FIC: Lunch at Stravaigin
Lunch at Stravaigin continued ...
Part One
Part Two
Part Three
Part Four
She watched him go and as ever when she didn’t quite know what to do, she went to the mess to see who was around. People were preparing for the New Year’s Eve party. Chloe and Eli were talking about karaoke.
“Lieutenant,” Camille Wray said. “I haven’t seen you for a couple of days.”
“You went back to Earth today, didn’t you?” TJ said, pretending an interest in Wray’s personal life. “See your family?”
“It was just a short meeting with Mr Strom,” Wray said. TJ had seen Mr Strom; he looked like a thug. “Your name came up. I understand you went to the SGC.”
TJ made herself smile and say, “Yes, I spent some time with Dr Lam and Dr Merriman. He’s a herbalist. I want to learn as much as I can.”
“Did you see anyone else?” Wray asked artlessly.
Shit, she knew. Fuck fuck fuck! At that moment, TJ didn’t really care how much listening to Rush had influenced her language for the worse. If TJ had the dented panel, she’d have smacked it into Wray’s face.
TJ smiled and said if she’d just remembered something important, “Oh yes, I met Colonel Carter. I forgot completely about that message.”
“What message?” Wray asked.
“Well, Colonel Carter asked if Rush could help them with a project,” TJ said almost truthfully. “They’re using one of his doctoral theses in some sort of computer modeling program, she said. I didn’t really understand it but I said I’d mention it to him.”
“Rush won’t go back to Earth,” Wray said.
She seemed surprised that the SGC wanted Rush’s help.
“Won’t he?” TJ asked. She could do artless, too. Despite the strictest confidence she really should warn him. “Maybe Dr Lee can come here then.” She spotted her quarry. “Oh, there’s Becker. Excuse me.”
She pulled Becker to one side and told him her mission was urgent. He promised to see what he could do. TJ left it at that and went to do some work. A couple of hours later, Becker delivered a tray to the infirmary. It was covered in a cloth and as she went to lift it, she noticed the kino in the corner.
It had a dent.
“Come here,” TJ said. The kino didn’t move. “Come here, Bentham.”
The kino actually came over to her and hovered in the air. It was like a little personality all its own.
“It isn’t nice spying on people all the time,” she said severely. “Just stop it.”
The kino zipped dizzyingly around her head.
“Go away, I do not want to see you again tonight,” she said, pointing at it. “If Sgt Greer catches you it won’t be another dent; it’ll be a bullet.”
The kino, amazingly, seemed to droop.
“Don’t be so melodramatic,” she said. “No following me.”
When she finally left the infirmary, and when the New Year’s Eve party was well underway, she looked around. No Bentham. It wasn’t around when she got to Rush’s quarters either. She put the tray down and knocked. She waited a minute and knocked again.
The door slid open. Rush stood, rubbing his head sleepily. He yawned. She’d woken him up.
“Is everything all right?” he asked, faintly concerned. “Shouldn’t you be at your party?”
“Tray,” she said.
He looked down, bending to lift it.
He sighed and said, “Lieutenant, you don’t have to bring me food or hover at me. I am better, you know.”
“Thanks to me,” she said.
“And I’m grateful,” he said.
“This isn’t food,” she said. “Well, it is but … Are you going to let me into the House of Skulk?”
“By all means,” he said, giving her a dramatic bow, though she understood he really didn’t want her there.
“Sit,” she said.
He sat down on the bed, resting his elbows on his knees. He seemed resigned and she wondered if she was so annoying that he was simply putting up with her to be polite. That hurt more than she wanted to admit.
“Okay,” she said putting the thought to one side. She pulled the cloth off. “We don’t have whisky but we do have moonshine.” She handed him the cup and poured him a shot. “Nor,” she said, putting on a determinedly cheerful voice, “do we have any Hob Nobs but Becker’s been working on a flour substitute and there’s no chocolate but this should taste orange-y.”
She handed him a cookie-a biscuit-then took it out of his hand when he made no attempt to try it and shoved it into his mouth. He bit down automatically and crunched. He chewed and said, his mouth full, “Actually, that’s no’ bad.”
“Hob Nobs a la Becker,” she said. “Got anything other than classical music on that thing?”
She pointed at his iPod. He leaned over and pressed play. A woman’s voice sang in some language she didn’t know. It was beautiful.
