Of
Duty, Atonement, and Redemption—Chapter Four
By
SGC Gategirl
Day Five
Carson Beckett sighed wearily and shoved the curtain back as he walked into the outer room of the Athosian hut. Shelly Laurence was slumped in one of the chairs they'd used as their makeshift waiting room, her head held in her hands, elbows on her knees. He heard Anne Matthews treading heavily behind him, and turned to glance at her, noting that her expression matched the weariness they all felt.
Glancing toward the outside door, Beckett sighed as he caught sight of the blackness. After two days of nearly constant examinations they'd finally finished. He'd lost count of the number of people they'd treated.
And in reality, he still wasn't done.
There were a few that needed check-ups—some in a few days, others in a week. The first group was too large to have them ferried over to Atlantis, but the second might fit in a jumper—if they squeezed. And that meant Carson and his staff would be back here again.
He knew he could send one of the other doctors, but some of the Athosians were still a little skittish around outsiders and since he'd been treating the majority of them since they arrived, they felt more comfortable with him so he always felt like he should be the one to treat them.
A shuffle of feet against dirt drew Beckett's attention to the door, finding Major Lorne standing at the threshold, a questioning expression on his face. "Everything okay?"
Carson nodded, his heavy eyelids threatening to descend and not open for a few days. "Aye. We have to pack up…"
"Can't you leave some of it here? We're going to be back in a few days."
"I canna very well leave valuable medicines and equipment just lying around—"
Lorne raised his hands as if to ward off Beckett's words, his eyes wide. "It was just a thought. I know how tired you are and it would have saved us some trips back and forth to the jumper." He sighed, stepping into the room. "What do you want me to take first?"
Carson looked at the Major carefully for several beats before nodding his head slowly. "We can leave a few things, I imagine." Examining the room as he completed a three-hundred-sixty degree turn, pointed out various items that could stay and what needed to go back to Atlantis. Shelly and Anne began packing the items, while Lorne hovered, taking the closed and packed cases as the nurses filled them.
Beckett moved into the room he'd been using for examinations and quickly organized the extra medical supplies. Most of this could stay here, he thought, as he designated one of the cases for the items that would be remaining behind. Most of the medications were still in the case that had been set aside, which he quickly sealed and brought to the curtain that had been shoved roughly to the side. Lorne was there a moment later, moving the hard-sided container to the door where the pile was steadily growing.
Carson continued packing the examination room, Anne finally moving to help once Shelly had the outer room more or less under control. Both Lorne and Laurence had begun moving the supplies back to the jumper, leaving the two of them alone. Matthews was new to Atlantis, joining the expedition only a few months ago. She'd worked at the SGC with Doctor Janet Fraiser, dealing with the insanity that was the norm twenty-eight levels under NORAD.
He'd never known her, but Anne spoke highly of the work Doctor Fraiser had done, of her dedication and her compassion.
He hoped they'd be able to say the same of him when he finally passed on. That would be enough for him, he thought. It would mean that he made a difference in someone's life, that the things he did mattered.
"Doctor Beckett?"
He turned, offering Anne a tired smile. "Aye, lassie?"
"Are you okay? You've been standing there for a few minutes…"
He chuckled humorlessly, letting the packages in his hands fall into the case. "Aye. Everything is just catching up with me, I guess."
"If you want to head to the jumper, I'll finish up in here. You look like you're about ready to drop at any minute."
"Nae," he replied, shaking his head. "I'll be fine. We don't have much more to finish and it'll go quicker with the two of us."
"Only if you stay awake," Anne replied, making Carson glance at her, catching the teasing glint in her eyes and the smile on her lips.
Rolling his eyes, he chuckled and moved off to finish collecting the items from the side table. Retreating footfalls signaled Anne's progress to the other side of the room and the rustle of paper and plastic her continued efforts at packing.
By 2300, after Halling and Jinto saw them off, pressing gifts of Athosian tea and fruit into their hands, they were in the air headed for Atlantis. Carson scrubbed a hand over his face as Lorne piloted the ship through the night skies. Both Anne and Shelly were in the rear of the jumper, stretched out on the benches getting in a quick "power nap" so they'd have the energy to unload the jumper. Although, the sergeant in the control room had promised that there would be someone to meet them so they could retire for the night.
