Slipstream III: Atlantian Interlude, Part Four
"I want to, very much," the little prince replied. "But I have not much time. I have friends to discover, and a great many things to understand."
"One only understands the things that one tames," said the fox. "Men have no more time to understand anything. They buy things all ready made at the shops. But there is no shop anywhere where one can buy friendship, and so men have no friends any more. If you want a friend, tame me..."
That evening, with Jinto safely swathed and stitched and bundled up in his father's house, the group of medics and harvesters returned to Atlantis with the bunches of not-mistletoe. Sheppard was silent and thoughtful as he piloted his jumper back to the city, eyebrows dawn down, but the dark scowl that had coloured that morning's flight missing from his mouth.
Rodney sat beside him in the front, using his time to rest his own eyes and aching head. The walking and the stress of the day was making his bruises throb. Behind them, the soft low sounds of Parrish and Marie conversing served to soothe him to sleep, and Rodney was surprised out of his light doze by Sheppard's quiet words.
"We're nearly to the city, Rodney," Sheppard said, and Rodney blinked a few times and sat up. He barely remembered in time to avoid scrubbing at his darkened lids. He winced as he peered out of the windshield, eyes narrowing, but couldn't help the small gasp at the awe he always felt when he had the privilege of viewing Atlantis from the air.
The city, his city, was beautiful. The sun was just setting over the spires, lending the usually silverish metal a golden sheen.
Sheppard mistook the gasp for an exhalation of pain, and he looked away from his piloting for a moment to regard Rodney's face.
"Still hurts?" he asked.
Rodney bit back the instinctive urge to snap out a snarky response. Sheppard was being serious.
"She didn't do it on purpose," he replied, answering instead Sheppard's unasked question.
Sheppard frowned and returned his eyes to the HUD, his voice dropping down so the passengers in the back couldn't hear. Rodney didn't feel like pointing out that Marie could hear their hearts beating in their chests, so of course she'd be able to decipher his whispering. "There's a lot that she's already done that she didn't mean to do. Her good intentions don't make her any less dangerous, Rodney."
"I know that," Rodney grunted. "But treating her like a monster isn't going to make this any easier for anyone. She's just here for thirty days. She has a lot to offer."
"Rodney…"
"The wraith are coming," Rodney snapped, voice a low hiss. "And there's nothing we can do about that, except get the Orion up and running and prepare every weapon and tactical trick that we can. If I were in your shoes, oh great and powerful military commander, I would be exploiting every means possible. And if somebody dropped into my lap with the ability to wave her wand and kill a dozen of the enemy, I would be asking her how she did it and helping the people who are trying to learn from her."
Sheppard bit his lip, and Rodney assumed it was because he was suitably abashed. But then he said, "She 'accidentally' broke your nose and concussed you. What if she 'accidentally' forgets to stop when she finally does get her… blood apple person?"
Rodney shrugged, because what could he say that Sheppard wouldn't twist around.
"How about innocent until proven guilty? Just try to be nice to her, okay?" Rodney asked. "For my sake at least, cause I'm the one she's going to bitch at when you say something mean, and honestly? I'm too damn busy to mediate your playground squabbling."
Sheppard looked like he wanted to reply to that, but then he shook his head and turned his attention to docking the Puddlejumper. Which they both knew was a bullshit excuse to avoid finishing a conversation, as the 'jumpers could damn well park themselves.
The debriefing was quick and only slightly tense. Marie was sitting up and smilinging genuinely and really doing her very best to dial down the mojo and be pleasant. Elizabeth seemed to have taken Marie's caution about not letting the Mary Sue's presence bend her out of shape to heart, and was struggling with her twin inclinations to be diplomatic and do what's best for Atlantis, and her irrational urge to be bitchy.
Sheppard stayed silent, which cut down on a lot of the talking time, and studied Marie carefully. Rodney wondered what he saw now – beautiful woman or threat? Sheppard only spoke up to tell about Jinto's fall, and then the narrative passed over to Carson. Parrish just gushed about the whole trip, lingering on the awesomeness of Marie's speed and climbing ability, eyes flashing with excitement, flicking over to Marie and then away, and back again and…
Holy Shit.
Rodney felt every muscle along his back and neck go tight with realization. He had to consciously keep from scrunching his shoulders up around his ears. It was a ridiculous protective gesture; after all, it wasn't him that Marie was going to munch on.
