Of
Duty, Atonement, and Redemption—Chapter Six
By
SGC Gategirl
For
warnings, comments, summary, etc, please see part one.
A scrape of metal against concrete pulled Rodney McKay's attention from the pseudo eggs and toast on his plate as Major Lorne, clad in his usual grey and black BDUs, slid into the chair across from him at the mess hall table.
He scowled at the man as he shoveled a forkful of food into his mouth. Waving the utensil in the air, he mumbled around his breakfast, "Make yourself at home, why don't you."
"Why thank you, McKay," Lorne said with a tight smile, deftly pulling the military-issue silverware apart and digging into his own plate-full of food. "So, how are things?"
Rodney paused, glancing up from his coffee mug, his eyebrows scrunching together as he tried to process the words that had come out of the other man's mouth. "You know," he began, "that you don't have to follow me around anymore or pretend to enjoy my company."
Lorne glanced around the room quickly, his eyes theatrically wide. "Who said I was doing that?"
"No one," he replied, rolling his eyes and giving his head an absent shake. "Well, actually, I just did."
"And?"
"And, I thought it best to bring that to your attention. You can go and make merry with the rest of the marine core. There's no need for you to take up space at my table." He waved his hands, hoping the "shoo fly" gesture would make the other man move.
It didn't.
Sighing, Rodney turned back to this breakfast, discovering that he wasn't hungry anymore. Just his luck. The one time he was actually in the mess when they had reconstituted eggs, he lost his appetite.
"Look," he said after several minutes of silence apart from the clicking of Lorne's silverware against his plate. Shoving his tray forward a few inches away from the edge, he planted his elbows on the table. "Did you lose a bet? Or…maybe Carson put you up to this. He's been badgering me for days now, wanting to know how I'm doing. That man has a hard time understanding that I'm fine and have no desire—or need—to talk about my feelings."
Lorne shook his head, lifting his coffee mug to his lips and taking a sip. "No, none of that. I just figured you could use some company."
Rodney leaned back in his chair, his arms crossing over his chest. "Company."
"Yes, company." Lorne raised an eyebrow, the corner of his mouth threatening to rise. "You do know what the term means."
"Of course I do."
"Oh, yes. I forgot. You're the genius of Atlantis."
Rodney scowled, his eyes narrowing. "Go ahead. Mock the genius."
Lorne set his mug down carefully, his fingers drifting over the rim. "Look. I'm not here to cause you any trouble or to bother you. I just wanted to see how you were doing. You've been back on the job for a few days and the word on the street is that you're working pretty hard. And from what I'm seeing," he said, his hand gesturing across the table, "it seems to the true."
"So, what, you're my mother now?"
"McKay…" he growled, letting the last syllable drag. "You could drive a man to drink some days, you know that?"
The scientist glanced at the digital readout on his watch. "Well, it's not even 0800. Think it's too early to begin?"
"I generally like to wait until noon, myself."
"It is noon somewhere in the Pegasus galaxy, I'm sure."
A smile grew on Lorne's lips as he raised his coffee mug to the physicist. "See, that's why I like you, McKay. You're smart."
The corner of Rodney's lips twitched, threatening a matching grin. He shook his head. "It always worries me when the military personnel start thinking for themselves." Pushing back from the table, he rose, picking up his unfinished breakfast try. "No rest for the wicked."
He paused before stepping away from the table. "And…thanks."
Lorne looked up, a smile firmly ensconced on his face. "You're welcome, McKay. Same time tomorrow?"
He hesitated for a moment before nodding. "I'd like that."
Rodney McKay looked tired. Glancing up from his computer as the door to the main lab whooshed open, Radek watched as the other scientist wandered in, bee-lining for his computer terminal, barely aware of anything except the coffee mug in his hand and the computer screen before him as it booted up for the day.
It had been the same exact routine the last few days. Rodney would stumble in and work diligently for several hours before acknowledging anyone else worked in the lab with him—and then the yelling ensued.
Some days the ranting actually made sense, other times Radek was convinced Rodney was doing it just for show. Although, only one member of the science staff had been reduced to tears this week—but there were still three more days to go. Plenty of time for Rodney to catch up for lost week.
Eventually, he'd turn back to his computer, muttering under his breath and punching savagely at the keys before announcing that he was going to check on some projects and find lunch. And Radek knew exactly where Rodney had been by the emails he left in his wake. Some of the scientists were getting more…creative than usual, others a tad more violent, but nothing Radek feared they'd have to worry about.
