Korianka should not have made such a bold request. It had been impulsive—not thought out well at all—and Korianka was anything but impulsive. She considered herself a calculator and a strategic planner as Aram had taught her, but the last couple of weeks had shown her otherwise. It seemed she lacked the ability to adapt to this new area. It was cold, cramped, and technologically savvy—things she was hardly accustomed to. Even the clothes she had been given were strange. Dr. Weir had graciously explained the dress code on Atlantis, and even though she could virtually wear anything she wanted, she didn't have much to choose from.

It was her own lack of faith in herself that she desperately tried to hide from everyone, especially Major Lorne. He was quite intelligent and charming, with a quick wit and a good head on his shoulders. Korianka found herself paying more attention to him than to the information he recited on the tour.

"Even though there are restricted areas that I can't show you just yet, there's still plenty to see," he said pleasantly. He turned to her as they walked down a corridor toward one of the transportation chambers. He opened his mouth as if to add something, but thought better of it and clamped his mouth closed.

Korianka fidgeted with a stray thread on the sleeve of her black jumpsuit.

"Though, Mrs. McKay, I'm not sure why you requested for me to show you around. I'm just—"

Korianka visibly stiffened. "What did you call me?" she asked with a frown. It seemed to contort her whole face out of shape. She felt like the skin on her face might tear from the strain. It was the hair—she had pulled it back so tight into a roll that it hurt.

Major Lorne looked quite confused at her sour reaction. "I apologize, ma'am. It's just that it's customary on Earth for a woman to take her husband's last name—his family name, I mean."

Korianka considered this for a moment. She loosened the muscles of her face to relieve some of the tension, but that did nothing to appease her sour demeanor. It seemed everything about McKay—even his name—made her want to break something. "I do not wish to bear his name," she said resolutely.

Lorne seemed a bit put off, but only shrugged. "I don't understand why anyone would want to either."

There was silence between for a few moments. The transporter seemed to be taking longer than usual. Korianka scratched her gash again. It had begun to redden and swell. Lorne noticed her movement and grimaced at the sight of the gash. "You should probably get that checked out."

"It's quite all right, Major," she replied, trying to sound cheerful. In truth, the gash burned and itched like someone had rubbed salt in it.

"No, really, it's not a problem," he insisted. "I was gonna show you the infirmary next anyway."

"Very well," she sighed, quickly forming a viable cover story about how she had gotten the gash. She couldn't very well tell them the truth, now could she? On the other hand, why couldn't she tell them the truth? Would it be so difficult?

Yes, actually.

Never mind.

Dr. Beckett greeted them with a smile. "Major. Princess." He nodded at each of them in turn.

Korianka smiled at his sense of propriety, but shook her head. "There's no need for such formalities, Dr. Beckett. Just call me Korianka." I am no longer a princess, so there is no need.

"All right, then," he said in his thick accent. Korianka had been told Dr. Beckett was from a place called Scotland, but that meant nothing to her. "What can I do for you?"

"Honestly, Doctor, I'm all right, but Major Lorne insisted that I come see you about the scratch on my face."

"Well, let's have a look-see." Dr. Beckett had her sit down in a cushioned rolling desk chair while Major Lorne unceremoniously plopped onto one of the beds, letting his feet dangle a few inches from the ground. He leaned on the mattress with his hands and watched quietly. Dr. Beckett made a face similar to a frown. "It's gotten worse since I last looked at it, lass," he said after a minute of examination. "It's gotten infected. Have you been scratchin' it?"

"What?"

"Have you been pickin' at it or touching it often?"

"Yes, but--"

"Well, you need to stop." Dr. Beckett slathered some transparent cream on the gash and taped some gauze to it. He also handed her a small bottle of ointment. "Pour this on it a couple times a day, and let me know if it gets worse."

"Thank you, Dr. Beckett." Korianka quickly got up from the chair, hoping against hope that he wouldn't ask her. Just as she and Major Lorne made for the door, Dr. Beckett called to her.

