SGA Life, with a little spice 12
"Get off my back, damn it!" she yells, exasperated, and turns to face him, a spatula full of chocolate ganache still in hand. "Don't you see I'm trying to work here?" She only gets a self-satisfied smirk in return as he eyes her, waiting for her next move. She tries to cover her embarrassment at feeling stupid and totally non-threatening by throwing said spatula in the sink nearby and pointing at the door menacingly – or so she hopes.
"Get out! Just get out!" she says through clenched teeth. He crosses his arms over his chest and smirks once more but doesn't budge. She huffs impatiently and taps her headset. "Colonel Sheppard, please come in," she demands.
"Uh, uh," is all she gets in return. Obviously it is not a good time to ask for his undivided attention but when is it these days?
"John, I know you're busy but I am too," she insists. "Please tell Mr Ventrell I need my peace and quiet to do my job properly..." she tries to explains patiently. She waits for an answer that does not come. She taps her foot impatiently. "John?" she growls.
She hears him sigh and can imagine him pouting, wherever he is. "I'll be right there, Léger. Sheppard out." This does not bode well. He seems more pissed at her than he is at the reason for her call.
She's been patient. She has, really – for the last ten days that Ventrell has been on board – but enough is enough. Not only has he not made any progress but he's been pestering her ever since he's been on board, contending that she is the key to the whole matter, and has spent all his waking hours – and hers, it seems – asking her to play it again for him, over and over again.
She knows if he asks one more question – just one – about anything that happened since this whole nightmare started, she's going to go wacko – three French fries short of a Happy Meal, as Jack O'Neill puts it.
She turns to Ventrell and sees his smirk still plastered on his face and wants nothing more than to wipe it off but there are too many witnesses for her to lash out at him – preps working on the evening meal that need to have a cool and collected leader in this time of crisis, not the shrew she feels bubbling up just under the surface and begging to be unleashed – so she just gives him a very fake smile and a tilt of her head for good measure.
"What is it, Léger?" John ambles into the room and nods briefly at Ventrell before turning to Louise. The preps drop whatever they're doing to stand at attention. He waves them off. "As you were, people. Return to your work stations."
They do as told but not before some bolder than others glance at the chef. They've learned from the beginning of this mission that Colonel Sheppard walking into the kitchens is hardly ever good news and that those two are like fire and water. And their boss might have to share them with the leader of the expedition but whenever they're in the kitchens, they're supposed to be her staff and hers only.
She tilts her head to the work stations, silently ordering them to proceed. John doesn't say a word but he's not blind and she sees him wince. This is something he never had to deal with before he became the leader. Woolsey had warned him it could be tricky and he had waved it off, thinking Louise and him would find common ground. It so appears things are never that easy between them. Regardless, she stands her ground and looks him straight in the eye, almost staring him down. Obviously, it's not a good day.
"So..." she says, hoping he'll take it from there and ask Ventrell to leave her be.
John pouts and sighs. They've hardly had time to talk ever since Ventrell got on board but he does know she's not happy about the current situation – all of it. Ventrell pestering her, the lack of good news, his spending all his time scouring the city in the hope of securing it and maybe finding the proverbial needle in the haystack... But he trusts the SGC and if they say Ventrell is their best shot at finding what's going on, he won't blow their chances, no matter how annoyed it makes his girlfriend.
"Louise, I can't do what you're asking. Ventrell knows what he's doing. Let him do his job," he replies adamantly, crushing her hopes she might have him off her back, if only for a little while.
She glares at him. "And what about my job, uh?" she defies him. "You of all people should know I need to focus when I work. Not have someone peppering me with questions – which by the way he's asked for hundreds of times already!" she growls, aggravated. "John, I swear. If I can't do my job properly, it's best I don't do it at all. Don't force me to hand out my resignation."
John grabs her arm not too gently and walks her to the door, nodding at Ventrell to follow them. "Let's take this to a quieter place," he says and leads her to the balcony outside the kitchens.