As much as McKay pushed the science department, demanding perfection, Radek knew he required it from himself as well. He'd seen Rodney's calculations from the Arcturus project, watching as he reviewed his notes, observing from afar as he ran simulation after simulation, delving deep into the Ancient database looking for something to help him explain what happened. The failure stuck with him, haunting him. Radek could see it in the lines of his pale and drawn face, in his shadowed eyes.
By the time afternoon rolled around, Rodney could most likely be found in a small lab one level up, a place he'd made his own, somewhere he knew he could work undisturbed. The shelves were lined with Ancient devices—small and large, most still a mystery to everyone—but Rodney continued to work with them, tweaking, touching, and examining every surface, every twist and turn, every nook and cranny. Sometimes Radek would stand near the open door, watching silently as Rodney worked, his concentration complete, his genius barely able to stay within his body, his limbs in constant motion as he absorbed everything before him.
It was in those moments that Radek felt the barest stirrings of jealously.
On other days, Rodney would be as still as an airless summer day, his fingers barely moving over the keys of his computer, completely engrossed in the data scrolling across the screen.
On both occasions, Radek would simply slip away, refusing to disturb the physicist, respecting the boundaries Rodney had set so long ago. In the main lab, Rodney was accessible, willing to interact with the other scientists, but in this little lab…this was his personal space, his retreat. Radek did not want to take that away from him as well.
He hated watching, observing, and reporting. Rodney was a pain in the ass, but a friend in an odd way. And even after everything, Radek still trusted him. The man might be an egotistical maniac, but he was right more often than he was wrong, and a genius to boot.
Shaking his head, Radek turned back to his own terminal and his projects, making a mental note to speak to Rodney before he began ranting today. There were several projects they needed to discuss before one of them blew up in their faces—again.
Rodney absently reached for his coffee mug, his fingers sliding against the ceramic surface a few times before he inched his arm further forward, enabling him to grasp it firmly. With his eyes still fixed on his computer screen, he lifted the mug to his lips, encountering the very cold coffee a few seconds later. Making a face into the liquid, he gulped one mouthful—nearly finishing the beverage—before putting it down abruptly.
In his opinion there was only one thing worse than cold coffee: no coffee.
Glancing around the lab, he spotted several people hunched over their workstations and he could hear the muttered Czech coming from somewhere behind him indicating Zelenka was hard at work—or fighting with Minesweeper again. They desperately needed more scientists—good scientists—not the lazy, troublemakers they kept sending him on the Daedalus. Apparently Atlantis wasn't exactly the easiest place to recruit for. The neighbors seem to put people off.
Shaking his head, his eyes drifted back down to his terminal. He'd managed to plow through most of the reports he'd missed last week, making notes and yelling at a few of the deserving idiots on staff. But there was still so much work to be done. They had so many improvements to make on Atlantis itself, to help save power, to make things better for everyone, but there was always something else to worry about, some other crisis.
The Wraith were the biggest threat hanging over their heads. Although, thanks to the whole 'let's pretend to blow up Atlantis' idea they'd had a few months ago, the Wraith had been quiet as of late, which left time to worry about the more mundane things: like feeding their growing population and maintaining shields and energy without overloading or wasting the finite amount of power they had on hand. It wasn't like the Pegasus Galaxy was giving away free ZedPMs with the purchase of a sack of grain. And from what they'd been hearing, the SGC was having issues all of its own and they didn't have an unlimited supply of naquadah reactors at their disposal.
Then there was always the Ancient database of which they'd only begun to scratch the surface. The interface program was helpful, but translating Ancient into English slowed down the terminals accessing the database. But with only a handful of people fluent in Ancient, it didn't leave them a whole lot of options. And that usually left him mining the data for anything that would help them to streamline their power flow. At least when Radek asked him about his time in the Ancient mainframe, he could say that he was looking for improvements to some of the environmental systems. It wouldn't be a lie…entirely. He was looking. His search was just a tad bit broader.
He knew there would be something in here to help them, help him win back their trust, their respect. He just had to find it.
He didn't understand why the Ancients didn't tag their entries in a more user-friendly way. It would be helpful to have an index entry for "Wraith-killing devices". It would make his job a whole lot easier.
Instead, he found himself plowing through entry after entry, cross-referencing anything that even looked remotely like it was portable and deadly.
There wasn't a whole lot to go on so far, but he did have several possibilities. But, of course, none of them were on Atlantis, and that required him to convince several teams to go on egg hunts for him. It certainly made life interesting.
"Rodney?"
