Chapter 19 – Evaluation
He passes her as he's heading towards Weir's office that morning. She has her head down and her fists are held tight at her sides. She's just left the Control Room. She doesn't even ackowledge his presence. He sees her yank the communicator from her ear and cram it into her pants' pocket. He cringes. As much as McKay likes her and her food, he's going to be royally pissed if she's damaged the piece of state-of-the-art technology.
He wirls around and decides what he had to tell Elizabeth can wait. He follows her but she's already disappeared round the corner. It's a good thing he knows where she's headed anyway. He knows when something is bothering her, she only knows one way to clear her mind or cool off, and it's cooking. He smirks. Whatever happened down in Elizabeth's office, he'll find a way to make her come clean about it. He knows her better now. She doesn't retreat in her shell the way she used to at the beginning. Sure, she's still a mystery to most people here but he's learnt to decipher the tell-tale signs. After all, she's a lot like him when it comes to holding it all inside, as he's recently experienced.
"Listen, Louise. You don't have to keep it all bottled up. Believe me, it'll end up killing you for sure."
She snorts. "Don't worry, Colonel. I'm pretty resilient."
"Damn it, Louise! Why can't you just acknowledge that you're mourning a friend? The Ford we knew is gone and as much as I'd like to get my hands on the kid and ween him out of the drug, we both know by now it's never gonna happen," he hisses at her, pissed that she's worked herself to exhaustion just so she won't have to think about it.
She tilts her head up in defiance. "There's one thing you still need to learn about me, Colonel. I don't do friends," she hisses back and slams the door shut on him.
His communicator comes alive and he hears Elizabeth's strained voice. "John? This is Weir. Respond."
He smirks again. That was fast! He takes longer strides towards the kitchens and taps his communicator. "Yeah, Ma'am. I'm on it," he answers before she even has the chance to utter another word.
In her office, Elizabeth shakes her head in disbelief and chuckles. "Right," she answers. "Thank you, Colonel. I trust you'll get us all out of this crisis. Weir out."
He reaches the kitchens as she's banging pots and pans on the stove, venting out her anger. She was fast getting there, for such a petite frame. So much so that she's already donned her apron and put some water on the stove to boil. She ignores him and grabbing a knife, she turns to her workstation to chop the Pegasus equivalent of tomatoes and onions. He knows from the basil and spaghettis resting on the island top what they'll have for tonight. No complaint there! The tomatoes they secured from a new trading expedition are sweeter than those from Earth, much like the cherry ones, and the onions are pink, with a finer taste than the yellow or red ones. He can see too that she's alone in the kitchen which means she's probably told her assistants to leave – or rather ordered them, what with the state of agitation she's in. She's chopping furiously at the onions now while checking on her pans where she's put oil to heat and each time she turns towards the stove, she lets the knife rattle onto the chopping board, not caring to lay it gently, rather doing it on purpose he realizes, so it makes a hell of a noise and fuels her anger even more.
He knows she's aware he's there but since she's staying focused on her cooking, he finally decides it's time to do something about it. He clears his throat and approaches her cautiously. She turns to him and glares. "Don't you dare invade my space as if it were your own, Colonel," she says through clenched teeth, her tone biting on the last word. "I know she sent you here and I won't give in to your puppy looks so you'd better get your butt out of here," she adds, pointing her knife at him before she returns to her chopping.
He rolls his eyes but takes a cautious step back. He doesn't know what's going on and he's never seen her so enraged. Actually, he's never seen her enraged at all. Well, come to think about it, there was that time not so long ago when she killed that giant of a Wraith with a knife very much like this one, he winces, but that was a different matter. Yet, on Atlantis, with everything they've already been through – and he has an inkling they haven't seen anything yet – you're never too cautious. "Are you, like, you know, under the influence of some alien presence or something?" he asks tentatively.
She sneers. "Yeah, sure. Wouldn't that be convenient, uh? Nope, Colonel, I'm not!" She scowls at the sight of his hand resting on his side arm, in case. "You can relax, John," she says, drawling his first name. "I'm just pissed."
He relaxes a little and chooses to humor her. He walks to the pot she keeps in a corner and helps himself to a cup of steaming, and he knows, strong brew. She likes her coffee strong but he doesn't mind because he has to admit, she makes good coffee – never bitter. He holds out the mug to her. She declines, shaking her head, her lips still pressed together, her eyes narrowing at the basil she's chopping and adding to her pan. "I'm busy here," she says not too nicely, making him know in no uncertain terms he's still not welcome there.