She frees her arm impatiently and turns to him, her back to the ocean. She folds her arms on her chest defensively and tilts her head up in defiance. "Stop undermining my authority in front of my staff, John!" she barks.
He winces. "When you stop undermining my authority in front of mine!" he counters. "I'm the leader. I thought we'd agreed on that. I make decisions that can't please everyone – including you – but I make them for a reason. I say Ventrell is allowed to pester you. You don't question my decision. Period, Léger!" he barks back, advancing menacingly on her. "I thought that, of all the people on this expedition, you'd be the one who'd see it most clearly – how important it is we catch whoever is behind all this asap," he adds, aggravated.
She shudders at the way he's staring her down. They haven't fought like this in a long while and though it still gives her nightmares to recall how the other John from the future had treated her at first, it's her John here and that makes a whole world of difference. He looks more authoritative, colder too, and she fears the events of the past month may have changed him irrevocably.
She lays a hand tentatively on his forearm. "Can we talk about this in private?" she asks, her voice soothing though she feels anything but appeased at the moment.
She glances at Ventrell who has not said a word since they've stepped outside. He's watching them both, as if evaluating them, gauging their reactions. She shudders once more.
"Nothing that Ventrell cannot hear, Louise," John counters her.
She sighs and feels yet another headache loom at the back of her head. She massages her neck and closes her eyes for a second then she turns to Ventrell instead. "Look. As I told John, I can't work like that. Your questions are leading us nowhere. Why don't you go and interview other people? I don't know what it is you did back at the SGC but you did catch the assassin. Why don't you use the same methods here? Why are you bullying me?" she adds tiredly. "I complied and answered your questions numerous times but it's leading us nowhere. What do you expect to get by pestering me like that? I'm not the damn killer! I'm a victim here and you make me feel like I'm responsible for this whole mess," she says despondently, her voice dropping to a whisper.
She's exhausted and on the verge of tears. She sees John approach her, looking uncomfortable as always when tears are involved, but she stops him with a raised hand. "Don't," she says resolutely. "I don't need a shoulder to cry on. I need answers and a solution to the problem at hand."
He takes a step back and winces. Louise has never been easy to handle. Now he's feeling like he's walking with a live grenade in his pocket.
"I pledge to differ, Ms Léger," Ventrell answers her. She tilts her head at him, waiting for him to elaborate. "Whether you like it or not, you are responsible for what is happening right now."
She gasps and John feels the need to intervene. "Now, wait, Mister..." he growls.
Ventrell lifts his hand. "Let me finish. I think we can all agree Ms Léger is at the heart of the matter and I'm sure she won't deny it." He lifts his eyebrows at her expectantly.
She hangs her head. He's got a point. She said it herself. Whatever the hidden agenda their enemy has, she's somehow connected to it.
"I'm not pestering you to get on your wrong side, Ms Léger," he adds for her benefit. "I can feel there's something we haven't uncovered yet – something crucial that may well lead us to what and who we're looking for. I'm pestering you because you're resisting me. And I'm not saying you're doing it on purpose. Your mind refuses to let us access the information we need to solve the puzzle. I had hoped that, in time, making you relive the events over and over again would lead you to unlock that memory. I can see that it won't happen."
He turns to Sheppard who's been listening to him intently. "I think it's time we take the investigation to the next level."
She sees John bite his lower lip – the sign he's pondering a difficult decision. She sniggers to hide her unease. "You guys intend to torture me?"
Ventrell ignores her quip and turns to her. "I intend to use the same method I used at the SGC. Bring in a To'kra lie detector and use it on you. Out of respect for Colonel Sheppard here and of compassion for what you've gone through already, I'd agreed to wait and see if the truth would resurface on its own but we need answers now. We've been very lucky no other spy has been given a window of opportunity to strike again on board but I believe it's only a matter of time. Anyway, you said it yourself if I recall properly – we can't remain cooped up like this forever."
He turns to Sheppard. "You can make the decision or I can call the SGC and IOA for confirmation of my orders."
John winces.