"So what do you think about all of this?" Lorne asked, the question startling Carson from his rambling thoughts.
He shrugged and glanced at the other man. "They're a pretty healthy lot, the Athosians, given the kind of life they've led. I'm nae happy about whatever virus or cold that they've caught. I'm hoping the blood samples will give me a little more insight into that bugger."
Lorne didn't reply for a moment, his eyes remaining fixed to the vista outside the jumper. But for some reason, it seemed as if Beckett had answered the wrong question. But what else could he be referring to? The Athosians had been welcoming, even more so than on previous occasions. It was nice to see these people truly beginning to open up. They had such a large capacity for compassion and there was something so refreshing when it was directed toward you. Even through everything, they remained hopeful and strong, determined to live despite the horrors life held for them.
"Doctor," Lorne began quietly, his tone making Carson really stop and listen. "If I'm stepping out of bounds, please tell me know. I guess since you're civilian I thought you might see things differently than I do…" His voice trailed off and Carson saw his Adam's apple bob as he swallowed. Lorne glanced quickly to the side, catching Carson's eye briefly before focusing once again out the windshield off the jumper.
"Laddie, I'm not gonna jump down your throat for asking a question," Carson prompted, shifting in the co-pilot's seat a little. He tried to smile but he knew it probably appeared more worried than concerned and open.
"It's about Doctor McKay."
"Aye?" he replied, the muscles in his back immediately tightening. He'd been trying not to think about that particular subject ever since they'd been ordered to the mainland, but in the back of his mind he was hoping that things were quiet and that nothing else had gotten out of hand. Teyla had expressed her desire to do something to help McKay and had approached Carson privately, late one night. Conscious of Elizabeth's demand for his compliance and non-interference in Rodney's sentence, he hadn't felt comfortable speaking his mind, but he had hoped that his subtle advice had been enough to persuade Teyla to take matters into her own hands.
He hadn't had the opportunity to speak with her again before he'd been ordered to attend to the Athosians.
Carson glanced to the back of the jumper, the low lights giving him just enough illumination to see the slumbering figures of his nurses.
He lowered his voice just in case. "What did you want to know?"
"I've been in a lot of strange situations since I've joined the SGC," Lorne began, the words coming slowly, carefully, pitched just loud enough to reach Carson's ears. "But even before this posting, I'd worked with a lot of scientists and non-military personnel. Now, I know this is an entirely different situation—a very unique situation—and I'm sure Doctor Weir, as a civilian leader, must sometimes feel that she has to act like a governor or make military decisions, but what exactly…how is Doctor McKay's current situation in any way related to what's going on? I don't know the whole story and I know he can be a royal pain in the ass, but what changed?"
Lorne finally looked at him, his normally unreadable face a conflicting tapestry of confusion, concern, and uncertainty.
When Carson didn't answer immediately, it seemed as if Lorne began to panic a little, turning back to the scenery outside and leaving Beckett with only his profile to look at. The doctor could see the instant physical response as the Major's jaw quickly tensed, his hands gripping the controls a little tighter than before. "I'm sorry," Lorne muttered. "I know I shouldn't have asked. Forget I said anything."
Carson sighed lightly, his eyes drifting to the ocean they were flying over. "Don't worry," he began, trying to keep his tone light. "I have nae a problem with you asking. The answer, however, is more difficult than you may think." The silence stretched out between them for a moment and Beckett could hear the subtle shifting of the man in the pilot's seat. He was still tense, the movements sharp, but Lorne was patient.
"As the head of the science department, Elizabeth…feels that Rodney should provide the highest example of professionalism to his staff," Carson began, trying to keep his own feelings on the matter to himself.
"But you don't agree."
"It's not that I don't agree, Major. It wasn't my decision to make."
"Then you agree. It's either one or the other."
Carson sighed heavily, rubbing a hand across his face as he turned to the right, trying to hide his expression from the Major. The problem was he didn't agree with Elizabeth, but he had no choice but to agree—at least in public. He didn't like being deceitful and he did trust Lorne, but something made him hold back.