He sighs. "Weir didn't send me, Louise. I'm just concerned, is all," he says quietly, shrugging. She tilts her head so he knows she's listening but doesn't utter a word so he plods on. The hell he'll let her bully him into leaving. She's shutting him out again and he won't have it. "What is it? Talk to me," he pleads.
When she finally answers after washing her hands and drying them on her apron, it's not anger he sees in her eyes, but fear and pain too. "She wants me to go see Dr Heightmeyer."
He cringes. It's not he doesn't like Kate. It's just he too has a strong aversion for her field itself. "I get it. I don't like going to her office either but you don't have the choice. We're supposed to have at least one evaluation a year and as I recall, she's never seen you before, right?"
She looks up at him, her lower lip trembling with anger. "How do you know?"
"There's not much going on here I don't know about, sweetie. It's my job, as well as Dr Weir's, to keep up with what's up. Nothing personal."
"Still, I don't want to go. She's been pestering me for a while now and I said I wouldn't go. There's nothing wrong with me!"
"We're not saying there is! Come on. You're part of the expedition. You've had to go through this at least once before you were cleared to come here. What's the big deal with spending half an hour in her office? You'll be done with it in no time and if nothing bad happens in the meantime, you won't have to go back for a whole year! A walk in the park! Trust me, Heightmeyer is not a witch. She's just doing her job."
She shakes her head stubbornly. "Still, won't go. No way. I don't want to be in the same room with a shrink ever again in my life. That's final!"
"Well, someone didn't like her evaluation at the SGC, uh?" he teases her. "What did they do to you? Asked you to talk about your relationship with your mother?" He winks at her then sobers up when he sees the look of pure rage in her eyes.
"I do not wish to talk about my mother with anyone including you, Colonel." He cringes. She's reverting to calling him that to let him know she's royally pissed at him. "And FYI," she adds through clenched teeth, "I never had to go through the process at the SGC. I was cleared by Dr Jackson and Colonel O'Neill and that was it. It was the deal, damn it! No shrinks or I was not coming."
He looks at her bemused. This is unheard of. No one is allowed to come here without going through a bunch of tests, especially the psychological ones. "You sure?" he insists, pouting.
She scowls at him. "Seems like someone's not done his job thouroughly after all! Haven't read my file?" she taunts him. It's so not like her to be nasty. He wonders what she's afraid of to feel so cornered.
"Nope. I asked Dr Weir if there was something I really should know, you know after the scare you gave me on your second mission off-world, but that's it." She pouts, embarrassed that he had to know about it. She doesn't like to talk about her condition – doesn't like to let people think she's "sick" because she sure doesn't want to feel that way.
He smiles at her, embarrassed too. "Hey, it's OK. We agreed not to talk about it. And I don't want to intrude. I know my men's files like the back of my hand but you're a civilian. And you're my friend," he adds tentatively but she refuses to make eye contact. This is a fight he's not won yet. She retreats in her shell every time she hears the f word and he hasn't been able yet to understand why. He talked to Elizabeth about it but she's as clueless as he is.
She's advised him though to be patient. Trust and friendship need to be earned with time and she's told him she believes Louise is like the fox in the Little Prince. She probably needs more time than most people to create bonds and feel safe around him. But man, is it frustrating!
She uncrosses her arms she has folded on her chest defensively, checks her preparation and leaves it to simmer then she motions for him to sit at the table. He does and remains silent. The ball is in her court now. He doesn't want to force her but if she doesn't speak to him, she'll have Weir on her back next.
She licks her lips and sighs. "I... When Rodney came to fetch me and told me about signing a waiver and all that," she explains, motioning vaguely with her hand, "I said OK because I thought it was a chance for me to do something different. He talked about the responsibilities and I thought that was the kind of occupation that would keep be busy enough not to think." He nods. She's just opened up enough once to explain how thoughts used to swirl so much in her mind, it would keep her awake at night. They've not come yet to the why. "Then they had all those medical tests. I said don't bother. You'll never send a diabetic on an expedition. But Dr Lam said it didn't matter. But then she talked about sending me to the shrink and I said no. I guess things went south enough in the infirmary that she sent for General O'Neill. Him and Dr Jackson and I, we had a talk. I explained things to them and they agreed to spare me." She's said "things" but he knows she means "past" – that she came clean about everything with them but not him. She falls silent and he knows she won't say more.