"What about you ask me instead?" Louise scoffs. "I'm well aware of what a Za'tarc detector is, Mr Ventrell. I read the report and Daniel – I mean Dr Jackson – told me about it." John looks up and she sees but the trace of unease at the mention of her friend's name. The unpleasant memory of yet another fight they'd had over her friendship with the archeologist apparently still looms over their own relationship, no matter what.
"You're saying you're ready to take it willingly?" Ventrell asks, clearly surprised.
She glances at John and gives him a tired smile. "I'm saying if that's what it takes for you to get off my back, yes, I will do it. I just wonder..." she adds, locking eyes with Ventrell.
He nods for her to go on. "When you're done with me, who's next? Am I the only one to be interrogated or do you intend to use it on other people?"
"Why?" he asks bluntly.
"You said it yourself. You deem me responsible for what is happening right now. Did the IOA send you here to find a reason to remove me from Atlantis and use me as a scapegoat?" she prods.
John huffs. "Louise," he chides her. "They let us come here. They approved the mission and your presence here on board. Why would they have a sudden change of heart?"
She shakes her head slowly. "Don't know, John. Just asking. They've changed their mind so many times over the years, I wouldn't be surprised – in the light of recent events – if something had come up that would make them want to make a few adjustments..."
"To answer your question, Ms Léger," Ventrell cuts her in, "I was hoping you'd be the example to follow. I was ordered to interrogate the whole base, should nothing else come up to help with the investigation."
The ball is in her court now. She nods her assent. "Very well," he goes on, seemingly satisfied he's reached his goal. "I'll inform the SGC." He turns to Sheppard and nods at him briefly then exits the kitchen quietly.
John shuffles his feet. "Are you sure you wanna do this?" he asks her, looking anything but comfortable with the idea. "I was told it's a pretty unpleasant experience."
She scoffs. "As if I had the choice!" Then she amends, feeling she's not being fair to him. He's got a city to protect and so does she. "At least I know what to expect."
He nods silently and looks away then he trains his gaze on her. "I didn't know you had such an extended knowledge of SG1's missions," he mentions in passing.
She shudders, feeling uneasy, as if she had done something wrong. "I like stories, John. You of all people should know that."
He scoffs. To be fair, he knows she reads anything she can lay her hands on and when action and mystery are involved, not even he can make her lay a book down until she's read it all. But he has to ask anyway. "How did you come across SG1's files?"
She huffs, feeling cornered. She shouldn't have to explain herself. "I thought you trusted me, John," she counters, locking eyes with him.
He raises his hands in mock surrender. "I do, really, I do. I just wonder, that's all."
She presses her lips together and shrugs despondently. She doesn't like to talk about the times she's had to stay at the SGC. Not that it's all bad memories but it's memories that do not include him – her secret garden. "Daniel told me about some of their missions. General O'Neill did too. He let me read files. I guess he was testing me – making sure I would not snap out here. There wasn't much to do anyway, seeing as I was not allowed off base. I got caught up in the 'stories'," she adds making air quotes. "The best story ever, John. That is, until I came out here..."
She gazes outside at the City's spires and he refrains from saying what's on his mind – that he wishes they'd met earlier, that he envies Daniel and O'Neill for meeting her before he did. Now is not the time to break the spell that has seized her at the mention of the City. Because if there's anything he should be jealous of, it's not another man but the place they've come to call home. Sometimes when she looks at the City at night from their quarters' window, he tells himself that she would probably not hesitate to sacrifice herself for her and that scares him.
"You don't need to be scared, Ms Léger," Ventrell tells her with a brief smile that looks anything but reassuring. She nods quietly though she's anything but calm inside. It's a few hours later and he's summoned her to the conference room to be the first to take the test. She's still got that headache and has brought her mug of coffee with her. She sits it on the table next to her but knows she'll probably leave it untouched – the smell making her queasy. Coffee is usually her duct tape – her solution to everything – but she's too wound up and tired these days and even her morning coffee has been replaced with green tea.
