Chapter 15 – First night home , Part 1
It's the beginning of season 2. A lot is changing for everyone on Atlantis...
This chapter has been betaed by my dear friend Genie who writes wonderful stories for SG1. All remaining mistakes are still mine though!
And one more thing. I've realized you might want to get your hands on a few recipes Louise uses. I've tested them all, of course. So I'll update some of the previous chapters (I already have for chapter 11) and make sure to post recipes at the end of some chapters from now on.
The next month passes in a blur. Once more, she barely sleeps at night, using the extra free time to try new recipes and prepare jam and fruit jelly bars. Winter has suddenly made its appearance, forcing Teyla to let her people fend for themselves as she holds the fort for Elizabeth and her flagship team while they've temporarily returned to Earth.
Louise has stubbornly refused to follow them, arguing someone needs to stay behind to feed the troops, as she says. Elizabeth has decided to humor her after seeing how scared she is of going back and leaving what she's finally allowed herself to call "home". She's having a hard time coping with Ford going AWOL and her encounter with the Wraith though, she refuses to talk about either to anyone, her walls up so high even Rodney worries she might never let them in again.
Beckett has first tried to keep her in the infirmary, her blood sugar level going on a constant roller coaster for days on end, making her cranky and exhausted. When he's seen how frightened she was of staying there, he's relented, only asking her to allow someone from the team to check on her a couple of times a day, praying it will be enough, worried she might forget to eat altogether and faint without someone around. They're all very sad because of Ford's disappearance but she seems to be taking it worth than anyone.
"She looks like she's lost her own child," John remarks one day in passing to Elizabeth.
She nods. "I do agree. I wonder if it was such a good thing for her to connect to people here, after all. Whatever happened to her in her past, she might not have been ready for this. It seemed like such a good idea to include her in your team at the time, but with hindsight..." She gives him a tense smile.
"It was, really, it was. It's just a bummer it had to be Ford who had to leave that way. You know," he adds, shaking his head in disbelief, "it kind of boggles my mind. She was strong enough to fight and win against a Wraith but she can't accept losing Ford. It's as if her compassion were stronger than her instinct to stay alive."
"I wish she'd come to Earth with us. She needs to keep her mind off the whole thing until I figure out how to send her to the therapist. Finding one who can cope with our expedition's special needs is in my top priorities, for her sake as well as many other ones in our City," she answers, frowning.
John doesn't want to worry her more than needed and doesn't voice out his disagreement. He has an inkling Louise will never accept to sit and pour out her life story to anyone, let alone a psychiatrist.
When she's not on duty, she spends her time on the mess hall's balcony, looking at the ocean, yet not seeing it, her mind trapped in the whirlwind of her guilt. I should be the one who got hurt, not him, not so young. I'm the one who didn't wish to live. How come I'm still alive and well and he's not? Destiny is a bitch, letting those who didn't deserve it live while innocents get killed or hurt. How many times am I gonna have to live through this?
At night, when only the skeleton crew remains on duty, she's seen walking the corridors, pacing, trying to find the sleep that eludes her. She's worried sick for those who've gone back to Earth. What if something happened to them there or on their way back? She knows it's ridiculous because she can't protect them. There's no magic in this world, only the ugly truth of pain and suffering and finally dying – not like in the books she reads and the series she watches to alleviate her anguish when she can't take it anymore.
She often falls asleep in the TV room, after hours of watching the same stories over and over again until they lull the pain for now. But the next morning, the same process returns, making her suffering endless. She's been trapped in her mind for so long, she doesn't know how to end it. She wishes she could be both with those who have gone back to Earth and those who have stayed behind. Aiden's demise has triggered a chain reaction that seems impossible to stop. She's finally snapped – seeing no matter how hard she tries, she can't help caring about people and hurting like hell when they die. She can refuse to call them friends, it won't change a thing. Accepting it though...