Maybe he didn't want to make things worse for Rodney. Maybe he wanted to present a united front for the entire expedition team—they needed it out here. Maybe he was tired of fighting with everything and everyone. Maybe there was a part of him that agreed that Rodney had been out of line. Maybe it felt good to see the smug scientist finally understanding what it was like to fail and maybe he hated himself for thinking that about someone he considered a friend.
Why was nothing ever simple?
"I think Elizabeth had her reasons for doing what she did, as did Major Sheppard for supporting her decision with security officers."
Lorne sighed heavily, making Carson turn back. He was shaking his head, and Beckett swore there was a frown in his face. "I didn't expect you to toe the line, Doc. I didn't peg you for one of the followers."
"It's not like I had much of a choice in the matter," Carson said, suddenly defensive.
"We all have choices."
"Aye, we may, but not every one is for the best."
"And you obviously think Doctor Weir's decision was the right one, so we shouldn't question it. End of discussion."
"I'm not sure what you're fishing for, Major, but I expected you—as one of the military contingent—to understand the whole 'chain of command' or has Colonel Sheppard been rubbing off on you too?"
"I have no issues with following orders," Lorne said, finally turning to Beckett, letting his angry eyes meet Carson's. "I know you're not blind, Doctor. You probably know more of what's going on than anyone else on base. You can see what's happening. You've heard the rumors, the whispered innuendos, maybe even the threats. I'm not sure what's harder for me to understand—your support for something that was unnecessarily harsh or your turning a blind eye to what's happening."
"What makes you think I'm either? I'm senior staff, Major. I just canna do whatever I please."
"But that's just it. If you see the things that are going on, to someone who is your friend—how can you just stand on the sidelines? I've been outside his quarters for days now and do you know how many people have stopped by to see him, to check on him? No one. I'm not even talking about trying to bypass Doctor Weir's orders. I'm talking about basic concern for another human, a friend. Or do you think this is justified? The last time I checked we were allowed to make mistakes."
"And he blew up a solar system. That's a pretty big one if you ask me."
"Yes, he did. There's no denying it. But who here hasn't made a mistake? Who here can say that their decisions haven't resulted in tragedy in one form or another? Colonel Sheppard woke the Wraith. Should we blame him because we're caught in a war we might not win?"
"No, of course not…" Carson began, guilt slipping into him, but he trailed off, not sure what else to say. Lorne had a point, a very valid one, which is why he felt so guilty. There was some part of him that knew Rodney had just made a mistake. He wasn't always right; he was just as human as the rest of them.
Lorne sighed, the anger leaving his body in one fell swoop. "I'm sorry. I know I've only been here a short time compared to some…but what I'm getting at is that there might be more to this whole situation than meets the eye. Things just don't add up. Weir's reaction, Sheppard's, others. Maybe everyone's scared, maybe that's the real problem and McKay's mistake just emphasizes that he doesn't have all the answers, that he might not be the hero we thought he was, or hoped for him to be. I just don't see how this can be good for him or Atlantis."
Something shifted in the pit of Carson's stomach and it wasn't dinner related. "What do you mean?"
"He's not eating regularly, Doc. He doesn't sleep very well, if at all. What if this makes him more cautious—which seems to be exactly what Weir and Sheppard want. What if we need one of his crazy ideas, but because we've decided we want a less egotistical and more mainstream scientist leading the department, we're out of luck? I'm convinced we're all here for a reason—whether we want to believe it or not. We can't afford to be cautious with the Wraith as aggressive as they've become."
Beckett let the silence fall over them as the city grew larger through the windshield. They'd be home soon. Glancing toward the rear compartment, he was happy to see that the nurses were still asleep, their slumber undisturbed even through their heated—if hushed—discussion.
