Megan nodded. Again, thank you. But theres one other thing we need to talk about. Beth is pregnant.

Stiles looked shocked. Thats the first thing you should have told us, she said. She turned towards Gabrielle. How long, sweetheart?

Four months, said Gabrielle.

Short or long-birther? asked Stiles.

Short, Gabrielle replied.

Stiles nodded. Youre well past the midway point, then. You picked a hell of a time to get pregnant, young lady.

At least Stiles had the tact not to ask about the father. Megan had already stretched the limits of her creativity in inventing a story for the three of them.

Stiles spread her hands flat on the table and look around at her co-workers. Okay, then, down to business. As I said, half our people are away, working in the refugee camps, so youll have your pick of quarters to use so long as youre here.

Again, I just want to Megan started to say.

Hold it. Stiles raised a hand. You dont need to keep thanking us; its not as if wed just leave you out there. She nodded towards Megans still-bandaged shoulder. We should check over all three of you, not just Beth. And as for Mr Mute, I dont know what we can do for him. Hes a machine-head, which means hes on a registry somewhere, so one way or another well eventually figure out who he is. But, until then, we dont have the equipment for scanning neural hardware or anything like that.

Beth is the priority, agreed Megan, looking pointedly at Gabrielle. But were all going to need treatment for radiation damage, at the very least.

Well, were not doctors, but we do have a medbox. Beth, if you could go with Lucy Stiles turned to the young woman seated next to her and shell show you where our medbay is.

Come on, beckoned Lucy, pushing her chair back.

Gabrielle gave Megan one last, long look before following Lucy out of the refectory. Her eyes were rimmed with dark blotches due to fatigue, and Megan could see how much the events of the past few days had taken out of the younger woman. If the sheer emotional impact hadnt hit her yet, it soon would. Growing up knowing you would have to die so that a stranger could occupy your body was one thing. Surviving long enough to discover you had a cloned twin old enough to be your mother constituted a whole new level of fucked-up.

I think its about time you got some sleep, Megan, suggested Stiles, standing up. Those members of her staff that had joined them rose also, as if they had been waiting for a cue. You can take your turn in the medbox tomorrow, as soon as were sure your niece is going to be okay. After that we can talk some more. She glanced at the plump young man. Mike, could you find Megan somewhere to sleep?

Sure thing, he replied.