The puddle jumper had crushed a few tree skeletons and possibly some mushrooms when it landed, but at least it had laid itself down flat, more or less, and the less part was covered by the inertial dampeners. The wind and dark clouds had finally gotten together to make a hailstorm. Chunks of ice the size of golf balls rained down on the little craft, pelting it for all they were worth. But this particular jumper had survived worse weather. Just last year, it had made it through the Lantean Storm, a hurricane that had nearly destroyed the city itself. A little hail was nothing by comparison.
Outside, however, the jagged hunks of frozen water did their worst, or tried anyway. The scrawny, bare-branched trees made minimal targets, and were missed by most of the ice. The various fungi, algae and moss really couldn't be bothered and the ice mostly bounced off harmlessly to splash down in the water, where it proceeded to melt.
When the ice hit the puddles and streams, it disturbed something within. Each disturbance rippled outwards to join another and then another, until finally the entire area had acquired a shimmering appearance. The bioluminscent creatures, plants or whatever, they weren't just in the everglades-like swamp to the east. They were everywhere. The team just hadn't been able to see it because the view port had been completely coated in mud that first night.
Lights darted and danced across the water, blue-white and sparkling, making indecipherable but distinct patterns across the water. From their limited vantage point, it looked like the whole world had been covered with lambent brightness, living and breathing little wild fires which harmed nothing and illuminated all in a new and engaging way.
"I hope we can actually come back here and study the flora, and finally settle the debate over what those lights are. This place is actually really beautiful," Janella sighed, "It looks like a fairy tale."
"No," Rissa disagreed, "It looks like Christmas lights."
Janella glanced at her friend and smiled, a bit amused, "The Major really has gotten to you, hasn't he?"
"I don't know what you're talking about," Rissa replied, sipping the hot Lantean tea she'd made over a fire earlier, "And anyway, you're the one who's on a first name basis with him," at Janella's look of surprise, a cheeky grin crossed Rissa's face, "You didn't think I'd heard that, did you?"
In the natural way of things, the two teams had split into their distinct parts, with the civilians clustering around the view-port to look out at the hail and light show while the airmen collected in the back. Major Lorne and Lt. Reed were on the floor, Reed sitting up with his back propped against the closed hatch of the jumper. Coughlin and Wilson had taken the seats to either side. Not one of the four had rested easy since the crash, and the fatigue had clearly finally caught up with them, particularly Coughlin and Wilson, who had done more hiking than the rest, and also put the most physical labor into digging Lorne out of the wreckage. In the momentary quiet, Rissa could hear snoring from the back, though she wasn't sure if it was one, some or all four of them.
"Honestly, I doubt he's interested in either of you," George grunted, inhaling the steam coming out of his own cup of tea, "That boy is too much like Colonel Sheppard. Too much like me too. He's married himself to his work, and specifically to Atlantis. He hasn't got time for childish infatuations, and you'd do very well not to harass him with yours."
Rissa threw George a glare and opened her mouth to retort, but Wes spoke before she could get the words out, "Anyway, I'm pretty sure he can hear you."
A second glance at the back revealed Wes was right. Coughlin and Wilson were asleep, but Reed was awake and alert, seemingly of the mind that it was the duty of at least one member of the Air Force team to keep watch. Major Lorne was also awake, if not looking particularly alert at the moment.
"Wanna go yell at him?" George asked Rissa playfully.
Rissa ignored him, still looking at the team's military leader. Lorne's gear had mostly survived intact, and so concealed the damage he'd taken in the explosion, but the wounds had been visible when Wes had removed the layers in order to treat the injuries, after which he put them back on so the Major wouldn't get too cold. Lorne was on his side thanks to some particularly painful looking bruising on his back and left shoulder, and also to keep him off the arm on that side, which he'd pretty badly scraped up and broken the wrist of as well. The Major might be able to hear them, but he didn't appear to be paying any attention at all, instead listening to Reed, who was speaking in a low voice.
"No," Rissa sighed in answer to George's query, "No, I think he's paid enough already."
