Two Blue Lines
Chapter 2
Burning Bread
2.
It is the perfect ploy. That's all it is.
She's been aware of it for a little over a month now, which would probably put her due date about six weeks ahead of schedule. Would he fall for a premature baby being the perfect weight and healthy? Who is she kidding, he'll thank the Ori and call the child a blessing. If the baby is born with eight extra fingers from being possibly conceived by a supergate deity, he'll say it's blessing from the Ori because now their child can hold two swords. Her child will not fight for the Ori.
The dough before her is almost hard because she over kneaded it from being too preoccupied, formulating how to tell him, how she knows after hardly a month of marriage. Maybe she, her people, are more in tune with their bodies than those of Ver Isca. Maybe she knew the moment it happened on their first time on their wedding night because she has not been married four times before and this is her first pregnancy. She's a pious woman.
Returns to slapping the dough and trying to shape a horrible log of bread which might as well be a log of wood from the forests outside the city walls. It probably won't matter to him, he'll be so enthralled with the shiny new idea of fatherhood she could be six months along and he would agree it's his. Why else would he carry a woman he watched fall from the sky back to his house. Everything reverts to his religion and this quick conception is the Ori making up for mucking up most ever other aspect of his life. She's the reward for being a true believer and if she's said it once, she'll say it again, she hates being a reward.
Scores the bread on top and slides it onto a grill in the hearth to cook, it doesn't rise much or expand just browns and hardens like any living thing meant to decay. Tried to steal away recipes and helpful tips from the local women, other young and married wives who had three toddlers rolling around on the floor a baby in their arms and a bun in the oven. Procreating instead of creating any technology to get them out of the dark ages. Making more believers for deities who climax on prostrations.
The door opens, and he shuffles in slowly, his head hanging down and his foot almost catching underneath him. He's sullen with a day of work, his forehead shiny with sweat, and soot smattered all over his sleeves, hands, and face. In the last month she's taken a swing at making supper, running the household, making sure everything is clean and in place after she snoops through his personals trying to find anything, a book, an artifact, a testament, that can link her back to the old galaxy, to Daniel and SG-1 who need to know of the impending invasion headed their way. If only she hadn't been smart enough to destroy the only portal to the milky way.
"Hello Darling," she greets brightly, the firelight playing off her face and warming her hands. Their version of winter is upon them and if Tomin's stories are correct, ice balls will shoot from the sky and take out at least one villager, she's taken to keeping in the house, despite how mad it makes her to be caged, no matter the size of the cage.
"Good evening," he greets platonically. He removes his shoes at the door, but his left shoe, his lame shoe, catches in the modest straw carpet.
She leaves watching the bread burn to tend to him. "Tomin, what's happened."
"Nothing." He pulls a grin across his face, masquerades the day's heaviness away as she helps him untie his boot. "It was a glorious day, I did much to help the town by creating weapons for our soldiers and shoes for our horses."
"Tomin." Directs him to a chair where he plops down while she tries to straighten the hardened misplaced muscles in his foot and ankle. "You shouldn't lie to your wife."
"I do not want to tell you because it's a sin."
"Oh, well now this is getting interesting."
"Envy is not viewed by the Ori with positivity."
"A lot less interesting now."
"I simply wish to be able bodied, to defend my religion, my town, my wife." His sooty hand caresses at her cheek and she tries not to find solace in gesture.
Her hands touch his knees as she rises to sit on the arm of the chair. "Tomin without you aiding in creating the materials you do this town would be at a standstill. How would anyone defend themselves without your swords. How would transportation and trade occur to other villages without your horse shoes."
He leans his head to the back of the chair, grinning a bit slyly. "Now you are being prideful."
"Well Darling, everything is a sin if you look hard enough." Her hand smooths his thick hair away from his face as he starts to relax under her touch. She'll never admit to it, but part of her is proud that he relaxes with her, that she is able to see his strife and appreciate his value, that she can convince him to lower his expectations.
"I will never know what I did to deserve a wife as kind and beautiful as you." His hand is heavy at her hip fixing her apron and playing with the fabric. "If I live a thousand years I can never repay you for what you have done for me."
"Normally, I would argue that fact with you." After all he did save her from certain death and injury out in the wilderness. Treated her kindly and was never once lecherous. Purchased her all her clothing, her food, kept her warm and safe, particularly from the weasel-eyed tavern owner who watches their every move with what she thinks is a dangerous envy. He never expects anything of her, not because he thinks lowly of her, but because he's happy to do it for her or himself.
Her hand slides down his cheek to his chin, then shoulder and finally plays with his fingers. "But I believe I've got you trumped for at least the next eighteen years."
"I do not understand." A hard press on her thigh as he pushes his tired body back into a sitting position from his casual recline. Her tone has made him anxious, he hasn't learned how to tell her playful tone from her worried tone. To be far, they are both rather squeaky and shrill at times.
Wraps her fingers around his wrist and drags his hand, planting it on her stomach and watching his face evolve from a squished one of misunderstanding and concern to animating in complete zeal, brightening and stretching;
"You—You are with child?" Hasn't moved his hand, but his other arm circles around her back ensuring that she doesn't topple from the chair arm.
"Yes." Grins at him and blinks away the tears in her eyes at his shout of celebration.
"You are sure?"
She nods to reassure him, and his expression only grows. "A girl knows these things."
His shout echoes through their house again and his fingers rub her stomach like a genie might pop out. The strokes calm and full of love, of hope for her blackhole fetus. "I will never be able to repay you."
"Tomin—"
The weight of his head settles into her lap as he presses an ear to her stomach listening, perhaps for the ocean, and he whispers a particular passage from the Book of Ori. He holds her to him, the hand on her back pressing her closer and he sighs against her. "You have made me the happiest man in the galaxy, how can I begin to repay you?"
Sounds of a scuffle drifts in from their open window, the thwacks and thunks of some poor man being beaten for cheating Seevus out of money. Her stomach feels hollow, on alert for danger, and she knows the man is trouble.
"Protect us, Tomin." Fingers drift down the back of his neck gently lapping at his skin. He yanks his head away from her, staring up into her eyes to gauge her seriousness despite her voice being barely above a raspy whisper. "Keep us safe."
"Always and forever." He kisses the material bunched over her stomach, then rises and plants a chaste, but meaningful peck on her lips. With intensity in his eyes she hasn't viewed before he adds, "I promise you."