Disclaimer: I own nothing but the cleaning crew, and if MGM want to use my characters, then they need to bother with writing a disclaimer for every episode too.

Cleaning Service

PG13 (T)

I unzipped the front of my tan overalls a liberal inch, fanning my flushed face back to its regular temperature. It was bad enough being sore from the hauling of metal supply crates, but I didn't have to be slimy as well.

"I don't know why they don't just use wooden crates. I can't see how those tanks can be more environmentally friendly than flipping pine," I grumbled, rubbing the thin bags around my eyes.

"Cax, you've got a note," Amcotts reported grimly. I looked around the narrow 'Sanitary Crew' locker room at the bland faces. Pinned up on top of the roster sheets was a pink piece of paper addressing my recent conduct.

I walked up to it and ripped it off the pin, confused, "It's for me."

"Yeah. Think of the time it must've taken those guards to match your face up to a name. Ha."

My eyes skim-read the official wording; two sentences down it started to make sense, "It's about Michael."

"Ooh, yeah," James added, "I heard 'em talking about you. You slipped, Cax."

I shot the busboy a dirty look, "I don'tslip, James. No one tell Edgerton that I got an official warning, 'kay guys? From the noted Col. Sheppard," I folded the note in a sharp line and slid it into my locker. Rattling the small metal door shut I took a moment to appreciate the symmetry of the lockers along the wall. A lot of thought had gone into the look of the instalment. The same could not be said about the functionality.

Amcotts shut her locker door with her boot. "What kinda gloves you got today?" she called over, snapping on her own set of rubber hands.

"Black. Think I'm on disposal," I mumbled despondently. At least it wasn't pink, so as to remind me of that sweet note of mine every time I looked down on what I was doing.

Amcotts nodded sportingly and clapped me on the back, "Good way to take your anger out on the world Cax; grab a small piece of it and reduce it to dust."

"Well said, Comrade." The two of us gave a lose high-five and walked our separate ways.

At the incinerator I let my hair down and donned the great ugly eye-protectors. Goggles. They were already grimy with soot from the last person that used them, but, then again, I was already wearing my matching sooty gloves. I flicked on the fume switch with the grubby mitten and started loading the black bags into a barrel to try and salvage as much recyclable paper as possible. Never mind educating the masses about it. Make me do it.

I went back to get the fume mask; oranges seemed to be in season back home. Well, if not in season then in definite supply. Nothing smelt worse than the added pungencies of half-composted orange. On Earth my parent's place had fruit trees in their backyard, none of them oranges. Apricots and plumbs didn't smell this sickening after only five minutes exposure.

Disposing of the day's waste didn't take too long. The next part was checking the plumbing clip-on was still completely operational. But the less said about that, the better.

I took a discrete route back to the lockers, sorely tempted to use the teleporters to get back quickly before I stunk up the entire city. On a good day, I might have gotten away with it, but the responsibilities of the pink note seemed to hang about me head like a bad smell. Perhaps afterwards I'd go around to Dr Beckett during my break and apologise. It wasn't their fault that I almost screwed up, after all.

"Hey. Nice goggles."

I turned to see who it was but, alas, it suddenly dawned upon me that I couldn't see anything. I took of the goggles. Ah, we have light.

"C-Col. Sheppard! I, oh, hello."

"At ease—er. …Miss Caxton. That was awkward."

Definitely. To what do I owe this great pleasure? The note. The note. I received a note from you earlier today… No. Apologies for the… Allow me to excuse my behaviour… uh… "I got your note?" I scratched my nose. It was grimy.

"Yeah. The note. The pink one," he looked like he was trying to remember without looking at the folder in his hand, "You had dinner with Lieutenant Michael last night—"

"And almost let slip top secret information, I know, and I'mvery sorry—"

He made shushing noises and held up a hand, "Look, Miss Caxton; Michael's been having a pretty tough time getting settled after the accident and he's not exactly appreciating the guards and being monitored twenty-four-seven. So we thought, you know, it'd be better for him if…"

"But I almost told him he was a—"

"You almost told him top secret intelligence that you picked up while doing your job," he informed me with a tone in his voice seemingly on broaching severity.