Reed was too quiet to hear from the far end of the jumper, but Rissa assumed he was reporting on what Lorne had missed while he was out. It turned out not to be much. They'd dialed Atlantis, but the radio either hadn't gotten through or they had been unable to hear Atlantis' response. Either way, there wasn't much to do but wait, maybe try again in the morning.
"We still don't know how the Major got it in his head that it was a good idea," Wes reminded her.
If there had been any doubt that Lorne had done this to himself, the fact that the pocket in which he'd been carrying the C4 was empty was enough to dispel it. He'd apparently been awake when they found him, and Coughlin had gotten some words out of him. But Major Lorne had been unconscious when they'd brought him into the jumper, and Coughlin hadn't indicated that he'd offered any explanation for why he'd decided to blow up a tunnel while he was still inside it. In fact, Coughlin had reported only that Lorne had said, "Merry Christmas," which suggested he hadn't been lucid at the time.
"But we do know that his actions got the jumper working again," George said, "And saved any future rescue team from having the same sort of landing that we had. Or worse. If a jumper crashed in some of those places we passed on the way to the ruins, it would've sunk straight to the bottom. And who knows what other hazards might be elsewhere? Besides, you were there when we crashed. A lesser pilot would've plowed us straight into those cliffs and we'd've been blown to hell."
"We flew around and found no sign of any other jumper, remember?" Rissa reminded him.
"Exactly," George nodded, taking a firm sip of his tea, "Which means Atlantis could've been sending a rescue party any minute. If he'd waited until we got back on foot, a whole team might've been killed."
"Yes, but he didn't know that," Rissa said, "As far as he knew, another team had already been sent to look for us. That team might've been in trouble, but he had no reason to assume that, not enough to blow himself apart anyway. So he had to have had another reason for what he did."
"So?" George asked, "Why don't you ask him what it was? Be nice about it. Like you said, the boy's taken enough of a beating already."
"He's over thirty," Rissa retorted, mostly just trying to avoid the subject at hand, "You are not enough older than that to get away with calling him 'boy.'"
George cocked his head and was silent for a moment, then he said with a grin that threatened to turn into one of his famous belly laughs if he wasn't careful, "I don't hear him complaining. And, as you said, he's over thirty, so I think he can be offended if he wants to be without your help."
"Fine," Rissa muttered, and reluctantly left the pilot's chair.
Lorne seemed to have expected as much, and eyed her with a certain wariness. Unaccountably, Rissa got the impression he thought she might want to get back at him for yelling at her earlier. And she might have, if she'd had the opportunity at the time.
However given some hours to cool off and think about it, and especially a few moments where she'd thought Major Lorne was actually dead, she'd realized he was right, even if he was a little bit rough and short in his delivery. She had nothing against him on that count, except that he'd brought her abruptly to facing a truth she hadn't wanted to look at.
Reed seemed likewise uneasy, and there was a guarding look in his eyes. What a low opinion he must have of her to think she'd give the Major a hard time now. But that was the sort of person she'd shown herself to be in front of him, so what else was he to think?
Evidently uncomfortable with lying down, Lorne made the effort to push his way up to a sitting position. Reed helped with the endeavor awkwardly, minding his own injuries, until they were both sitting propped against the sealed hatch of the jumper.
As she watched this, Rissa realized quite suddenly that she didn't want to know the finer points of Lorne's reasoning. She already knew the broad strokes. He'd done it for the same reason he'd taken the mission on to begin with. The same reason he'd signed on for the Atlantis Expedition, and the Stargate Program. Even though they had done nothing but give him a hard time for two days, Lorne had done it for the team. Everything was for them, and in turn for Atlantis, out of love. He probably wouldn't like to be called on it though, love was too soft and fuzzy a word for a man of his ilk to put up with.
That thought made her laugh a little as she sat down on the floor beside him. Reed continued to regard her suspiciously, but Lorne's brow merely furrowed in puzzlement, which served to remind her of a fleeting thought she'd had several days earlier.
"You're very cute when you're confused or concentrating, you know. You get a little forehead wrinkle, just here," she rubbed a finger on her own forehead to indicate the spot.
