Chapter 31
Spoilers for Irresistible
Hope you'll have as much fun reading this as I had writing it ;)
They finish cleaning the kitchen after the morning service and set to work in the mess hall. They do it every day with a little extra time once a week. There's no one to clean but them here. It's something she had discovered to her dismay when she had taken over the kitchen on arriving on Atlantis. There was no way at the time cleaning personnel would be added to the already impressive number of people on the expedition. The food service had to double up as cleaning staff as well. She doesn't mind though now they've found their pace, especially now she finally has everyone back on track after the first disastrous months with Buckley.
A simple "I'm not your doormat, as Mr Woolsey probably told you" has set things straight for him as well as the rest of the staff. He still tries to snivel his way out of most of his duties so she's basically in charge again. He hasn't warmed up to her though nor has he apologized for his accusations but she's shrugged it off. He's better left alone. She ignores his occasional remarks and manages the kitchen as she wishes, since he's hardly there on time to make the important decisions.
When they're finally done with the cleaning, she heads towards the lab area, hoping to see Rodney. He's been so busy working on new projects, she knows if she doesn't go and seek him out, she won't be seeing him for weeks.
She passes through the storage areas and sees John turn the corner of the corridor and approach her, broom and bucket in hand. She looks twice to make sure she's not mistaken but it's him, yelling in his headset to "get a move on. We don't have all day" to whoever is on the same channel. He stops when he sees her and gives her a terse smile. "Hi, sweetie. What brings you down here?"
She motions towards the other end of the corridor. "Going to see Rodney and Zelenka. Watcha doin'?" she asks, narrowing her eyes at the broom.
He sneers. "Well, what do you think? Fighting session!" he ironizes. She makes a face. "Cleaning the jumper bay, of course. You don't really expect it to miraculously clean itself, right?" he sniggers. He's obviously pissed she's caught him in such a mundane occupation.
She snorts. "You? Cleaning?"
He looks offended. "What? Ya' think I'm not able to do it? What do you think? It's part of our training. Besides," he adds, pouting, "there was no choice. When we came here, we could have hardly taken an army of cleaning staff as well."
"And you're doing it because..." she prods some more, making him squirm. This is too good to be true! The CO of the City in charge of the protection of three hundred plus people and most of the galaxy, cleaning like a housewife!
He gives her a warning look. "Louise, don't even think it!"
She giggles. "It's kind of late for that. God, that's a sight to see! You look so sexy with that broom and bucket!"
He drops both and they clatter to the foor as he grabs her and starts tickling her. "You're gonna pay for that, love." He discovered some time ago when they were having a movie night how ticklish she is and it's become his most effective way of retaliating. She's now roaring with laughter and is begging him to stop. "Apologize," he orders, his hands still holding her waist.
"Sorry, John," she relents, tears in her eyes for laughing so hard.
"No, no, sorry, won't do, after such disrespectful behavior, my dear. You're on cleaning duty with me," he replies nastily, grabbing her hand and handing her the bucket.
She pouts. "I've just finished my chores, John..." she pleads with a puppy look.
He gets toe to toe with her, narrowing his eyes, but she sees his mouth twitch and sees the merriment in her eyes. "You should have thought about it earlier, sweetie. You're mine for the time being." He taps his headset. "Chuck, this is Colonel Sheppard speaking. Please relay the information to Mr Buckley that Ms Léger won't be available to help with the midday meal today. She's been grounded by her CO, no less! Sheppard out." He hears Chuck snort before he severes the communication.
She pouts at him. "The reputation I'm gonna have now! John, I mean, really?!"
"You should have thought about it before getting on my wrong side, sweetie. Besides, being a bad girl can be fun too, you know..." She snorts and tucks her tongue at him, not wanting him to have the last word. He takes hold of a clean mop he's folded in the bucket and slaps her butt with it, making her yelp indignantly. He points his head at the door to the jumper bay. "Get in there, soldier, before I'm tempted to strike again."
They spend most of the late morning cleaning all the jumpers and bay with the rookies. They work in teams of two. She stays with him, which allows them to catch up though he has to keep an eye on the rest of the staff. "Why do you do it too?" she asks, seeing he's working as hard as the others. "You could just supervise them. You're the City's 2IC," she points out.
