Rogue didn't get much work done when she did finally return to Todd's quarters. Her mind was elsewhere, thinking over that dark possibility that the queen wouldn't survive the gene therapy and how that would change things, not only for Todd but for the entire crew. What a blow it would be to gain a queen and lose her in such a short period. And they couldn't hope for the opportunity to find another queen for quite some time, since the other prospective female had gotten herself killed.
Worries about what would happen on Atlantis plagued her as well. Now that she had a decent amount of control over her mutation, would their treatment of her change any? Would some of them, like Sheppard and his team, be more insistent that she consider the possibility of staying on Atlantis instead of continuing to live on and travel with Todd's hive ship? She wasn't sure how much more she could say about her reasons for preferring wraith over human company without outright offending anyone, and that wasn't what she wanted. But none of them had seen the world she'd come from, or knew what it was like to be hunted by your own species for being different. That was the sort of situation they read about in history books, but none of them had lived it.
By the time dinner rolled around, she was just tired and not much use at all in the kitchen. She sat at the table and listened to the group work in perfect synchronicity, the sounds of the kitchen comforting as she waited for them to have need of her or for the meal to be finished, whichever came first.
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Worries about what would happen on Atlantis plagued her as well. Now that she had a decent amount of control over her mutation, would their treatment of her change any? Would some of them, like Sheppard and his team, be more insistent that she consider the possibility of staying on Atlantis instead of continuing to live on and travel with Todd's hive ship? She wasn't sure how much more she could say about her reasons for preferring wraith over human company without outright offending anyone, and that wasn't what she wanted. But none of them had seen the world she'd come from, or knew what it was like to be hunted by your own species for being different. That was the sort of situation they read about in history books, but none of them had lived it.
By the time dinner rolled around, she was just tired and not much use at all in the kitchen. She sat at the table and listened to the group work in perfect synchronicity, the sounds of the kitchen comforting as she waited for them to have need of her or for the meal to be finished, whichever came first.