Lorne's eyes narrowed, though she wasn't sure if he was taking offense or merely suspecting that she had some sort of ulterior motive for saying that, trying to lull him into a false sense of security before dropping the hammer. She suspected the former. After all, most military types didn't like being told they were cute. They preferred being tough. While Major Lorne was not overflowing with machismo, she suspected that he still felt he had an image to maintain as a member of the Air Force, and that he wasn't pleased to have that image sullied by a term traditionally applied to women, children and baby animals. She figured he was probably fairly forward thinking, but it was asking a lot for even a very progressively-minded man in uniform to accept that he was cute.
Rissa tried again, striving for the sort of levity that seemed to appeal to Major Lorne more than serious discussion, "You realize you didn't have to fall in that hole. You'd already made your point."
Lorne exhaled sharply and closed his eyes with a slight shake of his head, quietly saying, "I'm sorry about that. I just lost my temper. I should never have-"
"No," Rissa interrupted, "You were right. I've been robbing myself of peace for years, being angry and blaming other people for it. I'll admit, I was all set to argue with you… but then you fell in a hole before I could do that. Normally, I'd say it's rude to duck out of an argument before listening to the rebuttal… but it certainly served to pull me up short and have a moment of clarity," though really the moment of clarity had come later, when she'd thought Lorne was dead. But that was just splitting hairs.
"Well how about if I promise not to fall into any more holes while we're arguing, if you promise to spend a little less time trashing my favorite holiday?" Lorne suggested.
Rissa laughed a little in spite of herself and nodded, "Yeah. I think I can agree to that."
Denied the inclination to rebuke Lorne for recklessness, or for losing his temper with her, Rissa nonetheless felt as though she ought to say… well… something more. It was obvious he had quite moved on from the bitter disappointments of his childhood Christmases, having chosen to think about the better moments, and to let those guide his feelings about the holiday, so she supposed any sympathetic remark about his parents would be casually shrugged off.
At a loss about what to say, she finally ventured, "I suppose you think falling in that hole, finding the device and surviving the explosion was God's handiwork?"
Lorne didn't miss a beat, raising an eyebrow and saying, "I suppose you think it was all just luck?"
"Touche, Major," Rissa conceded.
"You can call me Evan," Lorne allowed softly.
"Okay, Evan," Rissa replied, "My friends call me Rissa."
Still quick on the uptake, Evan asked, "Okay, but what do I call you?"
Rissa stared at him for a moment, reading the amusement in his gaze saying he had not misunderstood her, but was merely pretending to have done so for fun. Entertained despite herself, she covered a smile and gave his shoulder a careful shove.
"Ow," Evan objected, but he was still grinning so it must not have hurt much.
"You know, I thought you were clever and aloof, but you're actually an idiot," Rissa told him with a warm tone of affection that was clearly not lost on him.
Not at all prepared to be serious, Evan replied, "And I always knew you were a better pilot than you were pretending to be."
"You always have to get the last word in, don't you?" Rissa challenged.
"Only when I'm right," Evan said.
Not entirely realizing she was doing exactly what she'd just accused Evan of (but not oblivious enough to be totally unaware of it), Rissa retorted gently, "Which is always, I suppose?"
"Oh no. Hardly ever," Evan informed her brightly, "Watch me hanging around Dr. Weir or Col. Sheppard sometime. Then of course there's Dr. McKay."
Rissa sighed, wrinkling her nose in annoyance, "Nobody can get a word in edgewise with him once he gets on a roll."
"Colonel Sheppard can," Evan disagreed.
"See? There you go again. You just can't help yourself," Rissa accused.
Evan just smiled, and was silent. Yet the glint in his eyes seemed to say he'd still managed to get the last word in somehow, despite saying nothing at all.
"Ugh. You're completely impossible," Rissa announced with mock irritation, and returned to the pilot's seat up front. But she did pause to look back with a smile, though by then Evan had already closed his eyes and seemingly drifted off to sleep again.
"Must be hard work being that upbeat all the time," Wes scoffed without real malice.
Rissa's rejoinder was equally free of genuine hostility, "Shut up, Wes."