weakness would go away soon.

"I'll keep that in mind," she said, crushing the needle with her foot as she walked out the door.

"Connor, calm down." Carson says, putting his hand on the other man's shoulder as he eyes his scanner's display, staring at it intently for a few moments.

"The good news is, the mouse retrovirus is being neutralised by your immune system as designed and..." There's a pause. "It's working."

Connor tenses, ready to lash out at being touched again. But he knows better than to strike his friend. Carson's only trying to help, after all. But he doesn't have to be happy about it, damnit.

He gives him a look, "Don't fuckin' tell me t'calm down. Yer not th'one who was just turned into a human guinea pig." Wait... he's not sure what he means by 'mouse retrovirus' but... "workin'? What is?"

"The gene therapy. It's taking."

He's silent for a few moments, staring at his scanner. "Yes, it's taking. No side-effects, no corruption of the foreign genes, the immune system is accepting it..."

He pauses. "You're going to be absolutely fine, but..." He holds out his scanner. "Take this for a moment?"

He stares at Carson, incredulous. "Yer treatin' this like a fuckin' science experiment?!"

He couldn't believe it. He got stabbed. Okay, so he wasn't dying... and it was just a needle... BUT THAT'S NOT THE POINT! A teenage girl who was apparently more cold blooded than some of the mobsters he and Murph had killed</strike come across in their time came into his room, stabbed him with a needle and walked off like it was nothing. Seriously, bro? He snatches the device out of Carson's hand, shaking it at him, "How 'bout y'fuckin' ask me if I'm arrite 'steada jus' lookin' at yer little scanner?"

And that little scanner just starts to light up and bleep. Without the medical attachment, the screen shows the room they're in and the two dots representing themselves. Remember how he said only a select few could turn that thing on. Carson folds his arms.

"I had to make sure that the retrovirus was broken down and that the therapy wasn't going to cause any damage on a genetic level. Trust me, that's not bloody good."

He's going to... Take a moment to calm down, try to not let the adrenaline and excitement that 7 months of research has actually paid off overtake him.

"The good news is, you're going to be absolutely fine. No side-effects, and I guarantee that. How's the entry point? Is it bleeding?"

Wait. Why is it beeping? It shouldn't be beeping. It doesn't work when he touches it. He just... stares at the screen for a minute. What is this nonsense, seriously.

He blinks, silent for a long moment as he lets Carson's words settle. He'd said it was his ATA gene therapy, and the ATA gene is what let him use the scanner. A frown starts as he realizes what's happened. "You mean t'tell me that whatever was in that little tube changed my genes so I have that ATA gene?"

And Carson's just going to nudge Connor towards sitting down on the nearby bed as he reaches down and grabs the bottle of Scotch. Not that he'd recommend this for recuperating usually, it's just... This isn't usual.

"Aye, I've been working on an experimental gene therapy for months. Something to do to keep busy. I was never intending on using it, and kept my lab locked, making sure my research notes were written in Ancient and English." Remember his notepad? That was all research. "I used my own blood as samples to extract the gene, I even labelled the samples in Ancient so no-one'd be stupid enough to steal it. Guess I was bloody wrong..."

And there's a long pause here. "This is all my fault. I'm sorry."

Connor lets Carson sit him down, still staring at the device beeping merrily away in his hand. With a look of disgust he tosses the accursed thing away, watching as it lands on the other bed. What. The fuck. Seriously. It could be worse, he could be dead, but still. It's unnatural. At least, unnatural for him. If he were meant to have this gene he would've been born with it not injected by some psychopathic teenager.

What the fuck is happening to his life, man?

He snatches the scotch bottle away, taking a long pull from it. Eventually he shakes his head, "Y'were doin' yer work. No one can fault y'fer that. Y'had no way've knowin' some crazy girl'd steal th'shite fer a laugh or whatever th'fuck she was doin'." He sighs, resting the bottle against his forehead, the cool glass helping him think. "That girl ain't right. Not in any sense've th'word."

"But... if yer lab was locked how th'fuck'd she get it?"

And Carson goes up and grabs the scanner from the bed, tucking it away into his pocket. He's protective over that item, it being the one link back to Atlantis that he has.

He looks over at Connor and sighs. "She must've forced the lock. It wasn't exactly the Tower of bloody London."

He moves and sits back down. "It wasn't necessary work. What the bloody hell do people need the ability to activate Lantean technology for in this place?" Another sigh, and he puts his face in his hands. "If I had just left well enough alone, this wouldn't have bloody happened."

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GAH strikethrough fail /facepalm

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