Turning abruptly, Rodney found himself face-to-face with Radek, the other man blinking serenely through the glasses perched precariously on the tip of his nose. "What?"
"You have been staring at the screen for five minutes without moving or blinking," the scientist replied, pushing the glasses back into place with his index finger. "You normally would have begun yelling at the staff by now, so something must be wrong."
"I didn't think I had a timetable."
"Not one that we can set watch to, but it is there nonetheless."
"Did you have a point to interrupting?"
"Doctor Weir has scheduled us for a meeting this afternoon and we have not yet begun to discuss—"
"Yes, yes," Rodney replied, turning away as he waved his hand. "I know all about the meeting. I've been having this meeting once a week, every week since we got here. Nothing new."
"Then, you have suggestions for upcoming off-world missions?"
"Of course. I keep a running log of planets I run across in the database and depending on what we need this week, I offer the ones I think are most appropriate." Rodney grabbed his coffee mug again, scowling into its depths when he remembered the temperature of the liquid.
"You have a list?"
Rodney glanced up, meeting Radek's gaze. "How else do you think I come up with new places to visit every week?"
"I provided Doctor Weir with a list last week, and had to work from scratch."
"Oh," Rodney replied, his eyes widening a little at the other man's tone. "There were several coordinates in my file you could have used."
"Yes. This I have discovered now, but could have used before."
"You didn't ask."
"Would you have informed me of your file if I had?"
The corner of Rodney's mouth twitched. "Maybe. Depends on what you were offering."
Radek turned away, muttering under his breath. He swung back around a few seconds later, a hand raised, his pointer finger shoved in Rodney's direction. "You are an ungrateful bastard."
Rodney shrugged. "What did you expect? I have a reputation to maintain." Sliding off his chair and leaving Radek behind, he meandered to the coffee pot in the corner of the lab, pouring another hot cup, dumping in several heaps of sugar and topping it off with non-dairy creamer. He missed real milk and half-and-half.
Turning around he aimed an eyebrow at Zelenka, taking a sip of his coffee. "So," he said after several moments passed, "what did you want to discuss?"
The Czech's mouth dropped open, his eyes widening. Clad in the white coat Zelenka liked to sport when he was in the lab covering his tan science uniform, and with his hair standing on end in spots, it made him look like a mad scientist. And in this instance, it might actually be the truth. He was…mad, but not in the crazy, insane way that phrase was more commonly known for.
Throwing his hands up in the air, Zelenka shook his head, his hair obeying its own command. "Why do I even try?"
"You feel the desperate need to challenge yourself nearly every moment of the day?" Rodney padded back to his workstation, leaning against the counter, his arms crossed over his chest and he sipped from his mug. "I could suggest other, more productive ways to spend your time—like, oh I don't know. How about trying to figure out a way to conserve power in the less-used sections of Atlantis? Hmm?"
"If you paid attention to what we were doing before you drank six cups of coffee, you would have noticed that I sent you several suggestions earlier this morning."
Rodney poked at the keys of his computer, calling up his email client. Skimming the window as it popped up, he noted several unread emails. "I'm not a morning person, Radek. You of all people should know that."
"You are not much of a person, but we have become accustomed to you. Do you wish to get lunch and go over the report we are to give Doctor Weir in an hour?"
"Sure, sure," Rodney said, waving absently with his left hand as he carefully placed his mug on the counter with his right, already forming answers to most of the emails he saw in his inbox. Radek huffed and Rodney heard him shuffle away.
"Five minutes."
"Of course, Rodney."
Immersed in his replies, his mind quickly pushed his upcoming meeting to the background. Lunch could wait a few minutes.
Elizabeth Weir glanced at the two scientists—one clad in charcoal, the other in sand—sitting across from her in the conference room. It was the first time since Rodney McKay had returned to work that they'd had any real contact. Passing in the mess hall or in the corridors didn't count for much when it came to interaction.
And, from at least the way this meeting was concluding, the restrictions they'd placed on him last week must have had some kind of effect. While he was still argumentative and held strong opinions about the information he presented, his tone was less biting and he was more open to discussion than he was a few weeks ago.
Something had sunk into his thick skull—unless he was simply on his best behavior, but that wasn't Rodney. Like it or not, the man certainly took the phrase 'what you see is what you get' to all new levels. For all intents and purposes, McKay was an open book—at least to those who worked with him in any capacity and for longer than a few hours.
John Sheppard shifted in the seat next to hers and she glanced in his direction, noting the tension in his frame which had yet to fade from his body. "You have something to add, John?"
