Two Birds, Two Stones
Chapter 7
Long-Term
The classicist keeps looking at his wife.
Kinda ogling but almost like he's studying her—like he still doesn't believe their story—like maybe this Malcontent chick could be faking being a whole other person.
They're back in the laboratories where they first got dropped off—the side of his face still soft like a tenderized slab of beef—staring at the weird hookah thing they've all seen before and no one is saying anything.
But the hookah isn't what the doctor is staring at.
"So—" stands from where he sits across from Mr. Language Expert, watching the subtle lick of his lips while he watches Aeryn lean in, examining the hookah closer, the way her hair falls, the perfect curve of her—drags his groaning chair across the floor to sit beside Aeryn. Bumps a shoulder against hers and she leans away from the hookah. "This is what you all do all day?"
"Hmm?" The doctor hums, leaning against his hand and finally turning his attention away from Aeryn. "Oh yeah, pretty much."
Before he can pose any thinly veiled threats, the doors slide open and Colonel Carter walks in holding a manila file folder. She grabs the last chair, dragging it to his recently vacant spot. "I need you to tell me everything you know about the long-range communication device."
"Sure, what's a long-range communication device?"
"I'm sorry," the doctor sputters to life like Betty's engine, "but didn't you make a deal with Teal'c that if we helped your wife, you would both help us?"
"Her name is Aeryn." Slams his arm down the table, not jostling the hookah, but everyone in the room except for Aeryn, and maybe a few hidden behind the cameras. "She's in the room, you seem like a nice run-of-the-mill Revenge of the Nerds type guy, so I'll let you in on a secret: she's not your friend—"
"John—" Aeryn's fingers cuff his wrist, and she doesn't understand what's going on here. Or maybe she does and it's just another way she's a better soldier than him. Another way she can keep emotions out of it.
Ignores the doctor's boiling attitude, or the quirked brows Colonel Carter give to them before she distracts herself with shuffling papers. He distracts himself with his wife's, literally, hot body. His hand cups hers as he calms, no longer needing to enter into twelve rounds with a guy who knows what Alexander the Great's undies looked like. "Are still doing okay? Do you want an ice pack or something?"
Doesn't answer, just tugs her hand away, straightens her posture—shoulders back—her PK training still showing.
"Because I made a deal with them—"
"Commander Crichton—"
"So, they have to get you one if you want it."
"Fine. You know what? Don't help us." The good ol' Doc shoves his hands against the table sort of donkey kicking his chair away, growing a bit red in the face. "Just keep messing around, because at the end of the day, you'll still be stuck here."
Well now, that's damn near obvious, but the Doc is trying to pull it off threatening with his cocky Mr. Ed routine. There has to be something going on between him and the woman Aeryn replaced, because he's getting obsessive and defensive—the same way he did before wormholes weapons and midnight feedings.
"Your son will still be somewhere else."
Knows it now because that's taking it too far. There's an intergalactic space rule that threatening someone's kids—if they're not adults—is strictly verboten. Is gonna guess this Earth's exposure to the great vast black is limited and they don't know the etiquette. Is keeping his cool for Aeryn who's giving off heat like a space heater. He tries to pick out the polite way to tell the nerdy military doctor that no one will threaten his kid when Aeryn rises, slowly, purposefully—on the hunt—her chair silent, her arms at her side, and her eyes narrowed to hell. "Do not speak about my son."
While the sort of stare off happens—Aeryn ready to gut this guy with white knuckled balled fists, and the doctor, squinting, looking like he still thinks someone else is in there—Colonel Carter taps the table lightly with her hand. "Okay—" the word has way more than two syllables, but it draws there attention back to her flinch of a grin. "Why don't we get our focus back."
Wants to casually remind that Deke is their son. That it took two of them to make him, and although he may not have actually been there, he kinda was, so it still counts.
Instead he runs a hand through his hair and points to the hookah. "We have one of these long-term—"
"Long-range communication device."
"Yeah, whatever, we thought it was a hookah." Shrugs and waits for good ol' Doc to interrupt him again, but he doesn't. Keeps quiet, but still sneaks looks at Aeryn. "It had two zen stones."
