Crossing the Line

Chapter Seven

It was two weeks before they got to have a private conversation again -- and, if the strange looks Beckett had been giving him were any indication, their first conversation might not have been quite as private as they would have hoped. Or maybe Cadman had just told Beckett one of those embarrassing stories he had babbled thanks to Zelenka's brew. Either way, as long as the nurses didn't know, Marcus thought Beckett knew enough of the military to keep his mouth shut.

He was walking through the mess when he saw that the Daedelus had, apparently, brought food back on their last supply run. Earth food. And not just any earth food: Caldwell had brought back fruit.

The lieutenant liked fruit. He was halfway across the mess when that one hit him. But it was true; Schweinsteigger really, really appeared to like fruit. In fact, last time the had met for movie night - had it been three weeks all ready? - she had brought along this gigantic bowl of fruit salad, easily enough to equal one of Ronon's good-sized dinners. When no one else had felt like munching on the alien fruit, she had downed it all herself -- even that strange lilac thing that tasted like syrup. Actually, come to think of it, Marcus had never seen her eat a meal on Atlantis without a generous plate of fruit nearby.

Maybe he should take her some? The nurses probably wouldn't think of it for a while, if they did, and by then it would probably all be gone. Earth food - even fruit - didn't last long on Atlantis.

And if she didn't want any, he could always make Riley eat it or take it back. There were some joys, after all, to being a CO. They weren't many, but they were good.

Marcus looked at his watch. He wasn't back on duty for two more hours - plenty of time for a lunch; and he was feeling hungry, after all. Might as well enjoy some company while he was at it.

Anna had never expected that getting shot twice would be a good thing, but it was. All right, so it wasn't necessarily a good thing, but hey. Always look on the bright side, right? Well, good or not, it was giving her a chance to do something she hadn't done in months, since she had been assigned to Lorne's team.

She was studying. Reading. Absorbing textbooks. It was like paradise. She had forgotten just how much fun it was; it had just been so long.

She had just gotten her master's and was planning her doctoral studies when P4X-511 had happened, and then the jump to officer; she had always thought she would do the military thing for ten years or so, then request a desk job at the SGC and get her doctorate while working.

But then she had gone and helped rescue SG-1 when they were captured, and Landry was so happy he suggested her for Atlantis. The rest, as they said, was history.

She had to admit, though, that coming to Atlantis had, on a purely academic level, certainly broadened her horizons. She had never expected to know as much about astronomy, botany, microbiology, and, yes, even physics - although the math she would never, never touch - as she did now. It was an amazing thing, having some of the most brilliant and respected minds in all these different fields around her, happy to answer her questions, no matter how amateur they were. It really was something.

But at her heart she was a linguist, and there was definitely not enough of that to go around. Because the percentage of distinct languages in the Pegasus galaxy was miniscule compared to the amount encountered by the SGC, there were at the moment only two linguists assigned to Atlantis, and one of them was on maternity. Needless to say they were swamped, and she tried to help them out as much as she could - but, what with her military duties, that just didn't happen often enough. There was simply not enough time in the day to do all that she needed to, much less wanted to; and there went her ideas about preparing for her doctorate.

But now. . . now she had been shot. Now she was disabled - incapacitated, rather - for a time. Unfit for military duty. And, though she couldn't think of anything she would willingly give the military up for, there was something to be said for being a nerd. It was fun, really fun. Of course, listening to books on CD wasn't as good as actually reading and highlighting the textbook, there was only so much she could convince Beckett to let her do - and it's not as if hospital beds were built for studying, either.

Anna laid back on the bed and closed her eyes, the words pouring through her brain. Yep, this was the life.

Hmm, she was getting a bit hungry. Maybe one of the nurses would-

Oh, Major Lorne. How nice. And he'd brought a tray with some-

Melon. That was melon. Earth melon. And strawberries. And, oh goodness, were those cherries?

Heaven. That's what it was. The last two weeks had been a dream, and she'd really died and gone to heaven. Cherries. Heaven. It made sense, it really did. It would also explain why Lorne was here.

Now if only she could bring herself to believe that heaven had IVs in it, she'd be good.

Lorne grinned at her as he sat down and put the tray on his lap.

"Hungry?" He pulled out the tray attached to her bed and started putting plates on it. Fruit, fresh coffee, vegetable soup and pink lemonade. Scratch that; paradise had nothing on this.

"I was getting lunch and thought you might want some company." He paused and, had she not been hampered by the tray, she could have kissed him right there. "Unless, of course, you don't want it. . ."

Anna grabbed her fork and waved it in the air at him.

"Touch it and die, sir."

He laughed and, setting his own tray aside, got up and dragged over another chair, onto which he put his lunch.

Hmm, spaghetti and meatballs. If only Beckett would let her- oh well. She had fruit. That was good enough for her.

"Sir," she said, glancing over at him, "you're a wonderful human being."

He grinned and stuffed a meatball in his mouth.

Anna sighed happily and looked at the bowl in front of her. Where to begin? She popped a cherry in her mouth and savored it; good times. Textbooks on tape, delicious food, even more delicious lunch date - what was not to love?

All right, so he wasn't exactly a lunch date; well, according to Webster's dictionary he would qualify as one, but when using the purely colloquial sense of the word, he would by no means-

"So, what's all this?" The major, tired of eating in silence, had grabbed her CD player and was swinging the headphones around.

"Oh, nothing much. I've just been doing a little studying lately, in case I ever get my docto-" She cut off as Lorne started laughing and choking on his lemonade.

"You know," he said once he had recovered his breath, "When I was your age I used to pretend to be sick to get out of studying for my college classes. But you. . . you know, Lieutenant, you can wave around an M16 all you want, but you're really a nerd at heart." He smiled and slurped some spaghetti. "Actually, it's kind of cute."

She raised an eyebrow at him, but couldn't stop herself from grinning. She doubted she would be able to get angry at him for quite some time, no matter what he said. He had stayed with her when she was sick, and he brought her fruit now that she was well. And that was worth something, at least in her book.

Not twenty feet away, hidden behind a computer and a stack of lab coats, Carson Beckett lounged in his office chair, put his hands behind his head, and grinned. Full meal, chatter, and giggling; yep, according to the rules, that qualified as a date - and two days before the cutoff, too. That made $20 from Rodney, $15 from Zelenka, $20 more from Novak, and $35 from Katie Brown. Thank goodness Laura had seen the Major walking to the infirmary with the fruit; otherwise he probably would have gone to check on the Colonel's ribs.

Yes, the Scottish doctor mused as he took a soothing sip of coffee, money pools were a beautiful thing.