Rodney risked a glance around the table, but nobody else seemed to have caught on. Rodney struggled to pay attention to the rest of the meeting. He plastered on a faux listening face, bland and hopefully unreadable, but he couldn't help the thoughts scrambling around in his head.
This was obviously what Marie and Parrish had been discussing in the back of the puddlejumper. Did Sheppard know? Had Parrish offered, or had Marie asked? Had they made any plans? Where would they do it? Why hadn't they told Rodney?
Rodney felt a surge of something strange in his gut, something like annoyance but stronger, a bit more bitter… he pushed the feeling away with a small frown.
Parrish cast Marie one more infatuated glance, and then the meeting was over. Sheppard stood and immediately left the room; Carson went to go whisper something to Marie, but she shook her head. Carson's eyes went a little wider, but otherwise he just patted her on the shoulder, threw a glance at Parrish, and walked out as well.
The rest of the room cleared, leaving Marie and Parrish and Rodney alone. Rodney cleared his throat, walked by them, and clapped Marie on the shoulder. "Well, kids," he said, his voice a bit higher than he would have liked, "have fun. Be careful, wear a condom, yadda yadda."
A flag of red popped up across Parrish's nose and cheeks, and he looked down at his feet, embarrassed. Marie just grinned, flashing one sharp little corner tooth, and said "Perceptive little bugger, aren't you?"
Rodney found himself smiling back without meaning to. Disconcerted, he fell back on his arrogance; he clicked his fingers, pointed at his head and said, "Hello, Genius."
And he was.
So how was it that he couldn't figure out why the thought of Marie and Parrish alone together, cinched in an essentially intimate embrace, was making him feel… jealous?
A few hours later – around ten o'clock – Rodney, realized that he wasn't actually paying attention to the research reports that he was supposed to be reading, and correcting. Irritably, he shoved away from his desk and stormed out of his office. The Alpha Lab was closed down for the night, the lights off and the blue glow of computer screens muted. There were a few still on, running simulations overnight, but the rest were closed to conserve the generators. It was one of the first things that McKay had pounded into the heads of his subordinates: it may be easier for you to leave your laptop on all night, but when we need the naquadah generators to support the shield, won't you feel an idiot for draining them with your laziness. Oh, no, you probably won't feel anything at all, because you'll be dead.
Pleased with his minions, and still annoyed with his own lack of focus, Rodney decided he'd stop into the mess for a cup of coffee – decaf, even he knew it was silly to have a cup of caffeine and still expect to sleep in an hour – and a snack before heading to bed.
He thought briefly about checking up on Marie, but she had the bracelet now so she could go wherever she was authorized, and Sheppard still had marines on her, so there was nowhere she could go without being seen, and nothing that she couldn't ask them to help her with.
For a brief second, Rodney's imagination flashed on the expressions that the marines guarding Marie's door must be wearing right now. Was Parrish a screamer? Was Marie? Would she snarl and spit like the vampires from the B movies, or was it all sensual and silent and soft little gasps? Would Marie blush? Would there be any sex at all, or was this arrangement purely clinical?
Angry with himself, Rodney slammed his fist into the wall. It make a satisfyingly loud thunk against the strange Altantian steel, but it just made his knuckles hurt more and did nothing for his temper. He was annoyed with himself because, frankly, this was bothering him and it shouldn't.
It wasn't like he was the hero of the piece, wasn't as if Marie or the Mary Sue ought to be paying attention to him, wasn't as if he wanted her to pay attention to him. He was too old to be playing these stupid high school games of who likes who, of being jealous of a grown woman choosing to have sex with someone (or not) when he hadn't even been thinking about her that way before he'd seen the way Parrish was glancing at her.
Rodney had seen the memo for a Pomme du Sang, read it all, and had never once considered volunteering himself. In fact, he hadn't even had an internal debate about whether he should or not. He had just closed the email and continued on with his day.
So why was it bothering him now?
Rodney pondered this as he trotted towards the transporter, and hit upon an idea when the doors opened to let him in. It was because he was feeling responsible, that was it. He was supposed to be in charge of taking care of Marie, and she'd found a Pomme du Sang on her own. That was it. He was feeling annoyed with himself because he should have been helping her, should have followed up the memo with a discreet inquiry in his own labs.
That was it. That was all.
