Chapter 4

After T.J. collected herself and insisted that she was going to be okay, Everett left the infirmary and went to the bridge. It was empty save for Rush who stood up from the command chair and went to a console as he came in. Knowing Rush wouldn't talk about what happened in the mess hall or the infirmary, he asked, "How'd it go on the stones?"

Rush snorted.

"That good, huh?"

"They're up to something."

"What do you mean?"

Rush began unscrewing the fasteners from the broken console. "They had that idiot Williams running the show. They had set up this very large, very impressive, and very absurd calculation proving that I could have dialed Earth from Icarus."

"Why was it absurd?"

"Because in order for it to work, you have to divide by zero." He yanked hard, and the warped console face groaned away from its body. He dropped it to the floor. "That's impossible. But if it makes them feel better, Einstein made the same mistake once too."

"You'd think these people would know better."

"Oh, they know better. It wasn't an accident."

"Sounds like a setup," Everett observed.

"More like an ambush. They can't prove it, so they're trying to force it."

He watched Rush scrub some grime away from inside the console with his sleeve. "If they can't prove it, why would they want to force it? I mean, why would they want there to be a problem where there isn't one? Shouldn't they just be happy knowing you made the right choice?"

Rush stopped clanging with his tools and sighed. "As you said, Colonel. It's a setup. It wasn't just me and Williams; we had an audience."

Everett frowned. "Audience?"

There was a long pause. "Sergeant Riley's parents were there," Rush said softly. Everett knew Rush still felt guilty about that, and would for eternity. "And General O'Neill. Mr. Strom. Rodney McKay. Colonel Carter-"

"Telford said McKay was consulting."

Rush let out a breathy chuckle. "Consulting. That's a bureaucratic word. No, Colonel, he was not consulting, he's in this up to his neck." He looked up. "What is it called when a neutral party stands to gain something from a particular situational outcome?"

Everett considered that. "A conflict of interest?"

Rush stared at him in a knowing way, then turned his eyes back to the console. "Mrs. Armstrong was there. So were Mrs. Wallace, Dr. Franklin's son, and some other suits from SGC and the IOA."

"What a party."

Rush snorted. "Next time I'll decline the invitation."

"They'd probably like to speak to you again."

He huffed. "I'm sure they would. They can speak to me again once they've corrected their idiotic mistake."

"I'll let them know."

"You do that."

"So what is this conflict of interest?"

Rush dropped his tools to the floor beside the console face. "Perhaps you should ask Telford about that. He can also explain why I'm now officially unemployed."

Everett was struck dumb. "What?"

Rush reached elbow-deep into the guts of the console and fished around for something. "I have been removed from my position as lead scientist, and my services with SGC are no longer required. I've been given instructions to cease and desist my involvement in any and all repairs, maintenance, monitoring, or consultation related to any of Destiny's systems or equipment and any other property belonging to SGC, and I am to understand that anything and everything I have learned while I've been aboard this ship is the intellectual property of the United States Air Force."

Everett just stared at him, not comprehending. "Are you kidding me?"

He snorted. "They're probably worried that I'll sabotage the ship. I suspect Sergeant Greer will shortly be given orders to guard all the buttons again."

Everett couldn't not notice how Rush was explaining all this to him while he was half buried inside the console. He watched Rush pull up a tangled mass of wires and roll his eyes with a sigh. "Did you tell them about your…condition?"

Rush scowled. "Didn't exactly have time for that."

Everett couldn't ignore it anymore. "So when were you planning on telling us?"

Rush rubbed his face. "Well, about now, I suppose. I figured I'd let it run its course and let everything happen in due time."

That didn't come as a surprise. Rush had a bad habit of withholding important details. "We should probably tell the rest of the crew as soon as possible. I'll call a meeting for later tonight."

Rush shook his head. "No, don't bother. In case you hadn't noticed, I'm not exactly popular."

"That doesn't matter. They deserve to know."