“Is she singing in …?” TJ asked. “Is it Celtic?”
He looked amused. “Gàidhlig,” he said. “Gaelic in the Irish. Gàidhlig in Scotland.”
“And everyone speaks that?” she asked, not noticing much difference in the pronunciation, though the Scottish version seemed more guttural.
“No, very few now,” he said. “Mostly in the Highlands.”
“Everyone else speaks English?” TJ said. “What’s Auld Lang Syne?”
“Scots,” he said. “Different language. More Germanic, descended from Old English. Lowland Scotland, near the English border. Burnsie’s got a lot to answer for with that bloody song.”
“And what’s your first language?” she asked. “Scots or Gàidhlig?”
He grinned, making him look instantly younger. “Weegie,” he said.
“Weegie,” she said pondering. “Oh, Glaswegian?”
“Top o’ the class to Lieutenant-Doctor Johansen,” he said still smiling.
She could fall into that smile.
“I’m not a doctor,” she said.
“You may as well be,” Rush said. She blushed. “Drink?”
He handed her the cup, so they were sharing it.
“That’s terrible,” she said of the moonshine.
“It’s better than the Christmas vintage,” he said. “I tweaked the still a bit.”
“You didn’t tell Brody,” she said.
“God no, he’s proud of the bloody thing,” Rush said. He took another drink and said something that sounded like ‘slonj’. It seemed to be a toast. “Your scholarship: it was to medical school, wasn’t it.”
“Doesn’t matter,” she said. “I’m here now.”
“Should have dialed the ninth chevron after you graduated,” he said musingly.
Asshole.
“Oh,” she said. She pointed to the last dish. “Neeps and tatties.”
“Neeps and tatties aren’t purple,” said Rush peering at the dish. “And last time I had these, I threw up for days.”
“I know, I was there,” she said. She took the cup out of his hand and poured some more moonshine. “Becker promises me that these taste different.”
“Not better?” asked Rush.
They’d congealed on the plate, so they looked kind of dead.
“No, just different,” TJ admitted. “How about we leave those?”
“Good idea,” Rush said. “You’re going to be missed at the party.”
“You won’t come?” she asked.
“I’m sure someone will massacre Burns at midnight,” he said. “I’d rather not be there when it happens.”
“You’re the only person who could pronounce it properly,” she suggested.
“Fortunately, I can’t sing,” he said. “Out.”
She stood and said, “Do you say Happy Hogmanay?”
“Bliadhna Mhath Ur,” he said. “Tapadh leat.”
“Which is?” TJ asked.
“Happy New Year,” he said and softly, “And thank you.”
“When we get home, you can take me to lunch at Stravaigin,” TJ said, hoping she said the name properly, striving for light rather than seeming to ask him out on a date. She blinked the image away.
“We’re not going home,” he said.
TJ went cold. Sometimes she hated him.
“You said you’d get us home,” she said.
“I said I’d try and I am,” he corrected her, his voice turning from warm to icy. “You don’t want to hear it; none of you want to hear it but the chances of us actually getting home are practically non-existent. Reality check, please.”
She slapped him hard across the face but he didn’t flinch.
“Thing is,” he said watching her. “You were the only person I thought would actually admit it.”
“Doesn’t mean I have to like it,” she hissed, tears in her eyes. “You know, you could go home and stay there.”
“Meaning?” he said, putting his head to one side.
“Don’t use the stones,” she said.
“I see,” he said slowly.
And he did; she didn’t have to explain it.
“Oh, and if Camille asks you about your doctoral thesis,” she said. “You’ll be happy to discuss it with Dr Jackson and Dr Lee.”
“What are you talking about?” he asked.
She explained about the modeling thing Carter mentioned and he seemed mildly interested. Not flattered, just a little interested. She stopped talking and just stood there. Both of them silent for a moment, except she was the only awkward one.
“You were leaving,” he said.
He opened the door. She closed it again.
“During the fire,” she said. “If you hadn’t found the sprinklers, would you have opened the door?”
“No,” he said.
Nothing more: just no. Sacrificing people for the greater good.
“Okay,” she said. She knew that; she’d told Carter she knew it. “Good night.”
She hit the door switch and walked out; she couldn’t hear the door shut and she could feel his eyes following her. She went to the party, drank a lot and didn’t get up the next day at all.