Pleased with this little revelation, Rodney exited the transporter and hummed some old Barenaked Ladies tune or other as he strolled towards his well deserved reward of a hot soothing cup of java and perhaps one of those little prepackaged donut thingies. His good mood lasted until he caught sight of Marie and Parrish sitting in a corner of the mess hall. Rodney had the irrational urge to turn on his heel and walk back out, but he bullied through it and went over to the carafe of decaf coffee and poured himself a cup.
He considered going over to them, to being a big boy and sucking it up. He glanced over his shoulder to see if he would be interrupting any canoodling, and was startled to see the concern cut into Marie's face.
For once she looked flushed and rosy, a healthy glow beating out the pallor of her usual tone. For the first time, Rodney was seeing Marie as she was meant to be; she had enough blood to be animate and healthy, finally having enough in her to do the last of the healing that she needed. Rodney tried not to think about how she got that way.
Parrish, on the other hand, looked pale and disturbed. He was speaking in rapid, soft tones to Marie, and she was nodding worriedly. Parrish's hands were sketching his agitation into the air.
Finally, she pushed a plate of cookies towards him, and it was then at Rodney noticed the half-drunk water bottle and the full glass of orange juice that sat beside Parrish's elbow. Standard fare after a blood donation, but normally donors were a little happier at their good deed than Parrish looked.
Rodney's feet turned towards the couple before he had made a conscious decision to meddle – well, Marie was his responsibility after all, it made sense that he should be there, helping out. As he got closer he noticed that there was a livid red hickey on Parrish's neck. If there were little fang punctures, the rawness and newness of the mark kept them well hidden.
Marie heard him approaching before he got close enough to hear what they were saying, and she looked up and offered him a flat smile. "Hi, Rodney," she said, and Parrish turned to look, wincing as it stretched the raw skin on his neck.
"Dr. McKay," he offered stiffly.
"Parrish," Rodney said. He set down his cup on the table, theatrically taking a seat on the far side of Marie, putting her between him and the orange juice. "Everything go okay?"
Parrish winced again and Marie sighed. "Everything up to the part where he came out of it and realized that I had just drunk his blood."
"I thought that was sort of the point."
"David gets squeamish."
David, Rodney thought with a mental snort.
"Pretty dumb to be hanging around a vampire, then, David," Rodney said, and couldn't help twisting the knife of their new familiarity. It was petty, and he reveled in it.
"It's just weird, okay?" Parrish snapped back. "It's not like… it's just not like anything else. I feel… cheap. Dirty. Like, a bad morning after. You know what, sir? It's none of your goddamn business." With that, he slapped his hands on the table and rose to his feet.
"At least eat the cookies and take the water with you," Marie said softly. Parrish flushed again, ashamed, grabbed the desert and water, and left.
"Dammit," Marie said with a sigh, sinking further into her chair. "This is why I prefer to do it without them knowing."
"Because some dork who knows exactly what he's signed up for gets squeamish?" Rodney said, having no sympathy for Parrish. "The blood drinking was sort of the point."
"Ever had a really bad one night stand, Rodney?" Marie asked gently. "The sex is the point, but it can be all… awful. And you feel sick with yourself and dirty, and wrong, and sad, and used… well, a bad bite can be like that. Parrish wasn't… thinking about it that way. He was just…" she ran a hand through her hair, making it fluff up around her neck, and puffed out a sigh. "He's just one of those humans who is far too grounded in humanity. When something Other comes along, they just can't deal with it."
Rodney mused on this for a few moments, sipping his coffee. "I don't have a problem with you," he said, puffing out his chest a little.
Marie looked up and smiled softly. "Well, that's because you're a genius," she said.
At 0700 hours Rodney woke with a start, sitting up suddenly in his bed. He'd had a dream. He didn't remember the dream but… he'd had one. Something about… no, it was gone, skittering away across the surface of his foggy brain like a water strider. He rubbed his hand over his neck, shoving down the phantom tingle of… no.
He thought "lights on" and was always amazed that the city knew when to dim them after he had fallen asleep. Clearing the journals he'd been reading off of the bed covers, he stumbled into the shower and then back out a few minutes later, cleaner but no less groggy. He looked at the mini coffee maker on his desk – the stuff in the pot was old, and he didn't feel like cleaning it out, so he threw on the closest, least ripe smelling shirt and BDU bottoms and headed for the mess.