She drowns herself into work not to think too much. Her happiest times are when her hands and mind are busy, working on recipes, replenishing the stocks, writing a cookbook with the favorite recipes of each member of the expedition she's already encountered. John's French toast, Rodney's cinnamon rolls, Aiden's apple pie, Teyla's cookies, Hallin's fudge brownies, Elizabeth's chocolate cupcakes, Beckett's shortbreads and so many others including her own lemon pie. The indigant look that Rodney had given her the first time she'd made it was priceless and is still one of her fondest memories – times when she'd been able to relax and laugh, albeit at his own expense for looking so stuck up.
She also writes an entry for Kavanagh's disgust of her vegetable crumble and renames it with his name – just because she can. After all, it's her own cookbook and life's short and sad and she needs to cling to all the humor she can still muster. After writing pages of it, she feels better, but sleep still eludes her most of the time and when it doesn't, she has fitful dreams.
She's standing at the balcony overlooking the gate room as the command crew is beamed down from the Daedalus. The knot in her stomach suddenly loosens as she accounts for them all. She feels ridiculous for being such a mother hen – for knowing she'll still keep them at arms' length to protect herself and yet care about them anyway. Once she's made sure they're all safe and sound, she turns tail and disappears towards the commissary. She tells herself they're probably very busy at the moment and she doesn't want to be underfoot. Truth is, she can't take the surge of relief she can feel and doesn't want to make a fool of herself. She knows for a fact they'd be awfully embarrassed to get bear hugs from the cook in front of the new crew members who are filing in at the moment into the gate room.
Elizabeth's eyes follow her as she exits the room hurriedly. "Where's Louise?" Rodney asks excitedly. "I have a present for her. I missed her."
John sniggers. " Course you did! You whined the whole time the food was not up to your expectations."
Rodney stares him down. "I will not even answer that. So, where is she?" he asks Teyla.
She motions towards the mess hall. "She was here when you arrived but left a couple of minutes ago after she'd made sure you'd all come back." She turns to Elizabeth. "She's had a hard time, what with Aiden gone and you all having left for Earth. I hope things will get back to normal now you've returned. She needs her comfort zone more than I had imagined."
Elizabeth and John exchange a worried look. "We'll go and see her as soon as we're done here."
He's finally finished with the armory. They've brought a whole cargo of weapons and ammunitions. It couldn't wait but all the time he has been monitoring his new recruits opening the crates and checking the supplies, his mind has been elsewhere – precisely two levels up, hoping Elizabeth has found a way to make things easier. Making things right though is a lost battle.
He curses himself for not finding a way to fight them more back there – make them listen and understand. He calls himself selfish. Letting them win is as good as a betrayal. You don't give up on people. He's said it so many times and never for a minute believed it only applied to the military. He curses himself for being so lame. She's been there for them so many times and has been through so much!
If he remembers properly, those are the exact same words he's mumbled through clenched teeth at General Landry, bordering on disrespect when told the decision was final. Of course, he reflects bitterly, now they are again in contact with Earth and know the Daedalus will make the round trip regularly, plenty of people have suddenly applied to positions on Atlantis. Being sent to an unknown destination with only the flimsy hope of returning to Earth some day has been replaced by the promise of a weekly contact with the SGC and the possibility of returning to Earth on a regular basis. The Pegasus galaxy does look enticing now, he thinks bitterly. Who knows? Soon enough, people working on the Stargate Program will come to see it as a simple commute from the Milky Way.
Louise really didn't deserve to be treated that way but of course, someone obviously had much greater pull than she does and Elizabeth couldn't fight and win all her battles. He curses the IOA too and those big brass in Washington D.C. For Louise, Atlantis is home, but for them it's just one more pawn on a much greater game.
He drops by at his quarters to shower and change and grab what he's brought for her from Earth and heads towards her quarters, suddenly realizing he's never been there. He taps his headset and calls Chuck. "This is Sheppard. I need to know where Louise Léger resides. Can you guide me there?" he asks.
"Your guess is as good as mine, Sir. I'm not sure where she is at the moment but I can tell you which quarters were first assigned to her. She's one level down from your own quarters, Sir. At least, that's where she's supposed to be. I was informed months ago when we checked the life sign detectors that the place had never been occupied. She does have a room with bathroom attached allotted to her at the back of the kitchens though."