"Zen Stones?" Colonel Carter questions, glancing up from scribbling on the clipboard similar to the one Aeryn beaned her in the head with a day ago. There's still a small cut near her temple.
"Yeah, like the kind you'd find in a koi pond or something."
"We call them long-range communication stones," she nods, scratching down something a bit faster while explaining, but not with full attention, "they allow the users to inhabit a body in a different galaxy."
"Hold the phone, they just let you hijack someone else?"
"Well." Colonel Carter pulls a face again, a long wistful smile, like she's trying to keep her patience while teaching a room full of unruly kindergartners, and giving a quick assessment to his attitude, the doctor's, and Aeryn's lack of any form of communication, she might as well be. "Not so much hijack, as borrow."
"Borrowing—without consent."
"Yes, but—"
"That's hijacking."
"Everyone eventually goes back to their old bodies." The Doc pushes away from the table again—too twitchy to sit still for long—this time a little more eloquent, more like a dressage horse than a donkey. "But that's our problem."
"How is that a problem?"
"Well, you didn't just take over Mitchell and Vala's bodies, you switch places with them entirely."
"That unusual?"
Colonel Carter nods and turns a screen towards him, there's a rate graph and numbers charting along the side. They're measuring something. "We had to gate—destroy the original long-range communication device in order to get Daniel and Vala back safely from another galaxy, but we did manage to recreate the frequency of the device that allowed Vala to inhabit Daniel for a brief period of time from another galaxy."
"This Vala bounces galaxies a lot."
"You have no idea."
"I have an idea why."
"Excuse me?" The Doc huffs and puffs, and not in a way he's seen before, actually getting all riled up and a bit red faced.
Aeryn shoves at his arm and his retort dies in his throat while he tries to regain his balance. "Will you please stop instigating so we can finish this discussion?"
The Doc points a wagging finger at her. "Exactly what language is she speaking?"
"It's not important."
"Well, my specialty is in languages and—"
"If you don't know what she's speaking, then I guess you're not that special—"
"John." Aeryn's voice cuts through their pithy back and forth. Expects that expression she gives him, the one where he knows if it was within her power—hell, it's always within her power—she'd be beating the ever-loving crap out of him for prolonging this. But instead she just looks—tired. Defeated almost, not scared or angry or threatening, just tired.
His hand covers her on the table top. She's still really warm, not warm enough to confuse elevators with elephants, but warm enough that he thinks she'll be spending at least an hour in the bath that he pulled strings—he begged like a dog—to get. "Sorry Baby."
The room is quiet for a stitch except for the humming of whatever dampener they have for the long-term hookah machine.
Colonel Carter clears her throat, setting down the clipboard and leaning into the table. "I think that having the device here when we have a fabricated frequency might have upset the balance. The stones could still do their jobs, but our man-made stone acted as a barrier."
"Can't you just take it down?"
"If we did that, we might lose our pinpoint in the galaxy all together."
"Okay, so don't do that—" scratches his head and tries to remember the hookah, the stones were smooth, and he thought they needed glue. They glowed blue and Deke liked them, finally quieted down. He was running. "You don't have any stones for it?"
"No." The Doc shakes his head and crouches on the edge of the table. It was found without them."
"So, we have no way of getting back?" Squeezes his hand over Aeryn's when he feels her tense up. She's staring at the hookah and he's going to have to talk with her about participation points.
"No." Colonel Carter's ever-present grin disappears, but he can see the dot dot dots forming in her pulled expression. "There is a possibility, we would just need to either create or find two more stones."
"You would also need to remember which slot your stones went into in order to ensure transfer to the right galaxy." The Doc shrugs, the skin on his face very tight and his eyes tiny behind his glasses as he drags them away from Aeryn. He clears his throat, trying for a smooth recovery. "But that can be done through trial and error."
"So, you understand why it's so important we know everything you know about the stones." The words sound more like a plea as Colonel Carter leans across the table, her arm reaching for Aeryn again, extending like an olive branch—one they're still hesitant to accept.
"We spent less than five microts with—"
"Our son liked them. They soothed him." Aeryn stands, more graceful than before, strong on her own legs and circles around the table, finally deciding it's her turn for show and tell as she ignores everyone, focusing on the hookah.