"Yessir." Strike two.

"And don't let it happen again. Got it?"

"Yessir."

"Great. So, just stay chummy. Michael could do with some new pals. You don't have any plans for dinner, do you?"

Oh, you almost make me feel like I'm in the same league as you, boy. I put on a nervy smile, and shrugged with the utmost modesty, "Probably breakfast with Michael. –Sir."

"Good job. And, um, keep up the good work!"

"That's what I get paid to do. Sir."

I wondered about that last line. Lying in my cot, staring up at the perfect square ceiling.

"Money, money, money."

Sure. That's why I signed up. You can't turn down a salary like that when the government offers you a job. Especially when said job was procured especially for you.

I opened the blinds and stared at the ocean until the light stung my eyes, Atlantian horizon stretching from top to bottom of my sideways vision.

"Two o'clock," I muttered.

Sometimes all we could do was huddle together, my tan squad, and pretend that we were safe in the bowels of Atlantis. Sure, we fantasised about travelling to rugged and dangerous planets all the time, but no one ever talked about the dangers already facing us.

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I ate my jelly in small, bored spoonfuls. Waiting. No, we're just deep in thought. Oh damn, I thought 'we'. That isn't healthy.Michael thunked down in the seat opposite, jarring the whole table and sending my spoon rattling onto the floor. I didn't pick it up, "Hi."

Michael's eyes spun wildly around to mine. He was panting, one hand gripping his food tray tightly... I could feel the small black hairs on my neck prickle like an animal acknowledging its hunter. "Hi."

I frowned, "You okay? You look..."My kingdom, my kingdom for an appropriate word! "Exerted."

"Fighting..." he panted, sweating like a real man, all rugged. Stop it. "Fighting is the one thing I remember. Because all this... I don't understand any of it. But fighting?" He stabbed his pudding with a steely fork, "It's the one part of me that survived whatever my memories didn't. At least I have that." He looked momentarily confused at what to do with the food in his bowl.

I hope the empathy didn't show on my face… I mean, he was a wraith and all, deep down. But he was oh-so pathetic. "You don't remember anything?"

He looked me dead in the eyes, "No."

"Pity, you know? You would have liked it."

"Would've liked what?"

"What? Your childhood. Growing up. You had a good life."

"How d'you know?"

"God, they haven't explained the concept gossip to you yet?"

"No."

"The less you know, the better."

"Why do you say that?"

"What? What's with you? You're so suspicious. Knock it off."

"Yeah… you're probably right. But what's up with this dessert? Have you tried it?" The poor thing looked murdered, chewed up by his fork.

"Nah, not supposed to."

"Are you on a diet?"

Just let it pass, he's just trying to be normal, "No. I'm eating breakfast. I've got a full day of stockpiling and… and stuff ahead of me. Pudding will just screw with my head." Sugar with no sleep, what a wonderful cocktail for mischief. Stop it.

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"Stockpiling," Edgarton instructed us upon arrival, was crucial to survival in this brave new galaxy. For without stockpiling, there would be chaos, and we would most likely end up eating ourselves. Mm, braaains.

"Well, fancy seeing you here lass," Dr Beckett smiled, sitting on a crate with a box full of medical supplies.

"Hey! I didn't know you got down and dirty with the stockpiling."

"Well, I like to know I've counted these myself… since I'm responsible for them and all."

"Aah. Good, good," I sat myself down and grabbed something that needed cataloguing.

"And I'll be sure to earn some brownie points with your lot while I'm at it," he joked, "So how's Michael?"

I yawned, "Getting into fights with Teyla, all the time. I think she should be having the special dinners with Lieutenant Michael."

"I'm glad he's fitting in."

"We always had a place for him." There was always a place in my life for a tall, manly alien.

"So I heard your man Edgarton's been off-world,"

"Oh yeah, I heard."

"I was wondering, since you're so used to sterilizing all my equipment, if you wouldn't mind carrying them around for me next time I'm called off-world? And, honestly, it may be months before I'm actually… required, but I wouldn't forget. Probably wouldn't. …You're looking a bit stunned there."

"Thank you."