"And let them think their superior is a lazy guy who's only good at ordering them around? No, thanks. I need to set the example. Besides, you're one to talk! You work harder than anyone in that kitchen and you're not below being on the cleaning staff either," he retorts.
He got her there. Still, it's weird to see him moping and dusting. She tells him.
"And washing and ironing and making my bed and cleaning my quarters..." he laughs. "Yes, I do all that and I'm not below cooking some grub if need be. We have to multi-task when we join the military and what's good for my men or the other half of the world, is good enough for me too."
She rewards him with a smile and kiss on his cheek after checking no one is watching. "What was that for?" he wonders. "Not that I will ever complain," he adds, grinning.
"For the other half of the world, John. It's rare enough to mention it when a man realizes he's not the only one to work in the house."
He shakes his head. "Not every man on the face of the Earth is a jerk, sweetie."
She pouts. She doesn't want this conversation to go south. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean to suggest all men were selfish pricks."
He kisses her forehead. "I know." He exits the jumper and looks around, checking every nook and cranny has been cleaned in the jumpers and bay then sends his team on their way. "What do you say we clean up a bit and walk to the piers with a picnic before you have to head back to the kitchen? I'll take care of the picnic part," he offers, seeing her hesitate. "And won't tell Buckley you're the girl I'm taking with me." His eyes twinkle mischievously. He knows he has a reputation for wooing ladies and she suspects he likes it that way.
They end up sitting side by side on the edge of the west pier, their feet dangling over the water. They share a light meal of bread and cheese and fruit topped with home-made sun tea she's made that morning. He watches her cautiously as she gets her shot before she starts eating. It's the first time he sees her do it. He bites his lower lip and ruffles his hair, embarrassed.
She says "What?" seeing him watch her cautiously.
"I often forget you're sick," he answers sheepishly. He doesn't want to give the impression it bothers him.
"I'm not sick, John. At least I don't feel like it. I just need a little adjustment in my everyday life. It's no big deal," she corrects him.
"But you're more fragile..." he insists.
She shrugs. "Not really. I have to be careful with my diet and I tend to react more strongly to colds and vaccines. But apart from that, I'm OK. Don't mollycoddle me, OK?"
He pouts. "I like to mollycoddle you," he protests, making her laugh. He sneezes. "Sorry. Must be the wind." She giggles. A gust of wind sweeps over the pier and she sneezes too. "We'd better get back inside," he says, sneezing again. "So much for protecting you from the cold," he pouts. "I hope you won't get sick," he worries.
She shrugs. "The only thing I might get is probably a runny nose."
It so happens they both get sick and, stubborn as they are, they refuse to go and see Beckett. As long as her blood sugar level doesn't suffer from it, she refuses to head to the infirmary. Sure, she can't smell a thing and Rodney jokes she looks like Rudolph the Red Nosed Reindeer, which he starts whistling every time she walks into a room, making her scowl. But she's all good, except for the suspicious looks she and John get for being sick at the same time when everyone else is fine. He refuses though to take her on a mission to a new planet that looks promising trade-wise, contending she cannot smell anything so she can't help with the food part. She scowls but relents, knowing he's right.
They return not long after with samples of fruit and vegetables they ask Buckley to taste. He looks at them suspiciously and ends up not liking anything. She huffs but tells John to forget about it. She has enough in the storage areas right now to feed the City for the months to come. She remarks his cold is not improving as he sneezes again and looks quite feverish but stubborn as he is, he refuses to take anything, saying "it will pass". She rolls her eyes at him and tells him to at least try to rest but he can't. Beckett has stayed on the planet to talk to some funny guy they've met and see if his medical research is of any value so they need to pick him up.
They return some time later with a tall and broad-shouldered man with a goofy smile who tries to charm his way into the kitchen almost as soon as he arrives. He obviously seems to know how to talk to women – and men alike, she reflects, nonplussed at the cheek of the guy.
"What do you think?" John asks, leaning towards her, his arms crossed on his chest, as they observe him interacting with Elizabeth and Teyla.
"Obnoxious and smug and really not my type," she answers, with a disgusted look.
He laughs. "And what's your type, sweetie?"