Part Six
Part One
Part Two
Part Three
Part Four
She watched him go and as ever when she didn’t quite know what to do, she went to the mess to see who was around. People were preparing for the New Year’s Eve party. Chloe and Eli were talking about karaoke.
“Lieutenant,” Camille Wray said. “I haven’t seen you for a couple of days.”
“You went back to Earth today, didn’t you?” TJ said, pretending an interest in Wray’s personal life. “See your family?”
“It was just a short meeting with Mr Strom,” Wray said. TJ had seen Mr Strom; he looked like a thug. “Your name came up. I understand you went to the SGC.”
TJ made herself smile and say, “Yes, I spent some time with Dr Lam and Dr Merriman. He’s a herbalist. I want to learn as much as I can.”
“Did you see anyone else?” Wray asked artlessly.
Shit, she knew. Fuck fuck fuck! At that moment, TJ didn’t really care how much listening to Rush had influenced her language for the worse. If TJ had the dented panel, she’d have smacked it into Wray’s face.
TJ smiled and said if she’d just remembered something important, “Oh yes, I met Colonel Carter. I forgot completely about that message.”
“What message?” Wray asked.
“Well, Colonel Carter asked if Rush could help them with a project,” TJ said almost truthfully. “They’re using one of his doctoral theses in some sort of computer modeling program, she said. I didn’t really understand it but I said I’d mention it to him.”
“Rush won’t go back to Earth,” Wray said.
She seemed surprised that the SGC wanted Rush’s help.
“Won’t he?” TJ asked. She could do artless, too. Despite the strictest confidence she really should warn him. “Maybe Dr Lee can come here then.” She spotted her quarry. “Oh, there’s Becker. Excuse me.”
She pulled Becker to one side and told him her mission was urgent. He promised to see what he could do. TJ left it at that and went to do some work. A couple of hours later, Becker delivered a tray to the infirmary. It was covered in a cloth and as she went to lift it, she noticed the kino in the corner.
It had a dent.
“Come here,” TJ said. The kino didn’t move. “Come here, Bentham.”
The kino actually came over to her and hovered in the air. It was like a little personality all its own.
“It isn’t nice spying on people all the time,” she said severely. “Just stop it.”
The kino zipped dizzyingly around her head.
“Go away, I do not want to see you again tonight,” she said, pointing at it. “If Sgt Greer catches you it won’t be another dent; it’ll be a bullet.”
The kino, amazingly, seemed to droop.
“Don’t be so melodramatic,” she said. “No following me.”
When she finally left the infirmary, and when the New Year’s Eve party was well underway, she looked around. No Bentham. It wasn’t around when she got to Rush’s quarters either. She put the tray down and knocked. She waited a minute and knocked again.
The door slid open. Rush stood, rubbing his head sleepily. He yawned. She’d woken him up.
“Is everything all right?” he asked, faintly concerned. “Shouldn’t you be at your party?”
“Tray,” she said.
He looked down, bending to lift it.
He sighed and said, “Lieutenant, you don’t have to bring me food or hover at me. I am better, you know.”
“Thanks to me,” she said.
“And I’m grateful,” he said.
“This isn’t food,” she said. “Well, it is but … Are you going to let me into the House of Skulk?”
“By all means,” he said, giving her a dramatic bow, though she understood he really didn’t want her there.
“Sit,” she said.
He sat down on the bed, resting his elbows on his knees. He seemed resigned and she wondered if she was so annoying that he was simply putting up with her to be polite. That hurt more than she wanted to admit.
“Okay,” she said putting the thought to one side. She pulled the cloth off. “We don’t have whisky but we do have moonshine.” She handed him the cup and poured him a shot. “Nor,” she said, putting on a determinedly cheerful voice, “do we have any Hob Nobs but Becker’s been working on a flour substitute and there’s no chocolate but this should taste orange-y.”
She handed him a cookie-a biscuit-then took it out of his hand when he made no attempt to try it and shoved it into his mouth. He bit down automatically and crunched. He chewed and said, his mouth full, “Actually, that’s no’ bad.”
“Hob Nobs a la Becker,” she said. “Got anything other than classical music on that thing?”
She pointed at his iPod. He leaned over and pressed play. A woman’s voice sang in some language she didn’t know. It was beautiful.