"Major," he began as he turned back to Lorne, his fingers tracing patterns on the forward console, his voice barely a whisper. "I'm…grateful to hear that you've been keeping an eye on Rodney. I shouldn't be telling you this…but…I tried to talk Elizabeth out of her decision, but she wouldn't budge. There's nothing I can do for him because if Elizabeth thinks his sentence was too easy, she'll find a reason to keep him in his quarters and away from everything. This…incident has people questioning Rodney's loyalty to the Atlantis mission, to the base, and the people he promised to protect. Things will change. People will come around. It's just going to take a little time."
"Thanks, Doc," Lorne replied, a half smile on his face. "I know you shouldn't have told me what you did, but I appreciate it. For some reason I seem to have a soft spot for the physicist."
"Aye. I noticed. That might not be a good thing for your health, laddie."
"I just hope that it doesn't take too long for everyone to get back to normal. It's not like we generally have the luxury of time when it comes to the Wraith."
Breakfast with Soony had quickly morphed into lunch and dinner. In between the meals, they would talk, negotiating for every single kernel of grain—at least that's what it felt like.
At some point in the afternoon Teyla had taken some pity on him and suggested they break for a while, perhaps to enjoy a tour of the village. Soony had agreed and Sheppard had to hold back a groan as he rose to his feet, his legs a little wobbly from sitting on the floor for most of the day, his limbs awkwardly folded under him in the "proper position" of negotiation according to Teyla. At one point, he swore she just made that up to make him more uncomfortable. He scowled at Teyla and Ronon as they rose easily, moving to the door before John had gotten his feet under him.
While the tour had gotten them moving and had restored some blood to John's extremities, the mind-numbing aspect of it nearly made him want to spork his eyes out. Might be less painful in the long run.
All this for veggies and grain. He'd have to remind Elizabeth about his great sacrifices once they got back—if they ever got back. If Soony didn't talk them to death first which had a high probability of occurring—at least from where he was currently standing.
The never-ending story of their cultural and developmental history served as the tour's soundtrack, much of which John ended up tuning out. He was sure that if Soony ever visited Atlantis he'd be coveting the weird statue on Elizabeth's desk the moment he set his beady little eyes on it. He seemed the 'peace, love, and happiness' type. Hell, he'd even gift wrap it for him.
Instead, he people watched.
The Mazurkians were different from what he expected on this puke-green-hued planet. Instead of the strange lighting making them look sick, they seemed to be thriving. They didn't have a lot, but they had more than enough to feed their people—and they were willing to share their excess.
The homes were not extravagant—not that any primitive agrarian society had three million dollar mansions—but they weren't the average hut he was used to seeing. There was an understated permanence to the structures, the stone foundations rising up to meet the wood and thatched roofs above. It was as if the Mazurkians were subtly thumbing their noses at the Wraith, their very presence a testament to the villager's unbroken spirit.
Children ran around in small groups, laughing and playing, weaving in and out of the homes and the people. Every now and then one of the parents would lean out a front door and yell at them to behave. Smells drifted from the buildings—some sweet, some pungent, nothing disgusting. The scent of cinnamon—or at least the local equivalent according to his nose—drew his attention to a small structure hidden at the edge of the forest, the sound of music—singing actually—drifting out from one of the windows.
The normality was oddly comforting.
It was the same wherever they went. There was a woman hanging out laundry around one corner, a man bleeding some kind of game animal around the next. A group of children running after a ball tore by then while two angry voices flew out of the open window of a building tucked down a short dead-end street. The bustling market square was a symphony of sounds, sights, and smells.
The people looked happy.
As Soony droned on about the Mazurkians' history as they trudged through the settlement, John considered that simple fact. As a whole, the Mazurkians were happy. They were realistic, John knew. They worried about the next culling, about strangers who might not be trustworthy, about the next harvest and the possibility of droughts or floods. But through it all, they were happy.
Maybe that's why he was so uncomfortable here. He was hard-pressed to remember the last time he was truly content with his life and in his skin.
Even after dinner concluded and they settled down for another night under Mazurkian skies, John found his mind continuing to churn. What did they have that he didn't? What made these simple people so satisfied? Was it family? Community? He had both, in a way—or so he liked to think.
Then, why did he feel so jealous, envious even, of what was here? Wriggling a little, he sank deeper into the mattress, pulling the blankets closer around him, trying to push the disquieting thoughts from his mind.