"He reached for one, and they toppled loose." She leans over the table, between him and the Doc and they both watch her the same way, with the same hungry eyes. She points to a certain area of dips, of the slots where the stones fit in "From here."
"You can't possibly rememb—" The Doc stops his skepticism for once, closing his mouth when she snaps her head to him.
"There are subtle shifts in design." Her voice terse and tired, the kind he wakes to in the middle of the night when she's talking to Deke, saying things that don't translate too well because apparently, Sebacean is a very literal language. "The symbols are not as bright in this section."
That gets their attention. Colonel Carter drops her pen, leaning into inspect a device she's probably examined for hours. The Doc hops off the table, tugging his glasses off and staring like he did once at a sink on Moya. "What—what symbols?"
They really are deficient.
"The ones right—" as Aeryn's finger touches the surface of the hookah, the humming of the dampener increases to a high-pitched scream and before he can ask what the hell is going on, another large pinch of electricity surges through his body, and he blacks out.
Doesn't know what time it is when he wakes up because Vala never bothered to share how to work the damn clocks with him. It's still dark in the room. It's probably always going to be dark in the room, and what he wouldn't give to walk outside the mountain and feel the fresh Colorado air hitting him in the face, whip on a pair of sunglasses, and hop in his mustang for a weekend away.
Had a weekend away planned with Amy. It's been planned for a while, but he keeps having to postpone it because stuff like this keeps happening—maybe not as bad as this, but bad enough that he's got to suit up and march through the gate.
So instead he deals with hip and lower back pain from falling asleep against the bed for however long he did.
Part of him is glad the kid is out, and that Vala's still asleep, because now is his time to sneak back to his room. Brought the baby down last night under a different guise—sure, he would've been more than happy to pawn off the kid—who's not his and he can't see a hair or freckle reminiscent of his own faded baby photos from his parents' farmhouse walls—but he was more concerned about her. The longer he laid in that bed alone, the more he couldn't shake the feeling that something was going to happen to her. She almost tumbled off that skywalk twice, and if she gets excited and starts exploring without him—
Played his part, huffed and rolled his eyes, which are always directed at the ceiling now because she has a penchant for flouncing around in Daisy Dukes and Qetesh dresses, and pretended to be annoyed that he had to stay with her, while happily sleeping like a guard dog at the base of the bed.
But when he turns to make sure she's still out before he leaves, she's gone. If his back didn't hurt so much he would kick his own ass.
The kid is nestled next to him in a fluffy pile of blankets, the one she had over her legs, her bare legs that—nope.
No.
Doesn't know what it is about this place, but it's making him think dirty thoughts, or admit to it at least. He's a guy, he's thought about it before, but that doesn't make it acceptable. Being worried that she's going to take a swan dive off an elevated walkway is okay, remembering the tickling of her fingers against the material on his fatigues as she unconsciously played with his collar as she slept, is not.
Hikes the kid up and is relieved when he doesn't immediately start crying again.
He barely gets a chance to wipe a hand over his stinging eyes before the door opens to the hallway with Chiana on the other side.
"I figured you two wouldn't be getting that much sleep." Her laugh would be almost innocent if it didn't follow the insinuation. She blinks to accentuate her suggestion and keeps a wide grin.
"Yeah, the screaming baby really set the mood," yawns as he passes by her, enjoying the kid now that he's silent, all curled up and warm. Doesn't know the last time anyone changed him or fed him, but he'll be damned if he's going to try. Let sleeping babies lay.
"If—if you want, I can take him for you." She sort of prowls alongside him, cat eyes fixated on his face and he never thought about how weird it must be for them. To have someone who looks exactly like their friend but isn't. He's dealt with clone type things before, and Vala-as-Daniel, but never the direct removal and complete replacement of a companion.
"Look I understand that our doubles here—"
"Crichton and Aeryn."
"Yeah, them, that they had a great thing going and what looks to be a wonderful family if you can get passed the constent screaming of their kid, but—" He spins in a connecting corridor, an almost circular room that offers him three different hallways to choose.
Chiana stops behind him, close but not warm, in fact he can't feel any body heat from her at all. "Where are you going?"
"I'm looking for Vala."
"She probably popped into the refresher. Said she wanted to last night but was too tired."