Rush looked at him. "Really? I'm not sure how this affects their lives. Fear not, Colonel - you still have Eli. You'll all make it back to Earth regardless."

Everett frowned. "I hope you know that's really not what I'm worried about."

Rush shrugged and began trying to pick the wires apart. "Well, some of them will be once they find out. At least you'll be able to reassure them of that much."

"Yeah…" It was a cold comfort. "Can I ask you something?"

Rush shook his head and wouldn't look up. "I'd rather you didn't. I don't feel like talking about it."

Fair enough. "All right. Well, listen, I need to go update Homeworld Command about this development."

Rush slowly raised his eyes. "If you think that's best."

How was Rush always able to make Everett doubt his decisions with one little statement? Nevertheless he rose from the chair, pausing as he observed Rush slowly tug at the tangles, pulling on loose ends, laying the separated bits out to length over the console's edge. "Maybe I should get Volker in here to do that…"

Rush snorted. "Please. He's the one who 'fixed' this the first time. It's fine. It won't take long."

He hadn't gotten the hint. "Rush."

"Hmm?" Rush didn't look up. He reached down for the console face and began reattaching the wires he'd untangled.

"Rush."

Now Rush raised his eyes. He looked at Everett, then back down at his hands. "Oh, please," he said. "Don't look at me like that, Colonel. I'm not going to do anything. I didn't bring you lot all this way just to blow you up at the end."

"I know that. But they don't know that."

"Lucky they're not here then, huh?"

Everett shook his head. Softly: "Rush."

Rush stared at him, then with a sigh, dumped the wires back where they came from. "Right, fine." He strode angrily for the door. "Good luck with Volker."

Everett watched him go, annoyed at his childish attitude, but also unable to stamp down the feeling of pity rising in his heart. He didn't want to go to the communications lab. He just wanted to sit here and stare out the window, taking some time to absorb what had transpired, what he'd learned; have a chance to look ahead, make a plan, prepare for what was coming. A lot had happened today and he wanted to fully understand and adapt before he tried to continue with the need-to-dos.

Instead he went to the communications lab. Telford was waiting for him on the other side.

"Everett!" David didn't sound happy. "What happened?"

"We had to cut the connection. You got sick."

"Yeah, I got sick! What is going on up there?"

Everett waved a hand. "We'll talk about it later, I don't have a lot of time right now. I just came to tell you that Rush is in no hurry to talk to Williams again until he fixes his mistake."

"What mistake?"

"I don't know exactly." Not totally a lie. Plus he figured Williams already knew.

"Fine. But we need Rush back."

"And why, exactly?" Everett asked. He knew he was stepping on ice here, but what Rush had said bothered him.

"Because they need to get this done."

"So get it done. Apparently some pretty bright minds are involved, use them. I find it interesting that McKay was consulting."

Telford frowned. "Why?"

"Rush said there's a conflict of interest there."

Now Telford hesitated. He didn't answer.

Everett squinted at him. "So, what is going on?"

Telford shifted his eyes away. "There is no…" But he didn't finish.

What, can't lie to your old friend? "Listen to me, David. I don't know what the IOA thinks they're doing, but I don't like it. They'd better be sure it's on the up and up."

"You're being paranoid."

"I don't think so. This sounds serious, and until I know what's going on, I don't think I'm going to allow Rush to come back here. Not by himself, anyway."

Telford looked nonplussed. "What are you talking about? That's not up to you."

"Actually, I think it is. It's my responsibility to protect the people on that ship, and that includes Rush, from any preventable danger and threat. And that includes you."

Telford looked insulted. "I'm not a threat, Everett. I'm an interested party. I'm trying to get all of you home, and I'm trying to make sure justice is done when it's over."

"Justice?" Everett said. He didn't like the sound of this. Not at all. "What are you talking about, justice? I thought he was just going down there to look at some numbers."