He had everything just the way he wanted.
Didn't he?
Day Six
Doctor Elizabeth Weir glanced up as she heard the light shuffle of feet near her doorway. With a smile, she gestured for Carson to come in as she put her tablet down, picking up her warm tea mug instead. Taking a sip, she waited until he settled wearily into one of the chairs in her office before speaking.
"I spoke with Major Lorne briefly last night when you got in," she began, the bloodshot eyes and stubble-marked chin giving her pause. "Are you okay? We don't have to do this now."
He nodded, his hand brushing through his hair, making it stand up a little more than usual. "Aye. Been a long two days is all. What did Major Lorne have to say for himself?"
"Nothing much, which is why I thought our conversation could wait until the morning since everything went so smoothly on the mainland. He did mention that you have to go back in a few days. Everything okay with the Athosians?"
"Mostly," he said nodding. "A few of them have a virus of sorts I haven't seen before. It doesn't seem too dangerous, but I wanted to have a look at them to make sure the medicines I gave them are fighting it. It'll also give the lab a chance to look over their blood samples."
"Anything we need to worry about?"
He shrugged. "I don't know. Once we get the test results back I'll be able to give you a better answer."
"Good, good," she replied, nodding her head, her eyes fixed on the steam rising up from the liquid in her mug. She took another sip before setting it down carefully on her desk. "I was going to ask you for a favor, but I'm not sure it's a good idea," she began, her eyes drifting over the exhausted face of her chief medical officer.
"What is it?"
"Colonel Sheppard checked in a few hours ago and he mentioned that they were very close to closing the trade deal with the Mazurkians. He thought that some kind of…offering on our part would be enough to get them to agree."
"Offering?"
From the tone of his voice, she knew he immediately thought the worst. "Nothing along those lines, Carson," she replied, a smile playing on her lips. "John and I thought it would be a nice gesture if we had one of your staff go to the planet and help a few of the villagers who were sick. He said there was just a handful, three or four at the most. I was going to ask you to go, but taking a look at you now—"
She paused as Carson waved his hand, dismissing her thought. "I can go."
"But you're exhausted."
"Aye, but I've slept all I can right now."
"Okay, then it's settled. I'll have Major Lorne accompany you."
"Fine," he replied, rising to his feet. "When did you want us to leave?"
"As soon as you can pull everything together. Colonel Sheppard mentioned there was a clearing not far from the village you could use as a landing pad. It'll save you the three-hour hike through the forest."
"Aye. My feet'll thank you greatly for that. I should be ready within the hour."
"Good. I'll let Major Lorne know and have him meet you in the jumper bay."
Carson nodded once before turning and walking out of her office and into the control room. She just wished all trade negotiations went as well as this one was. They needed all the friends they could find.
Ronon glanced up, watching as the puddlejumper banked easily before it settled into the small field Sheppard had directed them to land in. A few moments later and the rear door slowly eased its way open, thumping to the ground with a solid sound. Carson Beckett emerged, a large case in his hand, with Major Lorne following behind.
Taking a few steps closer, he waited patiently while the two men looked around, finally spotting the Satedan and began moving toward him.
"Morning, Ronon," Beckett said once he got closer, offering a smile. "How are the negotiations going?"
He shrugged. "Slow."
One of the major's eyebrow rose, but he didn't comment. Both men looked tired, exhausted even. He hoped that there wasn't going to be any fighting or Wraith cullings while they were here. Although, come to think of it, maybe the Wraith would avoid them since they already looked dead on their feet.
"Did the Colonel happen to mention where he wanted me to set up?" Beckett asked, drawing Ronon's attention back to the present.
"Yeah," Ronon began as he turned to lead the way, grabbing the cumbersome case from the doctor's hands. "This way."
After a muttered thank you from Beckett, they followed behind him in silence as they weaved their way through a short patch of forest to the village. There was a medical center already here, primitive as it was, but Sheppard and Soony had decided it would be a perfect place for the doctor to conduct his examinations. It was amusing to him that Weir and Sheppard thought it was a good idea to inflict needles on innocent populations.