"Is it mentioned in your file? I mean the clearance."
"I guess it it or I wouldn't have been allowed to come here – I think."
He taps his communicator. "Dr Weir? This is Sheppard. I'm coming to your office to check on a file. I'll bring Ms Léger with me, if you don't mind. Sheppard out."
She shakes her head vehemently. "No, I'm not going back there."
He sees she feels cornered. "Louise, please, be sensible. We need to find a solution. I'm trying to help here."
She refuses to look at him when he approaches her and he sees her lips trembling. He's never seen her so upset before – not even when the Wraith attacked her – but he knows she's become a master at keeping her feelings bottled up inside. Well, most of the time anyway, he realizes. "I prefer to leave Atlantis in that case," she whispers. "Tell Dr Weir she'll have my resignation on her desk by the end of the day."
He looks at her in alarm. Now, that can't be happening! She's doing good here and they've all come to enjoy having her around. "She won't accept it and I advise strongly against wringing her arm like that." Elizabeth – under the veneer of the diplomat – is a tough cookie. She hates it when she's not the one to initiate the negociations. He taps his communicator once more. "Elizabeth. Change of plans. Could you please come down to the kitchen and have a cup of tea with us, maybe? And would you mind bringing Ms Léger's file with you, please." He listens to Dr Weir's answer. "Thank you, Ma'am. Yes. I do understand and I appreciate. I owe you one. Sheppard out."
He turns to Louise and crosses his arms on his chest. "Well, when this crisis is over, you'll owe me one too, chef!" he says, his eyebrows raised.
She hangs her head. "Why do you keep trying to help me, John? I'm a basket case and by now, I'm sure you know it."
He shakes his head and sighs. "If you're one, what should be said about me?"
She laughs humorlessly. "Believe me, you've got nothing on me."
He thanks Elizabeth when she arrives and peruses the file briefly. He nods at Louise. "You're right. There's a note saying you were not given an evaluation but cleared by Jack O'Neill himself." She smiles.
"But nowhere in there is there any mention of you being exempted from further evaluations," Dr Weir points out. She sits at the table. "Why don't we discuss this and find a compromise?" she offers, briefly glancing at John for his advice. He shakes his head sadly. Louise ignores them and busies herself preparing tea. She sets the pot and two cups on the table then heads for the pantry. "Louise, please," Elizabeth says, making her stop in her tracks. "We started on the wrong foot in my office. I was tired and I was too blunt about it. I ordered you to go without understanding the underlying issue but if you're willing to explain, then I'm willing to listen."
Louise turns her head slightly so the look of pure hurt can be seen by both of them but is obviously not ready to comply. "I told Colonel Sheppard already, Ma'am, and it's no empty threat. I'm willing to hand out my resignation but I will – not – talk – about my personal problems." She's spaced out her words, almost hissing them but keeping them in check for the time being.
Elizabeth is taken aback by the violence of the words and the extremity to which that petite woman is ready to go just so she won't step foot in Dr Heightmeyer's office. "It's just a talk, Louise. Between civilized people. No need to get to such extremities! You get in, say hi, chat about how you feel about being here, tell her a little about your activities, what you do in your free time, I don't know, things like that. She realizes you're normal and not a threat to the expedition and tells you have a nice day. That's it. No foul, I promise."
Louise walks back to the table and pours tea for both Elizabeth and John but still doesn't sit with them. "And what may I ask is going to happen when she realizes I've not been cleared by a shrink? And what about when she starts snooping around because, believe me, she will!" she sneers.
Elizabeth silently begs John to do something.
"Louise," he says, "let me ask you something. How can you possibly imagine resigning? Do you think they will let you stay here? You will have to go back to Earth and will spend the rest of your life under surveillance. Is that what you want?" He's playing dirty but tells himself the means justify the end.
She shrugs. "I don't care."
"I thought you'd precisely come here to escape your life on Earth. Back to square one?" he prods.
"Not fair, John," she tells him, obviously hurt.