He shook his head, his fingers tapping against the tablet PC on the table in front of him. "No, these all look like good possibilities." He looked up, offering McKay and Zelenka a quick nod of his head. "And the suggestions for team assignments are solid. I'll start setting up these missions for the upcoming week."
"Is there anything else to go over?" Weir asked when silence fell upon the group. She caught John's eye and he shook his head. Turning to the scientists, she was about to dismiss them when Rodney leaned forward, elbows on the table.
"Actually," he began, his hands clenching and unclenching into fists, the fingers in constant motion. "We should discuss who will be replacing me on Colonel Sheppard's team."
Weir raised an eyebrow, tilting her head a little to the side. "I had left that decision up to the Colonel."
"I know you did, but there is an important reason to having a member of the science department on every team and I don't think that Colonel's Sheppard's team should be the exception to the rule while I'm grounded."
"It's only for a few weeks, McKay," John said, leaning forward himself, his shoulders stiffening further. "It'll take that long to break in a new scientist."
"So? It'll be good practice. And the stuff you're searching for won't exactly be out in the open. You're going to need someone with more than a 'shoot first, ask questions later' mentality so you don't end up blowing yourself up."
John moved again, his face darkening. "Funny you should mention that, McKay…" He drew out the last syllable, before his expression hardened further. "How sure are you that it won't be the scientists doing the blowing up?"
Elizabeth opened her mouth to respond, but Radek spoke up, his voice cutting through the room, instantly diffusing the tension.
"I, for one, have no intention on blowing up anything, Colonel Sheppard. I can perhaps find another scientist who would be more to your liking? Kavanaugh perhaps?"
"You're going to join my team?"
Weir swore that John was holding back a laugh, but when she looked at him his expression was dark and serious.
"Yes. Rodney and I spoke at lunch and decided it would be best if I have more field experience. I have no intention to going with any other team."
"And you were going to bring this up—"
"Right now, actually," Rodney said, his jaw set, his face closed. "It's not like there were opportunities before and all the pertinent people are here." He waved his hand, the gesture encompassing everyone in the room. His voice when he continued was hard. "Do you have a problem with having a scientist on your team?"
"No," John said, the word harsh. He was about to continue when Weir spoke up, cutting off any other comments he might have. The tension and anger in the room was thick enough as is.
"I think this is a good idea. Doctor Zelenka needs additional time in the field and you've worked with him before." Weir raised her hand, forestalling the argument forming on John's lips. "When we arrived on Atlantis we decided that all teams should have at least one member of the science staff if at all possible. You've already had one mission without a fourth member and we need your team to lead by example."
She paused, her eyes tracking between all the people in the room, watching for their reaction. When the room didn't erupt in complaints, she continued. "I believe that will be all gentlemen."
Chairs scraping against the floor echoed throughout and hurried footsteps followed. "Colonel, if you have a minute," she said, making the man pause just inside the conference room doors, inches away from freedom. The scientists were already in the control room and heading down the stairs. They certainly could move fast when motivated.
She waited for him to drift back toward her, settling down on top of the table, one foot planted on the floor, the other dangling at an angle because of how he was seated. He speared her with a hard look before speaking. "You had a question?"
"I thought you weren't going to have any issues working with Doctor McKay."
"I don't have any issues," he replied, crossing his hands over his chest. "I think the information he presented was good. I said as much."
"Oh?" She cocked an eyebrow at him. "Then what was the whole 'I'm not going to have a scientist on my team' thing?"
"His suggestion took me by surprise, that's all."
"He was right to suggest it. As the head of the science department and part of the senior staff, it's part of his job to make sure the teams are properly outfitted with everything they need—from equipment to people."
Sheppard shrugged, letting out a long breath as he turned to study the wall. "Why can't we have three people on a team?"
"Because," she replied rising to her feet, "we decided teams would have four members to balance things out. You argued for it pretty strongly if I remember correctly." She moved past him, pausing before she reached the door. "And next time Doctor McKay suggests something, even if it is…surprising, I expect a much more professional reaction from you. Understood?"
He nodded once, looking toward her with a slight smile. "Fine. I can do professional."
"I certainly hope so," she said, turning back to the control room, her steps taking her out of the door. She threw the last words over her shoulder, her tone light. "I have no intention on trying to teach anything to an old dog."
"Hey," he exclaimed and she chuckled, letting it buoy her as she moved on to the reports she still had to read before the end of the day.