Again Telford paused. Everett had learned what it meant when Telford wasn't talking: it meant he was thinking, and fast, of a way to backpedal or forge ahead and explain away whatever he was being suspected of. He was probably only just realizing Rush hadn't mentioned anything about whatever he was referring to.

"David, what is going to happen when we get home?" Everett asked flat out.

Telford did not break eye contact. A demonstration of power, Everett thought. "He had to know there would be consequences," he said softly.

That word again. Everett, for some reason, felt a flash of heat up his back. I don't think this is what he had in mind. Perhaps telling them about Rush's illness right now would not be prudent. If they weren't giving him everything, he wouldn't give them anything. "We'll see about that."

Telford crossed his arms. "They aren't going to like this," he said.

"They don't have to like it. But as long as I'm in command of that ship, I make the decisions. This is the decision I've made and I'll stand by it."

Telford shrugged. "All right. Up to you. Don't expect to be in command for too much longer."

"Five weeks, I'm told," Everett snapped. "I've told General O'Neill in the past that I would do what I had to do regardless of the consequences to my standing. This is bigger than me."

Telford snorted. "That's for sure."

That made Everett squint. "Why did they fire Rush?"

Telford raised an eyebrow. "I think the right question is, why didn't they fire Rush sooner?"

Right. That was the game, then. "I gotta go. We'll talk more tomorrow."

Telford dropped his arms and sighed, nodding his agreement. He looked somehow…defeated. "Keep him away from the consoles."

Everett disconnected.

—

Tamara had recovered enough to get something useful done. The infirmary was quiet as she sat by herself and recorded everything she knew about this disease. The list was disjointed, at times incoherent, and she knew no one else would be able to decipher her abbreviations, acronyms, and technical medical terminology, but it wasn't like anyone else would be able to do anything about this anyway.

Sx: hdch confs. gen pain loc pain nausea - v blood? weknss numb-

Her pencil broke. It was her second one. She was so worked up that she was practically carving indents through the paper into the surface of the desk underneath. She snatched another one out of a drawer but did not immediately continue, instead going to her microscope. On the stage was a petrie dish containing a sample of the blood Rush had left on the mess hall floor - thick, she had told the colonel, and thick indeed. Not a good sign. She could see the organism swimming around, and in spite of herself, she grimaced. She went to a second microscope and peered through the eyepiece at a sample of blood from another donor. Someone who had been given the vaccine. Someone who had been cured.

Her own. The needle she'd used to extract it lay forgotten beside the machine.

There was no microorganism. Her blood was clean, pure, and harmless. The vaccine she had made out of the venom from that spectacular jungle alien was a success, but her joy mingled with dread even as she knew that they had no more left. It wasn't a surprise, with as much as they had used. They'd all been inoculated once, and then it had been given to Rush for his surgery and to Scott for his arm deformity. Not to mention those horrible alien ticks. Eli - brilliant, wonderful Eli - had taken as much as he thought they would need into the stasis pod with him, but the rest had degraded too much in four years to be useful. She had already tried.

But she would not give up. She would think, she would learn, she would work as hard as she had to. She would solve this. She would save Rush if it killed her.

"Lieutenant?"

She jumped and spun around. Rush was standing in the doorway, eyebrows raised, apologetic for startling her. "Oh, hey." She put her pencil down and came around the bed. "Everything okay?"

"Yeah, fine." He was gazing at her microscopes. "What's going on here?"

She sighed and shrugged her shoulders. "I'm trying."

He didn't need to be told what she was trying. He just nodded. "I see," he said, but she knew he was probably just being nice. "Any luck?"

"Not yet. But I won't give up."

"I know."

There was a pause, and she cleared her throat. "So, what's up? Do you need something?"

"No, I…" He folded his arms. "I just came to say that…I wonder if you might forgive me for lying to you. The, uh…" He gestured vaguely with his hand. "Phobia nonsense."

With a sigh, she sat on a bed. "That's a bit like apologizing for saving my life. I feel like I should be apologizing for letting you."