I was still over the moon at 5am, doing the rubbish round. The pink note--it didn't matter anymore. Not if Dr Beckett wanted me off-world. He was now, officially, my hero. I could hardly keep my mind on whatever it was I was doing. I rubbed my eyes clear, wandering from room to room.

Maybe it'd be a planet covered in unusual conifers… bright red trees. Dad said something about our sun back home shining the brightest in the colour green, which is why the trees are all green. But stars usually shine in the red, and he said the forests of the universe would look like autumn. He could be damn poetic like that.

I went to the next door. Someone was obviously awake inside, unlike us. I knocked on the door, "Rubbish Duty." A lot of people were already awake by now, and happy to get rid of their waste. There was a scrambling noise and the door opened.

Wow. I really start to remember where people lived, "Morning Lieutenant."

He stood there, dazed smile of greeting still jammed on his face, clearly trying to remember something, "Oh!" he disappeared behind the door for a moment. He had looked all pale and sweaty, like that other time I caught him after a nightmare. I moved a little closer, peering in through the narrow gap. His hand grabbed the door and I jumped out of my skin. "Chocolate?" he offered confidently.

I laughed, "Is this what they've been teaching you? How to get a girl? Is that the first thing fellow army officers help each other to remember?"

"Another skill that comes naturally," he grinned boyishly. I supposed that would work, as he came from a hive—like a bee, trying to impress the Queen would be a natural impulse. He must have seen me agreeing with him. My face flushed hot red. Oh yes, agree with his skills. Why don't you do something subtle to finish like take those elevator eyes out for a spin, eh?

I took another piece of chocolate. "Thanks, but I can't be eating all of your chocolate--"Nice stuff too, very creamy. "I 'eally need to get back to 'urk"

"It's better to have someone else eat your chocolate than have to eat it yourself."

"That's very zen, but, you know, no two chocolates are ever the same. You should save some of your better flavours for later in the game."

"...What?"

"Never mind."

"What do you think is the best flavour? Of chocolate, I mean."

"I don't know. My favourite flavour's fudge."

"And do you think... Major Sheppard has a favourite?"

"Um, hard caramel?" Because he's bad-ass?

"And, uh, Dr Carson's? Favourite?"

"Hokey-pokey." I really hoped that none of my guesses would have lasting consequences, but with Michael I could hardly ever tell.

"And Teyla's?" Oh boy. That's why.

"Haha! Um, I'd first check if she has allergies. You don't want to give her nuts if she's allergic to… traces of nuts. Chocolate sometimes has traces of nuts. I don't know why. It must be the machinery." Awkward.

"Oh…" Michael took on a pensive look.

"You'll get it one day, Kenmure."

"I hope so." he grunted and rubbed his face, "I really need to see Dr Carson. Those pills he gave me aren't working at all."

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Kavanaugh was hunched over his desk with no other light but that of the table lamp. He was tinkering with some complicated electronics using what must've been tiniest screwdriver in Atlantis. Funny, that.

"There's some more trash on that table over there. I ran out of room in the bin," the scientist muttered offhandedly.

Well, that wouldn't happen if you didn't waste so much paper. "You're up early," I couldn't help but let another yawn escape me as the thought passed.

"Well, I am at my intellectual peak at five in the morning. Quite a lot of people are. Well, some, at least."

"Five in the morning no longer has any meaning to me. I've had all sorts of crazy shifts this week." It could be the pink note. They might be putting me on probation. Trying to drive me crazy.

"Oh, it's you."

"Hi."

Kavanaugh scrutinised the rubbish-free table top from across the room, "I was wondering, will you doing tomorrow's waste shift as well?"

"No." Or as Will Smith would say; Hell no.

"So… you wouldn't mind getting a meal together?"

I brushed hair out of my eyes to see him better, surely he was joking. Well, with the smug smirk he was wearing, how could anyone tell? I stood up straight, chuckling nervously. Bravado beats scissors. "A date with a genius scientist on some exotic off-world location in the middle of Pegasus Galaxy, who could say no to that?" Me. Be polite! Remember the pink note.