He stands and moves to her side. "Elizabeth, you know I hate going to the shrink's and obviously it upsets Louise even more." She nods silently, waiting for whatever offer he's come up with. "What if I came with Louise to her session so she won't be alone in there and you let Dr Heightmeyer know certain questions are not to be asked?"
Louise turns to him, puzzled. "You'd be ready to come to her office when you don't have to, just for my sake? I don't get it."
"This is what friends are for, Louise," he chides her a little, making her blush.
Dr Weir stands and motions for John to follow her into the mess hall. "A word, Colonel. If you'll excuse us for a second," she adds for Louise's benefit.
"What?" he asks, knowing there's always a but in Elizabeth's negociations.
"Relax, John. It's an excellent idea you've had but I don't want you to get too involved into this. If you go with her, it might compromise the validity of the evaluation."
"Why?" he barks, on edge.
"You're very protective of her," she simply says.
She has a point and he knows it. "Well, what do we do then?"
"I have one more person who's scheduled to see Heightmeyer and is – let's say – quite relunctant to go and adamant about it too..." She lifts her eyebrows, waiting for the idea to sink in.
He snaps his fingers, McKay's style, and she chuckles. The unlikely interaction between those two is quite to her liking, in retrospect. "Ronon, right? He told me about it the other day. You want to send those two in?"
"Yes. It could deflect Heightmeyer's questions about embarrassing issues for both of them and they'll watch out for each other."
"Can I stay outside in case?" She rolls her eyes at him, knowing he considers her as the mother hen of the expedition. Now, look who's talking. "I mean," he adds, ignoring her look, "Ronon can be quite, how shall I put it? Blunt? when he doesn't like a question. We don't want good Dr Heightmeyer to get scared, do we?" he adds, waggling his eyebrows playfully.
She chuckles. "OK, you have a go, Colonel. Let's get back inside with this peace offering."
They leave the office before John has had the time to complete his crosswords. He stands and raises his eyebrows expectantly. Ronon slaps him on the arm, making him scowl. "Wow, hey there, big guy. Be careful with the old man! I'll have a bruise in the morning."
Ronon sniggers. "You'll live! We did excellent by the way. The little one and me are a team when it comes to defeating the big bad doctor," he says, winking at Louise.
John smiles and turns to her. "I was ready for the rescue mission but it never happened as I gather."
She shakes her head and smiles. "Nope. Ronon is an excellent decoy. And I have an inkling Dr Weir mentioned some questions were not allowed. I hope though Dr Heightmeyer is not too unhappy about it."
"You can't help feeling compassion, no matter what, right?" he nudges her playfully.
She smiles shyly. "Guess not." She hides her embarrassment as best she can. "What about a treat to thank you all and I'll include the shrink in the process. Tonight, my place, dessert around ten?"
Ronon tilts his head, looking as if he were thinking about it when she knows by now when it comes to having a sweet tooth, only Rodney can beat him. "Depends on the dessert," he drawls.
She mirrors him. "Don't know, Ronon. What about that raspberry jelly and cinnamon-flavored crust pie you saw in my cookbook the other day?" She lifts her eyebrows tentatively.
"How's it called?" John asks, his tastes buds reacting instantly.
Ronon rolls his eyes. "Linz something. Don't know how to pronounce it but I'll sure know how to eat it!"
TBC
Extract from Louise's cookbook
Linzertort
It's a tart originating from the city of Linz, Austria. Sugar high guaranteed!
2 cups raspberry jam
1 ½ cup almonds roasted and grounded
1 ½ cup all purpose flour
2/3 cup white sugar
1 tsp cinnamon
1/4 tsp baking powder
14 tbsp butter, room temperature
2 egg yolks
Combine the almonds, flour, sugar, cinnamon and baking powder then add the butter in small lumps and the egg yolks.
Gather the dough in two balls, one larger than the other and refrigerate for one hour or until firm.
Press the larger ball of dough onto the bottom and up of a buttered tart shell.
Spread the jam on top.
Roll the second ball of dough between two sheets of wax paper. Use a pastry wheel or knife and ruler to cut the pastry in strips.
Place the strips on the tart using a spatula, gently transferring the strips, laying half of them across the torte then the remaining ones across the first. Trim the edges of the strips to fit the tart shell and press.
Bake 30 to 35 mn and cool completely.