"What the hell is a refresher—" Chiana parts her gray lips to answer and he quickly shuts her up by waving his hand "—I don't want to know."
"You're gonna want to know eventually."
"Can you just tell me where the hell—"
"Excuse the interruption." The voice startles him, seemingly drifting through his ears out of no where. Whips his head towards Chiana and it seems to be a normal thing, her attention is paused, her eyes drifting around the hallway.
"What is it, Pilot?"
"If Lieutenant Colonel Mitchell is interested in finding Vala, my DRDs have picked up her presence in the kitchen with Noranti."
"Who's Noranti?"
"Thanks Pilot." She nods down the middle hallway, taking a quicker pace to keep up with him. "She's Traskan, an old woman—crazy, but harmless."
Harmless isn't the word he would use to describe the mad woman.
When they get to the kitchen, he walks in on the old bat force feeding something that looks like a big bowl of taffy to Vala. It takes about a second for him to connect the whimpering noises and the cuffs holding her up before he shoves the baby into Chiana's arms and tackles the grandma.
Issues a mental apology to his own grandma who's probably cussing up a storm, but he's got one team member to look out for and currently he's losing the game.
"Vala—" She can't answer, only gags, trying to cough up whatever this crap is. Tries to yank the cuffs off, but they're really stuck in place and when his fingers falter from the metal, ghosting over her skin, she starts to kick at him. "How do I get these off?"
"I haven't seen those in a while." Chiana lurches forward the baby in her arms suddenly awake and crying up a storm.
"Chiana!"
"It's a number—"
"What's the damn code?" Says it loud enough that there's an actual hiccup in the crying, and Vala stops thrashing beside him.
"I'd—I'd have to see—" Cautiously, Chiana leans in over his shoulder, pressing into the side of him, the kid almost screaming in his ear now, and types the code releasing Vala, who slumps to the floor.
She hacks, her arms a little bruised up from the restraints, and does her best to induce vomiting that won't come. He rubs at her back, not really sure how to handle it—the touching—if she wants touch, the comfort, because there was a wildness in her eyes earlier. One he doesn't want to know about. "You're okay."
"No, I'm not." Her voice is different, darker, vindictive. Swoops up into a sitting position, and whatever was fed to her is drying around the corner of her mouth, her face is wet with sweat, or tears, or spit. "Whatever that woman fed me —" she points to where Chiana is helping the old lady to her feet, the baby squirming and shouting "—is not coming back up."
"But that's good, Dear." The old bat rubs a palm across her third eyelid. "If even a single bit comes back up then it won't work."
"What'd you give her anyway, Wrinkles?"
"Something to make her unempty."
Vala lunges, but she's still kind of out of it. He manages to grab her, not really restraining her, or wanting to. He's the one who sent Granny into the cabinets after all, but they're still on first date basis with the people on this ship and if they want help going home, they're going to have to show a little control.
She wrenches her arms from him, whipping around—he's seen her upset before, crying and trying to hold back the tears from those big gorgeous eyes, he's seen her laugh away nervousness, and shrug off concern. But what he hasn't seen is the glare that almost slices him in half. He's never seen her be serious, never seen her be upset that didn't involve tears.
Holds up his empty hands when he notices hers balled at her side. "Okay. Everyone just—calm down."
"She just force fed me whatever was—"
"I know, Princess, I know, just calm—"
"No. Where were you?"
The insinuation hurts because she's right, he is still technically in charge, although this isn't really a mission—but he went to her last night because there's protection in numbers—went to her under the pretext of a man needing a break from his crying not-son. "I was with the kid. You're the one who—"
"I left because I did the last feeding and change, and got excrement of all kinds on—"
"Then you should've woken—"
"Okay. Okay." Chiana's tone drags out the word as she rubs her way between them, breaking them up. She grabs Vala's hand and smiles until the glare washes from her face. The arm she has wrapped around the kid is elbowing him in the gut, so he moves back out of reach. "Are you two sure you're not Aeryn and Crichton because—"
"Mmm, no." The grandma shakes her head and pulls her fingers back from her mouth, her lips smacking against them. If her skin tone was a little more natural and she wore an Easter bonnet for church service, she might just offer him a macaroon. "As I've stated, this one is quite empty and—"
Vala's tone is murderous, low, almost inaudible. "I. Am not. Empty."
