Through The Looking Glass 1/9: Episode One - Suspicion

[tanaquiljall]

Title: Through The Looking Glass
Author: TanaquiSGA
Rating: Teen
Characters: Kate Heightmeyer, John Sheppard, Rodney McKay, Elizabeth Weir, Carson Beckett
Spoilers: Season 1/Early Season 2
Warnings: Eventual Heightmeyer/Sheppard in final chapters
Word count: c. 38,000
Summary: For the members of the Stargate: Atlantis expedition, the trip through the Stargate was a step into the unknown. And things didn't turn out quite the way any of them expected. Can a burgeoning friendship help Kate Heightmeyer cope with the stresses of the Pegasus Galaxy?
Author's Note: My thanks to my betas sgafan and elena_tiriel.

***

 

Episode One – 'Suspicion'

Saw Rodney McKay again today. Not sure if it's doing either of us any good. Perhaps I should end it….

Kate dropped her pen, leaned back and stretched her arms above her head. Then she looked back down at what she had written. Dr McKay, and most of the others here, would no doubt find it quaint that she still kept a hand-written journal. But she had never taken to keeping her diary on her computer. The act of writing – the effort it took to choose the right words and form them on the page – helped slow her racing mind, allowed her let go of the stresses of the day and relax.

Not tonight.

Perhaps it was the extra tension around the place. With all the Wraith attacks on off-world missions, and the finger of suspicion being pointed at the Athosians, everyone was a little jumpy. Yet, she acknowledged to herself, she had been on edge for weeks now.

Maybe she just needed a change of scene, a breath of fresh air….

As the panel to the terrace opened, a gust of wind caught her and pushed her backwards. Grasping the doorframe to steady herself, she stepped through. The wind was sweeping fiercely along the deck, and for a moment she considered going back inside.

The thought of the stale air and the pervading sense of gloom she had left behind encouraged her on.

She took a few more steps forward, and then froze as she saw a figure leaning on the rail a little further along. Damn! A whole city to choose from and I can't manage to find one deck that isn't already occupied. Even as she was wondering if she could retreat unnoticed – he surely couldn't have heard her against the rattle of the wind on the panels – the man glanced round. Again, she silently cursed. She could hardly back off now without appearing excessively rude.

He squinted at her through the fine spray being driven against them by the wind. "Dr… Heightmeyer?" He had to raise his voice to make himself heard.

She nodded in acknowledgement. "Major." She took another step forward so she wouldn't have to speak so loudly. "I'm sorry. I didn't realise anyone else was out here. I'll find somewhere else." Her hair whipped across her face and she raised a hand to claw it back.

She barely caught his reply before his words were carried away from her. "No. It's OK. I could use the company." He hesitated. "Unless." He ran a hand through his hair. "Unless I'm in your way?"

Wasn't that why she'd come out here? To have some time alone. Yet she couldn't ignore the silent appeal in his gesture.

Sighing, she joined him at the rail. "Want to tell me about it?" It was a little easier to talk this close, but she still had to raise her voice to be sure of being heard.

"What?"

She couldn't help laughing at the surprise on his face. "You look like a man with something on his mind, that's all."

He lifted a hand to straighten the collar of his jacket and gave her a quizzical look. "I do?"

She choked down her amusement, aware that she was being distinctly unprofessional. Which was, after all, why she'd stayed and not taken the escape route he'd offered. She shrugged. "Since Dr Beckett decided we needed a shrink, and made me 'It'…." She knew that, with the need to half shout, she could not quite keep the resentment out of her voice. "Think of it as an official medical enquiry."

He raised an eyebrow "Seems I'm not the only one with something on my mind." Now it was his turn to be amused.

She flushed, embarrassed he had been able to read her so easily and turn the tables on her. Not professional at all. But, after all, they weren't in her office with a formal appointment. She looked him squarely in the face. "Well, we wouldn't both be wandering around outside in the middle of a gale in the pitch dark if you were, would we?" she retorted.