Although, he was not sure about a lot of things these days. It seemed the Atlanteans were even stranger than he thought. It was as if as soon as he started to know them, or think he knew them, something would happen and they'd react a different way entirely. And they thought he was strange… At least he was consistent.
Shaking his head to clear the thoughts that were lodging in his mind, he gestured to the large building they were approaching. "Sheppard wants to you set up in here. One of the local doctors is interested in learning more about your methods."
"Oh, joy," muttered Lorne, his voice barely loud enough to carry, but Ronan heard it. He flashed the man a quick smile before ducking into the building.
He introduced Beckett and Lorne to the village doctor—Guian—and waited a few moments as they began to talk, the doctor pointing to a room where Beckett would be able to set up his supplies. Ronon handed off the case to Lorne as they moved to the rear of the structure following Guian as he talked at length about some kind of fungus he was having problems treating.
Once he was sure they were in good hands, he ducked back outside, pausing to stretch before he walked back to the large hall where Sheppard and Teyla were still working on the negotiations. For all the hoops they were jumping through, it felt like they were trying to convince them to give up their firstborns instead of just some grain and vegetables.
Slow didn't quite explain how the negotiations were going. If they got any slower, he swore they'd start going backwards in time. If it weren't for Teyla he would have gotten to the point a little quicker, but it wasn't up to him. He was there just to scowl and scare anyone who might want to put a hole in any member of his team.
He could do that.
Radek Zelenka glanced up from his laptop, his eyes searching the room carefully. It was quiet but not silent. The sounds of clicking keys on keyboards, flicking switches, and murmurs reached his ears.
But what had piqued him to look up?
He continued to gaze around the lab, watching the various scientists working diligently on their projects. Two were in the corner going over the results from an experiment they'd run this morning. Nothing had blown up, but it hadn't gone exactly as they'd anticipated. Once the results were studied, torn apart, re-written, and examined again they'd repeat the test—hopefully with a better outcome and no explosions.
He sighed, realizing that he should probably go down to the lab Katie Brown had commandeered. Rodney swore she was creating some kind of man-eating plant down there. Had even taken to referring to one of her experiments as Audrey. What she saw in him, Radek would never know, but she was smitten—which was why she didn't punch him in the mouth when he made stupid ass comments like that. At least he hadn't called her Seymour to her face—yet.
And then there was Kavanaugh. He was not up to the verbal fencing match today, but the man's experiments and tests needed to be watched on a daily basis—if not hourly. He did not have the energy to fix the damage from another of his mistakes. The last one had smelled horrible and had taken nearly two days to get the lab back to rights.
Glancing down at his laptop screen, he sighed. His 'to-do' list kept getting longer. Some of the jumpers needed maintenance crews to look them over and then the Wraith technology they'd recently recovered was still being examined by another team of scientists. He needed a progress report in order to update Doctor Weir—and it was nearly 1800 hours as is. The day had quickly gotten away from him. She'd also requested that he suggest several possible planets for recon missions that might have Ancient technology. That would require him to search through the database and cross-reference the addresses with planets visited and those already on the mission roster. It was not hard, but it took time. And then there was his own research, which kept getting pushed to the back.
And then there was the problem with the transporter on the East Pier that the repair crew couldn't seem to fix and the strange electrical short that kept showing up on the Northwest Pier. There was still a lot of damage from the Wraith attack that had yet to be repaired, but they were getting there slowly. It just took time.
And time was always in short supply.
At one point in time when he was back on Earth, he wished for longer days so he could enjoy life a little more, have just enough time to work and do the things he always put off. When he'd first come to Atlantis with her twenty-seven hour days, he thought he'd died and gone to heaven. But that was before the Wraith came. Before people started dying.
The more time he had, the less time remained. He wished he'd known that before he'd moved to another galaxy.
Sighing, he logged off his laptop, locking it down before moving toward the door. He might as well go and check on Kavanaugh before the lower level of the science section exploded in a flash of metal and energy. He did not feel like dying today and tomorrow wasn't looking good either.