"If you don't mind my asking, how'd ya get that gash in the first place?"

Damn.

Korianka turned to him. "One of the many hurts of combat training." She turned to leave again, but Dr. Beckett was very persistent.

"And why would a princess such as yourself have need of combat training?"

Her plastered smile was beginning to falter. "For the sake of the people, as well as for my own protection. It is tradition within the royal family. Now if you will excuse me, Dr. Beckett, I have a tour to finish." She turned on her heel and left, Major Lorne not far behind.

An hour later…

"This is the gym," he said, gesturing grandly about the spacious room in front of them. It was currently unoccupied. Various forms of training equipment—mats, staves, weighted objects—had been stacked and arranged in the an open storage closet close by. Light streamed into the room through a large window on the far right. Outside was a remarkable view of one side of Atlantis, the cool metal buildings towering overhead. "You can come here virtually whenever you want," Lorne continued. "Unless it's been reserved. You said earlier that you like to train?" he asked with a smirk.

Korianka had not been expecting a personal question. She blinked twice in slight surprise. "Yes. I've been training since I was a child." Though it did not benefit me much, she thought glumly. Her pride still hurt from the Guardian's defeat in the arena.

"Me too," Lorne replied. "I was into karate when I was a kid. Jackie Chan was my hero." He let out a small chuckle, but Korianka failed to see the humor. She quirked an eyebrow and shifted her weight to her other leg. "Oh, sorry," Lorne quickly apologized upon seeing her movement. "You probably have no idea who Jackie Chan is. That's okay. Let's get going."

"Could you show me a little of this 'karate'?" Korianka asked, a bit more flirtatiously than she had intended.

He seemed shocked at her question. He lifted his eyebrows and moved his mouth, trying to form words, but nothing would come out. Finally, he shrugged and replied, "Yeah, sure." He slipped off the black jacket of his jumpsuit and laid it on the ground. Korianka followed suit.

Lorne positioned himself on one of the mats and began a slow and decisive kata. Korianka stood next to him and mimicked his motions. He explained each motion carefully so she had an idea of what was coming next. They were not much different than her own training techniques. She picked them up easily, and soon they were moving into slow-motion sparring. Lorne had ceased his explanations of the moves and simply concentrated on trying to out-smart her.

They picked up speed in the spar and increased the force of their blows. Korianka started to get creative with her moves, but Major Lorne finally managed to get the upper hand. She had his arms locked with hers in a complicated block, so he did a backward sweep of her legs, sending them both to the floor.

Major Lorne looked into her eyes, and Korianka stared into his. Her breathing was heavy from the exertion of sparring. She could feel a light sheen of sweat forming on her forehead. Splotches of red and pink formed on her cheeks—and they weren't from physical activity.

The silence between them was becoming uncomfortably heavy.

"I let you win, you know," she whispered.

With the silence finally broken, Lorne realized his precarious position. He quickly scrambled to his feet, muttering his apologies and hastily putting on his jacket. He quickly regained his composure, pretending like the incident never happened. "Well, that's it," he said pleasantly. "I'll show you to your quarters if you'd like."

Korianka brushed a few stray hairs out of her sweaty face and draped her jacket over her arm. "That would be fine. Thank you for your time, Major Lorne." She smiled—a genuine smile this time. It was a nice feeling compared to the frowns she usually wore.

XxxXxX

"It's a completely valid option!" Rodney retorted, quite defensive. "Technically, we're not even married by Earth's standards."

"But you're married all the same," Dr. Heightmeyer replied calmly. "And opting out at the first sign of trouble does not look good on your record for future relationships."

"At least I'll be able to have future relationships!"

"Korianka, you look like you have something to say."

Rodney crossed his arms over his chest and leaned back into the chair. He couldn't believe Dr. Heightmeyer was taking her side!