“Is she singing in …?” TJ asked. “Is it Celtic?”
He looked amused. “Gàidhlig,” he said. “Gaelic in the Irish. Gàidhlig in Scotland.”
“And everyone speaks that?” she asked, not noticing much difference in the pronunciation, though the Scottish version seemed more guttural.
“No, very few now,” he said. “Mostly in the Highlands.”
“Everyone else speaks English?” TJ said. “What’s Auld Lang Syne?”
“Scots,” he said. “Different language. More Germanic, descended from Old English. Lowland Scotland, near the English border. Burnsie’s got a lot to answer for with that bloody song.”
“And what’s your first language?” she asked. “Scots or Gàidhlig?”
He grinned, making him look instantly younger. “Weegie,” he said.
“Weegie,” she said pondering. “Oh, Glaswegian?”
“Top o’ the class to Lieutenant-Doctor Johansen,” he said still smiling.
She could fall into that smile.
“I’m not a doctor,” she said.
“You may as well be,” Rush said. She blushed. “Drink?”
He handed her the cup, so they were sharing it.
“That’s terrible,” she said of the moonshine.
“It’s better than the Christmas vintage,” he said. “I tweaked the still a bit.”
“You didn’t tell Brody,” she said.
“God no, he’s proud of the bloody thing,” Rush said. He took another drink and said something that sounded like ‘slonj’. It seemed to be a toast. “Your scholarship: it was to medical school, wasn’t it.”
“Doesn’t matter,” she said. “I’m here now.”
“Should have dialed the ninth chevron after you graduated,” he said musingly.
Asshole.
“Oh,” she said. She pointed to the last dish. “Neeps and tatties.”
“Neeps and tatties aren’t purple,” said Rush peering at the dish. “And last time I had these, I threw up for days.”
“I know, I was there,” she said. She took the cup out of his hand and poured some more moonshine. “Becker promises me that these taste different.”
“Not better?” asked Rush.
They’d congealed on the plate, so they looked kind of dead.
“No, just different,” TJ admitted. “How about we leave those?”
“Good idea,” Rush said. “You’re going to be missed at the party.”
“You won’t come?” she asked.
“I’m sure someone will massacre Burns at midnight,” he said. “I’d rather not be there when it happens.”
“You’re the only person who could pronounce it properly,” she suggested.
“Fortunately, I can’t sing,” he said. “Out.”
She stood and said, “Do you say Happy Hogmanay?”
“Bliadhna Mhath Ur,” he said. “Tapadh leat.”
“Which is?” TJ asked.
“Happy New Year,” he said and softly, “And thank you.”
“When we get home, you can take me to lunch at Stravaigin,” TJ said, hoping she said the name properly, striving for light rather than seeming to ask him out on a date. She blinked the image away.
“We’re not going home,” he said.
TJ went cold. Sometimes she hated him.
“You said you’d get us home,” she said.
“I said I’d try and I am,” he corrected her, his voice turning from warm to icy. “You don’t want to hear it; none of you want to hear it but the chances of us actually getting home are practically non-existent. Reality check, please.”
She slapped him hard across the face but he didn’t flinch.
“Thing is,” he said watching her. “You were the only person I thought would actually admit it.”
“Doesn’t mean I have to like it,” she hissed, tears in her eyes. “You know, you could go home and stay there.”
“Meaning?” he said, putting his head to one side.
“Don’t use the stones,” she said.
“I see,” he said slowly.
And he did; she didn’t have to explain it.
“Oh, and if Camille asks you about your doctoral thesis,” she said. “You’ll be happy to discuss it with Dr Jackson and Dr Lee.”
“What are you talking about?” he asked.
She explained about the modeling thing Carter mentioned and he seemed mildly interested. Not flattered, just a little interested. She stopped talking and just stood there. Both of them silent for a moment, except she was the only awkward one.
“You were leaving,” he said.
He opened the door. She closed it again.
“During the fire,” she said. “If you hadn’t found the sprinklers, would you have opened the door?”
“No,” he said.
Nothing more: just no. Sacrificing people for the greater good.
“Okay,” she said. She knew that; she’d told Carter she knew it. “Good night.”
She hit the door switch and walked out; she couldn’t hear the door shut and she could feel his eyes following her. She went to the party, drank a lot and didn’t get up the next day at all.
Part Six