She rolls her eyes. "Told you so already. Tall, lanky and sarcastic."
He smirks. "Hey, that's just me!"
She snorts. "Yeah, sure."
He looks offended but sobers up quickly, his eyes still intent on the growing group of Lucius's admirers. "There's something fishy there. I need to put an end to it before it goes south."
Thing is – things go south so fast they don't have time to react. As it appears, they seem to be the only ones not affected by Lucius' influence. Putting two and two together doesn't take that long but it's already too late. There must be something in the air around Lucius that turns people into his pets and Louise and himself being sick simply cannot smell it.
It doesn't prevent Lucius from trying, over and over again. And as soon as John has his back turned, he has Buckley order her back into the kitchen to cook him whatever ridiculously complicated dish he's ear-marked on Buckley's pretentious looking cookbook.
She shakes her head stubbornly. "Uh, uh, won't do it. Told Buckley already. Not the kind of food I make. My meals are made for healthy people, not anorexic top models. I won't cook that. Period." He sees he can't charm his way with her so he tries every possible means of coercion, making Buckley then Elizabeth pull rank on her – which doesn't work because they spend half of their time giggling. Teyla comes to see her and begs her to do it. She rolls her eyes and doesn't relent. Ronon comes next, trying to look scary but only ends up telling Lucius she's stared him down and made him cry, by which time the intruder becomes really annoyed and Louise starts fearing they'll never see the end of it.
John has not returned yet and she's now the only sane person on base with no access to any the most strategic places in the City. John has often tried to have her keep a gun in her room – in case, he'd said – but she never came to terms with it. Now, she sees he was right, as usual. She needs to come up with a plan asap in case he needs support when he returns.
"Why can't you be like the others?" Lucius growls at her, advancing menacingly towards her as he enters her quarters and corners her against her desk. He's dropped the mask and looks really pissed, dangerous even. Not that he wasn't already dangerous for the people of the City or the City itself but now, it looks more personal and more imminent. He's not just selfish anymore – there's a wild, angry spark in his look. She gets suddenly very scared. She needs to change her strategy before he decides she's expendable.
She tries to look casual and unimpressed – even bored. She shrugs. "Don't know. Must be age," she drawls and leans her legs against the desk, her hands reaching behind her for the Swiss army knife she keeps there.
"Listen, honey," he says sweetly, making her sick in her stomach. "We need to find a compromise here. I agree I was too demanding. I just want to be friends..." He takes a step forward, being toe to toe with her now. His eyes light up. "And friends do things for each other... Why don't you tell me what I could do for you? And in return you'll do something for me," he offers benignly.
She thinks What about get the hell out of here asap? but knows it won't do.
"Anything," he insists.
She narrows her eyes at him, coming up with a plan. She needs leverage of some kind and she won't probably get a second chance. She needs to choose well. Be careful what you wish for comes up to her mind. Magic always comes with a price is another one too, she answers the nagging inward voice that is telling her to be cautious. But it's too tempting. It's the strategic element she's been missing. If she can get him to have Beckett inject her with the Ancient gene therapy he's refused her until now, she'll be able to open and close doors, fly jumpers and access the control room.
"There is one thing that's always been in my heart's desire ever since we came here," she confesses in a shy voice, batting her eyelashes and looking embarrassed. She can't blush on cue but at least, she can pretend. She rolls her eyes inwardly at how hopeful he suddenly looks. "I've always wanted to have the Ancient gene to fly a jumper..."
He beams at her. "I do too! What a coincidence! I've asked Dr Beckett and Dr McKay to synthesize it for me. I could ask them to prepare a little bit more... If you're a good girl, of course..."
She nods with a broad smile. "Of course, whatever you want, Lucius. But if you're a good friend," she adds, "don't let Beckett or McKay change your mind. They've always refused me to have the gene."
"And why is that, sweetheart?" he asks, leaning towards her. Oh, God, she thinks in horror, he wants to give me a hug! Yewh! Gross!
She sidesteps him and shrugs, trying to remain collected. "Oh, well, you know. I'm just an ordinary girl and they save the world every day. They don't think I deserve it," she adds wickedly, knowing he feels the same way.