His face moved like he tried to smile but didn't quite make it. "You didn't let me."

Tamara nodded. "Our agreement…"

"Void now."

"Yeah."

Another heavy pause, and then he turned to the door. "Anyway, I should go."

"Wait," she said, rising to her feet. He waited. "I just wanted to ask…Why did you do it?"

He sighed, long and slow. "I told you why."

"No, you didn't. Not really. You said I needed the vaccine, and while that was true…it's not really an answer."

He frowned, just slightly. "Why does it matter?"

"Why wouldn't it matter?" she countered. He just looked to the door as if intending to leave. "Doctor Rush-"

"Look," he sighed, facing her again. "I don't know what you're hoping I'm going to say, but if you're looking for some kind of confession, you're wasting your time. I did it because it was the right thing to do. All right?"

She stared at him. "My family…"

"Will have a proper chance to say goodbye."

She frowned, pained. "I told you how I felt about that."

"And I think you're wrong."

Resentment flickered in her heart, unbidden and beyond her control. "Who cares what you think, Rush? Why do you get to make that decision?"

He closed his arms to defend himself. To protect himself. From her. "Well, Lieutenant," he said coldly, "if you think I've wronged you, if I have so completely misjudged you as to think that you would want to give your loved ones one last chance to see you again, then I am truly, truly sorry. That is the reason you abandoned the mission, isn't it?" He spat each word like it was poison.

"You didn't do it for them," she countered. For some reason beyond her understanding, that made her angrier.

He huffed, but he didn't deny it. "What do you want from me?"

"The truth." She snorted. "For once."

He frowned, and she knew the words had wounded him. She dropped her head, suddenly embarrassed. He didn't need this. To have his motives challenged every time he did something, to be defied at every turn. No wonder he never told anyone what he was doing. With a disgusted look, the kind he used to throw at Colonel Young all the time, he turned around and aimed for the door.

"Wait," she said quietly, reaching out and taking his arm. "Don't go, wait. I'm sorry."

He didn't go, but he wouldn't look at her.

"I'm sorry," she said again. "I just…We had an agreement."

"Yeah."

She frowned at him, frustrated. "You lied to me."

"Yeah, well, you lied to me too."

This argument again. She had thought they were past this. "I didn't," she said, determined to stay calm. "That wasn't me."

"What, you think twelve hours makes that big of a difference?"

"Yes," she said, "because in those twelve hours a lot of stuff changed." And it was because of those twelve hours that she never could agree to stay, because those twelve hours had put her future self in a position to warn her, if unintentionally, about the deadly disease she carried. If not for that, she might have done exactly what she technically did do and choose to remain on the ship, but now…she could not bear the thought of spending her final years out in space when the option to go home was available. He knew she was right, she could tell by the silence. He had no answer. He was still struggling, she knew, and she wished she could help, but the only way to help would be to surrender what was probably her last chance ever to get home. She just couldn't do that.

She knew better than to say she was sorry. It didn't help, and it just pissed him off. She remained quiet and waited for him to gather himself again. She hated how depressed he looked. Depressed and dying. She felt like that was her fault. Eventually, he said, "You are, perhaps, one of the more mission critical members of this crew. It would have been impossible to continue very long without you, even if all the rest remained."

It was about as close to forgiveness as she would get. He wasn't exonerating her, he was just telling her that she was part of the problem, but not the whole problem. She didn't actually believe any of it was her fault but she lacked the energy or the will to continue this debate. She just nodded. "Thank you."

"Can I go now?"

"Not yet," she said quietly. "You haven't answered my question."

His scoffed and turned to look at her, frustrated. "What difference does it actually make, Lieutenant? Why can't you just take it for what it is? It's not like I lied about not taking the vaccine."

That was true, but…"Why did you even agree in the first place if you didn't intend to follow through?"

He snorted. "Well, I think you're glad I didn't."