When he got there, the line was small, thank goodness, so he only had to wait a couple of minutes to get at his precious coffee. It was nowhere as near as good as his private stash, but at least he didn't have to make it himself.
He grabbed a stack of toast and some eggs and turned to head back towards the lab when someone called out his name. He turned, and saw Sheppard at a table with the remains of his own breakfast. Surprisingly, Marie was there too, along with Ronon and Teyla, surrounded by the debris of their own meals.
Sheppard had put Ronon between Marie and him, and he was sitting back on his chair, eyes narrowed and cautious, but Rodney took it for a good sign that they were seated together at all. Bonding, and all that.
Rodney sighed, because all he wanted to do was get caffeinated and get to the lab for a few precious hours before they had the morning pre-mission debriefing. Today the team was accompanying Marie for a simple snatch-and-grab of some Pegasus flora, to be followed by an afternoon of analyzing Marie's displays of magic – with Kusanagi and Zelenka - and an attempt to seeing if anything could be scientifically reproduced for the upcoming fight against the Wraith invasion forces.
It was going to be a long day, so he might as well have some relaxation time. Sighing again, he gave in and joined them near the window.
"Good morning, starshine," said Sheppard as he sat down. His voice was smooth and laid back as usual, but Rodney wasn't fooled. He'd been Sheppard's friend and teammate for nearly two years now – he knew a tense Colonel when he saw one.
Rodney grumbled something incoherent in response, not wanting to admit that the really wans't awake enough yet to offer back his own snazzy reply, and took a giant gulp of his coffee. Ah, sweet caffeine.
"Not really a morning person, is he?" commented Marie in a kind voice. She had a travel mug in her hands. She was leaning back in her plastic chair as if it was the most comfortable sofa in the world, but her eyes were alert, either scanning the cafeteria – for Kavanaugh, Rodney realized, or another incident like the last – or watching Sheppard carefully without looking like she was.
Bookending the actually-relaxed Ronon, Marie and Sheppard resembled two alley cats about to get into a scrap over a bit of spraying territory. Which... actually, yeah.
Marie sipped at the mug, licking her lips.
Rodney would have thought that after Parrish, she wouldn't need another hit for at least another twenty four hours. Perhaps he'd been wrong about her feeding schedule – or how much blood it actually took to repair the severe damage that her stomach wound had caused. Her cheeks had lost some of that fresh-blood flush, and she was back to looking just this side of too pale to be human. He wondered if it was the relative live-ness of the blood, or the intimacy of taking it straight from a vein that had put the blush on her face last night.
Although, now that he thought about it, it didn't seem like Marie was really imbibing a lot of blood each time and that's why she was losing her colour so quickly. Perhaps she was 'eating' more often because she was taking in less than normal.
Rodney's thoughts were brought back to the table when Ronon grunted: "Not really an anything person."
Rodney attempted to glare at him, but was too busy shoveling eggs into his mouth. When he had a sufficient amount stuffed away he said, pointing with his fork, "What's with the mug?"
"Stopped at the infirmary on the way here," she said. "Which reminds me, Rodney, I need to speak with you about something."
Rodney seemed to wait and when nothing was forthcoming said, "Well?" a bit of egg falling from his mouth. He stuck out his tongue to try to catch it and failed. Oh, well. It wasn't as if the rest of his team wasn't used to his little mealtime messes, and he certainly wasn't trying to impress Marie, of all people.
Marie shook her head and sighed, a flutter of something – frustration? – skittering through her expression. Sometimes, Rodney wished he was a better people person. All Marie said was: "Later, Rodney."
Rodney shrugged and started in at his toast. There was a moment of silence, punctuated by chewing and sipping from various mugs around the table, and it was just starting to verge on uncomfortable. Normally, this would be where Sheppard would say something he thought was witty or tell some ridiculous story about some hilarious thing that probably hadn't actually happened to him in his youth. But Sheppard was staying silent, jaw working under his skin so hard that Rodney nearly heard his molars shrieking in protest.
Luckily, Teyla was well versed in the art of diplomacy.
"Marie has been telling us of her adventures," said Teyla, trying to distract from the disaster that was Rodney's manners. She looked hopefully at Sheppard, whose frown increased incrementally, between his eyebrows. She bounced her gaze to Ronon.
"Yeah," added Ronon. "I'm impressed." He smiled at Marie and Marie returned it.