Knocking lightly on the door-jam of Carson Beckett's office, Major Lorne poked his head in. The doctor raised his left hand, gesturing for him to wait a moment as he continued to jot notes down in the chart on his desk. After a flourish of his pen, Carson looked up, flashing him a smile.
"It doesn't look like you are in desperate need of a doctor, so what can I do for you, Major?"
Lorne moved into the room, dropping down into the guest chair. "Just wanted to know if you'd seen McKay yet today."
"No, I've been busy sortin' through test results and getting things ready for tomorrow." He paused, tilting his head a little as he met Lorne's gaze. "I stopped by last night and ended up dragging him from the lab—which is getting to be a common occurrence it seems. Why?"
The major shrugged, glancing around the small office. "Did he seem…different to you?"
"Different? How?"
"I'm not sure. I can't put my finger on it," he replied, crossing his arms over his chest. "I sat with him at breakfast this morning. It was the first time I'd gotten the chance to talk to him since he's been back at work." Lorne paused again. "I guess he seems to be more or less his normal, acidic self."
"And you were expecting something different?"
"He agreed to have breakfast with me tomorrow."
"You know, Major, for as…awkward as Rodney can be in social situations and as much as he complains—quite loudly and about nearly everything—he does need to talk and relate to others. If you ask him, he'd deny it. More often than not, he won't turn you down—unless, of course, he hates you and that he usually saves for some of the more deserving members the expedition."
"Like Kavanaugh."
"Aye, like him." Carson narrowed his eyes, giving Lorne the once over. "There was something else, wasn't there?"
Shifting in his seat, Lorne nodded slowly. "Remember the look he had last week when we got back from the Mazurkian homeworld?"
Beckett nodded, worry sliding onto his face.
"He has it again. Not quite as bad, but it's only a matter of time."
"Aye," Carson said, nodded emphatically. "That dimwitted man can make the world turn on his command, but he canna take care of himself. I'll see to it."
Lorne rose. "Thanks, Doc. That's all I wanted. You set for tomorrow?"
"More or less. Anne's getting everything ready this afternoon. Shouldn't take more than a few hours on the mainland as long as there are no complications, which I'm not expecting."
The major's eyebrow rose. "Did you just jinx us?"
"What?"
"About the complications. Kind of like at home when you're driving on the highway and there's no traffic. You have the urge to say you're making good time and then, bam! You hit wall-to-wall congestion. I think you just jinxed us so you better be ready for an overnighter, just in case."
"I did nae such thing."
"Humor me, Doc, and bring a change of clothes. You'll thank me, and we'll enjoy your company a whole lot more." Lorne moved toward the door.
"Fine, fine. I'll tell Anne to get a bag together for herself too," he replied as Lorne stepped into the main infirmary.
"Remember, it's 0900 in the jumper bay. Don't be late."
"I'll be on time, Major," Carson answered. "It's not like you can leave without me."
"Oh, I can leave, but that means you'd have to fly yourself over. I think it might be safer for everyone involved if that didn't happen."
Beckett grimaced. "Vera funny. See you in the morning."
Lorne waved absently as he turned and headed back into the hallways, aiming for the gym. Time to beat the new recruits into the ground. Some days, he loved his job.
Leaning down to squint at some of the smaller numbers, Rodney hummed to himself, impressed by some of the creativity he saw in Doctor Jay Liebermann's latest progress report—but it was a little too cautious to be of much good to anyone. His fingers began typing furiously, his inserted notes making up a colorful addition to the document.
Check the equations on page two. If you increase the variables by a fraction of a percent you should be able to get far more usable and sustainable energy output. Any more than that and you could end up burning out the system instead. Caution is good, but too much and you just end up wasting time on negligible returns.
Moving down the list, he green-lit Doctor Steven Swartson's project, but added a brief warning to the end. His progress report next week would give the science staff the information they needed to see if this could be incorporated into another ongoing experiment.
You need to carefully watch the consumption of some of the more unstable elements. While they inherently bring tangible benefits for the short term, long-term use may be unsustainable. Make sure your simulations incorporate a longer time variable than the one you are currently using. Atlantis needs long-term solutions, not short-term patchwork.
Attaching the amended document to an email, he typed a brief message and then clicked send. Straightening up in his chair, his back cracking a little from the movement, Rodney grimaced and rubbed the back of his neck, trying to work out some of the knots as he waited for the message to upload to the Atlantis internal email server.
Once the program confirmed the message had been sent, Rodney leaned in, repeating the process with the second report. As the progress bar slowly moved, he rose to his feet, hissing as his aching muscles protested. He still had several more reports to read and comment on before he could move to his own projects.