Ventrell finishes attaching the sensors, turns the machine on and sits in front of her. "I'm going to ask you a few questions to calibrate the machine and then we'll go through those questions I've already asked you. Be as truthful and thorough as possible in your answers. Anything you think about, just say it. Don't leave anything out or the machine will deem you as a potential threat. Am I being clear?" He looks her in the eye.
She bites her bottom lip nervously and glances towards John who's sitting further down the table. He gives her a smile he hopes is reassuring and nods for her to go on. She turns to Ventrell. "Yes. Let's get this over with," she adds resolutely.
He starts by the obvious – her past life, the things she'd originally hidden from John. He nails them one after the other – cruelly – reminding her of the loss of her husband and child, her run-in with alcohol, her refusal to connect to people... Once he's established she's ready for more, seeing how open she is about her past, he fires up the questions he's already asked her dozens of times since he's come on board. He's already warned Sheppard that it's a wild shot and the machine cannot work miracles – if it's buried too deep in her subconscious, she might not be able to recall the events that have led her to her disappearance. But the machine seems to be telling him the contrary – there is indeed something she refuses to acknowledge.
He frowns and Sheppard comes to stand behind him, peering at the screen too. He's asked her if – to her knowledge – there's something that happened back then, in the future, that would change things right here, right now. The machine has only given out blue shades until now – until he's tried a different angle and talked about the future that won't happen now.
It's undeniably there though flickering back and forth from blue to a very pale pink at moments – as if her conscience were refusing to admit it. He glances over his shoulder at Sheppard who's looking from the screen to Louise. It's the first time he sees the trace of a doubt in his eyes. They've had countless conversations about his girlfriend and he's always been adamant that he trusts her a hundred percent – until now. It's an opportunity that might not present itself again. He looks back at Louise who is rubbing her forehead – the telltale sign she's gonna need a recess soon. He pushes a bottle of water towards her. "I see you're tired," he tells her kindly.
She looks up, nonplussed. The guy is never kind, for Pete's sake! And she knows something is up though she has no clue what's going on because, to her knowledge, they're not making any progress.
"But we need to finish first," he adds, crushing her hopes. "You're hiding something from us, obviously..." He lets it hang in there.
She frowns and looks up at John who averts his gaze, refusing to look at her. "John..." she pleads. "I'm tired and need to check my sugar level. Can we have a short recess?"
He trains his gaze on her, his jaw twitching characteristically. "Answer the damn question, Louise, and we'll have that recess. What are you keeping from us?"
She shakes her head, hurt. "How could you possibly believe that I'm not being truthful to you, John?" she says, her voice strained.
"Maybe not voluntarily but the machine's never wrong and you know it damn well," he counters her.
She hangs her head and remembers General O'Neill's cryptic words. Suffice to say that damn machine knows you in and out, even more than you do yourself. Pretty scary, if you ask me, he'd told her.
"Anything, Ms Léger," Ventrell insists. "Even the slightest nagging doubt. You've got to tell us. It might not be important but it could very well be..."
She closes her eyes, wishing things were different and she could have mentioned this to John in other circumstances and not in front of a perfect stranger.
Ventrell's eyes are locked on the machine. "The more you wait and ponder it, the more the machine is saying you're a liar, Ms Léger," he warns her.
John glances at the screen and sees it's getting a deeper shade of pink by the minute. "Louise," he growls.
She cringes. "I... John, look. It's been at the back of my mind ever since I came home. It's just one of those stupid fears I sometimes get. Nothing tangible. Anyway, I haven't had time to check it out..."
He glares at her. "Spit it out, damn it! You're scaring the shit out of me! What is it?"
Ventrell keeps his eyes on the machine, not wanting to interrupt – not needing to anyway. It's obvious he's made the right choice interrogating her first and foremost. He'd known it all along – whatever she's hiding, whatever happened to her, might very well bring out the demise of the whole expedition.
She keeps her head down, not daring to look her companion in the eye. "I might be pregnant, that's what," she finally says as in a trance – the words leaving her mouth feeling utterly alien to her.
TBC