"Yeah." He grinned. "Maybe we should do something about that."

"The wandering?" The wind might have half-whipped his words away but she had caught them clearly enough. It hadn't been what he'd meant and she knew it. But she was trying to match his mood. Gentle and sympathetic enquiries just weren't going to cut it: he'd raised his defences pretty sharply, and once more put back on the mask of the affable, joking, confident Major Sheppard she'd encountered on the few occasions they'd crossed paths in the past. The one who took everything in his stride, water off a duck's back. Time to try another tack.

"No." His reply had a slight sarcastic edge, the long drawn out syllable betraying a touch of impatience and amusement at her deliberate obtuseness, although he softened it with a smile. "The gale and the dark."

She gave him a wry look. "You've some Ancient device for controlling the weather?"

He laughed. "No. But we could go back inside."

She glanced over her shoulder at the looming tower behind her. Too much alien architecture, reminding her at every turn of where she was, of what they faced. Too many people huddled into too little space, their fear and uncertainty tangible in the faint odour of stale sweat that hung about the place. At least out here, with the salt tang in the air, she could close her eyes and pretend she was back home, standing on the cliffs at Point Lobos with the Pacific in front of her.

She sneaked another sideways look at him. Was he really going to talk to her? Ever? Did she, right at that moment, even care? Dammit! She was only out here wasting time on him because he'd looked like he needed help, help he apparently didn't want. And she was tired of that. Tired of coaxing and cajoling people's fears and needs out of them. Tired of constantly repeating the same bland assurances and rationalisations, and wondering if they were any help at all.

She took a deep breath, trying to suppress her irritation. Dealing with the people who came to see her might be hard going at times; she inwardly rolled her eyes at the many hours she'd already wasted on Rodney McKay. But it was the people who didn't drop by her office – and maybe needed to – that troubled her most. People like Elizabeth Weir and John Sheppard.

This might be her only chance to make this kind of connection with him.

Even so, she couldn't face going back inside just yet. She stared out towards the dimly lit pier and the restless water. "I'd rather stay out here a while. That place is beginning to give me the creeps." Sensing him unmoving beside her, she realised he might not have caught what she'd said. She turned back towards him, "I'm sorry. I said I'd rather–."

"I heard." His voice was curt as he cut across her, and he frowned down at her. She crossed her arms defensively under his scrutiny. His expression softened. He half turned and gestured further along the deck. "Come on. I think I know a place where you can at least be out of the wind."

He led her along the terrace, around a corner and down some stairs to a small half-landing. The panels around them still rattled as the gale buffeted the city, but the only open side faced away from the wind.

"Better?" he asked.

"Much. Thanks." She lifted a hand and pushed her hair out of her eyes. It felt degrees warmer and surprisingly peaceful.

He leant back against the railing and looked at her, a faint smile on his face. "So, creepy, huh?"

She felt the heat rising in her face again. It sounded so childish. "Not exactly creepy. More…." She joined him at the railing, putting her hands on the strange smooth material that never seemed to get cold, no matter the weather. "Things haven't quite turned out the way we expected them to, have they?"

"Tell me about it!"

She smiled out at the ocean in front of her. "Isn't that supposed to be my line?"

While she waited for his reply, her mind wandered away to the questions she did ask. How does that make you feel? What upsets you most about that? What would you like to do about that? And the platitudes she mouthed in return. It's perfectly normal to feel that way…. They were inadequate answers at the best of times, and even more so out here in the Pegasus galaxy, where "normal" apparently included the constant threat of death.

His voice broke across her thoughts. "I'm guessing, after all the psych tests they ran on us, SGC didn't feel the need to assign us a dedicated shrink?"

She shook her head and let out an ironic laugh, "No. I'm supposed to be studying Ancient approaches to education and training. We only use a tiny fraction of our brains, you know. SGC would just love me to find some Ancient device that could help us tap into all those unused parts. Learn more quickly. Remember more easily. Turn us all into geniuses…."