He laughed in some sort of unbelieving way, "Off-world? Is that all you people ever think about? You just go around trying to sidle up to any person that will take you to a foreign planet?"

"Excuse me? I'm not the one chatting up the garbage lady for a one-night stand!" Oh shit.

"What? Why would I risk catching something off you? Do you mind just collecting the garbage and not disturbing my work, thank you?"

My face swelled with anger, "Yeah, sure thing!"

"Yeah, sure." He went back to work on his electronics, scowling into the lamplight.

Prissy bastard! I wheeled the garbage trolley down the hallway, letting the shrieking wheels jar my ears; a welcome change. Why the hell would he make a pass at some one so insignificant, anyway? Bastard.

Amcotts wasn't much more understanding.

"Goddamn it!"

"Youyelled at one of the scientists?" Amcotts hissed, keeping her voice low.

"He was chatting me up!" I whispered harsh enough for bits of spittle to fly out.

"Oh yeah, rip his balls off! Hey, maybe he was being nice!"

"He was not! And I was joking about the one-night stand!"

"Cax, do you have any idea what they could do to you?"

"What do you mean 'do to me'?"

"You just got a warning notice! What if he reports you? No, when he reports you… what are you going to do? Do you really think they'll treat you like one of their own because you're friendly with Michael?"

"Shut up! You know what? Get the hell out." I spat.

"Cax, you've got to apologise to Kavanaugh."

"I'm not doing that."

"Think of everyone else in the tan gang! Do you really wanna screw us over, too?"

"Sure, whore myself out for every scientist just because I'm already belowthem! That's some great advice Amcotts!"

"Fine." She stormed out of the lockers, banging the door in a like a charging rhino, leaving me to wallow in my own destruction.

"…Oh shit, Amcotts…" this is somebody else's nightmare I'm trapped inside.

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"If she does become a threat to the… welfare and mental state of our people, then yes, we may need to isolate her," Major Sheppard conceded grimly.

McKay was biting his thumbnail, keeping pace with the other two men, "Do you know what she could do? She could start blackmailing us! Blackmail! She could use Michael to get whatever she wants! How did I not see this coming?"

"And we don't negotiate with terrorists, do we Kavanaugh?"

"Clearly the only thing to do in that scenario would be to drop her off on some isolated planet and--"

Something dawned on Sheppard's face, "Oh no. You know what, Kavanaugh? That's not going to happen because uninhabited planets are short in supply as it is right now. And anyway… one of those planets is already reserved for you and you alone." He stared the scientist down before motioning to McKay for the them to depart. Major Sheppard strode away, muttering under his breath, "Creep."

"That… that wasn't the same rubbish lady that yelled at me, was it?" McKay asked suddenly.

"Probably."

"And you're not worried at all that a psychopathic rubbish lady could tell… Lieutenant …Kenmure?"

"Michael just remembered who he was."

"I suppose that makes blackmail di--wait, did she tell him?"

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It was evening outside.

I zipped the collar of my uniform right up to the top this time, the low visibility tan choking me at the neck. I had to apologise to Kavanaugh if I was ever to brave the world outside my sleeping quarters again. Sleeping on the whole thing had calmed me down. Hopefully he'd calmed down too, over the eight hours I spent with my head under the pillow.

'Sorry? Is that the best you can do? You should be grovelling to even be allowed to be allowed on this voyage to the other side of--' my imagination did not need much of a head start to enter several different 'worst case scenarios'. Maybe after a good kick in the arse from mother humility, Amcotts might be able to forgive me.

And I needed her to forgive me. Like I needed the tan gang, I needed to belong to them. Maybe that's what Michael feels. Missing his hive.

I looked into the mirror mounted on the wall and redid my ponytail, tighter. "You know what, Michael? Just for the record, you are more human than any other member of the Atlantis Expedition." I looked to the side then, not wanting to see my face. Or maybe to be human is the darkest role there is to play.

Somebody's knocking pulled me out of my head. James poked his head in the door, "Hey, Cax… Amcotts sent me to get you. Your shift starts soon--laundry, you know. We're switching things a bit so that Robertson can get out early."

"Ten minutes, I'll be there."

"…Did you only just wake up?"