Rodney stopped eating, a piece of toast in his mouth and said, "What? What does that mean?" Little crumbs skittered across his tray.
"It doesn't have to mean anything, Rodney," said Sheppard. "Paranoid Freak," he added, somewhat fondly. It irritated Rodney, but Sheppard's shoulders fell half a centimeter, so Rodney decided it was best to take one for the team at this point.
Still, he had a reputation to maintain. "What, have you guys been talking about without me?" he blustered with false irritation, and put down his toast. "You know, I'm supposed to be keeping track of all the important stuff about Marie."
"It's not like that," Marie said with a wave of a surprisingly small hand. "Not military or anything, just… you know… folks."
Sheppard sighed. He shifted uncomfortably, and then admitted: "Marie was telling us about some of the people she's met. Some of it's kind of cool. Apparently, one of them was the god of war. That's why Ronon was impressed."
"Oh," said Rodney, looking a bit embarrassed. Then it evaporated. "You met a god? Really? I mean, they exist, in stories I guess, and in myths. Can you go into myths? Was he a mythical god?"
Marie nodded. "Of a sort. That's probably the best way to describe him. He was… Ares, actually." She sighed. "I hope to see him again, someday, if I ever get this confusion of a life of mine sorted out." She stared idly down at the table.
If Rodney didn't know any better, he'd say that she was getting all maudlin. He was torn between wanting to reach out and do something, you know, comforting – girls liked pats on the arm, right? – and just continuing with his breakfast and ignoring her emotional reaction.
In the best of situations, he was uncomfortable with weepy females, but this was Marie Freaking Brooke, and she was supposed to be all witty and badass and cool. Witty, badass cool chicks did not, in Rodney's personal experience, start sniffling at the breakfast table.
Marie seemed to catch herself. She swiped irritably at her eyes, and then checked the backs of her hands to make sure they came away dry – they did, except for a tiny smear of blood along one knuckle that didn't seem to alarm her, so Rodney put no further thought into it. Sheppard looked like he was about to puke, going instantly greenish in hue. He looked away and took a few deliberate breaths and Rodney was torn between teasing him for being squeamish and asking if he wanted someone to radio for Carson. Sheppard looked genuinely ill.
What, a little splotch of blood that…
That must have come from Marie's eye. Which meant that either she was suddenly ill, or… or that Marie cried blood.
Rodney felt the blood drain from his own face, his heartbeat jackhammer up into his throat, and his appetite suddenly flee. Jesus – is this what Marie had meant about sometimes people not being able to handle the Other when faced with it?
Teyla and Ronon didn't look the least bit perturbed, but that could be because they either didn't notice the blood tear or, more likely, they were so used to the Earthlings doing weird shit that they just took this in stride as well.
Rodney looked down at his coffee, no longer appealing, and forced himself to pick up the mug and take a big gulp.
Well, so Marie was dead and leaked blood and couldn't possibly exist, but was; so what? He'd dealt with learning about actual stable wormholes and gotten used to the idea of Roswell Grays actually existing enough to argue with them about theoretical mathematics. He can just damn well learn to deal with a walking corpse, too.
And Sheppard would get there. Eventually.
After a few seconds, Marie set her mug down on the table with a metallic thock and said,
"All of which reminds me, I need a map of… of Atlantis, and one of Pegaus, and one of the Milkyway, too. For a… a location spell."
Nobody said anything to that, either, unsure if it would be impolite to ask Who for?
When the silence started to get uncomfortable, Teyla said, placing a hand on Marie's arm, "I am sure that you will… find what you seek. And then return to Ares."
Marie nodded. "I hope so."
Rodney was paying attention to the interaction between the two women, but didn't get it. "I don't understand," he said bluntly.
Marie looked up at him and said, "He was my lover, Rodney. And I miss him."
Rodney really hadn't expected that. He started to say something about how Marie seemed of have a lot of lovers, something about a sailor in every port, something about Parrish and hickeys, but then he coughed on the toast that had caught in his throat, and Ronon gave him a hard slap on the back. "Well, then, ah--" Rodney had never been good with stuff like this. Stuff that involved people.
"I should get some work done before the briefing." He stood up with his tray. "Come by later, if you want," he said to Marie, and then abruptly left the mess hall.
This whole 'talking about feelings' thing was so, so not his thing.