"Aren't we all geniuses here already?" His tone was gently mocking. "I've never been in a room with so many doctors at once. Well, except one time I was in hospital and every doc in the place lined up to see my…," he paused. She glanced at him enquiringly and he raised an eyebrow and gave her a wry smile. "Guess that's a story for another time."

"Oh, I think I'd like to hear that one now." Leaning sideways against the rail, she crossed her arms and fixed him with a schoolmarmish gaze.

This time he was the one who looked faintly shamefaced, but he rose to the challenge. "Tonsillitis. I had it really bad when I was a kid. The doc told my mom it was one of the worst cases he'd seen. Every couple of months, they'd swell up like two huge red tomatoes. Rest of the time, they were just swollen some, but at least I could swallow. Anyway, felt like I had a hundred docs peering down my throat the day before my op."

Watching carefully, Kate saw how he wriggled his shoulders, as if remembering the discomfort. She began to suspect that, for all his banter and cockiness, he didn't much like being the centre of attention. Not when he felt vulnerable. She doubted she'd have gotten such a straight answer out of him if she'd confronted him directly about what had him out here at this time of night.

"I can see that could give you an aversion to doctors." She let her gaze slide sideways towards the water, to soften the challenge as she probed again. "So, must be tough being attached to a scientific expedition."

"It's… different." His tone was careful, neutral. She held still, keeping her face half averted. Her ears picked up the scratch of cloth, a faint chink of metal on metal as he shifted uneasily, and she knew he was waiting for her to respond. She let the silence stretch out between them. How long would it take him to break, and would his reticence or his courtesy would win out?

At last, he said, sounding apologetic, "More arguments."

She looked back at him and couldn't help smiling. "Oh, yes. Pet theories. Academic egos. Bad mix. Turns supposedly intelligent and rational adults into five-year-olds. Though," she turned away and once more rested her palms on the railing, contemplating the velvet blackness of the sky, "I think it's worse here than any college campus I've ever been on."

"Bigger egos? Crazier theories?" He seemed genuinely interested.

"No." She sighed. "I think it's because they're all scared. We're all scared. It's not just a matter of a having a grant application turned down or not getting your paper published in a journal. Ever since we stepped through the Stargate, we've faced danger and death at every turn. If we pick the wrong theory, or make the wrong choice, people can die." Her hands reflexively tightened on the railing, seeking something solid and reassuring to hold on to. "Most of us aren't used to making split second judgements with such huge consequences. And that frightens us."

"And then you argue?" His voice had taken on a puzzled note.

"Right. Or they come and whine at me…." The words had slipped out before she realised it. She bit her lip and turned to him with a shrug of apology. "Ouch! That was very unprofessional of me."

An amused glint lit his eyes and he cocked his head. "What was?"

"Oh, nothing.…" She answered his smile, sharing his playfulness. Then she lowered her gaze. "I must sound pretty hard," she said softly, inviting his reproach.

"More like it's hard work." His words were very gentle. She heard his understanding, his compassion, and it punched a hole through the shell she had carefully pieced together around herself.

She put her hands to her face, pressing her fingers to her nose in an attempt to hold back the tears that had sprung into her eyes.

"Kate?"

The single quiet syllable undid her. She let out a sob. "I'm way in over my head. I'm seeing cases an experienced clinical psychologist would balk at. Complex grief. PTSD. Survivor guilt…."

She had no time to wonder now, as she had earlier, which of those conditions John Sheppard was suffering from. Gasping for air, she burst out, "It's barely even my field. Beckett picked me because I'm the only person here with any counselling experience, even though it was way back in grad school. We've got almost nothing in the way of meds…." She dragged her hands across her face, trying to rub away the hot tears stinging her cheeks and regain control. "What good are a few sympathetic noises from me going to do?" She found herself struggling to breathe against the tightness in her chest.

He didn't respond, and she supposed she really had disgusted him now. Head bent, she furiously fought to regain her composure.

Beyond the sound of her own panting, she heard him clear his throat.