She waits, maybe for him to say something, but this is the first time that he can actually picture her as Qetesh—he doesn't know how to handle this. Thankfully, she only rolls her eyes at him, before stomping out of the room.
Doesn't know if he should just let her blow off steam—should probably leave her to blow off steam—but an unchecked Vala usually evolves into something dramatic and detrimental to everyone—he's had to pull her off the table in the gate room more than a dozen times as she threatens to take people out if they won't let her go.
Maybe he knows more about her than he thinks.
Nods to the kid still actively screaming against Chiana's shoulder. "Will you watch him for a bit?"
Chiana switches the kid to her other shoulder. She nuzzles one of his fat cheeks and then sends a grin to him, sly without the need of bouncing eyebrows. "Go get her, Mitchell."
"I just want to make sure she's okay."
"She'll be fine." The old bat putters around the kitchen, now fixing a meal of some kind, pulling pots and pans from random places, and the smell of burning wafts into his nostrils even though there's nothing on the stove. "There are very minor complications—"
"There better not be anything—"
"I promise you; they will be worth it."
And the smile she gives is like a punch to his gut, like there's something she's not telling him, something he probably doesn't want to know, it's threatening, it's the verbal equivalent to Vala's glare. He takes a step forward, pushing Chiana who tries to hold him back, along with him, and points directly into the old woman's face. "Stay away from her."
"Or course, my dear, my job is already done."
"Do you want to talk?" Sits with his back to her on their shared mini bed. Her shoulders are still tight and her lips even tighter because she refuses to say a single word to him. Found her in their shared room, the pile of clothing still tossed on the floor, and he doesn't know why she came here instead of being alone.
He's trying to navigate out how to comfort her when she doesn't really accept anything but praise or criticism. Afraid that if he offers her kind words or lets her in on the threat he gave the grandma, she'll make some sort of joke about it.
More afraid that she'll read into this as anything but him as the Team Leader trying to protect what little team he has with him.
"We don't have to talk about—that." Stretches out his thigh, aching a bit, maybe from the pressure, sort of feels the same as when they go for extended missions on the Odyssey. "We could talk about—"
How perfect that outfit looks on her, how the suspenders sort of make it, how the only thing he's found to change into is leather pants and a plain black t-shirt that's not going to look as good as anything she puts on, how he's sorry he snapped on her about the device and that she was completely right and if she has any ideas on how to get back, he's open to hearing them, how damn good she is with a kid that's not hers, how he feels something he shouldn't when she's holding that kid and grinning at him and that's the part of this whole mess that scares him the most. "About the stuff you've learned, maybe you can teach me how to tell time?"
"I just want to sleep, Mitchell." Her back is still tense under the outline of her curls, air drying and twisting tighter.
"Fair enough." Doesn't know what to do. To stay and keep watch, to leave and try to investigate the long-range communication device when she knows so much more about it then him. To try and get out of the grandma what she actually did.
Decides that maybe they both need some time apart. That he could explore more of the ship, learn more about the galaxy they're in, ask Chiana more about the stones. His muscles tighten when he stands and the metal skeleton of the bed groans, making her flip towards him, grabbing his shirt.
"Don't—"
Glances down to her fingers stitched into the short sleeve of his air force fatigues, then back at her, expecting her to release him, but she doesn't. "Vala, I could go find out more about the stones, try to get us out of here."
"Yes, that's true—" and her sentence doesn't sound done, her eyes drifting to her feet tucked tightly under a blanket.
"But?" Starts to pry her fingers away from his shirt, they're cold as he gathers them in his palm, before settling her hand back onto the bed.
"I'm just—I don't—that woman—"
"I'll stay." Taps her hand, reaching over and grabbing a blanket from where he threw it on the ground last night in frustration. "I'll stay just until you fall asleep, okay?"
"Just until I fall asleep." She nods, her lips quirking into a small smile, relieved and shimmying back into the bed.
"I'll talk to Chiana about how to lock the doors too." Turns his back to her, burying his one arm underneath his pillow.
Feels her nod into her pillow, the bed shaking unbalanced, creaking until steadying into place. His bad thigh already stretched clear off the side.
"Thank you."