He puffs his chest, looking indignant. "Well, sweetheart," he says, wrapping his arm around her shoulders, making her want to balk, "I won't take no for an answer. Come, you'll be the first to get the shot."
After that, everything goes blank. She's given a shot almost as soon as she enters the infirmary. Lucius is killing two birds with the same stone – checking the therapy works and rendering Louise
useless to John for the time being. Of course, he also hopes she'll be on his side for now on when she wakes up. Except she doesn't.
She's standing on a beach with a little boy barely out of kindergarten at her feet. He's making sand castles and she is helping him from time to time, smiling encouragingly. She looks over at the horizon where the sun is setting on the ocean. She looks back at the child, telling him to watch it too but only the sand castles are still there. The child has disappeared. She wants to run and look for him but her feet are rooted to the ground. The landscape slowly fades away, replaced by the void of the universe. Her eyes close of their own accord and she suddenly feels nothing – nothing at all.
"Colonel, she's waking up." She tries to open her eyes and blinks at the light that is prodding her pupils. She finally realizes Dr Beckett is holding the penlight and grinning at her. "Hello, love. How are you feeling? You've given us a fright."
She tries to answer but her mouth is parched and her throat sore. "Thirsty," she whispers.
She feels a hand slide behind her back to lift her a little while a straw reaches her mouth. She drinks avidly. "Thanks," she whispers. "Better."
"Welcome," she hears his voice in her ear. She would recognize it in a crowd. "John," she moans.
He kisses her temple. "Yes, sweetie. I'm right here."
She sighs in relief. "I'm sorry," she mutters, knowing if he's there, Lucius must have been dealt with and her plan must have failed somehow.
Beckett clears his throat. "Let's not dwell on that right now. There'll be plenty of time to apologize later. And you're hardly the only one responsible for this beautiful disaster."
She turns her head to him. "It didn't work, did it?"
He makes a face. "We don't know yet. It just nearly killed you."
She looks in alarm at John who looks weary. "You've been in a coma for a couple of days. You crashed almost immediately after they gave you the shot. Beckett had to revive you." He bites his lower lip. "You gave us a fright. I could kick your ass for it if you were not so weak," he growls.
She looks thoughtful and doesn't answer him. "What is it, Louise?" John worries.
She turns to Beckett, tears in her eyes. "You revived me?" He nods. "When it was clearly stated in my file I had forbidden you to do so?"
John groans. "Now, Louise. Carson did what he thought was right. There was no way he was going to let you die. And you're alive and well, so what's the point?" he chides her.
She thinks of the little boy and how real it had looked. She was dying and her brain had played tricks on her. It had never been real. She shakes her head. "Nothing. Sorry," she tells Beckett. "Could you two give me a moment to regroup?" she asks. They don't need to know she needs time to grieve – again.
John has relunctantly left her side but returns an hour later with the whole gang. He's told them to avoid giving her a talking to for being so reckless.
They tell her about what happened to Lucius, lightening the mood, but she's soon very tired and Beckett orders them out so she can rest. "John, can you switch the lights down low, please?" she asks him as he's the last to leave the room. He doesn't have time to react. The lights switch off as if of their own accord in the whole infirmary.
"You don't need to overdo it, John. My room will suffice," she teases him.
"I haven't done anything, sweetie," he says, as he switches them on again. He looks at her suspiciously. "Can you think about it?" he asks. She looks nonplussed. "I mean, about switching the lights off."
She shakes her head. "Why?"
"Humor me."
She concentrates on it. This time the whole section around the infirmary goes dark. He gives her a look. "I think it worked after all. And you got even more than you bargained for. I've never seen someone do so much in so little time. I wonder what else you can do..."
It turns out she is not only able to turn on and off most of the equipments in the City and fly the jumpers, she can also power the DHD from a fair distance without touching it. It's a strategic advantage for the City that comes with a price. She gets so tired and weak when she does, her blood sugar level drops to a dangerous level which makes Elizabeth decide she'll only allow her to use it in impending danger. She shrugs it off and decides she'll be the judge of it anyway. Her life, her call. Knowing her friends though, she doesn't say a thing about it. Little does she know Elizabeth, Carson and John have discussed it and decided should the situation not require her immediate sacrifice, she'd be kept away from any possibility of ever doing so.
TBC