John shakes his head angrily. "She won't be there. She's just been kicked out by the new chef," he barks.
Chuck cringes. "I didn't know, Sir."
John sighs. "I'm sorry. It's been a long day. I need to get to her. Just tell me which way to go. If I don't find her in her quarters, I'll call her."
He passes his hand over the sensor, making her know someone's at the door. She doesn't answer but he's sure he's heard noise inside. He insists. "Leave me alone, whoever you are!" she yells through the door.
"Louise, it's me, John. Please, let me in. I won't stay if you don't want me to but I need to know you're alright," he pleads.
"I'm alright! Now, go!" she yells back. He can hear the telltale sign in her voice – she's choking on her words, as if she'd been crying.
He growls in frustration and taps his headset. The hell he'll let her cry alone! "Chuck, this is Colonel Sheppard again. I need you to open Ms Léger's door for me."
Chuck gasps then whispers in his communicator: "Sir, I can't do that unless it's a matter of life or death! These are private quarters..."
"Ask for Elizabeth's permission," John relents, tapping his foot impatiently, his arms crossed. He hears the other man relay the information.
Elizabeth must be in the Control Room because he hears her voice on his headset almost immediately. "John, you have a go but please, I'm begging you, be tactful."
He rolls his eyes. "I always am! Don't you know me? I'm the epitome of tactful!" he banters.
"Yes, I know you all right, John Sheppard!" she chuckles. "Please, don't make things worse. Weir out."
He chimes on the door a third time. "Louise, I'm coming in." The door wooshes open. He peers into the room.
She's standing on the far end, a stack of books in her hands. She drops them when she sees him. "Who gives you the right?" she demands, trying to keep her temper at bay, tears brimming in her already reddened eyes.
"Elizabeth and also the fact I'm your friend," he answers coolly, daring her with a lifted brow to counter him.
She pouts then shrugs. "Well, make yourself at home." She grabs the books, turns her back on him and sets to work as if he were not there.
"Louise, look at me," he pleads, still not daring to move. She silently shakes her head so he walks tentatively towards her, making her turn.
She frowns, trying to keep her temper at bay. "Don't!"
"I missed you! We all missed you! Please, don't keep us at arms' length." He tilts his head, waiting for a sign she's OK with him coming closer.
She takes a deep breath, her bottom lip shaking, so he closes the distance between them and wraps his arms tightly around her, feeling relieved when she does the same. "I missed you too," she whispers through her tears.
After a couple of minutes, she finally finds the courage to disentangle herself from him and takes a step back, brushing away her tears with the back of her long-sleeved shirt. "I thought Rodney would be the first to come by," she says in passing. He can hear the tinge of hurt. He chuckles. "He would have beaten me here if he'd been allowed to do so but Elizabeth was adamant about him checking in all the new equipment he's brought in. Besides," he adds, looking sour, "you have to understand he doesn't know yet. Dr Weir and I – and probably quite a few people by now – know. I might need to assign a bodyguard to Buckley before McKay finds out. Rodney's your biggest fan, you know?" he teases her, making her smile.
She becomes silent again and sits on the edge of the bed. "So you knew?" she prods. There's no accusation in the question, just surprise.
He pulls the chair next to the desk closer so he sits in front of her. "Elizabeth told me before we left Earth. Sweetie, you have to understand. I tried to fight them on that. I even talked to General O'Neill about it. He's sending his regards, by the way." She nods curtly. She likes the guy very much – both for his good looks and dry sense of humor, as well as his consideration when they met. And yet, she realizes, he hasn't fought for her this time.
"I understand, John. You're not the one making decisions here..." She lets it hang in there between them until he realizes what she means.
"No, no, you don't get it. Elizabeth fought them hard too. There was nothing she could do." She snorts disdainfully and he realizes he won't win that one. She needs to be told by Elizabeth herself but right now, she's too wound up to listen. "All I can tell you is the guy is Senator Ted Stevenson's nephew." He tries to squeeze her hand but she eludes him, looking shocked.