Korianka sat erect in her chair, her hands gripping the arms. Her face looked quite tight, probably because of the French roll in her hair. For a split second, Rodney liked her statuesque appearance, but he preferred that green dance costume. "Makkedahn law does not allow the annulment of a marriage unless one partner has died or been unfaithful," Korianka replied.

"You see, Rodney?" the red-headed psychologist said. Her voice was calm and collected, and full of compassion. "Annulment is not an option."

"But I am no longer subject to Makkedahn law," Korianka interjected. Dr. Heightmeyer's face fell. "If Dr. McKay wishes to dissolve our marriage, I will not complain."

Something inside of Rodney broke. It could have been his heart, or at least his ego, but he didn't care. Korianka still refused to call him by his first name, and she was all for an annulment. He was too, but why did it hurt to hear her say it? He was so full of conflicting emotions that he no longer knew what he wanted to get from this argument.

"Both of you are missing the point," Dr. Heightmeyer said, her tone becoming a bit more urgent and commanding. She sighed and rubbed her eyes. "You've only been married for a couple of weeks, and you barely know each other. Just like rushing into a marriage, jumping into a divorce would not be good for either of you."

"We didn't exactly have much of a choice!" Rodney squealed. "We didn't rush into anything; we were practically forced at gunpoint!" His already short patience was wearing thin. He couldn't take much more of this waste of time.

"You still owe each other at least an attempt to make this work."

"I owe him nothing." Korianka's voice was quiet, but her tone was sharp and full of bitterness. Rodney was quite taken aback. He uncrossed his arms and turned slightly toward her with an incredulous look on his face. "If anything," she continued. "He is the one indebted to me. Were it not for me, he and his team would not have escaped."

"I would have gotten out eventually," Rodney retorted. "The mechanism wasn't all that complicated. I just needed some time."

"I highly doubt that," Korianka replied. She kept her gaze forward.

"Why?" Rodney asked. His voice had gone up in timbre, and he began to gesture forcefully with his hands as he spoke. "Do you really think I don't know what I'm doing?"

"This is not about you!" She bellowed. She stood angrily and glared at Rodney. It was rather intimidating. "Aram hated me! You were merely a pawn that he used to get rid of me! I did not see through his trap and so was forced to give up my birthright. I lost everything that defined me because I rescued you!" She stormed to a nearby window and used her arms to lean on the adjoining walls for support. Her breathing was heavy and sharp. From his vantage point, Rodney saw a tear roll down her flushed cheek.

Dr. Heightmeyer seemed quite surprised, but quickly regained her compassionate demeanor and called to her. "Korianka, come sit down, please."

Korianka shook her head, pulling a few hairs from her French roll. "I am done with this." Without hesitation, she went to the door, swiped her hand over the opening mechanism, and promptly left. A smothering silence fell upon the room for several seconds.

"Rodney?" Dr. Heightmeyer said quietly. "Rodney, are you all right?"

He turned to her, the corner of his mouth turned down and his eyes sorrowful. "Yeah, just fine," he replied, trying to sound resolute. Needles to say, Rodney was quite put off by her outburst. It was the first time she had ever raised her voice to him—the first time she had stood up to him. It left him very confused.

"Rodney, I know this sounds one-sided," said Dr. Heightmeyer. "But you need to go and make this work. It's very important that you make the best of this for her sake as well as yours. And you can't expect her to try if she doesn't see you taking the initiative."

Rodney nodded numbly. So much for divorce.

XxxXxXx

A/N: Okay, here's what I'm hoping: I'm hoping to stay as close to canon as possible in terms of this pairing. I recently watched Season 3 in preparation for the Season 4 premiere, and remembered that McKay is involved with Katie Brown (I also found out that Dr. Beckett died…I was quite unhappy about that). I'm going to keep that in my consideration, though I haven't decided if I should include it or disregard it. I will, however, make efforts to stay Season 3 compliant as much as possible, as well as Season 4 compliant for the sequel (God-willing). I also hope to have this story and subsequent ones with my OC in it parallel the show. Please review some more; it makes my day so much better. :D