"There was this time my 'copter went down…."

A hiccough escaped her as she held back her sobs and tried to concentrate on what he was saying. Looking up, she saw he had turned to rest his elbows on the railing. His voice had a contemplative note as he gazed out over the city.

"Middle of some goddamn desert in Africa," he added. "Wasn't exactly one of my better landings." She saw the corner of his mouth twist. "Smashed up my leg pretty bad. Concussion. Lot of bruises. Took 'em six hours to come and find us. Not much in the way of water, shade or painkillers while we waited. The whole time, Mack, my co-pilot, kept me talking about all the bars we were gonna hit and all the pretty girls we were gonna hit on when we got medical leave. I found out later he had four cracked ribs and a head lac." He turned and gave her a direct look. "Not much Mack could do, but him being there sure made the waiting easier."

She took another gulp and managed to quash the impending hiccoughs. With a last sniff, she crossed her arms and rested them on the railing next to his, once more contemplating the blurred outlines of the dimly lit city. "That's good to know." She could still hear a rough edge to her voice, but she felt calmer than any time since she stepped out onto the deck.

"Yes it is."

She closed her eyes and breathed deeply, as the companionable silence stretched out between them. What harm was there in giving people a chance to talk, a licence to feel whatever they felt? Could the few suggestions she had – a little visualisation, some directed dreaming, relaxation exercises, journaling – really make things any worse? And what would they do if she wasn't there? Simply bottle things up until the pressure got too great and they exploded?

John's voice cut across her thoughts. "Ford."

 

"What?" She glanced across at him.

"You asked me to tell you what was on my mind. When you first came outside." He was frowning down at his hands. "Ford."

She turned and rested one elbow against the rail so she could observe him more closely. "What about Ford?"

"He's just a kid." John shook his head slightly, as if trying to dislodge a fly. "He didn't sign up for this. Being shocked by weird energy clouds? Blowing hatches on stranded space ships? Next in line for command in a war zone with life-sucking enemies if anything happens to me…."

Kate watched John's hands as he spoke, and saw how they clenched at his final words. Ford wasn't the only one who'd found himself unexpectedly promoted. The major, of all people, knew exactly what the Wraith could do to their victims. And, from the way he was currently championing the refugees' cause, she judged he felt guilty about bringing disaster down on the Athosians, too.

"Ford's a soldier." Kate spoke softly but firmly. "An officer. He might not have known exactly what he was getting into, but he knew it could be dangerous. Everyone who came through the Stargate knew it." She paused, uncertain, then plunged in. "From Colonel Sumner on down." John turned his head sharply at that but she forged on. "We were all aware of the risks… and the possible consequences. I can understand that you feel responsible for the safety of everyone here. But we make our own choices, too, and you shouldn't try to take that away from us." She smiled. "As far as I can tell, Ford's doing just fine. I'd try not to worry about him too much, if you can."

He held her gaze for a moment, before he nodded his head in acknowledgement. A thoughtful look settled across his face.

Kate found herself putting a hand up to stifle a yawn. The emotions of the last hour had drained her. "I'm sorry." She flushed. "I'm exhausted. I should get some sleep. You too."

"Doctor's orders?" He raised an eyebrow.

She laughed. "Friendly advice." Smiling goodnight, she turned away towards the stairs.

"Kate?" She paused, her hand on the banister, and looked back. "Don't doubt yourself. You're good." He gave her a wry grin. "Very good."

Next

Comments

[trishkafibble.livejournal.com]

Yeah, I can definitely see the pairing working through its infancy here, but worry not! I don't much mind a ship story if it refrains from graphic intimacy, and isn't slash. (I OD'd on McShep not too long ago. I need recovery time!! And seriously, it's getting hard to find stories that aren't McShep or NC-17, or both. Which is starting to upset me. Oh, fandom...why???) It doesn't hurt when the relationship is written believably, with sensitivity to canon--which I'm definitely seeing here! ^^ Changing the warnings is probably a good idea, though.