Perhaps he should have stayed on Earth. At least he wouldn't have to worry so much about life-sucking aliens.
But then again, how could he pass up the opportunity to bring Star Trek to life?
Teyla rose, exchanging parting comments with Soony before leading Ronon and Colonel Sheppard from the main hall and toward the building set aside for their use. Doctor Beckett and Major Lorne were to meet them to share a late evening meal. Sheppard's long strides brought him next to her a few moments later.
"That went well." His voice was quiet, reserved.
She nodded, glancing to her companions before turning back to the path under her feet. The dim light made travel through the village difficult due to the exposed tree roots and uneven surfaces. "I am most gratified to see how willing Soony is for this alliance. I believe it will bring much to all of us."
Ronon moved ahead of them. Even in the half-light, she could see the muscles in his back were tense. She'd tried to talk to him before Sheppard woke this morning, insisting these people were good, that they were safe. He'd listened to her, respectfully, even asking a few pointed questions, but he'd shaken his head at the end, refusing to budge. He couldn't change what he was, he'd told her as if that explained everything. And, in a way, it did.
"I just find it hard to believe that grain is worth three days of negotiations," Sheppard commented.
"But is that not what Doctor Weir sent us to obtain? Even with the additional supplies we receive from your home world, we still need to be self-sufficient. What if Colonel Caldwell and the Daedalus cannot return? What would happen at that time?"
"I know, I know." He sighed softly. When he didn't continue she glanced to the side, watching him carefully. He was all darkness and shadows, the profile of his face sharp against the softness of nature surrounding them. Sheppard had changed since they'd first met. The burdens of responsibility weighed heavily on him, even now with Earth only a wormhole away. Instead of making it easier, it seemed only to complicate things further, to increase the worry and the load he already carried.
Before she could say anything to ease his mind, Ronon ushered them into the building they were using as their home while with the Mazurkians. Doctor Beckett and Major Lorne were already inside, hovering near the large table where several dishes were laid out—some covered, others uncovered—each with a half-filled plate in their hands. Both men looked up, guilt crossing their faces before settling into embarrassment.
"Nice of you to wait," Sheppard commented as he stepped up alongside the doctor and peered down at the food littering his plate.
"We've been waiting, Colonel. Just because you decide to take your good ol' time to get here doesn't mean that I have to starve," Carson replied, his tone short. He looked tired, washed out. She was surprised Doctor Weir would have sent both the Major and the Doctor to the planet in their current condition. They had not heard of any problems on Atlantis to warrant his obvious exhaustion.
"Doctor," Teyla said as she reached for a plate, sliding up to Beckett's left side. "Is everything well on Atlantis? You do not look yourself."
"Aye, lassie," he said, turning a small smile toward her as he reached for a piece of bread from the basket in the middle of the table. "Been burning the midnight oil the past few days with the exams on the mainland that had to get done."
Her stomach fluttered. "Exams? Is there something wrong?"
"Nae, nothing. Just the usual check-ups. A few Athosians have a wee bit of a virus. The labs are running some tests, but I don't think there's anything to worry about."
Teyla's forehead creased in confusion. "Were they not scheduled for next week?"
"That's what I thought," he said without elaborating, his body stiffening a little before he turned back to the food spread across the table. Moving steadily, he took several more spoonfuls from the various dishes before turning to the chairs lining the side of the room.
Silence descended upon the room, each person hiding within their own minds. They all retrieved food and settled in to eat, eyes down, intent on the physical aspects of the meal.
"So," Lorne began, his voice hesitant, "how much longer until everything is all hammered out?"
Teyla thanked him with a smile, grateful for the conversation, for the opportunity to escape the silence. "I am confident that negotiations will be complete tomorrow."
"So, what exactly are we going to have to give them and what are we getting?"
"In exchange for food and seeds for our next planning season, we have agreed—in theory—to provide medical assistance, knowledge of other races who can similarly benefit from such trading partnerships, and advice on how to produce higher yielding crops. I believe it may be possible to ask some of the science staff to aid in that endeavor. They have been more than willing in the past."