She stared at him. His words more than stung; they cut, they pierced, and she could feel herself bleeding, because she knew they were true. "Stop changing the subject. I deserve to know why."

"And why is that?"

"Because I'm the one you lied to."

He sighed again, dropping his gaze to the floor. He kept moving his mouth as if he was chewing on his tongue, either thinking about her argument or thinking she was an idiot. She hoped it wasn't the latter. "Lieutenant, listen to me." He raised his head and sharpened his brown eyes on her blue ones. "Not that I think I need to justify my decision to you, but you'll be home in a matter of weeks. When you arrive, you'll have people waiting for you. Family, and friends. People who care for you, all happy to have you back again. You have life waiting for you." He pressed a hand to his chest, then shrugged and dropped it. And I don't, she heard him not say.

"So what are you getting at? You did this because you have nothing to live for?" That hurt. What about us? she wondered. Your friends on this ship?

After some thought he shook his head. "No. I only mean that you have more."

She stared at him.

"The greater good, remember?"

Before she could speak, their radios came alive together.

"This is Young. I'm broadcasting this on all channels so there's no reason anyone shouldn't hear it. Everyone is to meet me in the gate room this evening at 2000. No exceptions."

Rush sighed a little. "That will be the announcement," he told her. "I told him not to do it. I think I'll skip it."

She nodded. She didn't know what else to do.

He cleared his throat and moved away from her. "I'll let you get back to work."

She said nothing as he left, and when he was gone, she slowly went back to her desk. Pencil back in hand, she continued writing. The wind was nearly gone from her sails now and she hated to think that it was because of Rush's attitude toward the situation. He was saving her life, but he was so evasive about it that she wondered what his real purpose was. What had driven him to make such a tremendous decision? What force in the universe could possibly compel Nicholas Rush to give up his own life for the sake of another person? Certainly not…not what? Love? Please, Tamara. Get real. Maybe she loved him - just not that way - because he was a person and he was the slightly crazy uncle in their bizarre little family and he had found a way to get them home, but she wasn't sure if she even liked him. Why would she expect more than that from him? Especially after the perceived betrayal he felt she committed?

She hated that he'd defaulted to his archetypal notion of the greater good; she wasn't even sure if she believed it. She'd hoped for more than this cold, emotionless practicality, for something to cling to and help her believe he had done it because he cared about something, that his life wasn't empty, that he believed something was actually worth dying for. She wanted to know whether he was just as unfeeling and pragmatic as she had always believed he was, and whether the fact that he did it for her meant he would have done it for anyone. She wanted to know whether she really meant something to him, or if she was just the person who happened to be there. She needed to know if there was anything she could have done to stop it, because in the end, she would blame herself. Because she felt plenty, and she didn't want to suffer for no reason. Because she couldn't bear the thought that his life would go to waste for something he didn't even care about.

Because if he had done the right thing, that meant she had done the wrong thing. Did he know what this would do to her? Did he care how guilty it would make her feel?

You didn't let me.

She stilled, her pencil hovering over the paper. She remembered his voice as clearly as if he were standing there beside her again, and a slow, sad smile pulled at her lips. He had been trying to comfort her. To temper her guilt. To make her feel better in his own Rush-y way, although in the end he'd tried to cover it all under a layer of ice and snow, possibly a reaction to her questioning of his decision to save her life. It wasn't her fault, he was telling her, no matter how she felt. He didn't blame her. At least, not for that.

She closed her eyes. It wasn't enough, but it was something. Thank you…

—

*Record*

"Why do people always wait until the end to say how they feel? Why don't we talk while we have the time? Why don't we tell each other that we love each other? Or that we like each other? Or even that we tolerate each other? Rush isn't like that. You know how he feels about you. There is never a question where you stand. Most of us stand on the wrong side, but at least we know. It's...refreshing. No one tells the truth anymore. Truth hurts. And the truth is...Rush is dying. And we can't help him."

*Save*