"Buckley's his nephew? The same guy who tried to take away the SGC's chef's position?" He looks at her nonplussed. "Major Lawrence trained me before we left for Atlantis. Very nice person. He gave me a very efficient crash course on cooking for large staffs. I heard rumors Senator Stevenson's nephew had tried to steal his job by using his uncle's connections. General Landry put his foot down but most of all won because of ranks. Apparently the guy was barely out of cooking school." She thinks about it then adds bitterly: "I didn't stand a chance, did I?"
He falls silent too. Sometimes, there's nothing you can do but be there. She seems lost in her thoughts and he respects that. Silence settles in and he looks around. Boxes and a couple of travel bags have been dropped unceremoniously on the floor. Books are sitting on shelves above the bed. No sheets or blanket adorn it at the moment as she's obviously tried to occupy her hands by rummaging through her cherished books rather than settling for good. He knows it'll take time for her to accept these new quarters.
He stands and walks round, touching the few personal objects she's set on the desk – a frame, her tablet, the thick copybook she's using to write her recipes in, an older looking one that she's left open on the dessert section where he sees someone has written further instructions in the margin in an elegant yet old-fashioned penmanship...
"I live just one level up from you. We're practically neighbors," he mentions in passing, briefly glancing at her, hoping she'll look on the bright side of things. She nods but does not answer. "You have quite a collection of cookbooks here," he adds. She smiles. "It kind of runs in the family," she finally answers. He knows she can't resist talking about her favorite subject. He takes hold of the pewter frame sporting the sepia photograph of a young petite woman with her hair in a bun dressed in a long dress probably dating back to the 1910s. "Your grandmother?"
She smiles and nods vehemently. "Léonie," she elaborates. "Her maiden name was Léger too. I asked to be allowed to use her name when I came to your country, as a tribute to her." He realizes this is one of the several skeletons in her closet she mentioned to him once. She used to have another name and for some reason decided to relinquish it. He frowns so she adds hurriedly, seeing his unease: "I felt more like a Léger than anything else. My grandmother raised me, not my parents. She lived at home and, to me, she was my real mother. My parents never bothered with me. They always had something more important to do..." she explains sadly, then brightens up: "But to be honest, I was lucky to have my grandmother. She taught me everything while she was still alive."
He smiles at her reassuring. She's always so afraid of doing or saying something wrong. "So I gather the cookbook is hers too, right?" he asks, peering at the instructions in the margins. Her eyes crinkle with love, making his heart lighter.
He raises his finger, his eyes warming with joy. "I brought something for you," he singsongs, walking to the door and retrieving a large package from the corridor.
"You shouldn't have," she answers hurriedly, obviously embarrassed by the attention.
He pouts. "Stop saying that. Yes, I should! Now," he adds, sitting the package on her bed carefully, "open it, lady!" He crosses his arms and waits impatiently as she cautiously does as instructed. He growls. "Oh, come on, tear it open, damn it! You're killing me here!" She laughs out loud and humors him though she's always hated damaging pretty wrapping papers and she has an inkling of what he's brought her. She gapes at the gift though, not knowing what to say. "Well?" he asks, disappointed. "Ya don't like it?"
"Of course, I do! But it's really too much. You know I'll never manage to stand on a board!"
He rolls his eyes. "Nonsense. You can and you will! I'll be your personal coach once the summertime returns. We'll go surfing every week even if I have to drag you out there and away from your kitchen!" he says then clamps his mouth shut at the enormity of what he's just said.
"I have an inkling, Colonel, time won't be of the essence from now on," she retorts, tilting her head.
"Sorry," he says, looking sheepish.
She laughs in spite of the weight settling on her stomach again. "No puppy looks, Colonel. They don't work on me!" She tucks her tongue out at him, making him laugh, relieved she's still got her sense of humor.
He helps her tidy her room and then walks her to the Control Room where Elizabeth has asked them to join her, making her pass in front of his own quarters so she knows where she can find him when he's not on duty.
TBC