Lorne nodded, scraping his dish with the piece of bread he was grasping between his fingers, sopping up the remains of the meat and gravy puddling at the bottom. He eyed the table before popping the last bite in his mouth as if he were trying to decide if it was worth it to get more.
"There is plenty of food remaining. Please, help yourself," she said, her smile broadening as he rose a moment later. "Please," she continued, gesturing with her free hand toward the table, "they have prepared the food especially for us and would be insulted if we did not eat to satisfaction. This is the type of food we shall have the opportunity to bring back to Atlantis."
Ronon snorted into his bowl.
"Perhaps you should ask for the recipes too," Beckett said, glancing up from his own half-full dish. "I'm not sure the cooks will know what to do with half this stuff."
"The cooks on Atlantis are good at what they do," Ronon said already on his way across the room. He was just as unselfconscious about his eating habits as Doctor McKay. "They'll figure it out."
Beckett chuckled to himself, shaking his head as he went back to his meal. Teyla finished the last bite on her dish before setting it down on the floor beside her, leaning back against the pillows on the chair she'd claimed as her own when they'd arrived several days earlier. Sheppard was quiet, his eating mechanical.
"You are quiet tonight, Colonel. Is there something on your mind?" she asked, pinning her with a single glance.
With her eyes fixed on Sheppard, Teyla noticed that Beckett stilled at her question, his own eyes turning toward the other man. The low rumbling of Lorne's and Ronon's voices was comforting in its familiarity, helping to ease some of the tension that had formed in the small of her back.
Sheppard's lips thinned and he slowly released the breath he'd been holding before turning to her, an obviously forced smile on his face. "Nothing. Just enjoying the company and the food."
"You lie poorly."
His smile faltered as he turned away from her. His next words were harsh, direct. "I don't trust them."
"They have been nothing but welcoming and open. What have you seen to make you doubt their intentions?"
He shook his head and Teyla thought for a moment he was going to refuse to answer. His words came a few beats later. Confrontational. Demanding. "Don't you think four days is a bit much for grain negotiations? What takes so long? I guarantee they have other plans, that they're just stalling for time." His hand gestured wide as his voice rose in volume. "Have you even taken a look around this village? They haven't seen a culling here in a very long time. Don't you think it's strange? How come they've been spared when the majority of this galaxy has had close encounters with the Wraith? There's something wrong here."
"Just because they haven't been culled doesn't mean they're in league with the Wraith, Colonel," Beckett replied, the sound of his exhaustion and anger reflected in his voice, giving it an edge she wasn't familiar with.
"This doesn't feel right," he said, his eyes fixed on his hands, his fingers gripping the dish tightly. "I feel like they're manipulating us, using us, and I don't—." He stopped abruptly, rising to his feet. "I'm beat. You can stay up for as long as you like."
He moved quickly, his movements sharp. He dropped his plate on the edge of the table with so much force that the utensils bounced and nearly landed on the floor but were saved thanks to Lorne's quick reflexes. A few quick strides and he'd ducked into his room, the door slamming shut behind him.
"Well, that was interesting," Beckett said a few minutes later into the silence that had been left behind.
Teyla rose, stacking her plate with the Colonel's as Lorne and Ronon stood beside the table finishing the last bites from their second helpings. "It has been…difficult for the Colonel. He is accustomed to much different circumstances. He does not trust easily. The inactivity over the past days have made him uneasy."
"Uneasy does not explain that," Beckett said, gesturing toward the closed door with his fork.
She shrugged, her eyes lingering on the wood where he'd pointed. "He has had a difficult time as of late. He deserves our patience and our support."
She felt Lorne stiffen more than saw him, but he was silent. It was the doctor who commented once again, the anger replaced with weariness. "He's not the only one, lassie."
She met his eyes, inclining her head toward him an incremental amount.
Wishes of good nights echoed all around as everyone moved to their respective beds, leaving her standing at the table, her hands still holding the dishes she'd picked up. Sighing, she placed them where they belonged knowing someone would pick them up before morning came. Moving slowly down the hallway, she allowed the quiet of the house to settle on her, praying sleep would come easily tonight.
TBC