"I don't feel like breakfast today." This, somehow, made James look a little relieved. He gave me a supportive smile and left with a quiet 'see you there'. Michael will probably be having suspicions at why I'm suddenly absent from breakfast… dinner, whichever. I gave a wry smile.

I grabbed the tan cap from corner of my cot and walked out of the room, keeping my head down. Straight to the laundry room.

"They're holding a service for Sergeant Cole tomorrow morning, think you'll go?" James asked lightly, programming the washing machines.

"Do you think people like us will be wanted there, James?"

"Ah, good point."

"Has Amcotts said anything about me?"

"Why?"

"I yelled at Kavanaugh."

"Is that why you got the pink note?"

"No, no. This is after the pink note."

"Oh-ho-ho! You little rebel. I mean, was this after you found out about…?"

"About what?"

"You know. Wraith-boy."

"James! Shut up!" I hissed, almost lunging at him, "What the hellwould have happened if he'd heard you?" I looked around everywhere, expecting to see Michael looking mortified, having just found out…

"Well he's under constant supervision, it's not like he's going to hunt us down. Dr Weir, on the other hand," he tugged at his neckline emphatically, "Wouldn't want her catching me saying thatabout him."

"A couple of guards and you think you're safe? Boy, and they think I'm the crazy one."

"Score, Caxton," James sniggered.

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The room was filled with the pleasant burr of washing machines and silence. Every so often I noticed the metal clock ticking on the wall. I poked my finger through a bullet hole of a recently cleaned uniform, "This will need fixing."

"Put it in the pile, then. I'll do the stitching while you're out on sterilisation."

"Oh, that's right." The perfect thing to take my mind off Kavanaugh, playing with clean things. I inhaled deeply, "Ah, James, the smell of lemon in the morning."

"Smells like victory… over stains," he smirked.

"Ha, James, you're such a tool."

"I know. I'm a cleaning tool." I threw the camouflage uniform at him and sauntered out of the humming room.

Be immaculate! Be immaculate! The funny-looking scissors go on the left of the scalpel… don't they?

"Thanks, luv, I really appreciate the help,"

"No problem."

"They honestly give you no notice about these sorts of things, do they?"

"Hmm?"Tricky fiddly bits… blades everywhere…

"All of a sudden they want me to get a team ready to go to the Alpha Site by ten--who decides that it's a good idea to move to the Alpha Site at five in the morning?" He slid a hand down his face, "Honestly…"

"The Alpha Site? Today? Really?" Damn! I should have caught up on sleep while I had the chance!

"Yeah. It was a wee bugger trying to get the medical team sorted on short notice, let alone having to wake them up as well. Oh, it's not as if we'll be doing anything difficult. They're all just worried that we aren't taking enough precautions." He'd forgotten me.

"…Mm."

Dr Beckett rubbed his eyes wearily, "I just can't… it's been a long day." His face twinged, "Oh, what am I saying?" He was stressed out of his mind.

"It's been a hard day for a lot of people…" that seemed to just make it worse! "It'll get better!"

"Sergeant Cole is dead! And I'm responsible!" Oh Jiminy; that kind of service!

"Hey, you were just doing your job. That's what we do."

"And a great lot of good that brought to Atlantis."

"Well, I know… I know you tried."

"Did management tell you to say that to me?"

"Management wants me to shut up," he seemed to appreciate that joke more. If only it was a joke. Dr Beckett picked up a small syringe off his desk, and promptly put it down again. "Anything else you need, Dr Beckett?"

"No," the doctor murmured, still looking at the syringe.

"I could deliver that thing if you want."

"Oh. Yes, you could… You wouldn't mind the extra trouble, though?" he asked nervously.

"Oh no! It'd be a nice break from routine. Where is it headed?" I picked up a sterilised tray and loaded it with a few alcoholic swabs and the proffered insulin.

"The detention centre, remember?" he said sadly.

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This was never meant as a one-shot ;) I've got a whole plot lined up for you wonderful readers, once I get it written out. Reviewers, you are the ink of my pen, diodes of my word processor, the riches of my inbox! All feedback welcome! Update: I noticed a grammatical error, so I fixed it.

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