Picking up his empty mug, he scowled into the bottom of it, glancing back and forth between the coffee maker and his workstation. He could make another pot and continue working, or he could run down to the mess and grab some food before he got back to the emails and reports sitting in his inbox.
A quick glance at his watch made up his mind. If he didn't go now, dinner would be a long-forgotten memory—at least for tonight. And as much as he claimed that he could live on MREs and PowerBars, he wasn't in the mood for either tonight.
Moving quickly, he readied the coffee pot, adding water and grounds and setting the timer. It shouldn't take him more than thirty minutes to eat and then he'd be back and a freshly brewed pot would be waiting. That sounded heavenly.
Locking down his desktop, he strode out into the hallway, heading for the transporter. The halls in this section were mostly quiet, unless of course he was yelling at someone, but then, it was generally well deserved. There were only a handful of people in the corridors and they didn't say anything as he passed by. Instead they watched him, but turned their eyes away when he noticed their gaze.
He was used to the silence, but the shifting eyes were new. By the time he reached the end of the hallway it was far easier to keep his head down. At least then he didn't see them look away, didn't see their pity, their accusations.
"Doctor McKay."
He picked up his head, turning to look at who was calling his name. The Athosian smiled at him as she approached.
"Teyla," he said surprised. "You wanted something?"
"I am grateful to have caught you."
"I didn't miss our practice time, did I? I thought that was scheduled for tomorrow. I can't do two days in a row of you wiping the floor with my ass. It's bad for my ego and my back doesn't appreciate it." He straightened, pressing his hand to the small of his back, illustrating his words with a grimace and a hiss.
"No," she replied, the smile reaching her eyes. "However, I did observe that you were not present in the mess at your usual time. I did not wish for you to miss dinner."
"Why?" he asked, stepping into the transporter, Teyla moving with him. With his finger, he pressed a spot for the transporter location nearest the mess hall and a few moments later they emerged, walking slowly toward their destination.
"I believe…meatloaf is one of your more desirous meals and I did not wish for you to miss it."
He stopped, raising an eyebrow at the Athosian as she moved a few more steps before turning around to face him. "You didn't want me to miss dinner? I find that hard to believe."
"Why? You are a member of my team and someone I consider a friend." She moved closer, her hand reaching out, gently resting on his shoulder. He tried not to tense the muscles under her palm, but it was difficult. Old habits and all.
Tilting her head, she looked at him more carefully, her gaze penetrating. "Should I not be concerned about your wellbeing? I am also very well aware of your tendency to skip meals, much to the detriment of your own health."
Rodney glanced away, his left arm creeping around to its usual position, his left hand held near the small of his back while he held his right hand in front of his body, his fingers constantly in motion.
Teyla's hand tightened briefly before she pulled it away. "Doctor McKay?"
He turned back, offering a small smile. "You said meatloaf?"
She nodded, her expression uncertain.
"What are we waiting for? If I don't get in there soon I'm sure there will be nothing left and I have no intention of eating a PowerBar for dinner when there's perfectly good meatloaf waiting in the mess hall." He moved off, pausing only long enough to look over his shoulder. "Are you coming?"
She gave him in a single nod in reply, a broad smile on her face as she stepped up beside him.
"Now, I have to tell you that this meatloaf is nothing compared to what I used to cook up when I was working in Russia," he said, grabbing a nearby tray.
"Russia?"
He flashed her a surprised look as the airman on KP duty dropped a large piece of meatloaf on his plate, the gravy splattering onto the tray. "I haven't told you about my experiences in Russia?"
"I do not believe you have," she replied, retrieving her own plate of food before they moved down the line to the coffee pots. Quickly grabbing a mug along with some cream and sugar, he grabbed a table, settling down quickly, his fork already digging into his dinner before Teyla had found her own seat across from him.
"I wasn't in Russia long, but it was one place I'm not likely to forget," he began, talking around the food in his mouth. "You wouldn't believe what I had to put up with when I was there."
Teyla tilted her head, her face open and interested. He smiled once, briefly, his lips twisting into the unfamiliar expression before launching into his explanation, his fork gesturing in the air in-between bites of his dinner. And through it all, Teyla listened, asking questions, and laughing with him—once he explained the appropriate cultural references, of course.
It was nice to have such an attentive audience. And even as he talked, in the back of his mind he tried to remind himself to enjoy it because, knowing his luck, it was something that wouldn't last.
