Author: Fififolle
Disclaimers: I do not own these characters; this is written for fun or something, I make no money etc.
Spoilers: Siege, TRINITY.
A/N: More pun antics laced with Grodin. Sorry! I'm afraid this is the only way I could see Rodney apologising after Trinity the way we want…
Summary: McKay's "apology" to Weir, post-Trinity…McWeir, vaguely.
To any passing team member, Dr Elizabeth Weir had a confident, commanding air, acknowledging those colleagues with a pleasant smile and a brief nod, as she strode towards her quarters. Everyone had heard, or heard about, her altercation with Dr McKay, and she looked as if she had come out on top. That's what they liked about her. You felt you could make your case, tell her how you saw things. She would listen, make her judgement, and give it to you straight. You knew she would be right, that what she decreed would be best for the whole team, even if you didn't get what you wanted. She was the only one who could come out one better than McKay. That's why she was in charge.
She pressed the panel next to her door, and stepped through as it slid aside. Only once the last hiss of the closure had died away did she drop the mask of the day. She sat heavily down onto the bed; gripped her head with her hands. The sound she let free from her throat was more of a growl than a sob, and it almost scared her. The anger fought the fears, and won. She grabbed the pillow and flung it across the room, and then made her hands into fists, digging them into her temples, her elbows pressed to her knees.
Regaining a little composure, she smoothed away the fury in her face with her fingertips. Taking a deep breath and letting it out in a long sigh, she pushed herself off the bed and made to retrieve her pillow. She stopped by her desk, staring. There, in the middle of her workspace, lay something that she had not left there.
She studied the smooth, gloss, purple wrapper, contemplating the small bar of chocolate that lay there. It was Cadbury's Dairy Milk. No nuts, no fruit, no frills. Pure and simple, Cadbury's. It had to be McKay that put it there. Who else could know she liked it, and owed her? She had only ever known Peter to have any, and it certainly wasn't him that had left it there. Grodin would always offer her the first piece, on the rare occasions he was treating himself to a bar. She had never tasted anything so sweet, so glorious, lacking any bitterness that chocolate ought to have. She had imagined the words of her mother, if she'd known how much she loved it, 'Elizabeth, dear, it isn't real chocolate.' Her mother always had been a snob, she thought, but it was a kind memory. Elizabeth had come to realise how much it meant for Peter to sacrifice that piece, how much esteem it conveyed. He had once given her a whole bar, on her birthday. Forty-nine grammes of heaven. She had kissed him on the cheek, and she swore he hadn't stopped grinning for three days. Remembering him made her smile, and she picked up the bar, her mouth beginning to water. She was right, it was the real deal. Made in the UK, more sugar than cocoa.
Then she saw it. There was a small piece of paper on the desk. It had been hidden under the bar. It only had a few words on it, and she recognised McKay's scrawl. 'I'm sorry. Rodney.' He had already apologised to her, but in response to her demand for it. That had been in the heat of the fray, in her office, a few short hours ago. She had needed it from his lips, but she knew it meant nothing, that he was not sorry at all, except for how close he had come to dying. She knew he believed he could have succeeded with the weapon, and his pride was still too strong to mull over the whole incident objectively. It would take time, but she couldn't wait that long. An apology was required, and she had made him give it. She had won, a hollow victory.
She had a million questions. How had McKay got into her room? No surprises there, really. Where had he got it? Peter had run out months ago, she remembered the day clearly. No, he must have brought it on the Daedalus. Had Peter ever told Rodney she liked it so much? Did Rodney like it? Silly question. It must have taken some effort to get it, though. Did Rodney like it that much? She never knew he was that fussy. The intricacies and implications were too difficult to untangle. She certainly didn't feel like asking McKay herself. At least, not yet. She carefully took the chocolate bar, and opened the door of the small safe in the wall. She placed it carefully inside, and shut the door, locking it as she pressed her fingers to the control panel. She would not eat it yet; she did not want the pleasure to be tainted by pain.
She considered the meaning. It was not simply an apology, perhaps not even a true apology at all. Perhaps McKay himself had no idea of the meaning of this action. He had tugged on a few of her heartstrings, and he didn't even realise. She wiped a tear from her cheek, and cursed him for the way he made her feel. That's what he did, all the time, he made her feel. The chocolate was not really an apology, it was the opening of negotiations. McKay had made a peace offering.
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A/N: That's it. Tried my best, but post-Trinity is too scary.